C2 Chapter 1

Five years ago, somewhere in Manhattan, the borough of New York City.

MILES

"Ahhh!" I screamed gently as Mom treated my bruise and wound on the left side of my face. I was in agony since I could feel every pressure she applied to the cotton ball she held.

I sniffled and tried to hold back the tears as she continued to treat my injury. I couldn't help but think of how I got hurt in the first place. My father struck me last night, and I now have these scratches and bruises on my face. Mom and I were sitting on our couch in the living room, facing each other. I could see Mommy's entire face; everyone was right; I looked exactly like her since I inherited her hazel eyes.

"I told you to stay still," she remarked as she continued to treat my bruises and wounds. I just did what she said; as the pain subsided, I looked up at Mom's face. Her eyes were filled with worry, but a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She always had a way of making me feel safe.

I couldn't tolerate seeing her worry, so I took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, Mom; I didn't mean to talk back to him. I didn't want Dad and me to fight, so I was sorry for my behavior last night," I said sadly to Mom, causing her to stop what she was doing and look me straight in the eye.

"You know, my love, you don't know how much I hate it whenever your Father hurts you. It's been two years since you came out to us, and he still can't accept it. I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm doing all I can to protect you. There, all done," she said as she finally removed the cotton ball.

"Now, let's put some ointment on to help it heal quickly." I watched with curiosity as Mom carefully applied the ointment to my wound. It smelled strange, but Mom assured me it was medicine to help prevent infection. She then covered it with a small bandage, ensuring it was securely in place.

"There, good as new," she said, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

"C'mon, let me take you to school today," she said to me, so I nodded in response and stood up, picking up my bag from the floor.

I quietly followed Mom out of the house, and the floor creaked as I cautiously stepped through the front door. The air inside the home was stale, heavy with the remnants of arguments and broken promises. It was a house filled with memories, both good and bad, and it was poisoning the very foundations it stood upon.

I saw my dad right on the veranda adjoining our house; he was sitting on his favorite chair with a dozen cans of beer next to him, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. I could see his face contorted by anger, and although his words stung, they couldn't compare to the pain etched on his face. He glared at me like he was about to land another punch on me, so I gulped out of fear.

"I'll head to school now, D-dad," I told Dad nervously. I'm seventeen now, and I'm still scared of my father. Here's the reason why me and my Dad were close: we're like brothers, and we have a great bond together as father and son. But not until two years ago, when I accidentally outed to everyone and told them I was Gay and I liked boys. The bond between me and my father changed; he never saw me as his son anymore, and he constantly beat me until I bled.

"I don't care; just get your ass out of my property before I fucking lose my mind again!" He said it angrily while throwing an empty can in my direction. It bounced off the wall, missing me by inches. His words pierced through me like a worn-out blade. Memories of past pain, regret, and missed opportunities flooded my mind. How could I make amends for the countless times I let him down? How could I heal the wounds I had inflicted upon his heart?

My hands instinctively clenched into fists, my heart pounding, ready to fight back against his outburst. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw a man on the edge of his breaking point. Beneath the anger, I saw a plea for help.

"Scott! What is wrong with you? He's your son!" Mom shouted softly at Dad. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Mom was about to approach Dad, but I stopped her in time by holding her hand, and she glanced at me. I could see the frustration etched on my mother's face as she tried to comprehend why my father was acting cold towards me. It was a perplexing situation because, for the first time in a long while, I was genuinely trying to reach out to him and bridge the widening gap between us.

I don't want to cause another fight between my parents. Instead, overcome by melancholy, I bow down my head. I'm about to start weeping, but I don't want my Dad to watch me cry again. I longed for my father's understanding, for him to see that my tears were not a sign of weakness but a plea for peace and solace. I yearned for him to tell me it was okay to cry, that it was natural and human.

