There was that day. That day where Eric, for the first time, thought that he might be gay.
It had been a sunny day, in the fall. Just before winter began and everything turned dark and depressing. Eric had been on his way home, where he saw a boy. A pretty one. He felt that pull, that attraction. And he turned around, and looked after him, as he continued down the street.
The world just seemed to be filled with pretty boys that day. Eric felt trapped, and when he came home, the thought appeared in his head, that this wasn't normal. He shouldn't turn around to watch boys walk down the street. He spent the day trying not to knock his head into the wall.
And there was the other day. A month later. Where Eric had established that yes, it was pretty sure he was gay.
The day where he, alone in the apartment, after a long time's planning, slit his wrist and wanted to die.