April: see u tmrw?

Pelham: It's school of I'll see u tmrw

April: alright. gtg. Bye, i love u!

Pelham: Love u too, April.

Pelham sent that and lay on his back on the bed, stretching out his limbs as he did so. He smiled at the thought of seeing April. If he were honest with himself, she might as well be the reason that made him all stirred up at the thought of school - except for the fact that he was not one hundred per cent honest with her. As it happened, he wasn't even a hundred per cent sure about himself. He did love her. But it didn't feel right - it wasn't the way boyfriends were supposed to love their girlfriends. And he hated it. They had been dating ever since he was fourteen. Sure, he had been contented around her. Except that his heart wasn't entirely in it no matter how hard he pushed himself to at least feel something.

He despised himself for it.

Pelham was the one who came to her one day, all gauche and comparitively short for his age; only five-foot-three, whereas April stood at five-foot-eight. They started talking then, hanging out and eventually they fell for each other. But he had merely been fourteen back then, and April was fifteen. The term "love" hadn't entirely been perspicuous to either of them - at least, to him only. He knew nothing about love, now that he thought about it. He was not entirely certain about it these days, except knowing that he'd only had a mild crush on April which seemed intense enough to ask her out, because back then, he didn't have any conflict to hitch him and his guts.

He did. He just chose to ignore it.

It wasn't anything but what seemed to be "puppy love" to someone who didn't know anything about love at all - someone who didn't know who he really was.

Someone like him.

I'm an arse, he kept telling himself every time he thought about it. Thick, complete, gay arse. He was still in the closet, all right - veiled from reality. The reason for it - for being in a charade - was that he simply didn't want to break his girlfriend's heart. Thinking back, he didn't even know why he asked her out in the first place except for the fact that he merely fancied her. Not that he was completely perplexed with his sexual orientation back then. As a matter of fact, he was trying to convince himself that he was actually into girls, that by dating a girl that he loved would make things clear, that he had no feeling or attraction whatsoever towards boys, because it was all wrong.

It had been bugging him ever since he was nine years old, when his stomach flipped at the sight of a fetching, topless male model. He'd brushed it off instantly then, telling himself that he simply wanted a body just like the model one day. Well, he was wrong. Though, he had managed to hold it for a good, long while.

Only a while.

He had merely been trying to prove himself that he wasn't into males. But things went the other way around, as normally as it happened when it came to dealing with life's impediment; he dated April and realised he was not a heterosexual a year into their relationship, which was when he was fifteen. He hadn't told anyone - not even his best friend, Roshon. Now he was lying to himself about loving her - lying to her as well. Telling her might as well break her - and him. Not telling her will definitely break him, and it will definitely break her eventually.

Fear. That was the word. Fear of being different - of being a homophile, which included the angst of living in falsehoods and uncertainty. But then he already was one. There was no denying it. He had long since accepted it even. The thing that frightened him was the thought of what might happen once the truth was out in the open, once the people around him knew. The truth, he very well knew, was always a daunting thing to people like him.

And it had been haunting him for quite a long while.

"Pelham, dear?" called out his mother from the hallway, snapping him out of reverie.

"Yeah, Mum?" he called back, startled, as he hopped off the bed and went towards the door.

"Your father and I are going out for a while. So would you mind looking after Oris?" She asked as she adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

"Sure, all right,"

"Be good!" said his father.

Pelham wanted to make a remark - as he always did - but thought better of it and nodded instead before entering the next room where Oris, his three-year-old dark-skinned step sister, was playing with a small stuffed hare in her cot. She had been adopted by the Nixons earlier that year. His parents had always wanted a daughter. But his mother thought she was too old to be giving birth anymore - being sixty-three and all. Sometimes Pelham had to remind himself that his mother was fifteen years older than his father, who was currently fourty-eight.

Oris looked up at at the sound of her step brother entering the room and gave a hearty laugh. "Plump!" she called him, unable to pronounce "Pelham" correctly. He had long since given up trying to teach her how. "Mistev Vabbit is here!"

He sat on the chair next to her cot where she giggled excitedly, using the paw of her stuffed hare to wave at Pelham. She definitely loved him. And Pelham, having had zero siblings for nearly his entire life, loved her as much - he couldn't determine whether it was because of his lack of experience at having siblings or he simply loved children.

