Prologue
-Three Years Earlier-
I never understood why I was so disliked. I was a generally happy and playful person but in order to fit in I had to be... someone I wasn't. I just wanted to be accepted, and I'd do anything to make that happen.
I dragged my feet through the blades of grass, touching the tip of my shoe to the soccer ball in front of me.
"Alright, Ace, heads up!" I called out before drawing back my foot and swinging it forward. With a powerful force I kicked the ball towards the goal. Ace, who was guarding the goal, jumped to knock the ball away but failed epically.
"Wow, man. You're getting better and better," Kaz, Ace's twin, complimented me as he walked up to me. Little comments like that were so meaningful to me. A big smile formed on my face, my faint dimples appearing.
Ace went to go grab the ball before walking over to us. He shoved the ball into my hands and nodded at me.
Ace was the... how do I put it? He was the dominant twin. With short brown hair that was spiky in the front and piercing dark green eyes, he was quite the paramount of the group.
"Scored your sixth goal in a row. Impressive," he remarked with his strong New York accent, raising an eyebrow and oozing pride.
"Thanks. A lot," I appreciated, feeling my own little sense of pride. Impressing Ace was quite a feat, so I could give myself a few pats on the back for that. He was the captain of the soccer team in our middle school. When we met in elementary - fifth grade - he heard me talking about how good I was at soccer and took an interest in me for it. Now we were eighth graders and I was on the team, so we came out here to practice soccer every day.
Ace crossed his arms, smirking and shuffling past me. I watched his twin go with him so I followed as usual. They stopped near the swings and Ace leaned against the pole that supported the structure, crossing his ankles. He reached into his pocket.
"Kaz, lighter," he requested in a monotone voice. I shifted the soccer ball under my armpit and rested my other hand against it. Kaz smirked in a fit of excitement and whipped out a lighter from his own pocket as his twin revealed a pack of cigarettes. My eyes widened for a second, but I tried to remain composed as I glanced both ways to see if anyone was around.
"Guys," I began to say. Ace pulled out two cigarettes, handing his twin one before snatching the lighter. He set the stick between his pink lips and quickly lighted the end.
"Don't look so surprised, Zion," Kaz teased. "It's perfectly okay."
It wasn't. They were smoking. Though I wasn't judgmental, I didn't like it when people smoke. I mean, we'd been taught to say no to drugs, right?
Kaz lit his own and pressed it between his lips. "Want a smoke?" he managed to ask with that thing in his mouth.
"What? Are you kidding? No!" I refused. "It's bad. Dad said it's not good for you."
"Which dad?" Ace taunted.
My face grew red as Kaz burst out laughing, taking his cigarette out his mouth. He held onto the swing as he doubled over.
"That's... not funny." I looked down.
"Listen," Ace started, sighing impatiently. He took out another cigarette. "This is some good stuff. I know you're Daddies' little boy, all innocent and... honest..." he approached me then slung a lazy arm around me. "But this takes you to a whole new world. One you've never seen before. It's just... cool." He took the stick out his mouth and blew a puff of smoke out.
I grimaced, holding in my cough. "I don't wanna smoke, Ace."
He let me go and went back to the pole. "Fine. You're no fun, Zion. When we have parties in high school, no one's gonna be around you. In fact, you wouldn't even get invited."
"Now, Ace-" Kaz started to defend me, but Ace shot him a look to silence him.
"You know I'm right, Kaz." He shifted his icy gaze back to me, but he was still talking to his brother. "We should just go home."
"No!" I shook my head, dropping the soccer ball and walking up to Ace with determination. I snatched the unlit cigarette from his hand and grabbed the lighter out of Kaz's. I frowned, taking a subtle breath before holding the lighter upright. I rolled the metal spark wheel down for it to ignite then moved it to the end of the cigarette.
From the corner of my eye I noticed Ace smirk almost devilishly. I sighed.
"What do I do now?" I demanded.
"Um, put in between your lips and fill your mouth with smoke. Duh," Kaz said. I relunctantly held the stick in my mouth, my eyes darting between the two boys.
"Make sure you take a deep breath so you don't cough," Ace said. I did as he said and sucked in a long breath and Kaz took out my cigarette, a smile on his face.
"Wait... now breathe out."
I gave a large exhale and coughed right in the middle of it. Kaz laughed.
