AN: This might be a little harsh for some people. It deals, in a confrontational style, with GLBTQ problems in society. Read on if you want to, and reviews for making this better are much appreciated :)

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To most of the people on the bus, he is that queer that has his music turned up too loud, that faggot with the earrings and the high-pitched voice. People see him, and they think of aids, two men kissing, and sin. They see the fiery pits of hell and they see this boy there, burning for eternity. They see stupidity in his eyes, and something that mocks their fear. If they look close enough, maybe they see his own fear there too, or maybe they see the exhaustion of living apart from his own kind. They gaze at him as if he is a freak or a character in a novel: fictitious. Like the things you only hear about, like things that shouldn't happen, like things that wouldn't happen to anyone you know, but that always seem to happen to other people.

He is alone. The two seats beside him go unfilled, and the others would rather stand, holding cold metal bars, than get close to him: they might catch his disease. The children believe that if you touch one of their kind, you become one, that however often they shower, they will never come clean. Others believe that if you befriend one, or spend too much time with one, you might become one.

He knows what they think of him. He sees every disgusted glance, hears every dirty word muttered under their breath, feels the empty space between his and their bodies. He wishes, most days, that he could forget, that he could be the dumb, unfeeling creature they believe him to be. How could our words hurt him if he's too ignorant to even understand the depth of our insults? they say. So he plays with the cards he was dealt; he takes their insults, ignores them, pushes them from his mind, pushes them away until they build up, like a dam, and overflow, hitting him all at once. It is on those nights that he cries, but he lets no one see, not even his boyfriend. No one will see him cry, because then he is weak. Then they win. Instead, he will show them that he is strong.

He turns the volume up a little bit higher, drowning out the world. Maybe if he can forget that they are there, if he can just see his boyfriend again, he will remember that he is human, too. That he has a right to life just as much as any of them. But the water beneath the edges of those bridges downtown is starting to look more inviting every week.

The doors of the train car open, and he shuffles out with the rest of the people, feeling distanced from them. He walks the long walk back to his apartment, passing homeless people, crawling into their cardboard boxes and underneath thin blankets for the night. The homeless people either give him hollow stares that bore holes into his soul, or they ignore him completely. He has no money to help them. The sun is setting, and the business men, still chatting away on their phones, hurry to get home before the darkness comes, their expensive, fancy black shoes pattering against the pavement. They give him weary glances as they hurry past, but he shrugs them off and turns the music up even louder. Women in tights and fancy blouses give him quick, pitiful looks. Dykes in baggy clothes nod to him, as if they are sharing some understanding with him, the rejects of society, the queers. Black people ignore him, mostly, or they shy away from him, and sometimes they glare. How dare people like him try to pretend they have suffered the same as us? they think to themselves, but he only bows his head and ignores them.

Crossing the bridge, the waters swirling in patterns indiscernible from one another, dancing and sparkling in the fading light, he realizes that maybe it isn't worth the suffering anymore, this life that holds the hatred of society and the fears of the individual. The only things he has left in the world are his boyfriend and his dreams, and he will hold onto those until his last breath leaves him. A spark of hope in his chest flares for a moment and what might be a smile creeps onto his face. He turns the music down just a little and walks away from the waters, heading for home, where his boyfriend awaits.