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1 Nicholas Silva
The kisses came at me like mosquitos fighting to get through a protective net. Fast, sharp, unwelcome.
Her lips pecked at my neck first. Like she was searching for some sort of weak spot, where she could break skin and suck out my blood. I wondered briefly if I should let her. Just succumb to the blood-draining, like I’d succumbed to being in this fraud of a relationship for two years now.
All so Papi and Mami could live happy, knowing their little prince was finding himself a queen.
I rolled onto my side, cutting off the kisses. She huffed a breath of air before I felt the bed tremble as she fell back on it. I kept my eyes trained forward, on my chipped dresser, set so that it blocked half of the window, keeping the dusty red curtain permanently closed.
I hated the view. It reminded me of a prison. Keeping it shut meant I could lie on my bed without having to look out at the constant reminder of my, eh, situation. The only reason I even knew it was midday was because the sunlight barreled through the unblocked side of the window, throwing half my room into light and the other into shadow.
“What’s going on Nick? ¿Que pasa?”
The question didn’t come out of the blue. Cristella was a very caring, very empathetic woman, which made this situation all the more difficult. She was a proper girl, and a beautiful one, I’d admit. I’ve come to learn that she wasn’t my type in the slightest, but her beauty could never be denied.
I rolled over, facing her, looking into those doe-like green eyes, some of the waves of her silky brown hair cresting across her forehead, hiding a couple of freckles that dotted her flawless skin. Her pouty lips looked extra pouty. Normally, I would kiss her until I got a smile. I had always felt like that’s what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act. So I had.
But not today. Not after this morning. There would be no more kisses.
“You’re scaring me.” Her eyes bounced between mine. “You’re scaring a lot of us. You’ve just been in your room, for hours. Days. You missed the dinner yesterday, and you missed the fund-raising lunch last weekend. That was one of your favorite events of the entire year. And you wouldn’t even tell me why…”
Because I can’t look into anyone’s eyes anymore, not without thinking I’m a fucking fraud.
“I haven’t been feeling well,” I answered, giving my default response to any similar questions hurled my way over the past couple of months. Cristella wasn’t the only one who could pick up on my shift in attitude. Both my parents had briefly brought it up over dinner about two weeks ago. The conversation lasted approximately three minutes before my dad began talking about the preparations for the Christmas festival.
“But why?” Cristella had determination in her eyes. She wasn’t letting this go for idle chat over holiday decorations. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“A storm,” I said, being honest for once in what felt like months. “I can’t even pull out a single thought.”
“Try. For me.”
The thunderclouds filling my head exploded with lightning.
“That’s the thing, Cristella… I need to do the opposite. I have to try for myself now.”
“What are you talking about?”
I stared at the beauty mark that dotted her skin near the dip of her Cupid’s bow. “I’ve been living for what everyone else wanted of me. The prince, an heir to a throne that doesn’t even hold any power anymore. It’s all just dressing on a set. People fall for it because it glitters under the light, but when the lights turn off, it all gets dark just like everything else. I’ve been living a lie for what? To make my parents happy? To keep the tabloids quiet?”
Cristella’s eyes were filling with worry. A crease appeared between her thin brows. She started fiddling with her earlobe, something she always did when she became anxious.
“Don’t talk about your family like that.”
She didn’t get it. They weren’t family. They were prison guards, keeping my true self stuffed deep down inside the darkest dungeon imaginable. Somewhere devoid of any kind of light.
Not anymore, though. Not anymore.
“I can’t keep this in.” I sat up in bed, leaning back on the plush bedframe, the soft white pleated velvet caressing my bare back.
“Keep what in? What are you talking about, Nicholas?”
I wanted to shout it then. Wanted even the guards standing outside the palace gates to hear me.
The words almost fell from me, but they hit a barricade somewhere in my chest. I stopped myself. Breaking up with my girlfriend would cause big enough waves. Was I ready to proclaim why I had broken up with her? Was I ready to tell everyone that I was gay?