He picked up a fallen toy radio from the floor and turned it on to her favourite music, which was Baa-Baa Black Sheep. She gave a shout of laughter and song along. A beam broke into Pelham's face.

"Want to know a secret, Oris?" Pelham asked quietly, even though he knew she wouldn't really comprehend him. She just bounced on her cot on her tiny heels, nodding. "Well, don't tell anyone, and I know I told you this multiple times before. But I'm gay."

"You're guy," she echoed, mispronouncing "gay" - as always - and brandishing her tiny fist in front of her; a fist-bump. He had taught her a fist-bump as well, and she caught on fast. What a hipster, Pelham thought.

"Yes, I like guys," he said, curling his fingers into a fist and lightly touching Oris' knuckles. Fist-bump. "But the thing is ... I have a girlfriend. I don't understand. I don't even like girls."

"But boys like girls," Oris commented.

"Normally, they do," Pelham agreed. "But I'm not normal. I'm a boy who likes boys."

"I like you!" Oris pointed, and she began to laugh again. She sure loved laughing, Pelham thought. Sometimes, it felt like a remedy.

"Should I tell her?" he asked, feeling somewhat thick-headed once the words left his mouth. "I don't wanna break her heart. But should I?"

He had never been this upset before - well, he had. But every time he felt the ire boiling inside him, it was always something new, as though there was always something more ardent than the previous one, and it never ceased to aggravate him. It was at that point that he cried. He would usually get all teared up in his bed, just thinking about the wreck he was in - his own mess, irreparable that he had long sinced learned to live with.

Oris had slowed down her laughter when she saw the tears pooling in her step brother's eyes. And even then she stopped moving around her cot when she heard her step brother sniff, as though the emotion pouring out of him had immobilised her. He felt pathetic - just awfully and downright pathetic.

"Sorry, that was pathetic," Pelham spoke up. He gave her a reasurring smile as he wiped his tear-stained cheek with his sleeve. Oris beamed, revealing her pink gum with tiny milk teeth anchored into them. "C'mon, it's almost your bedtime."

"But Mistev Vabbit still wants to pway!"

"Well, he can learn from me and play with himself," Pelham realised just how awfully wrong the words sounded. He shook his head. "I mean, I didn't have anyone to play with when I was your age."

At that exact moment, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fished it out and saw that his best friend, Roshon, had sent him a text message.

Roshon: Pel, wanna hang out?

Pelham: its almost 10 what r u thinkin

Roshon: my gf dumped me

"Oh," Pelham muttered.

Pelham: told u she's not it.

Roshon: yeah whatever. So hang out? Arcade? Like usual? Or GTA at ur place?

Pelham: cant. On duty. Its school night after all

Roshon: babysitting?

Roshon: ur boring

Pelham: yeah and im bout to sing her a lullaby so she can sleep

Roshon: can I record my own lullaby n send it to u so u can let her hear it?

Pelham chuckled to himself.

Pelham: the one that involves chopping off a giraffe's head bcuz u thought Little Hans consciously wanted his father dead?

Roshon: no, about the squirrel being chucked to hell.

Pelham: no.

But he was having a second thought. So he added another reply before Roshon could say anything;

Pelham: wait. Yes.

Roshon: DONT FORGET TO GIVE ME CREDIT IF SHE LIKES IT

Pelham rolled his eyes. He got up from the chair and went to turn off the the lights. He then turned on the night-lamp and tucked Oris in. She quickly wrapped her small, soft fingers around his as he straightened up. She was always doing that to him, refusing to let him go. She would wail, at times, being a persistent infant that she was.

"I won't go," he whispered to her.

"Plump - thsing!" She said. The usual, he thought to himself, smiling down at her. After all - strangely enough - she liked to hear him sing. He wasn't necessarily a bad singer - not that he had a voice just like Adam Lambert - but he could maintain some keys. So he sang a soft lullaby he'd made especially for her.

Close your eyes tight,

Dear Oris tonight,

I won't leave till you're settled right,

And I won't leave till you're satisfied,

So close your eyes tight,

Dear Oris tonight,

Don't fight,

And don't let the bed bugs bite,

She had fallen asleep at that instant, right after he sang it for the second time. He stayed there on the chair, simply keeping an eye on her as she slept - just like in the lyrics he had written - until he was contented that his one and only little step sister was sleeping soundly.

He planned to watch her for another few minutes. But he ended up falling asleep on th sofa next to her cot.

!