If I Told You I Loved You, How Far Would You Run?

“There’s something I have to do,” I tell Ryan, kissing him lightly on the nose. “Is that okay?”

“Mmyeah,” he murmurs, cuddling up to me. “Of course it’s okay. What do you have to do?”

“Well, you have to come with me,” I say, and he kisses me. “But it can wait until tomorrow.”

* * *

We stand together on the front porch, hand in hand, waiting for someone to answer the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

All I have to do is look over and meet his honey gaze and I know that I’m sure. I nod, squeezing his hand.

Ryan squeezes back just as the door opens.

“Hello?” the lady asks, eyeing the two of us with suspicion.

“Hi, Mom,” I say and there is no tremor in my voice.

She gives me a funny look. “Do I know you?” she asks.

“It’s me,” I tell her. “Brendon.”

Her eyes widen and she takes a step back. “Oh. I …” her voice trails off and I see her glance at Ryan. “Who’s this?”

“This is Ryan,” I say with a smile. “Mom, I want you to meet my boyfriend.”

She stares at the two of us in shock. “I … I thought I told you not to call me that,” she says stiffly.

Ryan’s hand tightens around my own, but I can’t honestly say I’m surprised.

“I know,” I say softly. “But I just thought you should know.”

“Good-bye, Brendon,” she says quietly and closes the door.

I turn to Ryan and give him a smile. “Let’s go,” I say and lead him down the street to the little park, my old safe haven.

“Where are we?” Ryan asks, looking around us.

“This is where I’d always go after clashing with my mom,” I tell him and show him the very place I fell to my knees after she kicked me out.

“Stay right here and don’t move,” Ryan says suddenly and moves away to stand beneath the trees.

In the faint moonlight, he looks like an angel, a dream, a memory.

“This is where we first met,” he says from between the trees. “You were kneeling there, just like that, crying and cussing God out, and I was running from home, like I always did, and I saw you and I just knew that we were the same.”

“And you told me that God hates homosexuals,” I breathe in amazement. That was Ryan?

He shifts in the dark, and I can tell it really was him. Floppy bangs, skinny frame, and eyes that practically glow in the night air.

“Though technically I’m not gay,” Ryan says and I stare at him.

“You … you’re not still in denial, are you?” I ask slowly, getting to my feet and running to meet Ryan.

He catches me in his arms. “I’m bisexual, Brendon. There’s a slight difference." He smiles. "I’ve never been less disillusioned in my life,” he says and kisses me.