(A/N: what is my obsession with putting parenthesis in work titles.

anyways, this is chapter 6 from my other work 'Fight On, Fighter'. I really liked how the chapter turned out, so I decided to post it separately. I hope that's allowed lol. You don't need to read the rest of the story to understand what's going on.

I hope you enjoy!

tw: homophobia, parents being shitty)

Alex is sitting at the kitchen table, bouncing his knee as his mom cooks dinner.

It's a similar picture from years before, though he has a feeling this conversation will not end as well.

Alex doesn't realize that he's started tapping his pencil as well, until his mom sits across from him. She places a hand over his, effectively stopping his anxious tapping.

"Alex," she starts. "What's going on? You're more… fidgety than usual."

He clears his throat. "Nothing. I'm fine, I just…" Alex trails off. Is this the moment? Is this where he tells her about everything? Part of him is screaming no, he shouldn't tell her. They've been to the same sermons, after all. Lived in the same house.

But another part of him is pushing to let it out. This is his mom, after all. She loves him. She'd done plenty of research as his anxiety surfaced, she'd supported the band and loved the boys as her own.

He makes up his mind.

"I just have something to tell you."

His mom takes both of his hands and squeezes. "Whenever you're ready, sweetie."

Alex takes a deep breath, then another. "I-I…" He can do this, he just needs to get the words out, but they seem to be stuck in his throat. He closes his eyes and swallows, trying to push the lump down, and gasps out, "I'm gay."

There's silence, and for a moment he thinks he didn't say anything. He slowly opens his eyes, only to be met with the sight of his mom frozen.

"Mom?"

She pulls her hands away, sending Alex's heart to his stomach.

"What did you say?"

His hands start shaking, his breathing is coming out in stuttered gasps.

"I-I said I'm gay."

His mom pulls away completely, folding her hands in her lap. "I don't know what you want me to say, Alexander. You know how I feel about these things."

"I-it's not a choice," Alex stutters out. He should've been expecting this. God, he was an idiot.

"Isn't it, Alexander?"

Alex just shakes his head, unable to say anything, unable to fight back.

"Very well, then. I only ask that you do not tell your father; you know how he gets." His mom stands up, going back to chopping the veggies. "I will not kick you out, if that's what you're afraid of. You're still my son, after all. We will be needing to set some boundaries, though. Until you change your mind, that is."

His heart shatters. He feels the force of his mom's words fly around, tearing apart his stomach and shredding his lungs. If he opens his mouth he's sure only blood and sorrow will come dripping out.

Alex stands from the table on shaky legs. He can't think, can barely see through the tears in his eyes. The only thing running through his head is get out get out get out.

So he listens.

His feet carry him out of the kitchen, through the front door, to the studio.

He opens the doors on autopilot, barely registering Luke and Reggie turning to stare at him.

He must have sat on the couch, because the next thing he knows, he's sobbing into Reggie's shoulder as Luke runs a hand up and down his arm.

"What happened, bud?" Reggie asks softly.

Alex manages to slow his breathing enough to sniffle, "I told my mom."

Reggie and Luke must know what he means, and they must guess how it went, because they don't ask any more questions.

Alex is grateful, he's sure he wouldn't be able to handle an interrogation right now. His friends hold him until his mind finally goes quiet, and he falls asleep.

Alex goes back home the next morning, much to the disapproval of his friends, and braces himself for the lecture that's sure to come from his parents.

But all he gets is, "How was band practice?" from his dad. Alex breathes a sigh of relief, but tenses again when he can't find his mom in the kitchen. That means she's waiting upstairs for him.

Alex stalls, taking his time hanging his coat and lining his shoes up perfectly on the mat. When he knows he can't wait anymore, he makes his way up the stairs.

He finds his mom sitting at the desk in his room, calmly looking through his homework papers. His throat tightens at the invasion of privacy-a clear sign that things are different now-but he doesn't say anything.

