“My father married my mother three days after they met.Your father also killed and maimed people for a living. How about we just place him in the Not-To-Emulate pile?"Shattered Glass by Dani Alexander (Chpt 14)”

“I looked at our hands, caked and coated in red, but entwined. The pristine moment when they were clasped like that earlier in the day seemed weeks ago."Clean." Peter said."Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand."No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.”

“His lips twitched, but he didn’t say no. I took that as ‘Oh,you sexy devil, Austin, I want to do you right here, but I’msuper-duper excited about our date so I’ll wait’.I was paraphrasing, of course."- Shattered Glass”

“Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. “Cop out,” I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter.“Don’t get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober,” he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand.“There’s the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me.” I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. “And I just need you.”“Need me to what?” He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up.“Nothing. I just need you,” I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner.”

“Clean," Peter said."Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand. "No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."I had missed who Peter was until that very moment...I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless."Well, you look filthy," I said, hitting redial on his phone and jamming it to my ear.”

“He's painting your living room as a thank you.""Huh. My decorator might screech, but I'm okay with that.""Your decorator? Seriously? How did you not know you were gay?”

“You know what I find ironic? My homophobic mother offersyou her cabbage rolls as a truce and you respond by asking her ifit was 'tacit approval' to suck my cock.”“She shoved a phallic symbol my way and told me to eat it.”