Chapter 26

"You know, you know I'm not alright. This is where I draw the line. I've tried to run, I've tried to hide, but I'm so badly broken."

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"Nicholas? Where is your brother?"

Dead. Gone. He never got to see you again.

I hate Leo. I hate him for his empty promises, hate him for the way he left us broken, taking a piece of us with him so we could never fully put ourselves back together. He left us with nothing but a hole in our lives.

I know he is no longer my father, I know he cares more for Sylvia than he does me, but I cannot forget the times in the past, when he was my father, and I was his son.

"In the future, Nicholas, you may feel like nothing is going right, like you have experienced the worst the universe has to offer. When that time comes, I want you to remember that you still have your mother and brother, and me."

I looked up to my father, as any son would, convinced that I could do anything with him around.

I remember when we sat in the car on the way home, just the two of us as father and son and he promised me he'd teach me to drive someday.

Dad was my superhero, the kind of superhero I wanted to be.

Chris, of course, was a lot closer to dad and had a lot more memories with him. It's probably the reason he couldn't let dad go, couldn't come to terms with the fact that dad was gone for good, not until a year later.

Dad is gone, and only Leo stands in his place.

"Chris is gone."

"Where did he go?"

Leo expects an answer, expects to be filled in on everything that has happened since he left, as if he is still part of our family.

I finally turn around, meeting his black eyes brimming with curiosity. No regret, no pain.

"Why would you care?"

He sighs, as if in exasperation.

"Nicholas, I am still your father. I know I have not been here for the most part, but I'm here to make up for it."

"I am not your daddy, Nicholas."

"I am still your father."

What a fucking joke.

"It's Nick." I respond, and I don't want to acknowledge what he said, don't want to hear the same bullshit about having a father and him making up for what he did, for the decision he chose.

"Nick," he says, and I hate the way he says my name, hate that he even says it at all, "how have you been? Are you coping well with schoolwork?"

I bark out a laugh.

Schoolwork? He's asking about schoolwork?

We actually sound like a family now.

"It's fine."

He nods, and we once again descend into silence, a silence that makes me aware of how cramped the house is, and how I just want him to leave.

"Nick, you know I care about you, about all of you. You and Chris are my sons, and Piper was my wife."

He cares about us? Of course he does.

How could I be so blind not to see it, the way he expressed his love as he refused to answer our calls after he left, and changed his number within a week?

Of course he cared enough to stay silent during Chris' birthday that year, when he didn't even bother to text Chris a simple "Happy Birthday", when Chris sat up all night waiting for him to return home, didn't sleep until his seven-year-old body couldn't take it and he passed out.

"I'm sure you care." I scoff, my words sharp and barbed but I do not care if he is hurt.

"I see you've made friends. I met them only briefly before, but Sylvia tells me about them, Aiden and Kyle," he changes the subject, as if speaking about others will make it any better, "Aiden was the boy who kicked you when you were four, under the impression that it is how friends are made?"

I do not reply. This conversation is getting too personal, too like a conversation shared between father and son.

"I remember Aiden. He was a good boy. Throws a good punch, too," he laughs softly, "I'm not so sure about Kyle, though. From what Sylvia told me, he may be a little..."

He hesitates, but I know what he means.

"Gay?" I finish his sentence and he flinches the tiniest bit, looking at me with the shock of someone who never expected me to even know the meaning of the word.

It is almost funny, how he is homophobic, against the very nature of his own flesh and blood.

I wonder how hard it will wound him, how badly his pride will shatter when he discovers that the son he raised for five years is gay. Will he harden his gaze, forbid me to ever see Kyle again, throwing around his non-existent authority?

Will he turn his back on us, leave us for good this time?

"Nick, maybe you shouldn't hang around him too much. I worry for you." He says, but I hear the hidden message.

I don't want you infected.

"Why, because he's gay?"

He flinches again and I laugh, a sick part of me amused at the sight of his discomfort.

"People like him are not a good influence, Nick. You might want to reconsider your friendship with him."

This isn't how it works. He cannot return years later and tell his son he's making the wrong friends, as if a gay friend is a worse influence than a cheating father who left to raise another child.

"You don't have to worry, Leo. Kyle isn't a friend," I pause long enough to see his shoulders relax, his expression change to one of relief, "he's my boyfriend."

Somehow, the thought of calling Kyle my boyfriend brings with it a sense of pride and certainty, and a feeling of warmth in my chest.

Leo stares at me emotionlessly, and I stare back at him, unwavering. Moments pass and the silence surrounds us, the bangs and thumps bounce off the walls, their rhythm heard only by me.

Leo walks past me towards the door without another word, and as the door shuts behind him I cannot help but wonder how he will react to the knowledge that Chris was gay, too.