I whispered to my mother, my voice quivering with fear, "Mom, just get me out of here." The air inside the house was tense, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. As we walked toward the car, she smiled at me, her warm touch enveloping my hand, offering me solace in that moment of anguish. Dad, consumed by anger, stormed into the house; the force of his entrance echoed through the front with a loud smash of the door.

I buckled up my seatbelt as Mom, and I climbed inside the vehicle, and then I just sat there, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

"You ready to go, sweetie?" Mom asked, so I nodded my head in response. To push those negative thoughts aside, I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket as soon as it vibrated, signaling a new message.

My heart skipped a beat as I scrolled through my Instagram feed and noticed a notification from Tyler Penrod. His dimpled smile had always caught my attention, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as I eagerly clicked on the post.

The photo that greeted me was pure perfection. Tyler stood in the middle of the school's soccer field, surrounded by friends. The vibrant green of the grass complemented their radiant smiles, instantly making me wish I had been a part of that joyful moment. I'm in awe of his face. Why is he so appealing? Tyler has deep gray eyes, thick, flawlessly groomed eyebrows, and a jawline that could cut diamonds. He also has gorgeous, dirty blonde hair.

Tyler made every picture seem effort, his charisma shining through without noticeable effort. It was as if the whole world stopped momentarily to admire his presence. Seeing him brought me comfort, distracting me from the mundane routine of everyday life.

As I continued to analyze the photograph, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be a part of his life. I had always admired him from afar, sitting at the corner, silently observing his infectious laughter and how he effortlessly connected with people.

Everyone seemed to gravitate toward Tyler, and it was no surprise that he earned unrivaled popularity on and off social media. He was the life of the party, always up for an adventure, and his posts always showcased this vibrant spirit.

Though I had never mustered the courage to approach him in person, his online presence somehow bridged the gap between us. Instagram allowed me to see glimpses of his life, moments that made me grow fonder of the person he portrayed online.

With a sigh, I reminded myself that my infatuation was built solely on the stories his pictures told. Deep down, I knew they were just snippets of his life, carefully curated to show only what he wanted the world to see. Still, I couldn't help but hope that his charming smile held a hint of authenticity

In the bustling hallways of Adamson High School, I was often unnoticed, a shy figure fading into the background. I was what people called an outcast, perpetually on the fringes of teenage social circles. But amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, there was one that brought me solace and a sense of happiness. It was Tyler, a radiant being with an infectious smile that melted the coldest of hearts. We had never exchanged a single word; he didn't even know I existed. Yet, just a glimpse of him passing by would instantly lift my spirits and brighten my day.

I immediately liked Tyler's photo without a second thought by tapping the heart button on Instagram. A little while later, as I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, I received a notification from our group chat. Curiosity piqued, I immediately opened the group conversation and saw the image my friend Charles had just sent us.

As the image loaded, I couldn't help but feel a jolt of surprise run through me. It was Tyler's most recent Instagram post, but something seemed off. Confusion knitted my brows together as I tried to understand what was wrong with the picture.

That's when it hit me. Charles hadn't merely shared Tyler's photo; he had captured the entire Instagram page in a screenshot - comments, likes, and all. And there, among the list of admirers, was my name, a small red heart denoting my appreciation for Tyler's post.

My heartbeat quickened, and a mix of embarrassment and anxiety washed over me. How could I have missed that Charles captured the whole page for us to see? It wasn't like my liking Tyler's photo was a secret, but having it so explicitly showcased left me feeling unexpectedly exposed.

The messages poured into the chat as Charles and Erin started teasing me about my fondness for Tyler's photo.

"So this is why you didn't reply to our chats, because you're busy liking Tyler's photo, right, Miles?" Charles stated on the chat box.

"OMG, Miles! You're obsessed with him!" Erin replied enthusiastically; she never failed to support Charles' scheme.

"Of course he is!" Charles added. My God, these guys don't know when to stop teasing me!

"I AM NOT!" I replied to them with a crying emoji at the end of the text.

"You guys just won't stop teasing me! What's wrong with liking his picture?" I added, trying to make excuses. Of course, they're right about one thing: I like Tyler.

