Day 1 8:00 PM

The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of the TV downstairs. Cameron slipped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. The only light came from the dim glow of his desk lamp, casting long shadows across the neatly made bed and the color-coded stacks of clothes he’d been packing for hours.

He was fragile-looking—all sharp angles and quiet intensity. Slender, with tightly coiled natural curls that always seemed to fall into his eyes, his skin a warm deep brown that made the faint scars on his knees stand out. He moved like someone who’d spent a lifetime trying not to take up too much space—shoulders slightly hunched, steps light, as if he were bracing for interruption. His baggy jeans sagged low on his hips, the hem dragging against his worn sneakers, and his oversized t-shirt swallowed his frame, the fabric soft from years of washing. He wasn’t just a nerd; he was the kind of quiet that made people forget he was there until he opened his mouth and said something too smart, too observant, too precise.

Tonight, though, he didn’t want to be precise. He wanted to shed.

With a sigh, he kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his jeans, and tugged his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his blue Hanes boxers, the waistband slightly loose, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at what he usually kept hidden. The cool air raised goosebumps on his arms, but he didn’t reach for a hoodie. Instead, he stretched, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a skin that no longer fit.

His phone buzzed on the bed. A FaceTime call. Tony.

Cameron hesitated, then swiped answer, holding the phone at an angle that kept his torso in frame but left his face half-hidden in the dim light.

Tony’s grin filled the screen. “Bitch, where you been all summer?! You alive or what?”

Cameron forced a laugh, slipping into the exaggerated slang he’d practiced in mirrors when no one was looking. “Man, you know how it is. Been busy. Chillin’. Shit.”

“Chillin’? Nigga, you ‘chillin’’ like a grandma at bingo night. I been out here turnin’ up—internship in Atlanta, hit the beach twice, I linked up with Jamie twice and put in some work.—” He ticked off his summer on his fingers. “You? You just ghosted like your phone got repossessed.”

Cameron padded into the kitchen, the linoleum cold under his feet. The lights were off, the only illumination the harsh yellow glow from the stove hood. He opened a cabinet, pulling out a bag of rice. “Ain’t nobody ghost. Just had my own thing goin’ on. Workin on my social media accounts, gettin my followers up, you know the game.” He poured rice into a bowl, then added water from the sink, the stream loud in the quiet.

Tony squinted. “You right, but what I don’t know is why the fuck it look like you in the dark? And why you half-naked?”

Cameron held up the bowl to the camera. “Nigga I’m at home, I can walk about this bitch naked if I want to. Plus, I’m ‘bout to make some rice in the microwave. You know how it is—late-night snack.”

“Rice in a microwave is crazy,” Tony shot back. “But man you changed over the summer. The Cameron I know don’t talk like this, and he sure as hell don’t answer FaceTime in his drawers. What’s up with you? ”

Cameron set the bowl in the microwave and shut the door. “New year, new me.” His voice was light, but his fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh. “Time to get out my shell.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Bruh, all i see if your tiny turtle neck hiding in a blue shell. This aint Mario Kart. Go put some clothes on little meat!”

A slow smirk tugged at Cameron’s lips. He lowered the phone, his thumb hooking into the waistband of his boxers. “Oh that sounds like a challenge.” He tugged the fabric down just enough for the head of his dick to peek out, then let it snap back.

Tony choked. “OH SHIT—CAM, WHAT THE—”

Cameron responded, “I’m still him, I always Ace the test!”

Then—footsteps.

Cameron’s body locked up. His mother’s voice carried from the hallway, getting closer. “Boy, who you on the phone with?”

“Gotta go,” Cameron hissed, ending the call before Tony could protest. He spun around, pressing his back against the counter like he could melt into it.

His mom stepped into the kitchen, her silhouette framed by the hallway light. “That better not be no girl, Cameron.”

“It’s—” He cleared his throat, switching seamlessly into the proper, polished tone she expected. “It was Tonya. From school. We were just talking about the new semester and our schedules.”

She crossed her arms. “Mhm. And I know you weren’t on FaceTime half-naked with no girl.”

“No ma’am, she couldn’t see me. I was on speaker.” He kept his voice steady, but his fingers twitched at his sides.

“Good,” she said, opening the fridge. “‘Cause I don’t want you gettin’ caught up with these fast-ass girls. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grabbed a bottle of water. “What you doin’ up in here anyway?”

“Just cooking some rice.” He gestured to the microwave. “Got a little hungry.”

“You need some more boxes? I got some in the garage.”

“Thanks,” he said quickly. “I’ll get ‘em when I finish eating.”

She eyed him—the boxers, the bare chest, the way he wouldn’t quite meet her gaze—then shook her head. “Put some clothes on, boy. You actin just like yo daddy. Showin’ off all your manhood like you ain’t got no sense.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and Cameron exhaled, sagging against the counter. The microwave beeped. He didn’t move.

For a second, he just stood there, the hum of the appliance the only sound in the room. Cameron took the rice out the microwave and stirred it with a spoon. It was still grainy so he put it back in the microwave and walked back to his room.

