Pelham was roused by a gentle nudge on his side. He opened his eyes and found himself musing on whether he had slept for a century. He looked out the window and saw that the sun was setting. The wall clock - which, really, was placed on his desk instead of the wall - showed him that it that was half-past six in the evening. Dusk. He glanced down and saw that his baby sister was prodding his side with a spatula. He sighed; he hated evening naps, even though they felt good and pleasing. He simply and especially hated the waking up part, where it made him feel like he had either gone back in time or woken up in the future.

Dream, he thought to himself. Bloody coming-out dream.

Oris grinned toothily at him when she saw that her brother was looking down at her from the bed. Pelham returned the grin with his still worn out eyes, aware that he must look like an inebriated bloke waking up after a night of debauchery.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked groggily, nodding towards the spatula which, he realised, had smears of red sauce all over it. "Better give it to Mummy before she catches you."

"Mum gave it to me!" Oris let out a giggle and scurried out of his bedroom. Children, Pelham thought to himself, hopping off the bed while doing so. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and saw that he had a missed call from his girlfriend. For one dazed moment (his mind was still spinning from the power nap), he thought he really had come out. That had been a dream, you nit! He tapped the screen and called her back.

"I'm so sorry, I fell asleep!" was the first thing he said as soon as she picked up her phone.

"I know," she laughed. He sighed in relief. But the guilt was still etched in his heart. "I called because my aunt wanted to talk to you. Remember Aunt Tori? She just came over."

"Oh - tell her I love her cookies,"

"She's baked you cookies before?"

"For my sixteenth birthday. A fat lot of 'em in a jar," Pelham grinned - not that April could see him. "By the way, what about dinner?"

"I thought I already said I'll go," she said, a hint of uncertainty tainting her tone. "Pelham, are you okay?"

Pelham thought back and had to stand up to settle his brain into focus. He silently vowed to never take evening naps ever again; they made dreams and reality jumble and mesh together, thereby sending him off the edge. "I dozed off after we had a quick chat and Oris woke me up by poking me with a spatula smeared with red sauce and now I can't remember a thing,"

He remembered about the dream. He thought better than to mention it.

"Okay, Pel," she said, a hint of amusement dripping in her voice now. "Anyway, I have to go grocery shopping with Aunt Tori now. See you tomorrow. What time should I really arrive, by the way?"

"You can come before seven,"

"All right. I love you - bye!"

"I love you too."

Such casual words that actually mean nothing. He sunk back down on the edge of his bed and pinched the area just between his eyebrows

He quickly went for a long shower afterwards. A good fifteen-minute shower was enough to erase his anguish for the day, like scrubbing off the debris of a wreckage. Of course, it will return the next day - per usual. There was no way it was going to an end.

April arrived at six for dinner on the next day. This caught the whole family by surprise. ("When I said 'before seven' I meant maybe fifteen minutes before seven." Pelham had told her when he saw her standing on the front porch). She was wearing a sundress with a burgundy cardigan along with her favourite pair of red Vans that Pelham had bought for her the previous year for Valentine's Day. She said she could do with some help around the house before dinner was ready, also stating that she loved his parents - especially his mother. At that, Pelham's mother had pulled her to her and said, to Pelham and her husband; "Women inside. Men outside."

Dinner was ready by seven. They were all seated in the dining room, with the television on, and started eating. All the while, they were exchanging mortifying stories that resulted in Pelham choking on his own salad when April told his parents about the time where a cheerleader at school seduced him during a basketball match to shoot a hoop from the bleachers. She wasn't actually seducing - Pelham tried to point that out - but April made it sound like one, just to demean him. He assured his parents he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Providentially, neither of his parents took it seriously. April might be a wonderful person, but she loved to demean people whenever she felt like it. It was scary.

"Did you shoot the ball, then?" his father asked.

"No," Pelham mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Why not?"

"The girl was simply flirting with me, Dad,"

"Of course she was - you're gorgeous," her mother told him.

"And I have a girlfriend, who was just standing there and smirking at me," Pelham eyed April at this, who gave a sheepish grin.

"It was comical to see you scared out of your wits," she noted.

"How is that comical?"

"Your physical loyalty is quite comical when put into action, to tell you the truth,"

"That sentence doesn't even make any sense,"

"So the cheerleader - is she any pretty?" his mother chimed in.

"Mum!" Pelham pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, as though all of his dignity was written there. "I swear sometimes you guys invite April over for dinner just to take the mickey out of me."

"We should rename this dinner some time in the future," April nodded, amused.

After a while, they calmed down. April had brought along some desert, so they all stayed where they were while she set them on the dinner table. She was, like his parents, a good cook. Pelham's mother interrogated her about the recipe, jotting down everything on a piece of paper. His father would join their conversation every now and then, since he was the chef as well. Pelham swore his life was surrounded with chefs - excluding his best friend, Roshon, who didn't even know how to boil eggs and nearly burnt his kitchen once, vowing afterwards not to set foot in Pelham's kitchen ever again.

