"Support"
Word Count: 1367

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I ran.

I ran from them all.

I ran away from my so-called family, from my so-called friends, from everyone who told me that they would always love me no matter what.

What a lie.

"You crazy mutt! Who the fuck told you to go audition for the school play?!"

"That shit's for GIRLS. Not for men like you! You're supposed to be playing sports and being strong! YOU CAN'T EVEN SING."

"Momma, is my brother sick? He keeps humming..."

"Where did you even get that instrument? We're not allowed to hold those, you know."

Stereotypes.

Currently at the very top of the list of things that I hated the most, aside from the fake environment I lived in. They acted like they care, but in the end, they just raised me to become someone I'm not destined to be. They tried to mould me into someone who they thought was perfect. Someone that was said to be the one to take care and protect the entire family.

They wanted to make me a "boy"

And as a "boy," I wasn't supposed to be doing such blasphemous things like singing, performing, and trying out on auditions. They told me that I needed to go do sports, get stronger, and get a job that suited for men.

And stop being so stubborn, because this was who I was supposed to be.

But what about what I want to be?

Feeling hurt and betrayed, I ran away from them all after becoming 18. I told them that I was a grown man now, and that I could handle things myself, but the intentions behind my actions were to just simply get away from them.

Five years had passed since I've last seen and contacted my relatives. I wonder what they'll say when they see me now.

Probably the same old "We didn't raise you to become like this!" exclamation would be yelled along with a nasty glare. But who cares? I'm happy.

They're not.

I'm more successful than they could've been. They didn't know that if they gave their own child their support, they would've experienced the world. They would've felt the love and the extraordinary things the children would do to them.

I'm an example of a failure.

A rebel.

But again, who cares? I'm living and breathing properly, happy as I can ever be.

And it all came from him, my lovely skeleton's support.

He was the only one who supported me and loved me for who I truly was. He listened to my songs and my compositions, always eager to lend me his nonexistent ears. Despite the fact that he dislikes loud noise, I was an exemption.

"because the noise you make was always so heavenly," he'd say, making my world light up along with my face. He always managed to bring a smile on my face. His voice was deep and smooth, but it was strangely glitching out a lot. He told me not to question the logic because he belonged in another race that wasn't human.

That didn't stop me from falling for him.

He and I lived together after I ran away, he took care of me whilst I kept creating my music unbeknownst to any of my relatives. I kept singing and composing as he sheltered me, not minding the extra work he had to do just to keep me alive and well.

"just as long as i'm able to hear you," he'd say, making me blush.

Error isn't actually always this lovey-dovey. He would probably go burn a school just for fun. He was cold and short-tempered to everyone that messed with him. He was somewhat sadistic as well, which made him a very scary person.

But all of his bad attributes fade away when I was there.

I was able to see this other side of him. The side that was so pure and loving no one expected from a person like him. He'd done some pretty horrible things before, but he hasn't even hurt me or even made me feel uncomfortable. He was always so kind to me that it made me wonder if I deserved him.

We became more than friends immediately.

And after three years since I ran, I was finally the one who was giving him the love.

I became successful in the music industry. I was now a well-known music composer with such a unique style of writing songs, they couldn't fathom which genre I belonged in.

The genre didn't matter. The music sounded good, so they wanted more of it.

So that's what I did. I kept writing songs and composing music, some of them are for Error, actually. Without him, I wouldn't have been able to reach this far. I was incredibly thankful for everything he did for me.

He was an amazing boyfriend.

"m/n, would you teach me how to sing?" he suddenly appeared beside me as I tampered the strings on the guitar I was holding. I looked at him weirdly and smiled.

"But your voice is glitchy—"

"let me rephrase that again..." he coughed for a second and held up his other hand as a signal for me to stop for a moment. My brows furrowed at his action, completely confused as to what he was going to do.

"hey, puppet. would you teach me how to sing as beautifully as you do?" he said, leaning into my arm with a smirk, knowing perfectly well it was my weakness.

My face lit up from both his actions. Puppet was the nickname he gave me because he said that he loved making puppets and that he loved me too, so it was only fair to call me his puppet as well. His simple logic made my heart run faster.

I looked down and huffed, trying to hide my embarrassed state. I could tell that he felt pleased because his hold on my arm went a bit tighter.

He was charming, and he was such a tease

"Ugh. Why, though?" I asked, feeling as if I had no choice. I didn't mind teaching him how to sing. I was a bit excited, but his teasing made me slightly annoyed.

"so we can sing together," he said.

Together.

We always did everything together. We ate together, we laughed together, we even slept together.

He supported me and I supported him. We supported each other whilst holding hands, reminding the other one that they would always be together like that no matter what.

Even when I left everything behind and practically gave him another burden, another responsibility to take care of me, he did it without any hesitation. We lived together and never once did he tell me that he didn't want me anymore. He even said that he wanted to be with me forever.

His support for me was undying.

I looked at him and smiled brightly, feeling very thankful that it was he who took me in. It was me whom he loved.

"How do you know what exact words to say to make me melt?" I asked him, pulling him into an embrace. He chuckled and returned the hug, holding me slightly tighter than I was holding him.

"uhhhhhhh— because you're my boyfriend?" he said sarcastically like it was supposed to be obvious. I laughed and shook my head in disbelief.

"I love you, you moron." I grinned.

"i love you too, my puppet."

Some stereotypes are like an unhealthy relationship. They're the ones that hold us back to do what we want to do and what makes us happy. We're practically prisoners as they make us do the same things that were always "correct" and that was always "according to the book."

But one must always seek out and find help in order to be saved from the unhealthy relationship. You should always be with someone who will love you and support you for who you are and for who you want to be.

No one should ever tell you what you should be. They don't define you.

You define you.

And if they don't give you their support, it's their loss.