A typical soap-style drama, with a homosexual twist.

I looked out of the window, it hurt so much. My dad just got this new job and now I was moving. My name’s Daniel Kent, my friends call me Clarke. Strange, I don’t feel like superman right now.

Just like that my family had told me to pack my things. I didn’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I didn’t have enough time... to say goodbye. Not properly. This car feels stuffy, I pull my knees up to my chest in comfort but it still doesn’t help. The seatbelt just crushes my chest. Just like he used to do. God, I miss him so much.

I release my knees and my mother looks at me comfortingly. She knows, she wants me to be normal, but she accepts it... me. My Dad, he’d rather not know, he says it haunts him just to think about me and him. I hate him. It’s not bad enough that he hates who I am but he has to destroy my life too. I look at my reflection, I never realised how far down my lips were pulled. Even my reflection haunts me.

I look at my blonde hair, bed-head look. Just looks like a mess to me. He liked me like that, he liked my hair so that he could run his fingers through it and not mess it up. I remember his soft touch; his eyes staring into mine, commenting how he loved my chocolate eyes. ‘Chocolate, because I always melt so easily in them,’ he murmured softly into my ear. I punched the window and my father shot daggers at me through the wing mirror.

I couldn’t care less, couldn’t even care if he was president. I’d still like him to crash this damn car. I took my eyes to the floor and tried to think of anything to get him out of my head. It wouldn’t work, I loved him. Love doesn’t go away so easily.

Soon enough we were on the plane, jetting through the air at break-neck speeds – still no chance of crashing though. Not unless a bird got caught in the engine. My mum tried to get me to talk. I didn’t feel like talking, I didn’t feel like anything. My dad was talking, someone I didn’t know, he didn’t know but it was about me. Tells them how I’m being a stubborn brat and how much of a disappointment I am. Doesn’t care about anything else. I’m a fag in his eyes.

The plane landed and everything else went by in a blur of anger. Rage. I grabbed my case. We reached the house. I went upstairs, sat on my new bed. Cried.

That was the only point in which everything truly hit me. There was a lock on the door. That helped. But I missed him. I truly missed him so much and remembered everything little thing he used to do. His touch, his smell, the feel of his soft skin against mine and the way he whispered into my ear as we... the memories were sweet and as I bit my lip the tears stopped. This wasn’t the end of the world.

I rooted through my pockets for my phone, picking it up I pressed speed dial then pushed it as close to my ear as I could.

“Clarke? Clarke is that you?” I sniffled at his voice and fought to keep my breathing steady.

“Alex... I miss you. I love you and I miss you. Please, save me,” I murmured into the tiny handset. His smooth, even voice calmed me but I still wished he would take me home. Home to his arms.

“I love you too, but its okay. Shh,” he soothed, “You’ll be fine, just be strong. I know you can.” I opened my mouth to reply but the phone fell dead.

I looked at the stupid handset. The battery symbol flashed at me and I growled, throwing it against the wall, “you stupid fucking piece of shit!” I snarled, pulling my knees back up to my chest. Why is nothing going right? Why will nothing in this damn world work!?

The End

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