Who Would Choose This?

I put this story in Literature, but I am not sure that is where it belongs. I write romantic erotica. Much of it is gay (male/male) because that is what I like to read. Having said that, this story is not really erotic. It is something I wrote for a friend to show him he wasn't alone. Enjoy.



 


Who Would Choose This? 


"Thomas!"


Tom looked up to see his father standing in the doorway of his room. His fuck-buddy, Steve, pulled off his cock and scrambled to the far side of the bed away from the enraged man.


"Dad, please…"


"Get that piece of shit out of my house and meet me and your mother downstairs." His father stomped away.


Tom's mom came into view as both boys' hands shot downward to cover their cocks. "Oh, Tommy." The disappointment in her voice almost made him cry. Before he could think of anything to say, she retreated.


"I'm sorry, Man. I thought I closed the door tight." Steve began looking for his clothes as he spoke.


"Not your fault, Stevie. It was bound to happen sooner or later." Tom gave a dry laugh. "Later would have been better, though. Like, after graduation or college."


They dressed in silence then—both of them embarrassed to be caught in the act buck-naked.


At the back door in the kitchen, Steve paused. "Are you going to be okay?"


"Yeah. He's a loud motherfucker, but he's never hit me."


"I don't know, Man. He's really pissed."


"I'll be fine. I'll call you later."


"Okay. Just…um…be careful." Steve slipped out and ran to his car.


Tom closed the door and turned to look around the room. He had so many memories here—good and bad. Where would he go if he couldn't stay? Sure, he had a full scholarship to URI, but he'd planned on living at home. The cost of a dorm room was beyond him and he didn't think his dad would let him live here anymore, much less pay his rent.


"Might as well get this over with." Tom wiped the tears from his face and joined his parents in the living room.


 


* * * *


The tension in the living room was thick. His dad had an elbow on the mantle over the fake fireplace and his mother sat on the edge of her favorite chair.


Dad wasted no time. "What the hell is the matter with you, Boy?"


"Nothing."


"Nothing? Nothing!" Veins stood in relief on the man's face.


"Hank, calm down. Your blood pressure…"


Damn it, Marie! I will not calm down! Our son is a goddamn faggot and I will not calm down!" Hank took a deep breath before continuing. "Calmly then, you will end this now, young man."


"End what? My friendship with Steve? Being gay?"


"YES!"


"Hank, don’t'" Marie's soft voice stopped him before he could work himself into another rant. "Tommy, why are you doing this? Did that boy force you?"


Hank snorted.


Tommy looked at his mother in disbelief. "Force me? He's smaller than I am and a nice guy." He shook his head. "No one forced anyone, Mom."


"Then, why?"


Tom rolled his eyes. They just didn't want to believe the obvious. "Because I'm gay, Mom. I like boys, not girls." He paused when Hank growled. "I mean, I can admire a pretty girl, but that's as good as it gets. Boys, on the other hand…"


"Stop right there, young man. Your mother doesn't need to hear your sick thoughts on other faggots." Hank strode over to Tom and crossed his arms on his chest as if it made him bigger somehow. "He is not welcome here. You will not be going to his place either. You will come straight home after school and stay home—every day. Is that clear?"


Tom mimicked his father's posture. "Perfectly, Sir. No."


"No what?"


"No, I will not give up Stevie. No, I will not be under house arrest. No, I will not stop being who I am. Not for you. Not for anyone."


Without warning, Hanks fist shot out and connected with Tom's cheek. He staggered and dropped to one knee. Quickly, in case Hank followed with a left, he stood with his own hands clenched.


"Hank! Please don't!" Funny, in all his eighteen years, he'd never heard his mom yell at his dad. "Tommy, why would you choose that boy over your own family?"


That was it. That was the word he hated. Suddenly, he was as enraged as his father.


"Choose? Why would I choose?" Were they really that stupid? "Because I choose to be called a faggot, right? Or maybe I want to be hated by my family? I like being whispered about in school and laughed at by the jocks?"