"You'll get the hang of it," he assured. "We all had those moments."
"Hopefully, you'll improve with it as much as you have with soccer. I'll tell Coach you're getting so much brighter. He might consider you the new co-captain."
I gasped, coughed, and then cleared my throat. "Y-you mean it?"
"Yes, Zion. I guess you just proved your worth."
Kaz handed me back the cigarette. "We can stay a while longer, right, Ace?" he said.
"Sure. Zion's a friend."
"Hear that?" Kaz smiled. "You're a keeper."
"I'm also thirteen. If my parents catch me with this in my hand, they'll stuff me in box and ship me to Asia."
"Well. Let's not get caught then," Ace ordered, giving me a warning look.
"What? Do your parents not care?" I inquired.
"Please. They probably don't notice we're gone," Kaz grumbled, jumping onto a swing and letting out a few puffs of smoke.
"Don't tell anyone this, but... I see the way your dads treat you. Like you're an angel from heaven. I'd take a couple of fags over our parents any day," Ace wished bitterly, getting onto a swing as well. I felt a sting at his choice of words. I didn't exactly know what the word 'fag' meant, but I'd heard people use it quite a lot back in North Carolina and I knew it was offensive.
"We used to live in Brooklyn," Kaz explained. "Our aunt was the one taking care of us until we were seven and then... dumped us here at our parents' place. We're not strangers to smoking and drinking, trust me. Not with the potheads we live with." Kaz let out a very rancorous chuckle, an expression of spite welling in his green eyes. "I don't even know who we live with anymore, with all the crackpots that just walk into our house and stay for a few days like they own it."
"That's enough. I'm not talking about it anymore."
I sighed. "You know if you don't feel safe at your house, there's more than enough room to stay at mine. Like... a sleepover or something. You can come over the weekend."
"We can?" Kaz asked hopefully, kicking his legs a little.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"No thanks," Ace declined. "We're staying with Calix this weekend."
Calix was another boy on the team who was much like Ace, but probably worse. He saw himself as superior and was difficult to handle. At the same time, he had a way with words and loved to speak his mind. I was sure that he and Ace got along quite well.
"You can stay with Cal. I'm bunking with Zion," Kaz chose. Ace rolled his eyes.
"Whatever."
"We've never been to his house. His dad's a freaking model worth millions and the other owns that huge-ass fancy restaurant everyone keeps talking about. I'm pretty sure he's living it up, and let's face it: Cal is not."
Ace gazed at me and I shied away from his intense stare, fixing my eyes on the ball underneath my foot.
"Fine. He's our friend after all." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and smirked. "We're gonna head home, but we'll see you this weekend. When you're done with the cig, stomp it out." He slid off the swing and gestured for his brother to follow.
"Thanks, Z. You're a really great friend," Kaz appreciated me, giving me a genuine smile before following his brother. Ace, on the other hand, didn't spare me a glance as he walked off with Kaz.
I stared after the both of them, glad that they finally considered me a part of their circle of friends. I'd been trying to earn that title since we'd met. As I stated, Ace was a hard case. Kaz was easier to get along with.
I stared at the cigarette still in my hand and grimaced at it. No way was I taking another hit at this. I moved over to concrete ground, threw it down, and stomped it out. Then, I pulled out my phone and called Dad number two to come get me. I knew he'd hold me until I fell asleep. I needed that a lot right now.
I loved and cherished both of my dads so much that it was unexplainable. If someone tried to insult them, I'd find a private place and break down crying. My biological dad, Asher or Dad one, was the disciplinarian while his husband, Nolan or Dad two, was the lenient, magnanimous one. The thought of it made me chuckle to myself. Anytime I wanted to do something or go somewhere, I knew I could ask Dad two. He was the biological dad of my sister, Jocelyn. She and I had the same mother. It was weird, but it was pretty cool because she sort of looked like me.
I sat down on the bench with my soccer ball next to me. I remember Dad one had gotten it for me when I was eight. It's stuck with me through the years, like a friend. Staring at the green grass below me, I thought of one friend I missed dearly.
Jonah Santora.
I didn't like to think about him in a way. I'd hurt him once but we'd settled it. It was just that... thinking about him made me sad. I knew we put the past behind us but I didn't forget. It was hard to forgive myself for what I did. It had been the biggest mistake I'd made, really.
