Sadly, I do not own Glee. Ryan Murphy does. I also don't own Finn or Kurt, but if I did, they would already be together. I was in a bad mood when I wrote this, so this happened. Oh, and this is my first time posting on this website! *Claps* Expect more!
To everyone else, it was just a word. It was just an insult that you told people. They would retort something back and it would be forgotten. But to him, it was more than just a word. It was a label that he would never be rid of. It wasn't a label that he could never change. No matter how hard he tried.
So when the love of his life said this word, it ruined him. The other boy was just using a word that all of his friends did. To him, it was just an adjective of what these things were. To the smaller boy, it was a noun. What he was.
And as the taller boy threw around these objects, still saying that word, the boy couldn't help but think that maybe he didn't know what he was saying. But deep down, he knew he meant every single word of it.
But why call the smaller boy this? Only because there is no word that he could say back that would hurt more than what he was saying did. He was being a coward. Hurting the boy that couldn't do anything back. One more time he yelled this word.
The smaller boy was holding back sobs. His eyes, red rimmed. Shaking as if it were freezing. The taller boy's face was still red from yelling. He tried to tell himself that he didn't cause this pain. And he thought to himself, what was the real reason he was so mad?
Was it just because the other boy liked him? Or was it because he liked the other boy? The taller boy couldn't tell anyone this. And it was then that he realized what he said. Because he himself, was not an adjective. He was the noun.
And as the smaller one ran up the stairs, he could do nothing but sit on the bed, with silent tears streaming down his face. Because he had caused that, no matter how many times he told himself he didn't, he did. He cried himself to sleep.
The smaller boy locked himself in the guest bedroom. If he could, he would never come out. He thought about how he had tried so hard to get out of the closet, and all he wanted to do now was crawl back in. So he made up his mind.
The next day, the taller one made his way to the room the other boy was in. Trying to think of ways to ask for forgiveness. He knocked, but no answer. He could hear water running. He pushed open the door, breaking the lock. The smaller boy was not in the bed. He ran to the bathroom. And he saw the water mixed with blood.
He had done this. He cradled the still warm body. This was his fault. And he was too scared to come out. What had this boy had to go through? A lot more than he did. No matter how much he denied it now, this was completely his fault.
And as his tears mixed with the water and blood, he knew, he was the noun. And he knew he lost the love of his life.