A/N: Hi, guys. I know it's been a long time since I updated anything here, or uploaded something, and I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't been able to come up with any inspiration or am suffering from writer's block – but then, I've heard that writer's block is just another term for procrastination/laziness. Anyway, I finally got some inspiration to write something that was actually a fanfiction, but I'll tell you how I got it at the end of the story. It should all become clear then.

Enjoy, I suppose…

"Why did Mr. Tony die?"

If you ask me, that was not the ideal question for Alana to ask at a time like this, which was dinner time. One does not simply ask another one how their father passed away without expecting a 'why the hell would you say that?' stare directed at them and an unanswered question, you know. To be fair, though, Alana was just a three year old girl and didn't know what to say and what not to say at certain times, but she really should have known better.

Elliot hadn't quite heard what the young brunette had asked, so he questioned Mom about it – "What did she say?" - but I heard it loud and clear. I stopped chewing the fried chicken in my mouth and after a quick pause to let the question sink in, I resumed devouring the meal in front of me, although 'devouring' was too much of an exaggeration. I was actually eating quite normally, but there was still a lot of food left on the plate – mainly rice. Rice and an empty chicken bone.

Mom smiled at Alana, who was being carried by Mark, then answered my brother's question.

"She asked how your father…" She paused, trying to find the right word. 'Died' was too painful. It was almost always accommodated by a sense of permanency and we didn't really like to admit that Dad was really gone, even though he had been for three years. We just liked to describe him as being on a business trip, and that had worked wonderfully. However, that didn't stop the fact that sometimes we'd have to admit that he really wasn't just in another country, that he was really…

…this was one of those times.

Ahem. Anyway. After a moment's worth of pondering – and by moment I mean like five seconds – Mom still hadn't followed up, but Elliot understood. He frowned, but I smiled because I always try to smile when others are feeling down. It was beginning to become a habit, but now I was thinking that I just looked like an idiot – "Hey, look at her, why's she smiling at a time like this?"

"Why would you ask something like that? Idiot," Elliot muttered so that Mark wouldn't hear him, covering himself by stuffing another mouthful of rice and chicken in his mouth. Mom may have heard him, because she chuckled a little, but I'm not sure if she did or didn't. She tends to chuckle at a lot of things.

Mark had been visiting us with his wife, Lanna, but after Alana asked that question, he promptly excused them, took Lanna by the hand, and walked out the door, scolding Alana along the way. It was just as well. I didn't really want to talk about this issue.

Luckily, Elliot broke the awkward silence with "When I have kids, the first thing I'll teach them is not to say things like that. Bloody hell."

"When I have kids, the first thing I'm going to teach them is not to say that kind of thing," I responded, putting down my knife and fork.

"What, bloody?" Mom asked, giggling a little. I shook my head.

"No. I mean asking things like 'how did Grandpa die?' Because seriously," I told her. I was going to say something after 'seriously', but I couldn't really think of anything to say. Besides, Elliot was talking now.

"Wait, no. The first thing I'm going to teach my kid is 'don't trust your auntie Natalie'."

Elliot made that stupid face he always made when he finally managed to insult me. I frowned at him good-naturedly, I'd like to think.

"Yeah? The first thing my kid will learn is 'don't trust your auntie Elliot'," I replied. He made another stupid face at me, but I continued. "That's right. I'll teach my kid to call you auntie. Which means the first thing he'll say when he walks into your house for Christmas?"

I leaned in and smirked at him before whispering, "Merry Christmas, auntie Elliot."

My brother didn't comment on this, instead choosing to say "Whoa, whoa, whoa, who said anything about going to my house?"

I hadn't realized it yet, but Mom was giggling at us through her food.

"You're not just gonna dump your kid on me and go for some awesome summer getaway while I'll be taking care of like 3 kids!" he continued. And then he ate some chicken. I couldn't help but laugh at him, because seriously, how can you not laugh at someone like Elliot?

"You need to ask if you want to stay at someone else's house," Mom cut in. By this point, I had started eating again since I was beginning to miss the taste of chicken. "It's just ethics."

"I'm aware," Elliot responded. "And that's why I'll stay in that place where they hold the bazaar every season."

"What, you forgot the name?" I asked, poking him in the side of the face. He scrunched his nose up at me and smacked my finger away.

"Maybe," he mumbled, looking away. I smirked and reminded him of the name – Zephyr Town. Actually, a good friend of mine lived there. So did my half-sister. Perhaps I'll tell you about them, if it ever turns out to be relevant. It seemed like it was a really nice place to live. I didn't really blame Elliot for his decision, but how could he forget the name of the place he's meant to live in eventually?

"No worries. Hey, here's a trick – if you see a girl you like, tell her about a place you really like. That means, if you end up marrying her later on, you can move to that place!" Mom informed Elliot. I couldn't help but wonder if that trick would work for me as well. That was also the time I decided to seize the opportunity to come out to my mother as a bisexual, albeit indirectly.

"Heh. So that means I'll walk up to a guy – " I said guy because I wanted to let Mom know I was bi and not lesbian. Not that there would be anything wrong with that. " – and say, 'Hey, you and I are gonna be married someday, so I just want you to know that I wanna live in, oh, I don't know, Mineral Town!'" I joked. Mom laughed.

