The hooded figure's words had already split me open the night before. But it wasn't until they came back and sat across from me again, in the fading evening light near the rusted tracks, that I realized how deep the wound would go.
"You wanted the truth," the figure said softly, their voice edged with both hesitation and anger. "You deserve to hear it. But I won't lie to you—it's going to hurt."
I folded my arms across my chest, gripping my elbows to keep them from shaking. "Just say it." My voice was low, almost a whisper.
The figure studied me for a long moment before they leaned in, eyes shadowed by their hood. "Brayan didn't die just because he was sad, or weak, or because he wanted to. He died because people made sure he believed he had no other choice."
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
"They shamed him," the figure continued. "Day after day. Friends who laughed behind his back. Family who called him names when he finally trusted them enough to tell the truth. He told me things he never told anyone else. That the worst part wasn't the strangers or the kids at school—it was hearing people he loved turn their backs on him."
The words landed like blows. My chest tightened, and I pressed my nails into my skin, hoping pain would steady me.
"He was gay, Ben," the figure said firmly. "And instead of being loved for who he was, he was made to feel dirty. Wrong. He carried that weight until it crushed him."
I froze. Every sound around us seemed to fade—the hum of cicadas in the grass, the distant rumble of cars. All I could hear were those words repeating in my head.
He was gay.
They shamed him.
They pushed him into silence.
And suddenly it felt like the ground was tilting under me. Because wasn't I doing the same thing? Hiding. Pretending. Keeping my feelings for Tyler locked up, terrified of what people would think if they knew?
The figure's voice broke into my spiral. "He told me once… he wished he had someone to stand beside him. Someone who wouldn't let him be swallowed by their judgment. But he felt alone until he met you Ben. Alone in a way that no one should have to feel."
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My throat felt raw. "So you're saying—what? That he died because people hated him for being who he was?"
The figure's jaw clenched. "Yes. And because he believed them. That's what shame does, it makes you believe their voices are louder than your own. And Tyler should have been there for him but he wasn't."
For a long moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My mind flashed with images—Brayan's crooked smile, his laughter echoing in places he used to feel safe, and then the silence that followed.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit something. Instead, my voice cracked as I asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
The figure leaned back, their gaze steady on mine. "Because I see you heading down the same road. The secrecy. The fear. The way you look at him."
My chest seized. My head snapped up. "What...what are you talking about?"
He didn't flinch. "Tyler."
Every muscle in my body tensed. My first instinct was to deny it, to shove the truth back down. But the look in his eyes told me there was no point. He already knew.
"Brayan was scared too," the figure whispered. "Scared of loving who he loved. Scared of disappointing his family. Scared of the judgment. And now…" his voice cracked. "…he's gone. Do you really want to follow him?"
The question sliced through me.
My lips parted, but no words came out. My throat was thick with unshed tears.
I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to say I was stronger, that I wasn't Brayan. But the truth was ugly. Because I was heading down the same path—hiding, lying, breaking myself into pieces just to fit into everyone else's idea of who I should be.
The figure stood, pulling his hood lower. "You don't have to answer now. But think about it. Don't let shame bury you the way it buried him. Choose differently."
And just like that, he was gone again, his footsteps fading into the distance.
I sat there long after, trembling, the weight of his words pressing me into the bench.
That night, dinner felt like a funeral. Mom asked about homework. Mr. Morgan talked about some business deal. It seems they all made up and I didn't realise it.Tyler sat across from me, eyes catching every twitch of my hands, every flinch I tried to hide.
I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to lean across the table and say, You're the only thing keeping me from drowning.
But then I remembered Brayan. And how even family had turned against him when they knew. And the thought of how our parents would react to me and Tyler's relationship.
So I stayed quiet.
Tyler didn't. "You're lying again," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His fork clattered against the plate.
Mom blinked. "Tyler—"
"No," he snapped, eyes still locked on me. "Ben's hiding something. And I'm sick of pretending I don't see it."
Heat crawled up my neck. My chair scraped back as I stood abruptly. "I'm not hungry."
And before anyone could stop me, I walked out.
Back in my room, I collapsed against the door, my chest heaving. The words from the stranger replayed in my head, over and over: Do you really want to follow him?
No. I didn't. But how could I stop when I didn't even know how to live any other way?
I barely slept that night. My pillow was damp with tears I refused to admit to.
morning came, everything felt… off. The air was heavy, the house unusually quiet.
When I walked into the kitchen, an envelope sat on the counter, my name scrawled across the front.
Mom looked up, her smile hesitant. "It came."
My hands shook as I picked it up. College. My future. My escape, maybe.
I tore it open, heart pounding.
Congratulations…
I read the first line again and again, unable to process the rest. I was in.
My breath caught when Tyler walked in a moment later, holding his own envelope. His face broke into a small, disbelieving smile. "I got in too."
We looked at each other . Two boys accepted into the same school, standing on the edge of something bigger than this town, bigger than the ghosts that haunted us.
And yet, behind Tyler's smile, I saw the worry. The way his eyes searched mine like he knew I was holding something back.
He should be a little patience with me, I'll tell him everything when the time is right.
Even with the letter clutched in my hands, even with the future calling, I couldn't shake the echo of Brayan's story.
And the terrifying realization that my path,our path,might not be so different from his unless I found the courage to change it.
I stared down at the acceptance letter long into the night, the paper trembling in my hands. It should've felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like a choice.
A choice between silence and survival.
And I wasn't sure which one I was strong enough to make.
I held the envelope close to my chest closing my eyes and hope for sleep to come