Hey everyone. Please don't hate me for writing this, I just got this idea, and I thought it would be a really good fanfic. So, here ya go.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, but I do own the character Pete, cause I made him up. :)
When Your World Comes Crashing Down
I don't know how to tell him this. He's gonna hate me. But he already hates me. He's always loved her more than me. She's talented. Normal. Sane. Pretty. Smart. Everything I'm not. I have to tell him everything. I need to. I can't live like this anymore. He needs to know.
I walk down the stairs. He sitting in the living room. Waiting for Miley to come home from her date, probably. He's reading the newspaper. Drinking Pepsi.
I should tell him now. While Miley's not home.
I walk into the living room. I don't sit. I'm too nervous.
"Dad?" Damn. My voice is shaky.
"What?" He doesn't look up from the newspaper. He sounds annoyed. Like he always does when I talk to him.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He flips the page.
"Um, I-I-I-I, can I talk to you?"
"Mhmmmm." He still doesn't look up.
I can feel my whole body shaking. Maybe being dead would be better than telling him.
"Uhhh, it's, um, kinda, well, serious." I say.
He looks over at me. Daggers coming from his eyes. He doesn't want to talk.
"Jackson..." He says in a warning voice.
"N-n-n-n-n-nevermind, it doesn't matter."
He turns back to the newspaper.
I walk back to my room, before he can see the tears.
I should try again today. Maybe he'll want to listen......
I walk downstairs.
When I'm about to turn the corner, I hear my name.
"He's been acting really weird." Miley says.
"He's always weird, Miles. That's who he is."
Miley and Dad are talking. Should I stay and listen? They are talking about me.
"True. I can't wait til he leaves for college." Miley says.
"Who said he was getting into college." Dad says.
They both laugh.
I can feel that prickling in the bridge of my nose. I hate tears.
"Good one, Daddy. You're right, he's not that smart."
"But I can't wait til he leaves too, Miles."
My vision's going blurry.
"Then why don't you just kick him out?" Miley asks.
"Because, he's almost done with High School. When he graduates, if he does, then I can kick him out."
"Daddy, you always tell him that Mom loved him a whole lot..." Miley says.
No, don't tell me.
"...is that true?"
There's a pause.
Please, God, don't...
"She wanted to give him up for adoption. When she got pregnant, we weren't even married. We were engaged, but we weren't ready for a kid. She didn't want him, and neither did I. But, we keep our own."
I need a razorblade.
"You guys wanted me though, right?" Miley asks. I can hear the food in her mouth.
"Yeah, baby. You were planned for."
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Miles."
I hear a chair scoot back from the table. I run up the stairs. Into my bathroom. Grab a razor. And yes...
I call Pete.
I tell him that I'm going to tell my dad.
He says he's proud of me.
And to call him after.
I walk downstairs.
Miley just left with Lilly and Oliver; they're going to the beach.
"Dad, can I talk to you?" I'm shaking, but I'm not stuttering.
"Mmmmm." Dad says, turning the T.V. down a bit.
"Um, I don't know how to tell you..."
He looks at me.
Disappointment in his eyes. The way he always looks at me.
There's about to be a lot more.
I wish I could just look at him, and he'd know what I was trying to say. I don't think I can say it. I've said it before, but to Pete. No one else.
Deep breath, okay...
"Dad, I'm.... I'm.... I'm gay."
The disappointment in his eyes changes to rage.
"Get out of my house."
"Dad-"
"GET OUT!"
"Dad!"
"You're not my son! GET OUT!"
"But-"
"Leave!"
I look at him.
He hates me.
I open the door, and just before I close it behind me, I say, "I'm sorry."
I just walk. I don't know where I'm going. I just keep walking.
I stop when the sun starts going down. I'm on Walton Rd. I sit down on the sidewalk.
Maybe I should lay in the road. Maybe someone will run me over.
I should call Pete. But, I can't. My fingers physically won't dial the number. I need him, but I just can't.
I start walking back home. Maybe Dad will talk to me now. It's been hours.
I walk through the door.
Miley isn't here. Dad is in the kitchen. Making a sandwich.
"Dad?"
He turns around.
"I told you to get out."
"Please, can we just talk?"
"No." He starts walking towards me.
"Is what you said true?"
"What did I say?"
"Earlier, when you told Miley all that stuff about you and Mom not wanting me, but kept me anyways. Is that true?"
I'm scared.
"Yeah." He says in a harsh tone.
There's a long pause. I look down.
"Is what you said true?"
I keep looking at my feet.
"Is it?" He's getting aggrivated.
I could lie. Say I was just kidding around. That all this was somesort of pratical joke. But I can't. He needed to know.
