New York-Pilar-Lake-Felix-Benji-Mia-Andrew-Armando and Isabel-Aftermath

Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to existing characters, familiar plot points, nor anything that may be considered intellectual property of the creators of Love, Victor or other content related to this story. I do not intend to use this story for commercial purposes, nor shall any other party be permitted to do so.

New York Part 4 – Justin:

Justin's Perspective:

I try the best I can to unapologetically mix just the right amount of sass into every conversation. It's just who I am. I live for no one else. Just yours truly.

"Oh! Guys, Victor's birthday is on Saturday," Simon tells us.

"Too bad," I say as I sip on my coffee, "if only he were here. We could throw him a party that he could only imagine in his dreams."

"Very funny, Justin," Simon says without laughing.

Like I said, I live for me.

"Oof," Simon interjects as he gets another message, "It seems like he's going to have a lot to deal with, though."

"How so?" I ask.

"Well, based on his last couple of messages, it seems like his family is going through some tense stuff right now, and his girlfriend is meeting his parents. On top of that, his religious grandparents are visiting, and the guy he has a crush on is coming over with his boyfriend for the party that Victor decided to have so that they could get their 'family groove' back."

"Gurl, that is too much!" I say after taking a moment to absorb the laundry list Simon just gave me. "Does he even want this party?"

"Honestly," Simon replies. "I'm not even sure. He doesn't seem that excited about it. He said that he was his family's 'fixer.'"

At those words, I sincerely hope that Victor doesn't fall into the same trap I did.

"Justin, what would I do without a strong presence like you in my life?"

The words are like broken glass that shatter inside my brain, tearing it apart from every possible direction.

Nathan's depression has only gotten worse since his dad died six months ago, and it's been up to me to cheer him up and keep him company. He was depressed before, but this just did him in. I've always been the one that he seems to come to for help. Time and time again, I'm there for him, telling him that he is enough and that he doesn't have to be ashamed of who he is. It would be nice if I could have someone to tell me the same thing.

"Thank you for being there," he tells me.

"Of course," I say, holding back some of my own feelings.

I'm always there for him when he needs me the most.

"It's just so difficult," he continues on, "one minute I feel fine, and then the next it's like everything comes crashing down and I don't want to do anything. It's like I have to fake feeling okay around everyone all the time. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

I shrug.

"Well, at least I don't have to fake it around you," Nathan says.

"Of course," I reply to him. "You can tell me anything."

He sighs and then looks over at me. "You are so lucky, Justin."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have both your parents who love and care about you. You have such a strong faith that helps you through just about anything. You always seem happy. Your life is perfect."

If only he could see inside my mind, he would know that none of that was true.

If that wasn't enough of a blow, he adds on, "I am so glad that I have someone who is able to keep it all together. Because of you, I see how great life can be. It keeps me motivated to – I don't know, keep going."

I look up at him. He just had a depressive episode, and now he's telling me that I'm the person in his life who motivates him to continue it. I can't even begin to express how hard my life is right now, but if the fictional utopia he paints my life to be is what keeps his heart beating and his motivation driving, then I'm not going to take that away from him.

"Yeah," I say softly as I hang my head and fake a smile, "I'm glad I can be there for you like that."

I head home, my head full of thoughts about my life and the direction it's currently taking.

"Where have you been?" my dad confronts me as I get home.

"I was with Ellen," I lie. Ellen is the imaginary girlfriend that I made up a little over a year ago to throw my parents off from figuring out I was gay. They seemed to be picking up on some things, and I didn't want them to know. I knew that if they figured out my true identity, there would be too many problems and it would cause chaos in our family. I haven't told my parents that I'm gay because I know that it would completely shatter their worldview and their faith. I just want everyone here to get along and be happy, and my coming out could change that in a big way. Whenever Nathan calls me up after a depressive episode – which is quite frequently – I just tell my dad I was with Ellen. My parents don't really believe in depression. They frown on people who they say claim to be sad just for attention. I know that if my parents knew about Nathan's depression, they wouldn't want me to spend time around him anymore, so I never told them. It's a twisted web of lies that somehow all work together.