Alex makes his way inside his room and sits on the bed.

His mom takes her time shuffling through the last of his papers, until she lays them back down in a neat pile.

She turns in the chair, eyes falling upon his stiff form.

"Relax, Alexander," she finally says. "I'm not here to yell at you."

This does nothing to relax him, instead noting the formal use of Alexander.

He doesn't say anything, not wanting to aggravate her further.

She studies him for a moment, before saying, "I don't want you seeing the boys as often anymore."

"But mom-" he starts to protest, because his boys are the one thing he truly treasures and his mom knows that-

"I said as often, Alexander. You have one hour for band rehearsal after school, two on the weekends. You must keep your grades up, and you will mention your… affiliation, to no one. Understood?"

He wants to protest, because only one hour? That's barely enough time to get to the studio and back home with practice in between.

His mom must sense his hesitation, because she raises an eyebrow. "Would you rather I go ask your father's opinion?"

Alex shakes his head, muttering a no, because he wouldn't even be in the house, let alone his room, if his father found out.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," his mom says as she stands. She smooths the invisible ruffles from her dress, and for a moment Alex thinks she's going to reach across and shake his hand like they've closed a business meeting.

But she doesn't, instead exiting his room, leaving the door open behind her.

Alex shoves his face into his pillow, willing himself not to cry.

Dinner that night is… tense, to say the least. His mom barely looks at him, and when she speaks to him, it's in clipped sentences.

His dad clearly notices the tension, but chooses not to say anything.

As they close their prayer, his dad starts talking about the upcoming church events.

The topic makes his stomach sink. Even though he's come to terms with his sexuality and religion, his parents have a way of making him feel guilty.

Alex doesn't say anything throughout the meal, though it's not unusual. When his mother leaves the dining room with a, finished, Alexander? his dad leans over to him.

"She's bringing out the Alexanders, huh? What'd you do, stay out all night? You get caught with a girl?" His father wiggles his eyebrows, and Alex feels like throwing up.

He shakes his head and stutters out, "I-I don't know."

His dad frowns, but his mom brings out the pudding then, so he gets distracted.

He finds it funny that his dad, for all his powerful preaching on Sundays, isn't really as faithful as he has the church believe.

He supposes that's the irony of it all.

The next week is unbearable.

His mom barely looks at him, and his dad seems uncomfortable with the tension between them all.

Alex wants to laugh because if anyone should be uncomfortable, it's him.

His mom is slowly taking away his "privileges", waving away Alex's protests with you got an 80 on your last test or you haven't finished your chores yet.

The little time he gets to spend with the boys is spent rehearsing for their upcoming performance, but they decide to take a break one Friday afternoon.

They're all lying on the floor, with Alex in the middle and Bobby on the couch. Alex has an alarm set on his watch, not willing to risk being late and facing his mom's wrath.

"It's just so annoying," Alex is complaining, waving his arms in the air above him. "She barely looks at me anymore. I mean, she doesn't even call me 'Alex'! It's all, Alexander, or just silence."

It's quiet for a moment, before Reggie speaks up. "Why don't you just move out?"

Alex processes that for a moment. "But where would I go?"

"Here, dumbass." Bobby blindly reaches for Alex's shoulder to shove but hits his face instead. "Luke won't mind having a roommate, will you?"

"'Course not," Luke reassures. "It'll be nice not to be here by myself all the time."

Alex scoots closer to his friend in silent support, before thinking it over.

"That… might actually work. Reg, you're a genius."

"Is that really news?" Reggie quips, sending them all into laughter.

Alex sobers as his watch beeps, signaling that it's time for him to head home. He slowly stands, pulling Luke and Reggie up with him. The boys pull him into a hug, Alex snaking an arm out to pull Bobby into the embrace.

"We'll get you out of there, 'lex." Luke whispers, and Alex nods.

"Okay," he says, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. "Okay. We'll come up with a plan tomorrow?"