He was the one yelling now and he couldn't stop. Things that had been brewing inside since the day he realized what he was and what that meant came pouring out. "Of course, I don't want to serve my country in the military or be a cop. Or be a teacher or hold public office. It's my choice, right? To be beaten by some random pack of animals and left for dead just because I exist?"


He was panting in rage. "Look at you! Look at the horror on your faces! Who would choose this?" Tom's cheek throbbed and his tears flowed freely as they all stood there, frozen.


The doorbell rang, making the three of them start at the intrusion.


Hate filled Hank's eyes as he looked at his son. "See who it is, Marie, and tell them to come back later."


 


* * * *


"Hello?"


A large man stood in the doorway. Behind him stood Stevie and his older brother. "I am here to see Tom, if he's in."


"I'm sorry, but we are in the middle of a family discussion. Maybe he could call you later."


The man, Steve's dad, Tom realized, didn't move. "Forgive my manners. I am Ken Weston and these are my sons, KJ and Steve. We need to see Tom for only a moment if we may."


"Jesus Christ! What about 'no' don't you…" Hank finally registered who was on his doorstep. "I assume you know what these two perverts were up to. I assure you it won't happen again, but you need to leave before I call the cops. No one touches my boy but me. So, take your muscle and your faggot home."


Mr. Weston's eyes widened in shock. "You think I came here to beat you son up? No, I came here to make sure you don't." He raised his voice. "Tom? Son, are you okay?"


Tom stepped up next to Hank. "Yes, Sir. I'm fine."


"You don't look fine to me, Tom. We brought our pick-ups and can have you moved out in twenty minutes, if you want." Mr. Weston studied the black eye forming on Tom's face. "It's not safe for you here, Son. You're welcome to stay with us."


"The hell, you say!" Hank tried to close the door, but Mr. Weston's boot stopped him. "Marie, call the police."


"No need to bother Mrs. Nevil. I already called them. Ah, and here they are."


A cruiser pulled up behind the trucks and the officer stepped out. "Hi Ken. Everything alright?"


"Is it Mr. Nevil?" Hank nodded. "We're good for the moment, John. Just stick around until we're done?" 


"Sure, Ken." The officer leaned against his car to wait.


Mr. Weston turned back to Tom. "What do you say, Tom? Ready to bunk in with Steve?"


Tom almost choked on his reply. Did the man know what he was saying? Tom looked around him to see Stevie bouncing on the balls of his feet wearing a big grin. Hmm. Maybe he did—wonder of wonders. "Yes, Sir. More than ready."


"No, Tommy!" Marie started to cry.


"Let the little queer go, Marie. Good riddance."


True to the big man's word, the Westons had everything Tom owned in the trucks in record time. Clothes, a bookcase worth of books and all his electronic stuff, including his computer and CD/DVD collections.


Tom looked out the rear window of the truck Steve drove to see Mr. Weston and KJ in the second vehicle. "I can't believe you did this, Stevie. Why?"


"Well, I know we never said much and you probably don't feel the same way, but I love you, Man. I couldn't leave you there with that asshole."


"And your folks are okay with this? With us?"


"Yeah, I've been straight up with them for a couple of years, now. They're okay with it—us." Steve grinned. "The only one who got mad was KJ. He says now Mom will expect him to produce twice as many grandchildren."


Tom laughed hysterically at that. The stress of the last hour made this moment nearly sublime. "We can always try, you know."


"Oh, yeah. I look forward to you trying to get me pregnant!" Both boys cracked up until Tom became serious.


"We've never done that. You know, real fucking."


Steve smiled at Tom in adoration. "I said I looked forward to it and I meant it."


 


end


 


Copyright  Debra Varva   2010


 


Sad statistics on GLBT homeless teenagers: 5% to !0% of all teenagers in the USA are GLBT yet they make up 40% of the total of homeless teenagers. GLBT youth are more likely to be abused sexually. They are at higher risk of drug and alcohol abuse. Twice as many of them attempt suicide as their straight counterparts.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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