Taste The Rainbow

The One

The One

My eyes scan my body in the mirror, looking myself over in slight annoyance at the tight tie I'm forced to wear to church. I have to wear this annoying gray suit every Sunday just so I can sit in an uncomfortable pew for an hour while my father drones on about God and how we're all sinners.

But even though I have to hear about the fact that I'm sinning every day and not knowing it, I have to deal with being in the closet. It's no easy task to be gay and in love with the bad boy of school all while trying to act as straight as possible so my dad doesn't figure out my secret.

Honestly, I didn't know keeping this secret would be this draining, I feel like a zombie, which incidentally are also considered creations of the devil. If I knew this lie would leave me unable to sleep, eat, or complete simple tasks I would have just said f**k it and come out to my homophobic family.

Unfortunately, now I'm stuck pretending to be something I'm not, agreeing to date preppy girls who refuse to even put out at the end of the dates, spewing about how they're saving themselves for 'the one'.

Newsflash, there is no 'one', it's a lie that all us lonely young people tell ourselves because we need to believe that once we get older we'll find that person who can look past all our faults.

The only 'ones' there is are the ones who actually stick with you for a few years to have two kids, a house, then fight when the kids become moody teenagers that don't clean their rooms and whine about chores. I don't see why anyone would want that. But that analogy doesn't even cover the gay couples.

Gay couples have it worse, they have to put up with hate crimes, people giving them nasty looks, preachers yelling about them going to Hell, they can't even really get married in this state.

It baffles me why people want to find 'the one', honestly, what's so great about having another person to talk to?

Being alone is not a bad thing, you can do what you want, eat what you want, and not have to worry about impressing another human being. I may not be the happiest person on earth but at least I don't delude myself in thinking I won't die alone with a million dogs who will just eat my body when I die from overeating.

"Christian!" My dear mother calls, banging on my door. "Come on! We need to get going."

"Alright. I'm coming." I answer her with a sigh, taking one more glance in the mirror at my altar boy look.

I've always wondered why my parents decided to bestow upon me a name that also happens to be my supposed religion, especially when I don't live up to the name.

I look more like a Tyler, Tanner, Levi, anything but Christian. Christian who is anything but a Christian. Christian who smokes pot. Christian who goes around with spray paint to express his dislike for the world. Honestly, I think they should have given me a name with less meaning, like Bob. Bob is such a simple name that people don't have high expectations of you so when you fail the math quiz that you didn't even try on they won't be surprised.

Then again I'm sure I would somehow fail to live up to the small expectations of the name Bob, I'm just that shity of a person. I grab my phone and headphones along with my personal Bible that is used as a paperweight all days except Sunday. I walk out to the car, getting in the passenger seat while my mother starts to drive to the church that my father has been at sense five in the morning setting up for his sermon.

I scroll through my phone, reading old texts and wondering if I should try to talk to one of my 'friends' today. Sadly I don't even have real friends, I have three people who think they have me fooled, only being my friends so they can suck up to my mom who happens to teach at my high school.

Those supposed friends also go to my church so obviously, they're annoying preppy kids who brag about reading Genesis to Jeremiah during Spring break, thinking they're so cool because they used their break to read an old book that probably is fictitious.

So, of course, I don't have real friends, I have those people who suck up to me because of who my parents are. But I don't care, I don't need friends. I have other friends, my computer, my phone, my music that luckily my parents fail to monitor, and my right hand.

"Christian," I blink and look at my mother who has the car off and parked in the minister's reserved space.

"Right, sorry," I mumble, discreetly putting my Bluetooth headphones in so I can drown out my father's monotone voice that puts half the church to sleep every Sunday.

I walk slowly to the church with, admittedly, a beautiful stain glass window. My mother has already abandoned me to be eaten alive by the leeches known as my 'friends'.

"Chris, did you do the study guide on Revelations yet? I did it yesterday and my mom was so amazed that I understood the whole thing." This one girl by the name of Shelly continues to brag, which according to this old book in my right hand, is a sin.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, that was easy." I lie, leaning against the wall while simultaneously concocting a plan to have a smoke before I walk into my own personal Hell.

"Yeah, I went ahead and did this months study guide, my parents were so happy. They even let me read an extra Psalm on Saturday." Joseph says proudly, making me roll my eyes. Honestly, how are these people so, good? How is reading a Psalm a fun thing? It's not! It's just a chore.