"HAHAHA! Why are you being so defensive? LOL!" Charles doesn't know when to stop teasing me. Sometimes, I just really wanted to punch him in the face.

"Well, he's in love XD," and there's this girl; sometimes I wonder if she loves me as her friend.

"I am not!" I replied to them, shaking my head while wearing my headphones and starting to listen to music on Spotify. I played a Calum Scott song, Boys on the Street. This song reminds me so much of my father.

TYLER

On the school's soccer field, the sun shines brightly, casting its golden rays on a group of boisterous students. Laughter filled the air as we chatted and teased each other with hilarious jokes. It was a typical morning full of joy and camaraderie until something caught my attention.

Amidst the noise and banter, a familiar vehicle approaches the school's front gate. It was none other than Miles' parents' car. Curiosity piqued, I squinted, trying to make out who was inside. And there he was, sitting in the front seat, donning those white headphones and lost in his world.

"Tyler! Are you even listening to me?" I went back to my senses when my friend Clark Hawkins abruptly asked me with a severe tone of his voice.

"Uh, sorry, Clark," I stammered, struggling to collect my thoughts.

"I guess my mind just wandered off for a moment." but he rolled his eyes and added, "Never mind, anyway, I'll go ahead first," Clark said goodbye to me, scooped up his bag, and walked away.

"By the way, enjoy your date," Clark remarked with a wink, and then he was gone, leaving me alone in a daze. I blinked, trying to process his words, wondering what on earth he meant. I rose with my bag and was about to go after him, but I felt someone abruptly grasp my arm, prompting me to ask, "W-wait! What date?!?" I then looked at the person who had grabbed my arm.

Jessica Cross...

She greeted me with a flirtatious "hi!" and a provocative look in her eyes.

"It's too early for me to be annoyed, Jessica," I told her calmly, and she merely rolled her eyes and smirked at me.

"Who says I'm annoying? I'm the most popular and hottest blonde girl on campus, so you should be thankful that I'm your date." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her audacity. Jessica, the self-proclaimed hottest and most popular girl on campus, had just told me I should consider myself lucky to be her date. She exuded confidence, with her blonde locks cascading perfectly over her shoulders and a smug smile dancing on her lips. But beneath her superficial façade, something rubbed me the wrong way.

As we walked through the crowded soccer field, our heads turned to catch a glimpse of Jessica, and her ego swelled like a balloon ready to burst. I found it hard to believe that popularity and physical appearance were the only indicators of worthiness.

Jessica continued to boast about her numerous admirers and endless social invitations, but I remained silent, unwilling to engage in her self-centered conversation. Deep down, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to being popular than just having a pretty face.

I'm not sure if Jessica is the most well-liked student on campus, but she certainly is the most popular! She was a striking blonde with an infectious smile that seemed to capture the attention of everyone around her. Jessica's popularity extended far beyond the confines of the campus grounds, reaching the realms of TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. With her cheerleading expertise and vibrant personality, Jessica had garnered a massive following despite her vlogs being deemed by many as cringeworthy and awful.

Every day, Jessica would whip out her phone and document her adventures on campus. From over-the-top makeup tutorials to dance routines set to the latest pop hits, she aimed to give her followers a glimpse into her seemingly glamorous life. But little did Jessica know that her vlogs had become an endless source of entertainment for students, who gathered secretly to indulge in the amusement caused by her unintentional mishaps and comedic timing.

In reality, Jessica was more than just the character she portrayed through her vlogs. She possessed immense intelligence and creativity, but these qualities often remained hidden beneath the surface, overshadowed by her desire for popularity and the approval of her followers.

However, there was something peculiar about her. She tended to live in a world of her own created illusions. Among her many delusions was the belief that we were dating. I could never figure out why she held onto this notion, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction. The weirdest part was that the students and faculty at our school seemed to buy into her delusion as well. They viewed us both as idols, an unbreakable couple made in teenage dreams.