"You two sure have been spending a lot more time together," my dad addresses me. "And it's been what, now? A year and a month? Two months?"

I nod.

"You must be really serious about this girl, huh?"

"Yeah," I continue to lie.

He shifts his demeanor a bit. "Now look, I know that you probably have temptations at this point in your life. But just remember the importance of abstinence."

"I know, Dad."

"Good. Hey, Kyle!" he calls my little brother into the room. When Kyle comes in, our dad says condescendingly, "would you like to share with your brother what I found today?"

I look over at my thirteen-year-old brother, who hangs his head in shame.

"Kyle, what's wrong?" I ask, only to be met with a few more seconds of him being silent and nervously twitching.

"Well?" my dad prompts him.

He doesn't answer.

"Alright, then I'll talk," my dad says in an effort to keep the conversation moving. "I was on Kyle's computer this morning to update the security software settings, and I found some questionable internet history."

I look over at my brother, who can't seem to bring himself to look me or my dad in the eye.

"Kyle," my dad continues, "do you think God would approve of what you did?"

"No," Kyle whispers in a barely audible voice.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," my dad prompts once again, holding his hand up to his ear.

"No," my brother says one more time, a little louder.

I hate this conversation so much right now.

"That's right," my dad says. He then gives me a reason to hate the conversation even more, "Justin is going to take you to do a confession tomorrow morning before we do our neighborhood rounds. God will forgive your sins. But right now, I want you to go reflect on your actions and why they're wrong."

Kyle nods and leaves the room.

"Pray for you brother," my dad turns to me. "He has a lot to learn. I'm so glad that you're there to be a role model for him."

"Umm, why can't you or mom take him to confession tomorrow?" I ask.

"We're helping organize fliers in the morning at the church's community center across town. We'll come meet you at the church and Kyle can stay behind and wait while we go door to door. After doing something like that, I don't want to use him as the face of our faith. I don't think I can handle that much shame."

"Right," I say, doing my best to cover up the bitterness in my voice. I just can't stand to cause any drama right now. "I'll take him."

The next morning, I get up and get dressed in the stalest, tackiest shirt and tie that my parents pre-approved for our day of converting innocent citizens. I wake Kyle up after he resists quite a bit. I take the car, and I drive him to the church.

We drive in silence for a few minutes before I finally turn to address him, "How are you doing?"

He huffs and crosses his arms.

"Don't be mad at me," I tell him. "I don't care what you look at online."

"Why does it even matter this much?" he asks. "Why do Mom and Dad care so much what I do in my own private time? It's not like it affects them in any way!"

"They're just really deeply rooted in their beliefs," I say to try to assure him.

"Why is that my problem?" he starts to raise his voice.

"Hey!" I cut him off before he can start yelling. "It's nothing personal against you. They're just trying to raise you to be the best version of yourself that you can be, and they have really old-fashioned beliefs that influence what that looks like for them."

I try to comfort my brother, but it's hard to sell the point when I don't even buy into the words that I'm saying.

"It wasn't enough for them to make me feel ashamed of myself at home, but now I have to go humiliate myself in public with a confession?"

"It's just going to be you and the preacher," I tell him. "Look, I know it sucks, but just go in and get it over with. Then we never have to talk about it again."

"Why did you even agree to take me, then, if you don't agree with their views?"

"Just to keep the peace," I say, the most honest I've been with any of my family members in a long time.

We get to the church, and I take Kyle in for his confession. It's quiet, so I can hear the conversation. I begin to question why we're even there. He didn't even really do anything wrong. Apparently, my dad caught him in the devilish act of looking online for teen romance novels. I don't think I can ever tell them my secret at this point. They shame my brother for what? Wanting to read? I can't even imagine how they'll react if I tell them the truth.

My parents get to the church, and we leave Kyle alone.

We go door to door around the neighborhood, passing out pamphlets.

"Good morning," my mom smiles as a stranger opens one door. "Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?"

