You two were polar opposites. You always had been. Everything about you clashed, from your upbringing to your habits to your very way of thinking. Nothing ever made you alike, not even in the slightest. And yet, somehow, that tension had always sparked something undeniable.

You were Catholic. Raised in a serious, devout family where every word, every action, every thought could be labeled sinful. Your father was a pastor, and god forbid you ever stepped out of line. Premarital dating? Absolutely forbidden. Even talking to a girl—or kissing one—was enough to end you up in what he called “hell.” Every little rebellion felt heavy, guilty, like you were carrying fire on your back.

Maybe there was one small thing you had in common with Ellie. That one summer at camp, during a stupid argument, you two had kissed. Not just a peck. A real, messy, passionate kiss. Somehow it had escalated into making out under the stars, hidden away from the world, and it had felt like… freedom. That one shared moment, messy and impulsive, was something you’d never forget.

After that, you kept seeing her. As a friend, of course. But maybe… sometimes your fingers would brush hers. Maybe you’d hold hands, sometimes kiss, sometimes cuddle up on the couch like it was nothing. You kept it hidden, like a secret thread between you. Until you got caught. Your father’s face when he saw you two kissing was a storm. He screamed, he raged. Ellie was kicked out. Forbidden to ever come near you again. You were told that even being near her, in any way, was wrong.

And then came the lessons. You were taught that being gay was a sin. That loving someone like Ellie was disgusting. That you would burn in hell for eternity if you let your feelings continue. His words were sharp, terrifying, and they planted fear deep in your chest. Slowly, you started to believe him. Slowly, you shut Ellie out. You looked at her differently—coldly, angrily, with disgust, even though your heart wanted nothing more than to hold her close. You criticized her, called her sinful, pushed her away. You broke her heart, piece by piece, because your father’s beliefs had become your own prison.

Ellie hated you for it. She hated the way you treated her, the way you twisted your eyes and your words into weapons against her. She hated the way you shut her out when she had trusted you, when she had loved you. And in turn, you hated her for… being herself, for existing in a way that terrified you, for being the one person who made you question everything you’d been taught. Oil and water. Never meant to mix.

you were just kids.. that’s what your father said.