"Is you being a faggot true?"
I start to feel my body go numb.
I look up at him. He's still mad. Really mad.
"Yeah." I say really quietly. I look back down at my feet. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not going to kick you out. But when you graduate, you're outta here. You're not my son."
Dad walks back to the kitchen.
I need some paper.
I grab a notebook and pen, and I write:
I had to tell you, Dad. You had to know. I know you hate all gay people alive; that you think they all should all be killed; that they're a living discrase to the human population. You always call gays 'faggots' and 'queers' and say mean things about them. You're saying mean things about me. You're calling me a 'faggot' and a 'queer'. It hurts.
I started dating Pete almost a year ago. I love him, Dad. And he loves me. He's an amazing guy; more than I could ever ask for.
For the past four years, I've been cutting myself. First, because I just knew that you don't love me. That you never did. Because Miley is so much better than me; smarter, more talented, normal, pretty, sane, secure, everything I'm not. She's someone you're proud of, and that's all I want, but I'll never get it. You want to disown me, forget about me, act as if I don't exsit, and maybe, on some level, you want me to be killed just like all other people like me. I'm sorry. But this is who I am.
I thought Mom loved me, but, I just don't know who to believe. Maybe what you said was true. Maybe you said it because that's what you wished the situation had been like. But I hope when I see her, I can ask her. And I hope what you said isn't true.
Miley, don't blame yourself for anything. I love you. But, someday, tell everyone who you really are. Tell everyone that you're Hannah Montana. I'll see ya later. Much later, I hope.
Pete, I'm sorry. I really am. I just can't do any of this anymore. All the times I called you, crying... you had to know this was coming eventually. I know that you want to save me from all of this, but, I don't think anyone can. You have really been the only thing keeping me alive for years. Our friendship, then our relationship. I loved every minute of it. But move on from me. Go to Hollywood like you wanted. Get over me and find someone else to have a happy relationship with. I love you.
-Jackson.
I grab the pills. Pop six in my mouth and and grab my phone.
"Hello?" His voice is so beautiful.
"I just wanted to tell you I love you." My voice catches in my throat. "And bye."
"NO! JAC-"
He knew what I was calling about.
I lay down. I'm starting to feel numb. It's starting to go black.
What is that sound? It's really annoying.
I open my eyes. I'm in a hospital.
Damn.
The clock says it's four a.m. Someone's holding my hand.
It's Pete. He's asleep, his head on the edge of my bed.
No one else in the room.
I let go of Pete's hand; stroke the side of his face. His eyes open. He jumps up and puts his hands on both sides of my face.
"Don't ever leave me again. I can't loose you. I love you too much." He says, tears coming to his eyes.
He kisses me. It's wonderful.
"What happened?" I ask. He sits back down. Takes my hand in his.
"After you called me, I drove over as fast as I could. Called 911 on the way. When I got there, I just ran in and straight up to your room. You're dad looked at me like I was crazy. He followed me. I started giving you CPR and kept that up until the ambulence got there."
I lay there for a second. "And my dad..." I trail off.
"He didn't say anything. The whole time. He didn't come in the ambulence, but I think he came to the hospital. He's just sitting in the waiting room or something."
He strokes my knuckles with his thumb.
"Did he....... did he read the note?"
"I think so."
"Can you go get him for me, please?" I ask.
"Yeah." Pete smiles at me. Kisses me again. And leaves.
A few minutes later, Dad walks in.
He just stares at me. Doesn't say a word. There's no expression behind his eyes. Not one I can tell at least.
I look down at my wrists. They have white bandages on them.
I look back up at Dad. "I'm sorry." I say.
"I should be the one apologizing."
"For?"
"For everything I've put you through."
I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything.
"I overreacted. I shouldn't have told you to get out or that you weren't my son. Because you are. What I said about your mother, it's true. But that doesn't mean she didn't love you. She did, and I do too."
Is really saying all of this? Or is this my heaven?
Dad sits down in the same seat Pete had been.
"I love you too. I'm sorry I'm not perfect."
"Jackson, loving people for their good and bad sides is what perfecion is. You love me, even when I acted as if I hated you. You are perfect."
He smiles at me. Gives me a hug.
I smile. He says he's gonna go back to the waiting room and leaves.
A few minutes later, Pete walks in.
He climbs onto the bed and wraps his arms around while I cry. He knows it's what I need.
After what seems like forever, I stop. He kisses the top of my head. We fall asleep.
And just before I close my eyes, I see my dad through the window in my door.
He's smiling at me.
Okay, I know it was long, drawn on and might have been bad, but I don't care. I like this one. :D
Any critisim is good. Review please. ily darlings.