The Boy Who Loved

Cobra’s back hit the mud-laden ground with a deep thump and a matching “oomph”. Stars danced in front of his eyes for a minute before clearing. Just in time, too, as Viper threw himself at his younger brother. Elbows pegged stomachs, fists to faces, knees gracing below the belt accidentally.

Remember, don’t ruin my rose bushes along the back of the house, their mother had told them before allowing them outside to “play.”

This was not two seven-year-old kids playing in the mud, though. This was two seventeen- year-old men settling a fight that was sparked by whispers in the school hallway between members of the football team. And then the two brothers started the physical fight after school in the back parking lot of Sterling High. It was a fight that could make or break the younger sibling.

“You’re a Westing! Not a flower, Cobra! Start fucking acting like it!”

Viper’s fist connected heavily with Cobra’s already broken nose. Swears spilled from sour lips as the elder let his younger brother feel what it was like to be a disgrace to their All-American Family.

“No man in this household will be gay!” Viper hissed. “I will not let you ruin our good name!”

Dad was the football coach of their high school, a very respected man across the county as one who disciplines severely when necessary; Viper, the star quarterback and also well-respected player on the team who knew how to lead to victory; their younger sister, Hydra, the head cheerleader and delicate woman who followed in the shadows of the men; Mom, the perfect housewife being dictated to by the men of the house.

And then there was Cobra; weak, useless, pathetic, stupid. He was everything his brother, the jock, wasn’t; and not in a good way. Viper stood proudly with a 6’-6” stature, broad shoulders, and could talk sports; Cobra had 5’-4” frame, twig-like back, and no knowledge of his family’s past time, and this made him more or less a social calamity.

That, and perhaps rumors of Cobra’s sexuality circulating the school, called for Viper’s “Divine Intervention”.

Once Cobra was reduced to a quivering blood-and-mud mass, Viper stood triumphantly. The elder spat on his brother, quietly muttering, “A real man can fucking fight back.”

Cobra managed to mangle his brother’s leg and arm quite well, if you asked him. The stupid bastard won’t be able to play football for the rest of the season, at the least, Cobra thought to himself.

Viper walked away with a heavy limp, trudging through the ruined rose bushes. Flowers were torn to shreds and looked like the blood flowing freely from his brother’s nose and mouth.

The father, mother, and sister sat at the dining room table, awaiting the verdict of the younger brother. Viper and his father locked gazes, sharing a nod and a quiet, “He had it fucking coming.” With that, Viper huffed upstairs to wash the grime from his body.

Cobra stared up at the cloudless sky. There was a contrail from a plane above him. It looked so peaceful, comparatively. His entire body ached, even though adrenaline was pumping through his veins still. He felt like he had liquid fire for blood. But he was sure his nose was broken and he had chipped a tooth. He could taste the tang of iron, smell it as it ran from what was supposed to be his nose.

His muddy hands came up and stupidly rubbed at his eyes. There was something here that shocked him. The salty waterfalls that were his tears clouded his vision as he sniffled weakly. “Fucking prick,” he whispered to himself. He wasn’t sure who he was talking about.

Real men don’t cry! his brother had yelled at him, spit flying from the elder’s mouth. His fist had connected with Cobra’s jaw just after that.

His little sister stood at the kitchen sink, staring at her brother outside. She chewed at her lip. She felt a soft tear running down her cheek too. While she watched him, his chest stopped moving and she was convinced he’d died. Her joints locked up on her before she could run outside to save the poor boy. But, thankfully, she watched him sit up in the mud, wipe his nose with the back of his hand, and finally stand up. One leg refused to have weight put on it, so he managed to hop through the ruin garden and into the house.

Cobra received a glare from his father because-

“A gay boy is no son of mine.”

His mother wouldn’t look at him, though her eyes deceived her emotion; he watched them well and threaten to overflow onto her perfectly done-up cheeks.

Cobra managed through a shower and stood before his full-length mirror. It looked like he had been attacked by an animal. Well, it was Viper; he was an animal. Cobra knew he’d have a swollen blue eye, busted lip, and bright red scratches littering his small body for the next couple of weeks. He sighed, dreading what everyone would say, what everyone was already talking about.

Hydra had been listening to the same rumors and nasty comments made by her father and brother for too long. Every other second, there was some snide remark revolving around Cobra. Like now, Viper and Coach were boasting about the pride of their family and then the disgrace. Every put-down they could think of was shared and it made her sick.

The two men brought their shaming into the kitchen where she and her mother were starting on dinner, peeling potatoes and carefully putting chicken into the oven.

One comment in particular, “That little shit deserves to be raped,” had Hydra’s entire body cringe away from them. Why would anyone deserve that?

She turned to face the two males. “Oh. My. God! Will you two just lay off for a while? He’s your goddamn flesh and blood, Father. So what that he’s gay?!”

The outburst normally would’ve had severe repercussions on any other day. But today, it was met with confused glances at each other. Everyone was in shock because someone actually talked back to the father. And that kind of response was never heard of before.

But it was a bittersweet outburst, unbeknownst to the family. If only it had happened before the final comment was made.