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Post by Tim Forrester on Dec 17, 2012 16:18:00 GMT -8
Tim felt small. In fifteen years, he couldn’t remember feeling this small or this afraid. It had been years since he had been back in Toronto—years since he had any contact with his family, old friends or anyone that had known him as Tim. It had been long enough since anyone called him by that name that when he heard it, it was almost foreign. It was like someone else, much younger than he was and a lot more afraid. When he left, he doubted anyone was going to be too surprised, not because they suspected he managed to get himself in with the very wrong crowd, but because it wasn’t the first time he tried to get away. And it was hardly his fault. He had been on a revolving door of welcomed back and kicked out from the moment he came out to his dad. So, to finally just take off wasn’t the strangest thing he could have done. But, he hadn’t even kept in contact with the people that had cared about him, that hadn’t been out to hurt him in any shape or form. He did what he had to do, for his family and for himself. He fled the country, changed his name, changed the way he dressed and tried to blend into a new life. It had worked too. He had a job, a boyfriend, a son… He had everything he could have wanted. That was until it all came crashing down. They knew now. They knew he wasn’t who he said he was and it had been the worst mark on his relationship—on his life, that he could imagine. And Tim did the only thing that he remembered being good at seventeen years ago. He ran. He ran back home, because the cover was blown.
If he was honest with himself, then he always wished he could go home. It was just that he didn’t think he could and living the life of another person meant he couldn’t really explain to them or his family what was happening. He was trapped. And now, he was lost. It hadn’t taken him long to find Ben’s address. From what he imagined, there weren’t too many Ben and Marco Del Rossi’s in Toronto. Although, it had taken him long enough to try that matching, given that he had no idea if they stayed together. So, it was their door that he showed up at. It had been years and he knew that. He barely knew what to say, because what could he say? Oh, sorry I ran off for over a decade, what’s up? No, that probably wouldn’t fly very well. With a deep breath, he clenched his fist and knocked on the door steadily. Then, almost as immediately as he had put his hand down, it went straight to his pocket nervously. There were probably several places he could have shown up at. He had a lot of cousins and he still had a brother, but this was where he felt the most comfortable showing up first. To be honest, he wouldn’t have had any idea how to approach his brother. The two hadn’t talked much before he left. Reese had always been on a fast track, always moving, and Tim didn’t want to be a burden on that. Even if he claimed over and over that he wasn’t. Tim had called him enough times when he was still in high school, in tears over something that Dad had said, or being kicked out again. He really wouldn’t know how to explain to him why he didn’t go to him when things were worse than that, when he was running from a goddamn mob. He just couldn’t answer why he didn’t go to him.
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