Mark's POV

Plates were smashed and tears were shed. My father was very conservative. He was very much your macho, straight guy. To here that I was now dating Tom and most likely, NO! Definitely gay really pissed him off. He walked through the door, whistling to himself happily.

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure son, come on in the kitchen, I wanna make a sandwich."

I followed him to the kitchen, which now that I think of was pretty stupid cos all the knives and sharp object are in the kitchen. He took out the day old bread and the rest of the contents of his sandwich. Me being stupid just as he took the plate out from the cupboard, I said,

"Dad, I think I'm gay and I'm dating Tom…"


He dropped the plate to the floor. I had to cover my head in fear of pieces of shattered porcelain flying through out the room. I could the whole moment in slow motion. The plate slipping slowly out of his grasp, flipping twice before touching off the kitchen tile and then the moment speeds up as the piece fly in all directions.

"You're what?"

"Dad, I'm gay."

"Get out of my house."


"No I don't wanna see your digusting face, you faggot! Get the fuck and never come back! You're bringing shame to my family. If you wanna suck dicks you do it somewhere else, cos you ain't returning here"

At this point in time I was too stunned to speak. My eyes were watering and I knew I would burst into tears if said one more word. Anne ran into the kitchen after hearing everything. Dad was walking over to me with his fist clenched, I hunched up trying to protect myself.


"What did you just say to me Anne?"

"You heard me, you narrow minded bastard! Love is fucking love! You can't stand to see two guys holding hands in the street but you're perfectly fine with a girl and a guy lick the face off of each other in a kids playground. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Leave the kitchen now young lady. Go to your room."

"No I will not go to my room. Don't you fucking tell me what to do. I'm leaving here, because I know the second I do, you're gonna hurt Mark."

You could tell Dad was getting so angry. I was crying already. It was scary. I really believed he was ready to hit me.

"Look at you. You're a fucking woman, crying! Pfft! No wonder you turned gay, no girl could ever love a faggot like you! Get out of my fucking house you homo!"

I ran out the kitchen, up the stairs and threw a bunch of my clothes into a bag. I was still in floods of tears. I could hear Anne screaming at my father. It was the first time she ever stood up to him. I was worried what he was going to do. I hurried up packing my stuff because I needed to get down to help Anne, I didn't want him anywhere hear her. I reached the bottom to the stairs to see Anne crying too and Dad with his hand raised.

"Don't you go anywhere near her you stupid bastard!" I screamed as I pushed him away from my sister. "Anne, go outside and wait for me! NOW!"

"No, Mark-"


She knew how serious this was getting and sprinted out the front door. I watched her leave through the door but leaving it open so I could make a quick getaway. I turned to face my father-


Right in the jaw. He punched me so hard I was sure he chipped a tooth. Right now the adrenaline was pumping through me and instinct kicked in. I kicked my father in the balls as hard as I possibly could. As he doubled over in pain, I grabbed my bag and sprinted grabbing Anne's arms along the way and didn't stop until we reached the Tree. The second we stopped running, we both looked at each other and the tears began to pour. I think we stood hugging each other for about twenty minutes. I never felt more disappointed in myself and scared in my life. Maybe I was disgusting. Anne looked at me and could straight away what I was thinking.

"No Mark, don't you listen to a word that bastard said! He doesn't know what real love is! Him and Mom got divorced and he hasn't been on a date since!" Anne's voice was so soft and sympathetic. But I didn't reply. I didn't know how. I just sat there, staring blankly ahead. We had no home, no food and Anne had clothes. That just made me cry even more. We never saw our mother and our father had just ran us out of our own home because I don't like pussy?

We walked to Tom's. Which thankfully wasn't too far from the Tree cos it was freezing cold. I knocked on the door and thankfully aobut 20 seconds later Tom answered. Notcing our red eyes and my bag bulging with clothes, he knew something terrible had happened. He pulled us both into a hug, not saying a word. He didn't need to. The hug made me feel safe, like as long as Tom was near nothing could ever go wrong. He brought us into his living room and we told him every single detail of what had happened. When I told him what my father had called me he looked so angry that he would just jumped and go back to my house to murder him. Tom hated the word faggot. He found it so insulting. Even when the jock guys just used it as a joke. That's one of the many reasons I fell in love with Tom, he stands up for what he believes is right and he wont allow anyone to be insulted, whether he liked them or not.

We stayed at Tom's that night. I slept in his bed with him. We didn't do anything, just lay together, sneaking little kisses every now and then. We talked for a while about us, about what the future holds. That night as we lay together looking into each other's eyes, was better than any concert we have ever done, better than the awards we've won, better than any achievement we have ever accomplished.

"I love you, Mark Allan Hoppus"

"I love you, Thomas Matthew DeLonge"

For that was the night that we confessed our love for one another.