"Sweetheart?"
I looked up, my green-spotted brown eyes growing wide. How long had I been thinking?
"Dad!" I exclaimed, jumping up and into his arms. He laughed.
"Z, you're happy to see me," he observed as I pulled away to grab my ball.
"When am I never?" I replied, a silly smile on my face.
"Where are your friends?"
"They left a few minutes ago. Um, I told them they're welcome to come over. I think they have trouble at home," I informed as I followed him to his car. I loved being open with my fathers. Being honest was crucial to me, so I did my best to remain transparent with them and hold nothing back.
"Trouble?" Dad's blue eyes roamed over me, assessing me. I knew what he was doing: looking for any scars or bruises. I assumed he was careful to make sure I wasn't being bullied or hurt. He was very observant. On the other hand, my actual dad would give me random pat-downs on random days, and it always made me laugh.
"Yeah, I mean... they don't feel safe at home," I elaborated.
"Oh, okay. Well, I'll let your dad know and we can let you know the best time for them to sleep over."
I grinned. "Yes!"
Dad walked up to his car, opening it and getting the passenger door for me. I thanked him and climbed inside before he rounded his sleek black car and entered the driver's seat.
"Dad, are you alright?" I queried. I just realized how strange he was acting.
"Yeah, love, I'm fine," he responded. "Why?"
"You seem off."
He chuckled. "Off?"
"Yeah and you haven't gone to work for the past three days."
He sighed. "I know."
"Does that mean you won't give me cookies and milk and hold me until I fall asleep?" I asked.
He started his car, smiling at me. "Baby, if I were dying, I'd still give you cookies and milk and hold you until you fell asleep."
I giggled and buckled my seatbelt as he did the same. "Good," I said. "I have a quick question."
"Shoot."
"Okay. So, what's fag?"
He frowned. "It's a cancer stick."
I gave him a droll look. "Dad," I whined. "What's that? I know it's not that."
"It kind of is. Cancer stick is what I used to call cigarettes."
"Cigarettes?"
"Yeah, baby. They can cause cancer. You know that; your father and I have warned you about it."
I sank into the seat. "I know," I affirmed, my voice small.
"But, 'fag' is a very offensive word and I suggest you never use it. See, couples like your dad and I get called that because people think that we're wrong."
"Like... wrong to be together?"
Dad nodded. "Exactly."
"Is it wrong, Daddy?"
He shook his head. "There's no wrong or right to it, sweetheart. I want you to know, that if you're sure you love someone, being with them can only be for the best."
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"People are dumb."
He chuckled. "They're just closed-minded, Zion. Don't bother with people like that."
**
I had been right. Dad wasn't okay.
I figured that much when he and my real Dad sat me and eight-year-old Jocelyn down in the living room to talk. They were holding hands and seemed to gravitate closer to each other as usual.
"Uh oh," Jocelyn said once she analyzed the situation. "Z, we got bad news." She shrank into me. I was genuinely scared. My heart began to race and my voice came out tiny.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"We don't want you guys to worry too much," my real dad began to explain. "Listen, in a few weeks or so, we're gonna be heading back to North Carolina."
Jocelyn groaned. "Noooo, bad news! Bad!"
"Jos," I scolded, nudging her arm with my elbow.
"It's just that your daddy's not feeling so well and we think it's best if he's around his family and friends back home to help him a bit. Thing is, we don't know how long we'll be there."
"When you say we, is that both of you or all of us?" I questioned, feeling slight dread.
"All of us, Zion. We're a family."
I shifted my hard gaze to my younger dad, the dread settling deep within me. No. No. He said he was fine!
"You told me you were okay!" I cried, opening myself to my emotions as my eyes grew wet.
"I am - I will be, Zion," he reassured. I shook my head.
"No. Something's really wrong. Or else we wouldn't have to go home. That means you're..." I buried my face in my hands as sobs wracked through my body, tearing me apart. He was dying. Why else would he have to go home? Why else would he have to be around his family and old friends?
I felt my dad's strong, comforting hold around me and cried harder, finding his shoulder to hide my face in.
Please, if there's a god, don't do this to me. To him. Don't do this to Jos; she was only eight. And please, please, don't let Dad lose the love of his life.
(*********)
Any feels yet? I'm not gonna let my Nolan-baby die!