"Chris!" My eyes wander to Tasha who is by far worse than everyone in this group of God geeks, flaunting her religion all the time and fighting people for their life decisions.

"Yes?" I question sweetly with a fake smile on my face while internally I'm coming up with ways to strangle her for calling me Chris, a name that is worse than Christian because there are so many colorful words that one can rhyme with Chris to make fun of me.

"The service is starting in ten minutes, we're going to go in. You're coming right?" She questions but her eyes challenge me to say no just so she can accuse me of sinning, which I do but I don't need some girl two years younger than me telling me something I already know.

"Actually I forgot something in the car, I have to go get it but I'll be there in a few." I lie once more, making me wonder if the big guy upstairs will smite me for sinning in his sacred ground. I look up at the ceiling in wonder, waiting a second for a bolt to come make me a pile of ash.

"Okay..." Tasha says before leading the other three teens through the gates of Hell. I shake my thoughts off, walking to the back of the church. I take out my pack of cigarettes, making sure I brought my travel bottle of cologne and mouthwash, an absolute must-have if your parents have noses like hound dogs.

I sigh, lighting the cigarette that surely will lead to an early death but honestly, I don't care.

The way I see it it's a win-win if I die or live. If I die then I get to see if there is really an afterlife and if so I can finally learn if God does condemn people for their sexuality.

If I live, well that just means I get to have more s*x, drugs, and booze. Well, I wish I could do that. The sad thing is the closest I've come to having s*x is jerking off to a picture of this hot actor on my computer.

I don't drink because I don't have a way to buy alcohol and the same with drugs. I take my lighter, flicking it thrice until the orange flame ignites and lights the little white stick that people constantly call cancer sticks. I inhale the smoke heavily, relishing in the slight burn the smoke brings my throat. My eyes wander the brick building in front of me, stopping at a piece of graffiti that makes my eyes widen slightly.

I mean sure, I've vandalized public property too and I don't particularly care for this building but even I know not to vandalize a church, that's just not something you should do.

"You like my handy work?" A voice questions, making me jump in alarm and turn to face a familiar figure.

I arch a brow, relaxing slightly since I now know this person is not from the congregation, therefore, will be unlikely to tell my parents that I was smoking, yet another supposed sin.

"You did this?" I question, smoke lacing my words and floating right into this boys, no, this mans face.

This man is at least an inch taller than me with dark eyes that warn people to stay the f**k away, black hair that curves around his face in a slight fringe, and black clothes. This is the one guy I have been watching, not like a stalker I assure, since I was twelve and in the dreaded stage of puberty when I realize my mini-me can stand up.

Of course, when I went to my father babbling about how something is wrong with my body I got the s*x talk then a lecture saying that the thoughts that led me to have this problem are sinful and need to be abolished. I didn't listen to my father and continued to fantasize about this guy who intrigued me when I first saw him smoking a joint behind the school.

I remember all those showers that I thought of him, those times when I couldn't get to sleep, the rare times when I got lonely. My attention comes back to the guy in front of me who is looking at the graffiti with pride in his eyes as if he didn't just deface a church with none other than a picture of what must be a ghost of sorts.

"Just finished when you came out." He replies before his eyes slide back to me, looking me over with a smirk. "Say, aren't you the pastor's son?"

"Mhm." I hum, inhaling the smoke again as I lean my back against the bricks, wondering what time it is because God forbid the preacher's son is late to church.

"Then why aren't you in there on your knees praying to the ceiling in hopes for an invisible God to hear?" He questions and I let my lips curve into a smirk as I drop the cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with my foot.

"If I'm going to be on my knees it won't be to pray," I reply dully, checking my phone to see I'm late.

I sigh, squirting cologne on my body before using the small mouthwash and finally I finish the ritual by popping a piece of strong mint gum into my mouth. While I do this the guy just watches me in amusement.

"What else would you be doing on your knees?" he asks with humor and I arch a brow once more.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" I question with fake wide eyes and he shakes his head.

"Giving some dude head," I reply nonchalantly, watching his eyes widen.

"You're gay?" He asks in surprise, that cocky attitude long gone.

At last, I mentally say f**k it, giving into this ongoing temptation I've had for the last five years.

"Does this answer your question?" I pull his face to mine, crushing my lips against his in a heated kiss that makes my hormones go crazy and my member spring to action. I pull away only when I hear a gasp, looking beyond this God to see my mother's horrified face.