"Uhh," the person at the door seems confused about what to do. "Honey!" she calls out.

Another woman walks up behind her, and she puts her hand on the waist of the person holding the door. The person holding the door quickly removes the other woman's hand.

"These people here want to talk to us about Jesus," she says.

The other woman looks caught off guard, as well. They both look uncomfortable.

The woman holding the door addresses us once more. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm just not sure…" she trails off as she looks at the person my parents and I have now figured out is her partner.

"So," my dad says, "It seems like you two have a little bit of a rocky relationship with Christ. That's okay. We would love for you to come join our church so that you can repair that and he can forgive you for your sins."

"Oh – oh that's okay," the other woman laughs. "Have a nice day."

After they close the door on us, we walk away and begin to head towards the next door.

"Well, that was kind of rude," my dad says.

"Yeah," replies my mom, "It really seems like those two could use the help, too. It's so sad to see people making such poor life decisions."

I can't do this anymore. I feel sick to my stomach.

"I'm going home," I say out of nowhere.

"What? We're not done yet!" says my mom.

"No, I know. I'm just feeling really sick."

"You were fine a minute ago," my dad points out.

"Well, it just hit me all of a sudden! My stomach hurts."

"Okay," my mom says, "Can you pick up Kyle and take him home?"

"Actually, I need to find a bathroom. Now," I lie, knowing that my house is only a block away as opposed to the church, which is three blocks away. I hand my dad the keys to the other car. "Sorry."

I run off.

I reach my house, and I feel alone. I feel no more alone than I do already when my family is around, but that feeling of loneliness overcomes me and prevails over all else. I go to my bedroom, and I scream into my pillow as I drown in my current reality. I can't take this anymore. I can't keep pretending to be something I'm not. But I can't get out of this. Why do I have to have missionary parents in a religion that decided long ago for that whatever reason my very existence is an abomination? Why doesn't anyone care about what I'm going through and what I'm struggling with? Why can't I just have the feeling that my life is going to be okay? I start to throw things around in my room. I rip off the tie that my parents forced me to wear, and I stomp on it. No words can express the amount of anger I feel towards everything. Or the lack of hope. When will this ever get better? Am I stuck in this life forever, being miserable and putting on the face that other people want to see? I look at myself in the mirror, and I don't even recognize myself. I splash water on the mirror as if that will somehow miraculously fix my reflection to show me what I want to see. But it never will. My life is a void that I am trapped in forever. Nothing is going right, and it never will. I could just end it right now—

No. Nothing is worth that. Nothing is that bad.

I sneak out my back door because I know my parents' route, and if I go that direction, I know they won't see me. I run to Nathan's house. By the time I get there, I'm completely out of breath. I knock on the door.

"Hey! What's up?" he greets me. "If it isn't my favorite superhero-"

"Nathan, stop!" I almost yell, knocking him off his guard quite a bit. I calm my voice down, "Can we go inside?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," he says, still flustered by the unexpected intensity of my arrival. He notices my shirt and dress pants are soaked in sweat. "Did you run here in that?"

I nod.

"Well, do you want some water or something?"

"Yes please."

He pours me a glass of water, and he sits down next to me on his couch.

"Nathan, we need to talk," I say.

"What's going on?"

"Look, I love you, and I want you to get better. But please talk to a therapist."

He looks taken aback.

"I didn't mean it like that," I backtrack. "It's just that you want me to be this super strong person in your life to help keep you going, but I have stuff I'm dealing with, too. I can't be your therapist, Nathan. You need to find a professional to do that job."

"Wow, Justin, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's fine," I forgive him. "I just-" I trail off, not knowing what to say next.

"It's just that your life seems so simple and perfect that I-"

"Yeah, well it's not!" I yell, throwing him off balance once again. I lower my voice again, "I'm sorry. I've been hiding and pretending for so long."

"What have you-"

"I'm gay, Nathan," I cut him off.

A look of shock comes across his face, but I don't care. I just need to tell him the truth.

