Byron’s Epilogue
I t’s official. I can’t believe it… I’m so excited I could dance!
Okay, maybe not. But still, I am pretty fired up.
Trevel and I have officially moved into my grandfather’s penthouse apartment! Also known as the place where I grew up, minus my asshole parents.
It went down like this. We were in Seoul visiting my sister when we heard the news… My parents were retiring and moving back to South Korea.
I hadn’t seen them since Trevel and I came back from the island, though I did speak to them on the phone a couple of times.
Apparently, I was one of very few inmates in Alabaster Pen who got a mysterious missing person story rather than a death story.
Meaning, when I returned, I was able to explain my disappearance by making up some excuse about moving to Canada on a whim.
And because my family has never given much of a crap about me, they accepted the nonsense without a blink of skepticism.
Ridiculous, but whatever. Works for me.
When Trevel started raving about wanting to visit Seoul, I figured it would be the perfect time to officially come out to my family—and less nerve-racking with only my sister. She could relay the message to Mom and Dad. Kind of a cop-out, but at least I was doing it.
Turns out, me being bisexual wasn’t the only family bomb being dropped during the trip. My sister revealed that my parents had been planning to retire and move back to Seoul anyway, and since I was back, I could take over the penthouse. Needless to say, I was completely bamboozled.
My father has always wanted to sell the place and pocket the money. The fact that he’s suddenly giving up the fight and just handing it to me is a thousand times crazier than the idea of me being bisexual ever was.
The moment we returned from Seoul, I planned to race home and talk to my dad.
Seriously, the plane was barely on the ground at JFK, and I was on a mission.
I needed to hear the news straight from the horse’s mouth, because if it was true…
Well, that meant my man and I would officially own a four-bedroom, two bath penthouse on the twenty-fifth floor of a stunning building off Central Park West that belonged to my favorite person ever. With a doorman and everything!
I dragged Trevel along with me, and let’s just say, he had his reservations. He was more nervous than I was. It was adorable.
“I just think this is a private family conversation.” He continued to gripe the entire way there. “Not the best moment to introduce your historically unsupportive parents to a boyfriend for the first time…”
“Trust me, the conversation will be the most awkward part,” I grumbled. “Just stand still and they’ll pretend they don’t see you.”
“Ugh. I’m pretty sure you told me they wanted you to marry a Korean girl from a good family… Then here comes a Brit who’s never held down a job for longer than a few months and spent his formative years either having sex for money or in an institution. And I have a dick! Did I mention that??”
I didn’t want to laugh at him when he was clearly worried, but worry on Trevel is highly adorable. I love when he gets all jittery and starts rambling like a loon.
“Um, the dude you’re describing sounds like a catch. Sign me up.” I smirked at him, and he forced a scowl. “You know red is my favorite color flag.”
“I hate you,” he whined while I kissed him.
“Liar.”
We arrived at the penthouse, and my dad was surprised, to say the least. It was the first time we were seeing each other in four years, and I was just dropping by, unannounced, holding the hand of a tall British dude with tattoos and a lip piercing— he got it done shortly after we came back from London.
It goes without saying that it’s insanely hot, and it makes my dick happy.
“It’s good to see you, Byron, but I wish you would’ve called first,” my father said, his eyes shifting between Trevel and me.
“Yea, well, I just wanted to talk to you about the penthouse,” I muttered, forcing off the instinct to feel like a child around him. “Jaelyn says you and Mom are moving back to Seoul…”
“You know we’ve wanted to return for quite some time.”
No, you’ve wanted to return, and Mom just does whatever you say.
“Okay…”
“We would’ve liked to sell it, but I know you don’t want to do that,” he went on, the disapproval in his tone increasing by the second. “I assume even more now…”
His brow lifted, eyes moving between Trevel and me again. My blood was rolling to a boil.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to steady my tone. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not saying anything, Byron.” He sighed.
Suddenly, I was ten years old again. And he was carelessly explaining why coming to my tournament was a waste of everyone’s time. Not just his. Mine, the other kids, everyone involved.
“No. You’re not saying anything,” I grunted.
“So let me do it. You’re pissed off that Grandfather left your home in my name.
