A/N: This is the second part of my Blue Shirt Week series, and I have several things to point out after you read my story. Please make sure to read the note at the end.
Darth goes to church every Sunday, without fail. He's done it for years and years and years, ever since he was just a young thing and his mother would drop him off at Sunday School.
It's been a long time since Darth has gone to that small room, with the large arc that is painted over the entire left wall. Sometimes, he wishes that he had never moved over to the real church - the one with the real preacher and those judging eyes of his, rather than Mrs. Baxter and her brightly colored smocks and absurd songs about friendship, peace, and prayer.
At least there, he didn't feel like a liar.
-x-
Every Sunday, Rebeca Olens takes off from work. In fact, it's the only day that she ever takes off - working any holiday and event that falls on one of the other six days in the week, even if it just so happens to be her only son's birthday.
That's fine though, because Darth has long since grown used to it. His birthday is almost always on a weekday, after all. Usually Thursday but occasionally Friday or Wednesday and never, ever on Sunday.
So his mother works and his father is somewhere in Europe. France, or so Darth thinks, as he sits at the table alone.
There is no cake.
There are no cards.
There are no gifts.
It is just like any other Un-Sunday night - until the phone rings. Once, twice, three times before Darth crosses the room and manages to pick it up.
"Hello?" he asks, voice maybe a touch more irate then usual.
Silence for a moment and then a cheery voice announces, "happy birthday!"
"Jonesy? Is that you?" questions Dath, lips twisting into a frown at just the thought of the other boy.
He hates Jonesy, After all. Hates him and shouldn't be around him, especially not on Saturday or Sunday and usually not on Mondays.
"Of course it's me!" answers the voice on the other end of the line. "So listen, I know that it's short notice and all, but I need you to come over to my place super quick."
"No," answers Darth, short and sharply.
"What? Don't you even want to know why?" asks Jonesy, and moments after a scuffle can be heard in the background.
Darth debates the merits of hanging up on the older boy.
Before he can, a new voice is filtered through the small electronic reciever. "Darth, it's me, Jen. What Jonesy is trying to tell you is that the guys and us have this small get together thing going on at my house. Kind of like a short notice birthday party?"
And he shouldn't. Everything goes against accepting this invitation - his mother, his father, and, oh Lord, Father Ryley.
And Sunday.
But it isn't Sunday so, against his better judgement, Darth agrees to go.
-x-
Darth doesn't know who set up the party, but it is low key and quiet. Which means that it can really have only been planned by Wyatt or Nikki. Everyone else will have gone full force and Jonesy occasionally frowns at the guitarist.
Darth briefly thinks about thanking Wyatt. He quickly decides against it. Instead, he tried to enjoy his birthday to the fullest, like he hasn't done since he was young and in Sunday School and had friends that weren't just faces on the computer.
Like all good things though, the peace eventually comes to an end.
"This is probably the least cool party I have ever been too," declaires Caitlin.
Jen tries hard not too, but agrees anyways. "It is kind of boring, just sitting around. And you're turning sixteen, Darth! This should be big and fun!"
"Oh? And what would /you/ suggest that we do?" asks Darth. He regrets it the moment that the words leave his mouth.
-x-
They end up playing Truth or Dare. Not of Darth's choosing, of course, but out of respect that it isn't his house.
He consistently chooses truth.
He consistently gives short and sharp answers.
Eventually, Jonesy gets bored - and it isn't even a dare when he leans forward, pressing their lips together as the entire room goes silent. As Darth's mind sputters to a slow step, turns over, starts again.
And if it wasn't for the sudden tightness in his chest and /Mother's/ voice echoing in his mind, then he may have kissed back. Instead, he shoves Jonesy and runs.
-x-
It is Sunday and Darth does not think that he has ever hated Jonesy more.
He stands among the pews, beside his mother and an old woman that smells vaguely of medicine, and sings with the rest of them. Knows each and every words by heart, knows the tune and the tempo, knows the meaning...and hates each words just as much as he hates Jonesy.
The song ends and Darth kneels once more, just like the others. Clasps his hands and closes his eyes, but cannot bring himself to pray. Not that Sunday, where the eyes of Father Ryley seem to be all the more judging then usual.
