Chapter 12
The argument had started like most of them did—with a phone call. Your mother's clipped tone immediately set the stage, her carefully worded pleasantries a thin veneer over what you knew was coming. It was always the same—some kind of demand disguised as concern for your future. But tonight, it escalated in a way you hadn't anticipated.
"Your father and I have been talking," she began, her words sharp and measured. "We think it's time you take your future more seriously."
You held the phone tighter, already bracing yourself. "I am taking my future seriously," you said, keeping your tone as even as possible.
"That's not what I mean," she replied, her voice tinged with impatience. "We've arranged for you to meet someone. A family friend's son. He's very accomplished, and we think it would be good for you to get to know him."
You let out a bitter laugh, unable to stop yourself. "A blind date? Really? Do you even hear yourself?"
"This isn't a joke," your father chimed in, his deeper voice cutting through the line. "You're not getting any younger, and we're only trying to help. This family has expectations—responsibilities. You can't just float through life without direction."
"Float through life?" you shot back, anger bubbling to the surface. "I have a job. I have a life. Just because it doesn't look the way you want it to doesn't mean I'm some kind of failure."
"Watch your tone," your mother snapped. "We've given you everything—every opportunity, every advantage—and this is how you repay us? By being selfish?"
"Selfish?" Your voice rose despite your best efforts to keep calm. "I'm selfish because I don't want to marry some guy you picked out for me? Because I want to live my life the way I choose?"
There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words. And then your mother's voice came through, quieter but no less cutting. "You don't understand the damage you're doing. To yourself, to this family. Do you think we haven't noticed how... different you've been acting? The way you've distanced yourself? We're trying to fix this before it's too late."
You felt your chest tighten, the implication of her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "What exactly are you trying to 'fix'?" you asked, your voice trembling with barely contained rage.
"Don't play coy," she said coldly. "We know. About your... choices. About the company you've been keeping."
Your breath caught in your throat. "What are you talking about?" you demanded, though you knew exactly where this was going.
"Don't make me say it," your mother hissed. "You think we don't know about her? That... mechanic? Parading around with someone like that—it's disgraceful."
You felt like the floor was crumbling beneath you. "Her name is Vi," you said, your voice shaking but firm. "And she's not some dirty secret I need to hide. She's my—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," your father interrupted, his voice booming. "We raised you better than this. This is not who you are."
"This is exactly who I am!" you shouted, your anger finally boiling over. "I'm not some perfect little doll you can dress up and show off. I'm not going to live my life pretending to be someone I'm not just to make you happy!"
"Do you hear yourself?" your mother said, her voice rising to match yours. "You're throwing away everything we've worked for—everything we've given you—for... for her. For some... phase."
"It's not a phase," you said through gritted teeth, your whole body trembling. "This is who I am, and if you can't accept that, then maybe you don't know me at all."
There was another pause, but this time it was different—heavier, colder. And then your mother's voice came through, quiet and venomous. "We don't want a faggot for a daughter."
The words hung in the air, sharp and final. You felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, like you'd been punched in the chest and couldn't breathe. Your hands trembled as you gripped the phone, your mind reeling.
"Don't call me again," you said, your voice breaking but determined. "Not until you can say that you love me for who I am. Because if you can't... then I don't want parents like you."
You hung up before they could respond, your hands shaking as you stared at the phone in disbelief. Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you grabbed your jacket and headed for the only place that felt safe—Vi's garage.
The echo of the argument still rang in your ears as you pushed open the door to Vander's garage. Your family's voices had followed you all the way here, a cacophony of demands, guilt, and disappointment. It was suffocating, and the only thing that kept you from breaking entirely was the thought of Vi—her steady presence, her sharp humor, her quiet strength.
The garage was dimly lit, the hum of fluorescent lights casting long shadows on the walls. The scent of motor oil and metal filled the air, grounding you in its familiarity. At the far end of the room, Vi stood hunched over the hood of a car, her muscular arms flexing as she worked. She hadn't noticed you yet, her focus entirely on whatever task was at hand.
For a moment, you just watched her. The way her pink cropped hair caught the light, the fierce concentration in her eyes, the tattoos peeking out from beneath her tank top—it all made your heart ache in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. She was raw and real in a way that no one else in your life had ever been, and being near her felt like stepping into a different world—one where you could finally breathe.
"Hey," you said softly, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the tools.
Vi glanced up, her fierce eyes softening when she saw you. "Hey, firebug," she said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Didn't think I'd see you tonight."
You managed a weak smile, stepping closer. "I needed to get out of the house."
Vi's smirk faded as she straightened up, wiping her hands on a rag. "Rough night?" she asked, her tone low and careful.
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "You could say that."
She didn't push for details, didn't demand an explanation. Instead, she set the rag down and gestured toward an old stool near the workbench. "Take a load off. I'm just about done here."
You sat down, your hands gripping the edge of the stool as you watched her return to the car. For a while, the only sound was the clink of tools and the occasional muttered curse from Vi. The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos you'd left behind. You found yourself mesmerized by the way she moved—confident and efficient, every action purposeful.
After a while, Vi glanced over at you, her brow furrowing slightly. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.
You hesitated, unsure of how to put everything you were feeling into words. "It's just... my family," you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "They don't understand. They're always pushing, always expecting me to be someone I'm not. And when I try to push back, it's like... like I'm the problem."
Vi set down her wrench, wiping her hands on her pants as she walked over to you. She leaned against the workbench, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah," she said, her voice low and steady. "Families can be a real pain in the ass."
You laughed despite yourself, the sound a little shaky. "You don't even know the half of it."
"Maybe not," she admitted, her fierce eyes meeting yours. "But I know what it's like to feel like you don't fit. Like no matter what you do, it's never gonna be enough."
There was something in her tone—something raw and vulnerable—that made your chest tighten. You looked down at your hands, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. "I just... I don't know what to do anymore. I can't keep living like this, but I don't know how to break away."
Vi was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft but firm. "You don't have to have it all figured out right now. Sometimes you just gotta take it one step at a time. And if your family can't see you for who you really are... that's their loss."
You looked up at her, surprised by the intensity in her gaze. "Do you really believe that?"
"Yeah," she said without hesitation. "You're not the problem, firebug. They are."
The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave, and before you could stop yourself, you stood up and closed the distance between you. Vi looked at you with a mix of surprise and something else—something you couldn't quite name but felt in the way her eyes softened, the way her stance shifted as if to draw you closer.
The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a shaky breath. "Vi," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?" she replied, her voice just as quiet.
"I... I don't know what I'd do without you," you admitted, your words trembling but sincere.
For a moment, neither of you moved. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then Vi's hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened. It was passionate and raw, filled with all the emotions you'd been too afraid to voice.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Vi rested her forehead against yours, her fierce eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or understanding.
"Well," she said after a moment, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Didn't see that coming."
You laughed, your cheeks flushing. "Me neither."
She tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race. "You sure about this? About me?"
"Yes," you said without hesitation. "I've never been more sure about anything."
Vi's smile widened, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. "Alright then," she said, her voice warm and steady. "Guess we're in this together."
The rest of the night passed in a blur of quiet conversation and stolen glances. And as you sat there in the garage, wrapped in the warmth of Vi's presence, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known in years. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.