"I'm gay, and nobody else knows. I don't take solace in my parents' religion; it's something that eats me alive every day because I know that people like me aren't welcome. I have to pretend to be someone I'm not just to keep them happy. And I didn't want to tell my brother because I don't want him to get dragged into this whole mess at such a young age. I have no idea what I'm going to do."

I'm crying at this point, Nathan looking at me, trying to understand my pain. He's speechless.

"And I want to tell my parents, but I'm really scared."

"What do you think will happen when you do?" he asks me.

"I don't know," I admit. "What if they kick me out?"

"Then you can stay here!" Nathan offers quickly.

I look at him hesitantly. "I don't want to impose on you and your mom-"

"It would just be for a little bit, until you can make other arrangements. My mom would be fine with it."

I take a deep breath, relieved to know that the friend I have been helping all this time has my back, too. "Thank you."

"And you're right," he says, prompting me to give him a questioning look. He responds to that look by saying, "I'm gonna talk to someone. I'm gonna seek help. I don't want to keep putting this on you."

I stay at Nathan's house for a couple of hours because I dread going home. When I finally do, I am met by my parents who are worried sick.

"What happened?" my mom cries out. "You said you were coming back here!"

"Were you with Ellen?" my dad asks angrily. "You know you shouldn't ditch your responsibility to God so that you can-"

"Ellen's not real!" I yell.

"What do you mean she's not real?" my dad asks with a somewhat humorous hint.

"I made her up," I confess. "Because I didn't want you guys to know that…"

They look at me in anticipation.

"…that I'm gay."

"No," my dad says immediately, shaking his head. "You're not."

"Yes, I am-"

"Son, we did not raise you to make decisions like this one!" he shouts.

"It's not a decision!" I shout back. "Dad, I've been holding onto this and bottling it up for years-"

"Then shove it back down!"

The words hurt. They do more than just hurt. They are a blow to my very existence.

"Mom?" I look over at her, crying, trying to get her to jump in to my defense.

As she cries, she puts her hand up in front of her face, and she can't even look at me.

My dad looks at me and speaks with a horrifying quiet intensity, "Go to your room, and don't come out until you can see the error in your ways."

I do go into my room. I pack. I have a suitcase in my closet, and I gather my things. I exit. As my father angrily tries to get my attention while I leave, I ignore him. It only makes him angrier, but I don't care. I head over to Nathan's. I'm done living to please anyone but myself.

Saturday approaches, and Simon gets another update from Victor.

He reads it to me, "Well Simon, looks like the fixer has done it again. I hadn't seen my dad smile in days – until he met Mia."

"Wow," I respond. This kid is digging himself into a hole that's going to be so difficult for him to get out of, and I can't sit idly by while it happens. "Simon, can I chime in here? I think I have some advice that he could use."

"Go for it," Simon tells me, and he hands me his phone.

I type:

Simon:

Dear Victor,

Sounds like your family is very lucky to have you. I wish I had a pancake-making fixer in my life. One thing, though. Your messages have all been about things going smoothly for your family and not for you. But you're dealing with a lot, Victor. Your conservative grandfather. Mia meeting your parents. Benji in your house with his boyfriend. I guess what I'm saying is sometimes it's easier to focus on fixing other people than on your own stuff.

When Simon takes the phone back, he reads the message that I typed.

"You want to talk about anything, Justin?" he asks sympathetically.

"I'm fine," I say. "I'm livin' life! I just don't want this kid to go through the same thing I went through, getting so caught up in other people's problems that you start to deny the legitimacy of your own existence."

Simon nods, and we leave it at that.

AN: Okay, so I don't know if it's just appearing on my screen or on everyone else's, too, but there are huge gaps between some paragraphs in the text. I'm not sure why it's doing this, and it isn't showing up in my doc manager, so I don't know how to fix it. I hope that doesn't continue. But it looks like all the content is there, so I'll just have to deal with it. If I figure out how to fix it, I will.

Also, if you're reading this, I would love to hear your thoughts, so reviews are welcome!