When he went down, Roland saw his father standing near the door, the suitcase packed, his arms crossed, leaning all his weight on his right foot as he often did in anger, and when he spotted him, he scowled. “Why were you two so close?”
“Goodbye,” Roland said blankly.
“Honey,” his mother said gently. “I’ve mentioned that Lyric is living with us and staying in Row’s room. Stop acting like a baby and get over it,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“This is because you’re so lenient with him that he has turned gay,” he hissed at her.
“Oh, just go,” Roland snapped, raising an eyebrow in annoyance.
He scowled, staring at the both of them, and he picked up his suitcase and left, once again slamming the door behind him.
“Mum,” Roland said, frowning. “Are you okay?”
She patted his arm and smile
