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I paced back and forth on my front porch, unable to bring myself to knock on the door. A cold gust of wind brushed over me, and I shivered. After fighting and wrestling in the rain, I was soaking wet. Before I could give myself some pep top, the door opened. My mom must have heard my footsteps. She stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Hey," I croaked, waving at her awkwardly.

Her lips parted, but not a sound came out. I didn't know what shocked her most: her son who returned home after running away, or her son that was as wet as a dog.

"I'm-"

She raised her hand, and I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for her to smack me across the face. My lids flung open when I felt her warm arms wrap around me, squeezing me against her.

"Uh, Mom?" I winced.

She pulled me at arm's length, sweeping the hair that stuck to my forehead.

"Do you know how I worried I was? Oh, just look at you, look at all these bruises."

"I've been through worse," I said, smiling sheepishly. Mom narrowed her eyes. I guess that wasn't the most reassuring thing to say.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have run away," I murmured.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize. I should have never said something so terrible."

My eyes fell to my feet, and I felt a nervous knot twist inside my stomach. I knew this wasn't easy for her either.

"We don't have to talk about it," I said.

"Yes, we do," she replied, raising my chin, so I'd look her in the eyes. "Desmond, I am so, so, sorry. I was upset, and I know that doesn't excuse the words I said, but it hurts me whenever you get into fights. It worries me how you always get in trouble, and I'm not just talking about last night. I just... I just don't understand why you would do that to yourself."

"How else am I supposed to get your attention?" I asked with a sad smile, digging my nails into the palm of my hands to direct the pain elsewhere. "I feel as if I can't exist in your eyes otherwise. We all know that I'll never be as great as Arthur. If I can't be the best or recognition for at least trying, then I might as well be good at messing up."

I took in a shaky breath.

"You and dad always praise Arthur and never look at me. You forget that I even exist. I know I'm not what you wanted, but I'm trying. I'm trying my best, and I wish you and dad would know that."

I felt pathetic crying in front of my mom, but I also felt as if I had lifted a heavy burden from my shoulders. She would never know how exhausting being shadowed by a perfect older brother was, and she would never know about the years of how I felt unwanted, unloved, and unappreciated, but that was okay. All I wanted was for her to know that those years existed. My mom pulled me in, hugging me.

"I compared you to Arthur because I wanted the best for you. I shouldn't have done it that way, it was wrong and cruel of me. I didn't know that it hurt you. I'm sorry, Desmond, I'm so, so, sorry."

She wasn't the only one to blame. Maybe if I had mustered up the courage and told her a few years earlier, then I wouldn't have suffered so much, but talking about my feelings, finding words that matched my emotions without being overwhelmed by them, was hard. Getting scolded and fighting with my fists was easier, but I had to admit that speaking up and communicating was more rewarding, and well worth the pain.

"Of course I know you exist. You're my son," she murmured, wiping away my tears.

"But am I your favorite son?" I asked, making her laugh.

"I love you and your brother equally."

"Bummer, I thought I was your favorite."

She smiled and pulled me at arm's length.

"Do you know how special you are?" she asked.

"That's what every mom says," I said with an eye roll.

"That's how every mom feels," she laughed. "But you're such a rare person to come across Desmond, and I'm not saying that because you're my son. Cross my heart, the universe is so lucky to have someone like you."

I smiled, fighting back the fresh tears. She then slapped my arm, and I yelped in pain.

"Hey, what was that for?!"

"That doesn't give you an excuse to run away and ignore my calls!" she snapped, returning to her usual self. "You're lucky your classmate came to my office to tell me you were okay, or I would have barged into your classroom and dragged you outside in front of your classmates."

"Wait, who went to your office?"

"Ivan Moonrich was kind enough to inform me you were staying at his house."

"That snitch," I gasped.

Mom narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, I mean, yay, I'm so grateful."

"Thank him the next time you see him. It seems like he's taken good care of you. You're even wearing his clothes."

I looked down at the soaked sweater and pants.

"He's probably going to burn these," I mumbled under my breath.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," I laughed.

"I didn't know you boys were friends."

"We're not," I blurted. She raised a skeptical brow.

"Did you boys perhaps-"

I stopped her before she could continue. "Mom, we are not having this conversation again!"

"He's quite handsome," she pried.

"MOM!"

I bit my lip and squeezed my hands, feeling a new pang of nervousness inside my chest. I hesitated at first. But if not now, then when?

"This is just a hypothesis," I began. "But let's say that I did like a boy. You wouldn't mind?"

I always thought my mom was beautiful, and even more so when she smiled the way she was smiling now. She ran a hand through my hair and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Of course I'd still love you. I'd love you no matter what."

I couldn't help but smile. Sure, my mom and I weren't perfect, but we loved each other despite our flaws and mistakes. And as much as I enjoyed staying at Ivan's place and running around in the rain with my friends, there was something irreplaceable about returning home.