"...not that I don't know it, but I prefer waffles over pancakes," his mother was saying. "I used to make Pelham here his favourite - he's always so picky. He still craves for them, don't you, dear ... Pelham?"

Everyone seemed to finally notice that Pelham had been quite after all that time; he had his full attention on the news that was currently being broadcast live on the television. His eyes were fixated on the screen and he was watching it with terror etched all over his face as the news reporter continued her speech;

"... found dead near the alley yesterday evening at four. According to Maxwell's parents, he was supposed to be home by two just like he told them on the phone. Two witnesses claimed to recognise the people who had done such crime ..."

The screen switched to the face of a lady in her mid-thirties, and below her was her status: Agatha Finniqe, 36, witness.

"Heard one o' the boys shout obscene comments an' all that," Agatha was saying. "Me an' me husband were jus' gettin' outta that store right there when we heard it. Madness, to tell you the truth. 'Course, those ruddy teenagers fled when we arrived. Me husband saw a young boy, 'round fourteen to fifteen, with blood all over his face. He was still alive, but by the time I phoned the ambulance, his last words were 'heaven'. 'Course, we found out he was another homo. But he ain't deserve those."

The screen switched back to the news reporter. Below her flashed the words: Fourteen-year-old Homosexual Beaten to Death.

Pelham felt nauseated. He couldn't bear to look or hear anymore. This was already too much to spoil the whole dinner. His parents and April were watching as well, but the news didn't seem to affect them as much as it did to him. Inadvertently, he pushed his chair back, the loud scrape of its legs against then wooden floor startling everyone. He got up from his chair and exited the house in a measured pace.

He sat on the bench outside and gazed into the distant, serene neighbourhood, the nausea still stirring in his stomach, the picture swimming in his head, refusing to drown, so were the voices of the reporter and the witness, which were still echoing inside his head. If that was what it was like to be exposed with his sexuality, then he would prefer living in the closet and hurting inside. He would prefer to live that way ...

Wouldn't harm anyone, he assured himself.

He heard the door open but ignored it as he continued to stare into the distant, not quite seeing anything. Soon enough, April occupied the empty seat on the bench next to him and touched his arm. A faint touch. Full of reassurance. He began to doubt; did his action somehow give away the fact that he was gay?

"Pel ..." April spoke softly. She was quiet for a while, then she said, "What's wrong?"

Another thing he loved about her; she chose her words deliberately. She once told him that it was better to ask someone whether something was wrong instead of asking whether they were okay - because they clearly weren't. And they both knew that.

"The news, huh?" She asked again, her voice soft and soothing as she caressed Pelham's arm with her thumb.

Pelham nodded.

"Do you ... I mean, did you happen to know the guy who got killed?"

Pelham shook his head. "It's cruel. It's vile. It's callous." he finally said, quite surprised to hear his calm tone.

"Inhumane," she nodded. After a while, she asked; "Do you support gay people? The LGBT community?"

He almost laughed at that. Do I say 'no'? he thought to himself. But at that precise moment, the door opened again and his father came out. He joined his son on the bench, stretching out his legs as he did so.

"That news seemed to bother you so much that you left the table," his father said casually, attempting to lighten the mood. "I agree, it's a rough one. Fourteen and dead. Humans these days ... they're not even human."

Now Pelham doubted whether his parents knew about him. He wished he had stayed inside. "I hate that kind of news," he told his dad truthfully whilst hiding some truth itself.

"I never liked it either," his father agreed. Pelham looked at him. "I mean, he was just gay and why should he be beaten to death?"

Pelham merely shrugged. Homophobics existed too, unfortunately.

"Different individuals have different beliefs," his dad continued. "But, honestly, even people like that poor young fella need to live their own life. Don't you think they were suffering enough mental conflict to accept their sexuality?"

Pelham drew his attention entirely on his father, and he felt his heart swell and shrink and back again, while his guts coiled and uncoiled. April was nodding her head at his father's words. His father gave him hopes somehow. One example is your son right here, he said to himself, wishing to say it aloud right in front his father and girlfriend. Again, courage failed him. Though, he was starting to respect the man next to him much more than he already had. And he appreciated how his father apprehended the concept of the whole mental suffering.

"At least those tyrants don't go to our school, right?" he said, putting on a weak smile.

"Yeah, but there are still Bryce and his cronies," said April.

"Bryce and his cronies?" his father echoed.

"An infamous group of thugs who like to drive someone up the wall because they're so dignified," April explained sardonically.

Now Pelham's father looked beyond concerned. "Pelham, tell me you-"

"I'm fine, Dad," Pelham assured him. "I always keep out of their way. They're rarely seen around the school anyway."

"Sometimes I'm worried about you because they always go after the nerds ..." April jested.

"Being good in Maths doesn't make me a nerd!"

"Give me some credits, will you?" his father added.

Pelham shook his head, laughing lightly. "It's not like the school isn't full of nerds anyway."

If only he was brave enough to come out - he wanted to, right there and then - he might ... he could ... he will ...

Instead, Pelham stood up and said, "Society is making me emotional lately. Come on April, I want to taste your pancakes."

"Don't you hate them?"

But Pelham was already heading into the house.