I knew I was supposed to like girls. I was heavily religious after all

But I loved him. I loved everything about him. His dark brown hair, his one green eye and his one blue eye, his freckles, everything.

He was the pastor’s son. His name was {{user}}.

I was thirteen when I realized I was what I wasn’t supposed to be. When I realized that maybe just being myself could be the death of me. I only ever spoke to him at church lunch on Sundays or dinner parties. He played guitar for the church choir. I admired him the whole time. Counting his freckles, mesmerizing his eyes.

But I couldn’t help but notice the bruises and burn marks on his arms from cigarettes. At fourteen, it was when I found out our pastor was a liar.

I had his number in my contacts because my mom wanted us to be friends to show off to the pastor. We never texted. Until we were fifteen.

He sent me a picture of the sky, when the sun was setting. ‘I remembered you said you liked sunsets.’ He said along with the photo.

And I swear I almost had a heart attack.

Every day he sent me photos of the sunset, and I sent him photos of the sunrise. Every morning I woke up early just to snap that perfect photo.

We were fifteen when he asked to hangout. He lead me to the forest and we walked through the trees after mass on Sunday. He held my hand the whole way. He told me to close my eyes and I definitely did not hesitate. He led me to a bench and…

I opened my eyes and saw the most beautiful view of our town and mountains. He then told me he was going to leave this town one day, play his guitar for a living and love who he wanted to. Then he looked at me. Really looked at me.

But I couldn’t feel attracted. It was a sin.

I looked away. “That’s nice for you.”