Destroy everything you touch. That way you'll never have to go through the pain of loving someone. You won't be a twisted spin-off of your parents, because, gay or not, it would turn out the same. You're just like your father - harsh, cold, angry for no reason and he, just like your mother, would try his hardest to pull that love out of you, and it would break him, and it would be your fault. You would be the very man that makes you so angry today.

You can't be responsible for the destruction of something so beautiful, so innocent, so annoyingly clingy and warm and soft and...

Well, you'll just have to avoid him, because there's no way he'll accept no. And when it works and you haven't seen him for a week and he seems to have forgotten your phone number, don't you dare feel one ounce of regret, because you've done the right thing. He'll be safer this way.

And he'll come running back, eventually, once he's assured that you've let your guard down, because he's not as naive as you think. He's had this plan all along, to let you push him away, and he'll wait until you've finally forgotten about avoiding him and have started wondering why you even wanted to in the first place.

He's going to show up outside your house on one of those rare mornings when you've been up all night and have decided that you're actually bored enough to go to school.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" The question will come out before you have a chance to think, because he's the last person you expected to see.

But you can't take it back now and so, more than anything, you want the answer. You've been wondering for the better part of a year, why he's never once flinched at the sound of your raised voice. Maybe it'll help you figure out why you can't bring yourself to lay a finger on him when you've hurt smaller boys for lesser reasons.

"Because I can see more of you than anyone else." He'll say it matter-of-factly, a tone of voice that makes you angry but somewhere in all this waiting you've become exhausted, so you light a cigarette, quietly, and wait for him to continue.

He doesn't. He turns and walks away without another word, a soft smile playing about his lips. You'd follow him if you were sure it was the right thing to do, but now you don't know anything, not even yourself. You decide maybe school will just be a big distraction today and so you're going to take a very long walk and try to figure out what he sees that you can't.

Meanwhile, he's content walking to school alone, knowing that when (not if) you come to your conclusion, you'll know where to find him.