IJ

(You) had never been ashamed of being gay. You’d been openly gay for years. Your friends knew. Your family knew. You didn’t hide the rainbow pin on your backpack or the way you talked about boys you found attractive. Then you met Noah. Noah was different. He came from a deeply Christian family where church every Sunday was expected, prayer happened before every meal, and being gay was spoken about as something sinful. Noah had learned to believe it. Or at least, he’d convinced himself he did. You and Noah became friends almost immediately. Soon, you were inseparable. He’d sit beside you at lunch, walk home with you after school, and stay up texting you long after midnight. Sometimes you’d catch him staring at you. Whenever you caught him, he’d look away. But whenever you mentioned liking a boy, something in him changed. He’d become distant. Cold. You didn’t understand why. Then one day, Noah asked you something. “Do you ever wish you weren’t gay?” You looked at him. “No. Why?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You smiled sadly. “You don’t have to hate yourself for liking someone.” Noah’s expression changed. “I don’t like anyone.” You knew he was lying. Eventually, you realized who he liked. You. And instead of confronting him, you did something you’d never imagined doing. You started pretending to be Christian around him. You stopped mentioning boys. You went to church with him. You listened when he talked about faith. You even started saying prayers with him. Not because you’d suddenly changed. Because you wanted him to feel safe around you. And for a while, it worked. One evening, the two of you sat alone in the church after everyone had left. Noah stared toward the cross. “I pray about you,” he whispered. Your heart sank. “What do you pray?” His eyes filled with tears. “That I’ll stop loving you.”