Cameron stepped back into his room, still shirtless, the waistband of his blue Hanes boxers riding low on his hips. He set the boxes down beside his bed, where the grid of folded clothes waited—color-coded, symmetrical, controlled. His fingers twitched as he picked up a stack of socks, aligning the edges with meticulous precision, but his mind was elsewhere. The weight of Tony’s shock still hummed in his chest, the thrill of being seen—really seen—for the first time.

His phone buzzed on the bed. Another DM.

“Bet you smart in bed too.”

A slow, private smile tugged at his lips. He swiped open his gallery, scrolling through the nudes and messages from the guys he’d been talking to all summer. His attention snagged on the thumbnails of his own videos. The ones he’d made when the house was empty, when he could pretend he was someone else—someone wanted, someone bold.

His breath hitched as he clicked on one. The clip played: as he watch himself use a dildo. His fingers hovered over the screen, swiping to another video of him washing his penis in the bathroom as his hand drifted down to his boxers. He wasn’t even thinking. His dick was hard as he stroked it through the fabric before pulling it out. The memory of Tony’s reaction, from the compliments, the attention, the way they looked at him.

He stroked himself slowly, his other hand still holding the phone, scrolling through the nudes. The room was dim, the only sound his shallow breaths and the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted on the bed.

Then—

A knock.

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“You want more hangers, baby?”

Cameron’s body locked up. His hand flew away from his dick like he’d been burned, but it was too late.

The door creaked open.

His mother stood there, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the scene: her son, dick in hand, phone displaying a grid of naked men.

“WHAT THE— What the fuck are you doing Cameron. Put your little tally whacker up.” Her voice cracked, raw with disgust. “I knew something told me to come back and check on you!”

The phone slipped from his fingers, sliding off the bed and bouncing on the floor next to the door. Cameron’s mom snatched it up, “Gimmie that,” her face twisting as she swiped through the gallery. The video of him jacking off in the shower played on loop—his hard dick. Then she saw the next one: him with a dildo pressed against his ass, his face twisted in pleasure.

“OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD!” She recoiled, her free hand flying to her chest like she could ward off the sin just by touching herself. “WHAT IS THIS SHIT?! YOU IN HERE PLAYIN’ WITH YOUR DICK LIKE A DAMN ANIMAL?! YOU GOT THE DEVIL IN YOU, BOY!”

Cameron scrambled back, his dick still out, his face burning with humiliation. “Ma—wait—just—”

“JUST WHAT?!” She screamed, her voice ghetto, aggressive, unhinged. “YOU GOT DICK PICTURES IN YOUR PHONE?! YOU THINK BECAUSE YOUR DICK BIG YOU CAN POST IT ALL OVER THE INTERNET CAMERON. WHY CAMERON? WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? YOU DOIN THIS FOR MEN?” She swiped again, her fingers trembling with rage. “AND WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! YOU GOT A DILDO?! YOU STICKIN’ THAT SHIT IN YOUR ASS?! YOU ARE A BOY CAMERON NOT A GIRL. I TOLD YOU BEFORE YOU ARE NOT GAY, YOU ARE NOT BI. I DON’T RAISE FAGGOTS!”

“No—Ma, please—” Cameron reached for the phone, but she yanked it away, her face contorted in disgust and fury.

“DON’T TRY TO LIE TO ME! I SEE THIS SHIT!” She swiped again, her voice rising to a shrill, broken scream. “LOOK AT IT. YOU GOT YOUR WHOLE ASS ON HERE! YOU LETTIN’ THEM MEN SEE YOU LIKE THIS?! YOU SICK! YOU FUCKIN’ SICK IN THE HEAD!”

Tears burned his eyes, but not from guilt—from shame, from feeling exposed, from the way she was looking at him like he was something rotten.

“I’m not no little boy no more!” he choked out, his voice small, desperate.

“YOU AIN’T SHIT BUT A CHILD UNDER MY ROOF!” She slapped the dresser, sending a picture frame crashing to the floor. “YOU GON’ BURN FOR THIS! YOU HEAR ME?! GOD DON’T MAKE NO MISTAKES, BUT YOU SURE AS HELL MAKIN’ ‘EM! YOU LETTIN’ DEMONS IN YOUR BODY!”

Defeated, Cameron looks down and away. Not wanting to be disrespectful, he stands up and walks toward the boxes he brought up from the garage.

“You better pray,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You better pray HARD for this phase to pass, ‘cause you gon’ BURN for this.”

He didn’t respond.

He just turned away, “You always treatin me like a little kid,” his movements numb as he stuffed clothes in the box.

Behind him, his mother dropped to her knees, her sobs mixing with prayers, her hands clawing at the air like she could rip the sin out of him.

“I REBUKE YOU, SPIRIT OF HOMOSEXUALITY!” she wailed, her voice cracking. “I CAST YOU OUT IN THE NAME OF JESUS! YOU WILL NOT HAVE MY SON’S BOOTY! NOT TODAY, SATAN! THE LORD BLESSED HIM WITH TOO MUCH DICK TO BE OUT HERE BOOTY BUMPIN’! NOT TODAY!”

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• Cameron

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