Queer bent bastard

“I can’t fix it. We can’t fix it,” I said as the tears began to make their way down my cheeks and onto my shirt. “It’s not something that can be fixed.”

“You’re not dyin’ or somethin’ are ya?” he asked, sounding really scared. “You don’t got cancer or somethin’ man? Tell me you’re not dyin’.”

“No, I’m not dying,” I replied.

“Then what the fuck’s goin’ on?” he demanded.

“We’re best buds, right? Friends forever, right?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah, you know that,” he stated. “Forever man.”

“Okay. What can’t be fixed, Jas, is…I’m gay,” I almost whispered.

He just stared at me. No expression, nothing. He just stared. After a minute or so, he stood up and simply walked out of the yard. As soon as he closed the back gate, I started sobbing. I sobbed so hard that at one point, I couldn’t catch my breath and almost passed out. It took my mom about half a minute to come running out onto the deck, wrap her arms around me and try to calm me down. We must have sat there for five minutes before I calmed down enough to start breathing without gasping for air. It was another five minutes before I could even think about talking and answering her questions.