Anthony had spent the night in a spiral of confusion, his mind torn between the fleeting joy of his kiss with Kenny and the crushing disappointment that followed it. He had spent hours staring at the ceiling, wrestling with his thoughts, but nothing seemed to make sense. How could something so perfect feel so wrong? His chest ached with the weight of it.

His family had tried, as usual, to cheer him up. Johnny had told the most ridiculous dad jokes at breakfast, trying to coax a laugh from him. Daniel had joined in, rolling his eyes with a grin. But it didn’t work. Anthony had barely registered their attempts, his mind always drifting back to the events of the past week—the party, the kiss, the rejection.

By mid-morning, after his family had given up, Anthony had locked himself in his room. He had thrown himself onto his bed, staring out the window as his thoughts swirled around him, heavy and suffocating. Why was it always so complicated? He had asked himself that question a thousand times already. Why was he always the one left behind?

The door to his room creaked open suddenly, and he glanced up to see his big sister, Sam, standing there, a concerned look on her face. Miguel, her boyfriend, was standing just behind her, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You okay?” Sam asked, stepping into the room, her eyes soft with concern.

“I’m fine,” Anthony muttered, turning his gaze back to the window, not wanting to let them in.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You sure? You’ve been in here all morning.”

Anthony didn’t answer, instead letting the silence fill the room.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Miguel said, his voice quiet but understanding. He turned to Sam, but before they could leave, Anthony sighed, pushing himself up from the bed.

“Wait, no, I… I just… I just want to talk,” Anthony admitted, his voice unsteady.

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Miguel, before stepping back into the room. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Miguel took a step towards the door, clearly feeling like a third wheel. “Should I leave? This seems like a family moment.”

“No,” Anthony quickly interjected, “it’s fine, you can stay.”

The truth was, Anthony considered Miguel to be part of their family. Maybe it was because he was always so kind, always there when Sam needed him, or maybe it was just because Miguel had been around for so long that it felt strange to think of him as anything less. Either way, Anthony didn’t mind having him there.

Miguel looked at him, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, okay then.”

Sam folded her arms, giving him a teasing look. “So… what’s going on?”

Anthony shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where to start. The weight of everything he’d been holding in felt too much to express all at once, but he needed to say something. Anything.

“I just wanted to know how you two met,” Anthony said, his voice a little quieter than he’d intended.

Sam blinked at him, clearly taken aback. “Oh, really?”

Anthony nodded.

Sam exchanged a look with Miguel, who shrugged. Then they both sat down, seemingly ready to relive the past.

“Well, if you really want to know…” Sam began, and Miguel immediately grinned.

“It’s not the most romantic story, I’ll tell you that much,” Miguel teased, and Sam rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“We met at school,” Sam started, “and I didn’t like him at all at first. I mean, he was cute, but he was such a pain.”

“I was persistent,” Miguel interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t give up.”

Sam snorted. “More like annoying. He’d follow me around all the time. I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Miguel said, smiling. “I was just trying to get to know you, and you were too busy being ‘cool’ to notice me.”

“Oh please,” Sam laughed. “Anyway, eventually, I started to get it. I realised how much I liked him. Even though he’d annoyed the hell out of me.”

Miguel leaned in, looking mischievous. “She always pretended to hate me, but I knew she liked me.”

Sam rolled her eyes again. “That was not it!”

“It kind of was,” Miguel insisted, a grin tugging at his lips.

Anthony watched the two of them, fascinated by their playful back-and-forth. There was something so natural about the way they interacted. It was the kind of relationship Anthony dreamed of. They laughed together, poked fun at each other, and supported one another through everything. The more they talked, the more Anthony’s heart ached.

“And then… we just kept talking,” Sam continued, her tone more serious now. “We got through stuff, you know? Family stuff, school stuff. It wasn’t always easy, but it was worth it. I knew I could trust him.”

Miguel nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah. We had our share of bumps along the way, but we made it. The important thing is that we stuck together.”

The way they spoke of each other, the bond they shared, made Anthony’s chest tighten. Why couldn’t I have that? He wondered bitterly. Why couldn’t it be that easy for me?

When they finished, Sam gave him a long, hard look. “You okay?”

