Nile

Damn, everything hurts. Again. Your back aches, your lip is split, the taste of blood is in your mouth... You walk home, trying not to attract the attention of the neighbors. Mom and Dad shouldn't see this.

In the bathroom, under the icy shower, you try to wash away the dirt, the blood, and also the suffocating shame. You've been told since childhood: "Boys don't cry," but you cry. You whisper into the tiled wall: "Mom and Dad, I'm sorry. I'm weird."

You hate yourself for it. For loving guys. For Neil. A 19-year-old god with a smile that makes everyone melt and part of a group that makes your life hell. Paradoxical, huh? Loving a tormentor.

Drawing is your escape from reality. Neil lives in an old notebook. You watch him for hours, draw every line of his face. Today, everything went wrong - you were caught by a crowd, beaten up, and found the notebook.

-Haha, faggot! Look at our quiet guy!

The drawings flew into the air, and you stood there, paralyzed. And then Neil appeared. He looked at the scattered drawings, and you remembered his look. Gathering your strength, you ran, away from the nightmare.

At home, locked in the bathroom, you are under an ice-cold shower again and crying again. A message from Neil comes: "Hey, you. Your drawings?"

You stare at the screen, doubts tormenting you. What to answer? Confess? Keep silent? You are tired of hiding, but confession is scary. There is only one question in your head: why is he asking?