The boys murmur confirmations, and Alex reluctantly pulls away.

"Love you guys," he says. They echo the statement, and he slowly walks out the door.

When he makes it home, Alex goes right up to his room. He pulls out a duffle bag and stares around his room. There's so much here, what does he even take? How does he know what's important, what's something he'll miss when he's gone?

To avoid the impending panic attack, he starts with his clothes.

First his favorites, the pink and purple t-shirts he never had the courage to wear. Then his most comfortable clothes. Pajamas. Socks and underwear. His sticks are at the studio, he doesn't have to worry about those. He grabs shoes from his closet, heads to the bathroom for toiletries.

He's moving on autopilot, but he can't bring himself to care. If he thinks too hard about it, he knows he'll break down.

Alex shoves the bag under his bed when he's finished with the necessities, then looks around his room.

There's really nothing in here that he's attached to. Not the certificate on his desk he got when he ran track for a year (to appease his dad). Not the awkward pictures with his 'date' from the 8th grade dance (taken to please his mom). Not even the cross on his wall.

Alex had never been one to boldly announce his faith. The cross was his mom's idea, given as a 10th birthday gift.

He can't look at the cross without feeling guilty, without remembering the religion his mother thought he believed in.

And Alex does still believe, it's just not the same way his mom does. He's okay with it, come to terms with it, but he can't stand to look at that cross. It's just a symbol of all the ways he's disappointed his parents.

He takes the cross off the wall and places it on his desk. He doesn't need it to know he is faithful.

Turns out, Alex and the boys won't have time to make a plan. As his family sits down for dinner, Alex's mom says, "I saw you packing a bag upstairs, Alexander. Are you going somewhere?"

Alex freezes. He looks up at his mom, but she doesn't look genuinely curious.

No, she knows exactly what he's doing. She knows, and she's going to call him out for it.

"I'm leaving," he decides on saying.

"Leaving?" His dad asks. "Why? For how long?"

Alex is quiet, staring at his plate, but his mom isn't willing to let it go.

"Tell him, Alexander. Or I will."

Alex looks up at his mother, but there is no love for him in her eyes. He realizes now, that any care she had for him is now gone. He was foolish for staying, for holding onto the hope that she would change her mind.

It sends anger coursing through him, giving him the courage to say, "I'm moving out, because I'm not welcome here anymore."

Alex sends a pointed look at his mother, but his dad just seems more confused. "Can't you two work out whatever happened? I'm sure there's a compromise we can reach here."

Alex is shaking his head before his dad has even finished speaking.

"I'm leaving," he takes a deep breath. "Because I'm gay."

He watches several emotions flash across his dad's face, ranging from shock to confusion to finally settling on anger.

"You're not gay, Alex. You're just confused, is all. Sit back down, and we can discuss this civilly."

"No," Alex says. He hadn't realized he had stood up, but he's not backing down now. He doesn't know where all of this courage is coming from. Maybe it's a sign from God, telling him that this is the right thing to do.

"I'm not confused, this is who I am. It's always been who I am."

His dad stands up as well. "God hates sinners, boy, and so do I. Get out of my house before I do something about it."

Alex turns away from the table without another word. If they don't want him how he is, then he isn't going to fight it. He ignores the hurt climbing up his throat and focuses on the anger coursing through his veins.

He can cry later. Now, he has to focus on getting out.

He climbs the stairs as fast as he possibly can, almost running down the hall to grab his bag.

He walks past the dining room again on his way to the door, pausing before he leaves for good.

He waits, almost hoping for someone to protest. But all he hears is the clattering of dishes.

Alex knew this was how it was going to end. He knew. But why does it hurt so much? He had known there wasn't much keeping him here, emotionally.

But it still pains him to turn away from his family, to walk out the door for the last time.

But as he heads towards the studio, he knows he's walking to his real family.

(A/N: I'm sorry for all the angst, I hope you still enjoyed reading this! Let me know what you think!)