Anthony wiped his eyes, realising that, without warning, tears had started to fall. What’s wrong with me? He thought as he quickly blinked them away.

“Thanks for telling me that,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Miguel smiled, clearly not fazed by Anthony’s tears. “Of course.”

Sam nodded. “Anytime.”

Anthony cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I have a question.”

They both turned to him, waiting.

Anthony took a deep breath. I shouldn’t ask this, he thought. But his mouth was already moving before he could stop it. “Let’s say, hypothetically, this guy you liked kissed you, and then when you told him you liked him, he said he didn’t feel the same because he had a girlfriend, and that the kiss was a mistake. What would you do?”

Sam blinked at him, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh… this is hypothetical, right?”

“Yeah,” Anthony said quickly, the words coming out almost too fast. “Totally hypothetical.”

Miguel looked at him, his eyebrows raised. “I don’t know about that. Sounds a bit too specific to be hypothetical.”

Sam smirked at Miguel. “Shut up. Let him talk.”

Anthony looked down at his hands, feeling a sudden wave of heat spread across his face. “I just... I don’t know. It’s... weird, right?”

Miguel seemed to consider it for a moment. “Well, if it were me,” he said slowly, “I’d probably watch how the guy acts around me. If he starts acting all weird and awkward, then there’s a good chance he’s lying. He might have a hard time admitting his feelings.”

Anthony blinked, trying to process what Miguel had said. “What do you mean by ‘how he was raised’?”

Miguel shrugged. “Well, maybe he’s scared, you know? Maybe his parents are homophobic, or he thinks it’s wrong. He could be conflicted about his feelings because of the way he grew up.”

Anthony felt his face turn redder than it already was. “This isn’t about me, I swear. It’s just a hypothetical.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Anthony, who do you think we are? You don’t ask questions like this unless it’s about you.”

Anthony felt his heart race, his mouth going dry. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. Just say it, he told himself. Just say it.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. It’s about this guy in my class, his name’s Kenny. And… I think I’m gay.”

Both Sam and Miguel were silent for a moment. Then, without warning, they both pulled him into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sam whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “And about Kenny... maybe you should give him another chance.”

Anthony sighed deeply. “I’ve given him a million chances. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

Miguel laughed lightly. “One more wouldn’t hurt.”

Anthony smiled faintly. “I guess not.”

Later that night, Anthony lay in bed, the weight of everything still on his mind. His phone buzzed with messages from his family, but he didn’t want to reply. Instead, he turned to the little notebook he kept hidden under his pillow. The words flowed out of him like a flood, capturing everything he felt—the confusion, the longing, the hurt. He wrote a short poem, trying to make sense of everything. Why do I have to feel this way?

The next morning, Anthony woke up early, feeling a little lighter. The tension from the day before had dulled slightly. As he sat at the breakfast table, his dad and Daniel made jokes, and for the first time in days, Anthony found himself genuinely laughing.

At school, he had English first period. It was the day he was supposed to present his poem with Kenny, but Kenny wasn’t in. Instead, Anthony decided to do something he hadn’t planned on—he would read the poem he’d written that night, the one about Kenny. He felt a strange sense of resolve as he walked into class, the piece of paper clenched tightly in his hand. It wasn’t the plan, but today felt different. Kenny wasn’t there, so it was the perfect opportunity to put his emotions out into the world, at least in front of his classmates. Maybe, just maybe, someone would understand.

The bell rang, signalling the start of class, and Anthony sat at his desk, his fingers tracing the edges of the paper. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to focus, but all he could think about was that night, that kiss, the way everything had felt so right, only to be dashed away in an instant.

When it was time for him to present, he stood slowly, his hands trembling slightly. His teacher, Ms. Robinson smiled at him, giving him a reassuring nod. “Anthony, ready to share your poem?”

He nodded back, though his throat felt dry. No turning back now, he thought. He could do this.

He walked to the front of the class, the room quiet as he unfolded the paper. He could feel the eyes of his classmates on him, some curious, some indifferent. But it was Kenny’s absence that made it easier to get up there. It was almost as if, in reading the poem, he could speak directly to him. The words that had been swirling in his head for so long could finally escape, even if Kenny wasn’t there to hear them.

Taking a deep breath, he began.