"I told you we're not dating Jessica; we're just friends, and our friendship will not go beyond that, okay?" I gently told her as we walked together with her arms around mine.

"Yes, we are dating Tyler Penrod, whether you like it or not. See you later, love. Ciao." She gave me a cheek kiss and ran toward her friends.

I grabbed my handkerchief and immediately wiped my right cheek after nearly throwing up in disgust. I whispered gently, "Damn it!"

"You know, maybe it's time for you to tell her and Clark the truth, Ty." I was startled for a second after a familiar voice said from behind. I turned only to see Klaus, who had just emerged from nowhere.

The man in front of me is the identical twin of Clark; Klaus is the total antithesis of Clark. Klaus is the quiet one, a little more introverted, intellectual, and wise, whereas Clark is the loud one, outgoing, athletic, and clumsy as hell. They look the same because they are identical twins, obviously, yet there is a distinction. Clark does not wear glasses, but Klaus does because of poor vision.

"No, I can't; not now, Klaus, because if I tell her, she might lose it," I said, doing the crazy sign by twisting my finger around my ear. Klaus just kept walking with me, laughing as he showed me my most recent Instagram post on his phone.

"Your long-time crush just liked your recent post on Instagram again," Klaus excitedly informed me as he drew his phone nearer to me so I could see what he was displaying. I grinned since it was a screenshot of my most recent post, and I could tell Miles liked it.

"He never misses your posts, Tyler; maybe this is a sign that he likes you too," Klaus joked, so I gently prodded Klaus in the side, playfully teasing him. "You always had the best ideas, Klaus. Like that time, you convinced us to build a rocket out of cardboard and tin foil. It may not have gone to space, but it did fly!"

Klaus burst into laughter again, his infectious giggles ringing in my ears. "And remember how it crash-landed right into Mrs. Johnson's garden, destroying all her prized tulips?" he added, unable to contain himself. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I recalled the chaos that ensued when Mrs. Johnson discovered the wreckage. We couldn't apologize enough, but she eventually forgave us, unable to resist the charm and innocence in our pleading eyes.

"But what you said is impossible, Klaus; I know he's gay, but that doesn't imply he likes me," I answered complacently with a shrug of my shoulders as if I were sure of what I said.

"Everyone likes you, Tyler, and I can also say that even this youngster likes you too. All you have to do is stop blinding yourself and open your eyes." He added, and I glanced at him with a perplexed look.

"What makes you say that?" I questioned him.

"Well, I've been watching him for a while now to validate my theories about him, and based on my observation, he always responds to every Instagram picture you upload, and guess what? I found something intriguing!" He stated as he displayed to me the screenshots he had taken.

I made fun of him, saying, "It's like stalking." Stalking is a thing, and that's what he is doing.

"Shut up and listen!" I stopped giggling as he held up a photo of me on his phone screen.

"Look at this. Remember this post?" I nodded in response to his question because I was interested to hear what he had to say.

"We went with our friends to the abandoned playground around here in New York City that day, and you let me take a picture of you sitting on the right side of the two swings, and you posted it immediately the same day, right?"

To show it to me again, Klaus swiped his phone screen. He showed me a picture of Miles from Instagram, smiling enthusiastically while seated on the left side of the two swings.

Look at that charming face: medium-length side-parted hair, symmetrical eyebrows, hazel eyes, and a sincere, kind grin. That is Miles, a young man with an infectious positive energy that radiated from him effortlessly. He possessed a unique ability to brighten even the gloomiest of my days.

"I think you should read the caption on this picture," Klaus advised. "He also posted it the following day." As Klaus had mentioned, I immediately read the caption.

"I wish I could join you on these swings."

As I read, I grinned, but then I thought that perhaps it was simply a coincidence. I noticed Klaus looked defeated as he slid his phone into his pocket.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence, and maybe that caption is for his ex-boyfriend or whatever." I said to him, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, very irritated, "You're hopeless!" I couldn't help laughing.