You’re disappointed that I came back, when you thought I’d died or something, which let you off the hook pretending to care about me.
And last but not least, you’re itching to get this process over with so you don’t have to deal with me telling you I’m bisexual and introducing you to my boyfriend. That sound about right?”
Pulling in a deep breath, I attempted to steady my heartrate while Trevel gasped a chuckle at my side. He clearly hadn’t been expecting all that… Honestly, neither was I. But once the words were on the march up my throat, there was no stopping them.
And no matter what happened from that point on, I could finally relax a little. Because I’d come out to my family. My identity was real, not only to me, but to them, whether they accepted it or not.
I was openly bisexual. Everywhere , not just in front of my friends, or tucked away on an island.
The way I felt instantly lighter soothed the sting of my father’s obvious disgust, as did the feeling of Trevel’s hand in mine, and his supportive presence by my side.
No, my father didn’t react the way you’d hope one would when coming out. Neither did my mother, who came home right as he was berating me about my disgraceful lifestyle . She made sure to urge me not to throw my life away for a phase. And neither of them said a goddamn word to Trevel, as expected.
At least my sister had the decency to act fine with it to my face—though she should really learn to control her weirded-out facial expressions a bit better.
Lovely people, I’m telling you.
I was so angry by the time I was storming out, I think the last thing I said to my father was, “I can’t wait to turn this place into the gayest gay sex club ever!”
Yea , maybe not my most mature moment, but fuck it. I’ve been dealing with their bullshit since I was a child. I think I’m entitled to some lashing out, especially since I don’t intend to speak to them ever again—or at least for a long time.
“Fuckin’ hell, Byron,” Trevel had laughed the moment we stepped inside the elevator. “That was amazing! You’re a savage.”
I huffed, shaking my head. “Right… Now they just think I’m having a gay tantrum.
That’s why I can never speak to them again…
Anything I do from here on out will be because I’m gay .
Since they don’t believe in bisexuality and all.
‘Byron’s not feeling well; he must have caught something during his gay sex orgy.
’ ‘He never used to laugh like that or smile like that or talk like that… Must be a gay thing.’ All kinds of offensive ass bullshit. ”
“Baby, who cares what they think?” He moved in close and held me by the waist. “I know you don’t.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“So… Fuck ’em.” He shrugged, grinning.
I smiled up at him. “You’re so cute when you get all American.”
He hummed and leaned over my face to brush our lips. “And you’re sexy as fuck when you pop off.” He beamed while I laughed. “Seriously, though… That was the best coming out showdown I’ve ever witnessed. A little too Raph , and I’m here for it.”
“Love that line,” I snickered, arching up to kiss him, just once. A quick soft one to ease any leftover burden from the suckiness of people. And it was all gone, just like that. “You’re lucky your parents are dead.”
Trevel’s head tipped back, and he cackled. It just looked and sounded so damn good, the next thing I knew, I was kissing him more , gripping his jaw, pulling his mouth so that I could eat him alive.
“You’re so hot, baby. I love you,” he whimpered, pressing me up against the wall.
Then I spun him and pressed him up against the wall.
I love it. I love us … Constantly fighting for control and bending the fuck over.
The elevator doors opened while we were mauling each other, and this super annoying conservative Wall Street guy, Richard something, stood at the entrance, staring at us with his sour puss on.
Pulling back just enough to smirk at him, I crooned, “You might wanna get used to it. We’re moving in on twenty-five.” Trevel chuckled, and I grabbed his chin. “That’s right. It’s about to get all kinds of gay up in here.”
I pecked him on the lips while Wall Street bitch boy scowled.
Extremely satisfying.
Anyway, that was six weeks ago. And now we’re both officially residents of Manhattan again!
Don’t get me wrong, I loved our little place in Astoria.
It was small—we liked to call it quaint —but it had a lot of heart, and tons of amazing restaurants nearby.
That apartment was good to us, especially after having just returned from Alabaster Isle; after being locked up in a tomb with no fresh air or sunlight.
Or miscellaneous bodega cats to play with whenever we want! It’s a travesty.
Even after the prison fell, things certainly were not easy. The war, and the confusion of what came next… It was a lot.