5

                                    

                                          
tyler is at church with his family, not listening to the pastor speak. he's staring intently at the back of the head of whoever is in front of him.
he feels like he doesn't belong here anymore. church has become less of a safe space and more of a trap for someone prone to a good, old fashioned downward spiral (such as tyler).
he doesn't understand how loving someone could be something so violent, so wrong. if he's going to be dragged to hell for loving someone, he'll leave claw marks on his way down. he'll kick and scream and bare his teeth and bruise his knuckles to a god that abandoned him for something as pure as love.
not just for himself, but for people like shawn, people like josh, people like the thousands of kids around the world that tell him how his lyrics have helped them feel better about themselves.
he remembers then that shawn had shared his beliefs with tyler recently, and the fact that he goes to church with his family on sunday's. tyler wonders what church he's found that could be so accepting. the joseph's have gone to the same place for as long as he can remember, and for just as long, they've preached the same homophobic rhetoric that makes tyler's skin crawl away from him, leaving him feeling stripped raw inside and out by the time the service is over.
tyler makes a note to himself to ask what church shawn goes to the next time he sees him. not that he could ever convince his family to make the switch, but he could probably sneak away for a sunday or two at some point.
it's strange to feel so repulsed by something that used to bring him so much comfort. he feels like everyone can tell he wants to leave, like the word 'traitor' is written across his forehead in bold, red letters.
he goes to the bathroom to check, just in case, and for a moment of peace. it doesn't last though, as he ends up staring in the mirror for a second too long and has to shake himself out of it. he splashes cold water on his cheeks and returns to sit next to his mother. she's holding his father's hand.
tyler looks away. 
-
after church, tyler goes to lunch with his family. he feels awkward and ostracized, just as he did when he was a teenager, despite having no real reason to anymore. 
he doesn't say much, only nodding here and there when appropriate. his mother knows something is wrong, he thinks. she keeps passing fleeting glances at him with slightly furrowed brows, her lips pursed before she wipes the expression away and asks jay to pass the salt.
she doesn't say anything to him. no one does. he's not sure anyone else notices his mental absence, his physical presence holding enough space for them to be satisfied.
the lunch feels like it drags on, like they're sitting at the table in that restaurant for three hours instead of one. and then, of course, he's stuck at his parents house for what feels like an endless amount of time.
they sit around and watch tv together, 'like a real family,' whatever that means. he doesn't know what would make them anything else, but it makes his mother happy to have everyone in the same room, so he doesn't question it.
it's almost comforting for awhile, the familiarity of it all. the smell of potpourri and the roast his mother is preparing for dinner. if he closes his eyes, he can remember this same evening as a child. he can hear the sports his father is falling asleep to in his chair, he can hear his sister playing with her dolls and his brothers arguing over a toy car. he wants to cry suddenly, wants to grieve for a time when everything was much simpler and all he had to worry about was picking the carrots off of his plate.
he eats the carrots this time. he thanks his mother for cooking.
he holds back tears on his drive home.