character: Giles

mood: sad

reason: family/biphobia

i smashed my hand into the bag. it swung away and back again; i pushed with my fist again, again, again. i grunted while sweat crowded my neck. i've never been a fighter: i don't know how to properly punch, i'm not fit, and i'm always too afraid to throw a punch. i bruise easy, i have anxiety. i just kept swinging, until i couldn't anymore. i also didn't know how to wrap my hand, so that hurt. but i'm still so pissed off. i mean, yeah, i live with my dad and he's never physically hurt me. that doesn't mean i don't have daddy issues, especailly when he's a manipulative, phobic, asshole who reminds me of my toxic self-victimizing friend from middle school. i hate that man. i hate that girl. they hated each other - maybe it's because they're so alike.

"b," a voice called. "i was told i could find you here." i turned around to see a suited man taking his glasses into his hands. yay, i think, another man that's probably about to piss me off. i think it in haste; giles is more a father to me than anyone else in the world. he's more a mother, too, if that made sense. if he made me angry, i might be overreacting. that, or he's about to put some sort of blame that isn't his on him. wow. maybe it's the emotional damage that makes me love him so much, ha. "what's upsetting you?"

"nothing," i breathe, turning around. i walked away, toward the fridge for the ice pack. i laid it down and set my knuckles on it, opening my bottle and gulping down water as quick as possible. i was still angry, i still needed movement, i still needed to somehow release the scream inside of me. i could go on a run. tire myself out.

"please, i know when you're angry," he said matter-of-factly. he sounded annoyed. the thought clogged my throat, stinging my eyes. yeah, okay, i'm fragile, especially when i'm overwhelmed. he softened his voice, wiping his glasses one more time before putting them back on. "you can tell me what it is." i took a deep breath, shrugging.

"im just..." i faced him and i could feel the redness on my face. my voice broke. "tired, you know." my throat closed on me.

giles gazed at me. i pursed my lips and looked at the bottle in my hands, the white on my knuckles from my grip. "is there anything i can do?"

i blinked a hudnred times, i think. the tears started to puddle in my eyes. i could barely speak. "i just - my family sucks." the tears fell. i didn't look him in the eyes, in fact, i looked anywhere but. "they, uh, they never will actually, like, accept me, you know?"

giles tilted his head for a moment but quickly started walking to me. "did they say something? did they do something to you? whatever it is, you will always - always - be accepted here."

i stared at him, breathing in quick, hard inhales. "thanks." it meant more than anything to hear it - when i'd maybe never hear it anywhere else. i let out a sigh through my lips, swiping my hand up and down my arm.

"whatever happens at your home, b. i'm proud of you." my airways locked again and i stared, trying to control my breathing. i cried hard. "i love you, we all do. we are your family, too." i nodded my head, slowly. i took a step closer to him.

"really?" giles smiled sadly and put his hand on my shoulder, rolling his thumb comfortingly. i leaned in and put my cheek on his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around me, reminding me of my welcomeness in his home.

"i'm so proud of you. please, remember you can come to me. about anything," giles said.