Jake and Amir (A coming out story)

A coming out story.
All hell breaks loose in the College Humor office when Jake and Amir get into a serious fight. Not only are there fists thrown, but also extremely harsh words. Jake does not want to be in the same building as Amir, let alone work across from him, so he asks for a transfer to Los Angeles.
Amir is left by himself, he appears to not care that Jake has left. But inside, he's falling apart.
Just as Amir has been through enough agony, Dick Halifax comes along. A man claiming to be a therapist, who offers to help him come out of his shell (and come out of the closet).


3. Chapter Three - Amir

I watch as Jake makes his way from the elevator to our desk.

"Sup?" I say, in a squeaky high pitched voice.

He ignores me and sits down. He doesn't take his parka off, which makes me curious.

"Aren't you a little hot?" I ask.

"No." He replies staring at something.

I turn around to see, but nothing is there. I face Jake again and questioningly point at myself.  He nods his head.

"Okay! Fine! I'll take it off!" He says unbuttoning it.

"I didn't say-"

He cuts me off, throwing his parka on the ground.

I look up at him. He's wearing a button up shirt and a bow tie.

"Holy shit. Bow tie." I say, gawking.

"Yeah. You know what! I'll just take it off. I knew I shouldn't have bought it. It's stupid." He says reaching up to untie it.

He stops and looks back at me,

"Unless you think it's cool?" He question.

"I mean, yeah. Everything you do is cool Jake."

Jake is awfully insecure, so I try and stay quiet during moments like these.  Don't want to make him feel worse about himself, I mean, he kissed his nephew. At a house party he wasn't invited to...

"Oh god Sarah's coming." He whispers.

She walks up and leans against the desk,

"Hey, cool bow tie!" She says pointing at it.

"I'm taking it off!" He yells, ripping it from his neck and throwing it on the floor.

Sarah furrows her eye brows and awkwardly walks back to her desk.

I look back to Jake, he has his jaw clenched and his staring at his computer. Something he does when he's annoyed.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Shut up!" He snaps.

I raise my eyebrows, and continue on with work.
I feel bad for him. Poor guy just wants to be cool, and fit in.

"Hey Jake." I say looking up to him.

"What..." He says, back to his normal self.

"Where did you purch that rad tie?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"Shut up." He snaps again.

"How much was it?"

"Why do you care?." He pauses, "It was Fifty Five bucks."

"Wow..." A fifty dollar bow tie...

He glares at me, then looks back to the screen.

I look around the room, thinking of ways I could annoy Jake.

"Hey jake!"

He doesn't answer.

"I wrote a story. I need you to tell me what you think."

I pull up a pile of paper with words scribbled across them.

"No..." He says shaking his head.

I begin to read it anyway,

"Fourscore and seven tears ago, a small piece of bread thought he needed a change, and he had the perfect thing in mind.
A new washroom carpet. Green is the color he was after.  He went to very single carpet seller in his town, but none of them had the ideal carpet.  He thought he ought to buy a yacht but he was shot and caught by Adam Scott." I pause.

"Bad rhyme." He says

I nod, and pretend I'm trying to hold back tears.

"Oh my god. Don't cry."

"I can't help it. I have shamed myself." I say, pretending to wipe away 'tears'.  "I'm beefing."

Jake just shakes his head.

"What does that even mean?" He asks.

"What are you referring to?"


"I'm beefing!" I cry.

After a couple seconds of silence, I break it.

"So, thoughts?" I ask.

"Well, it was a very short stupid story. The main character was bread, so that makes it even worse. It was poorly written, and I hope you never write anything else ever again." He says biting his lip.

"A simple yes or no would have sufficed." I say looking at him.

"You asked me what my thoughts were." He replies.

"Exactly!" I shout.

"What?" We both say in unison

After work I make my way to the closest McDonalds.  I order the usual, which is a twenty pack of chicken McNuggets.
I sit down at a table near the window and begin to eat. After about half an hour I leave to go home.
I open the door to my small apartment and collapse onto my bed. I stare up at my white ceiling until sleep takes over.

I sprint up the stairs of the house I grew up in. I throw myself under the bed an curl up into a ball.  I squint my eyes shut, and pray he doesn't find me.
I can hear his heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs, taking a second to get to each one.  I swallow my saliva, trying to hold back scared sobs. His two massive boots come into my line of sight. Sweat trickles down my forehead. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and tuck my head into my chest, trying to prepare myself for what's coming.  I feel his large fingers wrap around my arm. I squeal as he pulls me out.  I look up at his enraged drunken face. He growls something, then raises his hand clutching a beer bottle. He brings it down over the top of my head. I let out a cry and attempt to escape but I'm too slow, he grabs my leg and pulls my body back to him.
He scoops me up and carries me down stairs. He pushes through the door and makes his way towards the shed.  I squirm and bite his arm, he shakes me and brings his hand down onto my head.
He throws me into the dark shed and closes the door behind himself.

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