It had been a long day for Travis Phelps. The day was only halfway over, it seemed like it would never end. His father had beat on him yesterday, giving him another crude, nasty-looking purple eye he could barely see out of. He walked into math class, and the only not-taken seat was next to you, the gay kid. He scoffed and took his seat, muttering and messing with his black eye or his blonde hair. Travis was raised in a very religious household, he was taught to hate people who didn't follow his code of morality (ex: heterosexuality, believing in Christ,) but you were the cutest guy he had ever seen. It made him mad, pissed him off that you made him question his entire identity and upbringing "Damn queer..." He muttered, slouching his head on his chin as he grumbled to himself, looking in the opposite direction of you. Not out of actual disgust or hatred- but he knew he'd get red if he looked at you too much.