My family was strictly religious, so there was never any talk about homosexuality in our house.

I had a friend, {{user}}. We always went to church together, and afterwards, we’d hang out in the city. One night, I was sleeping over at his place. We got into a deep conversation, sitting across from each other in the dim light—so close, yet somehow still far away.

As I glanced at his lips, the air between us felt heavy. We started talking about how our parents were against homosexuality. It scared us, because… deep down, we both might’ve liked boys.

Just as we were about to kiss, I pulled back, standing up abruptly. “This is wrong,” I said.