"Not really. You're a girl, so you don't really get any say in the matter. If you want to live somewhere, you go where the work is, or where your husband works. You see, it's always the man who makes the decision," she told me.

"…"

I decided that it was now or never.

"What if I marry another woman?" I asked, like the total genius I am. Under the table, I crossed my fingers that she had a positive reaction to this, that she would just shrug and say "It's up to you, dear", but instead she laughed again.

"Well, then I'd have to disown you," she answered in a joking tone, taking a drink of iced tea. I remained silent, and I guess she took that as a cue to continue with another question – "Where did you find the logic in that?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. If I do turn out to be a bisexual in the future – "

I was immediately cut off by my brother snorting and saying condescendingly "In the future?" He already knew about my orientation. About a month ago I came out to him, some friends of mine, and all of my 792 friends on Facebook. The only one who didn't know was my Mom, which had just changed.

"Are you like that?" Mom interrogated, placing her knife and fork on her empty plate. When had that happened?

Anyway, I shrugged again. "W-W-W-W-Well yeah."

Damn. I stuttered. I always stutter when I'm nervous. I tried my best to maintain a casual mood, picking at the rice on my plate but not actually eating it.

"I-I'm just sayin', if my true love turned out t-to be another woman, I'd be… w-well, I'd be okay with that," I followed up. Mom glared at me.

"I wouldn't advise that, dear." She called me dear in a sarcastic tone. "You know they don't really accept same gender marriage here. Just marry a really feminine man and be done with it!"

"And what if I don't get married here?" I asked with a smile, although I didn't really feel like smiling.

"Again, I don't really advise it. For one thing, how would you have children?"

"I can adopt!"

Mom snorted. "Please. Why adopt if you can just have children of your own?"

Elliot had been watching our debate with a sullen expression on his, like he had been expecting this reaction from Mother dearest. He interrupted us by saying "But adoption's a pretty good method, you know!"

Good old Elliot. Even though I almost always mocked him, I could count on him to back me up in an argument where obviously I was in the right.

"But the thing about adoption is you don't know about the parents! What if you adopt a kid who has criminal in his blood?" Mom didn't look so happy as she had been earlier. In fact, she looked pretty pissed.

"I think I'll just concentrate on my chicken," Elliot mumbled, then he took another bite of his chicken, which he had not finished yet. He was ignored.

I could feel my eyes growing warm, so I stood up.

"Well okay that's enough food for me I'm going upstairs now," I announced in one breath, already halfway through the living room.

If you want to know what I felt like, imagine how you'd feel if you'd found out your pet dog had died, or that your best friend gossiped about you behind your back, or that your lover was cheating on you with someone else. Got it? Now double it. That's a rough estimate of how I felt.

Tears began to flow down my face as I fled to the safety of my room. The distant sound of plates clanking behind me and Elliot saying "I'm full" was lost as I shut the door and locked it. I threw myself on my bed and sobbed into the pillow, something I hadn't done in like two years.

After my eyes were sore from crying and my pillow was just about soaked with tears, I did the first thing I could think of. I rolled over and, rubbing my nose, picked up my cell phone. I dialled a very familiar number, trying to get the sadness out of my voice.

Chelsea and I had been secretly dating for about a year now. Well, secretly to my mother, anyway. She was the person that I always trusted the most with issues like these. Today was no different.

My girlfriend had picked up on the first ring.

"Hello!" she greeted, bright and chipper as usual. I smiled at the sound of her voice. Even if my day felt like the entire world was taking a shit on me, I'd always cheer up when I heard Chelsea's voice, saw her smile, felt her soft skin as I held her hand.

"Hi, Chelse," I greeted her right back. My voice sounded kinda croaky, and this was picked up on by Chelsea's keen ears.

"What happened, Natalie? Is something wrong?"

"Kind of… I'll tell you about it later. Listen, can I stay at your place for a while?"

"Huh? Why? What's the matter?" Chelsea pressed on. I put my hand over my eyes as if trying to shade them from the light.

"Well, to put it simply, the truth hurts."

A/N: Remember at the beginning I said I'd tell you what inspired this? Yeah. This is based on how I came out to my mother, which happened less than an hour ago at the time of writing, which is 6:46 on November 6th, 2012. Except I didn't - and still don't - have a girlfriend to call. As for roles, Felicia is the replacement of my own mother, Elliot is my little brother, Barry, and Natalie is… well, take a guess. The little girl, Alana, represents my niece, and Mark is her dad - my older brother. Where did I get Felicia's husband's name? It's my own father's nickname. I just felt the need to write this since I feel kind of bummed out now – but that's nothing a good cry won't fix. I'm not sure if my mom actually will disown me if I do marry another woman, but still. She's my mother, and she's supposed to love me and support me in whatever I do. That's not the impression I got. That's some damn bad parenting there, if you ask me.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story and the author's notes. You don't have to review at all, just favorite to show that you've read it. I just felt like I needed to get my feelings out somehow.

-Otaku