Waiting for the Sun
Title: Waiting for the Sun
Author: eponine254
Fandom/Character(s)/Pairing(s): Original
Genre: General (I didn't want it to be angst... But I fear it is.)
Rating: PG13
Words: 639
Challenge/Prompt: fictionland #07: Light in the Dark
Warnings: Thoughts about suicide.
Notes: I've hardly had time to edit this, and I'm sure that in a week I'll look back and cringe, but I only realised recently that I could write two stories for this challenge, and I'm too competitive to write only one and lose out on the points. Way more angsty than I wanted, but I wrote it when I was feeling particularly bleak about the state of the world and the spate of teen suicides as a result of homophobic bullying in September last year. The "five" are Tyler Clementi, Harrison Chase Brown, Cody J. Barker, Seth Walsh and Billy Lucas.
Summary: Five are already dead, and Tom debates joining them.
Waiting for the Sun
For the five, and all the others before and since.
The knife was sharp, he knew that much. And now it issued him a challenge. God, some days it seemed like it would be so much easier just to accept it.
Tom sat at the desk in his room, eyes closed, his mind in turmoil. Some days, the thought of oblivion was a relief. As these things went, he knew he had it easy. The yells of “fag” or “queer” as he passed a classroom, the laughs, the mimicry... All of that was par for the course. At least no one had actually tried to beat the crap out of him. Well, not just yet.
But now five were dead. Five like him.
He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palm as tightly as he could. Five boys pushed to taking their own lives. He had never known them before they had become names on the news, but hearing their stories had broken something inside him.
Carrying on hardly seemed worth it. Was it ever going to get better? He had spent most of his life in shame and fear, hearing in church, on TV, on the radio, that he was doomed, irredeemable - fated to spend his life wrestling with a demon he had never chosen. What was worse was that he had believed the lies. It filled him with a rage that threatened to bubble over into a scream. All these years, all the prayers, and after it all, he was exactly the same. A little more battered, a lot more broken, but still, essentially, the same.
It had taken him years to realise that he wasn’t the one who was wrong. If only the minds behind the voices that catcalled and whispered at school would have the same realisation.
His parents were accepting enough, in their way, but they didn’t understand. He didn’t tell them what went on at school. They didn’t ask, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Somehow, talking about it would make it too real.
Today was one of those days he wished for the courage to just end it. Five boys dead. Joining them would be a relief. A little effort, and he could be free, never again have to face the wasteland of hatred that seemed to be all life had to offer him.
Would it ever get better? Some logical part of his brain told him that it had to, that, surely, the rest of his life couldn’t be like this. But what evidence did he have to the contrary? It wasn’t as though the small town was full to the brim of gay adults cheerfully living their normal lives.
Normal. He hated the word. Even once he had learned that it was possible to apply it to himself, he still felt excluded by it, as though his sexuality was an untraversable barrier between him and the people around him.
He stared at the knife. It seemed to stare back at him, mocking him for his cowardice. For one breathless moment, his hand twitched towards it. His head spun with the sick thrill of resolution. This time was for real.
But then -
“No,” he whispered at last. He would not do it. And it was not fear speaking this time, but something else. Five were dead already, and even they were just a drop in the unimaginable sea of those driven to despair because of the sins of others. His death would never undo their suffering. His death wouldn’t bring change.
Tom could not see how, but he had to believe, he had to, that things would get better. One day, the sun would come out. He would live, and he would love, and he would fight for those who were still alive. He would not sacrifice himself to the darkness. He would wait for the sun.
Author: eponine254
Fandom/Character(s)/Pairing(s): Original
Genre: General (I didn't want it to be angst... But I fear it is.)
Rating: PG13
Words: 639
Challenge/Prompt: fictionland #07: Light in the Dark
Warnings: Thoughts about suicide.
Notes: I've hardly had time to edit this, and I'm sure that in a week I'll look back and cringe, but I only realised recently that I could write two stories for this challenge, and I'm too competitive to write only one and lose out on the points. Way more angsty than I wanted, but I wrote it when I was feeling particularly bleak about the state of the world and the spate of teen suicides as a result of homophobic bullying in September last year. The "five" are Tyler Clementi, Harrison Chase Brown, Cody J. Barker, Seth Walsh and Billy Lucas.
Summary: Five are already dead, and Tom debates joining them.
Waiting for the Sun
For the five, and all the others before and since.
The knife was sharp, he knew that much. And now it issued him a challenge. God, some days it seemed like it would be so much easier just to accept it.
Tom sat at the desk in his room, eyes closed, his mind in turmoil. Some days, the thought of oblivion was a relief. As these things went, he knew he had it easy. The yells of “fag” or “queer” as he passed a classroom, the laughs, the mimicry... All of that was par for the course. At least no one had actually tried to beat the crap out of him. Well, not just yet.
But now five were dead. Five like him.
He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palm as tightly as he could. Five boys pushed to taking their own lives. He had never known them before they had become names on the news, but hearing their stories had broken something inside him.
Carrying on hardly seemed worth it. Was it ever going to get better? He had spent most of his life in shame and fear, hearing in church, on TV, on the radio, that he was doomed, irredeemable - fated to spend his life wrestling with a demon he had never chosen. What was worse was that he had believed the lies. It filled him with a rage that threatened to bubble over into a scream. All these years, all the prayers, and after it all, he was exactly the same. A little more battered, a lot more broken, but still, essentially, the same.
It had taken him years to realise that he wasn’t the one who was wrong. If only the minds behind the voices that catcalled and whispered at school would have the same realisation.
His parents were accepting enough, in their way, but they didn’t understand. He didn’t tell them what went on at school. They didn’t ask, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Somehow, talking about it would make it too real.
Today was one of those days he wished for the courage to just end it. Five boys dead. Joining them would be a relief. A little effort, and he could be free, never again have to face the wasteland of hatred that seemed to be all life had to offer him.
Would it ever get better? Some logical part of his brain told him that it had to, that, surely, the rest of his life couldn’t be like this. But what evidence did he have to the contrary? It wasn’t as though the small town was full to the brim of gay adults cheerfully living their normal lives.
Normal. He hated the word. Even once he had learned that it was possible to apply it to himself, he still felt excluded by it, as though his sexuality was an untraversable barrier between him and the people around him.
He stared at the knife. It seemed to stare back at him, mocking him for his cowardice. For one breathless moment, his hand twitched towards it. His head spun with the sick thrill of resolution. This time was for real.
But then -
“No,” he whispered at last. He would not do it. And it was not fear speaking this time, but something else. Five were dead already, and even they were just a drop in the unimaginable sea of those driven to despair because of the sins of others. His death would never undo their suffering. His death wouldn’t bring change.
Tom could not see how, but he had to believe, he had to, that things would get better. One day, the sun would come out. He would live, and he would love, and he would fight for those who were still alive. He would not sacrifice himself to the darkness. He would wait for the sun.