In fact, they follow Darth every time that he stands and kneels, or at least it seems that way. Like he knows, almost. Beside Darth, his mother sings each song as though it will be her last and puts her heart into every prayer.
Eventually, the good Father steps up to the pew. The music stops and everyone takes their seat, waiting to hear and take to heart whatever he has to say.
"My children, I know that God watches over each one of you today and I thank him for bringing you into my church," he starts, just like every day. "And I thank him for bringing to light a very important problem in todays society! Leviticus 18:22 - man shall not lay with man as he lays with a woman!"
And in that moment, Darth hates Sunday more then he ever has before.
-x-
The car ride home is silent, which is not unusual. He and his mother seldom talk on the rides home, and that is just fine with Darth.
She doesn't notice his discomfort and he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he leaves the car as fast as he can and escapes to the dark confines of his room and the vast expanse of the internet.
Neither makes him feel any better and he eventually gives up and just stares at the scree.
It isn't that he's indenial, or anything like that. Far from it, actually. Darth knows full well that he favors boys, has known it for a very long time.
The problem is his mother, is Father Ryley, is Sunday.
And Jonesy. Jonesy is a very large problem and Darth curls his fingers in his bangs, curls over his desk, and tries to wish it all away.
When that fails, he goes to sleep instead.
By the next morning, Darth feels even worse. He gets dressed and goes downstairs - only to find that with the early morning rays of Monday, his mother has already fled to work and left little in the house save some wheat bread, cereal but no milk, and the ever present wine cabinet just inside the living room.
Now, Darth drinks wine at every service but never outside the confines of church. Which is irionic, he often thinks, because isn't drinking a sin? Especially when underaged?
Yes, it is, and that cabinet doesn't get any less tempting at the thought.
-x-
Three hours later, and Darth has called off sick from work. Three days later, and he still has not gone in. Three weeks pass, and he is at work and does school but cannot think about anything but Sunday and his mother and the way Jonesy's lips felt against his own.
By the fourth trip to early morning service, Darth wonders if he should be hating himself more than he hates Sunday.
Father Ryley seems to believe he's a walking sin, after all. and his mother seems to dote on every word that he says, so he believes that she sees the world the same way.
What Darth doesn't hate is the slowly emptying winde cabinet and the fact that his mother is not home long enough each week to notice that fact. It makes things appear more handlable, easier to deal with even, like maybe there is hope after all and something can be changed.
Except the wine is bitter and when the bottle empties one Tuesday evening, Darth finds himself feeling just the same.
-x-
"Uh, dude?" questions Jonesy, from his spot at the entrance to the store.
Darth gives a slight grunt of acknowledgement but does not look up from the television that he is toying with.
Jonesy clears his throat and steps further into the small store. "What's going on with you?"
Darth looks up this time, frowns. "Excuse me? That question should be directed at you, Jonesy."
"Me? What did I do?" demands Jonesy, and he honestly sounds surprised.
That just makes Darth so mad, past mad, furious even. To know that the older boy doesn't have even the slightest idea as to what is going on because of him.
Darth stalks forward and draws his hand back, fully prepared to hit Jonesy. He deserves it, after all. A slap and so, so much more.
Instead, his fingers curl into the dark red fabric of Jonesy's shirt - and then he is stretching up until he can press their lips together once more.
To his credit, Jonesy doesn't miss a beat. Presses back and lets one hand rest on Darth's shoulder. Like it had been planned and expected.
To his credit, Darth resists the urge to hit Jonesy afterwards. Pulls away like he has been stung instead, the words 'I hate you' loud in the air.
Then, he leaves.
-x-
"Darth, honey, can you come downstairs?" drifts his mothers voice, breaking through the otherwise silent house.
Darth frowns, glances at his calender. No, it isn't Sunday. Which means that his mother shouldn't be calling him, spending time with him, speaking to him - and the near empty bottle of wine in her cabinet flutters to mind. His mouth goes dry as he stands up from his desk, and hopes that she has not found it yet.
When he gets downstairs, he realizes it isn't the wine she is holding, but that Jonesy is standing beside her. The older boy looks almost sheepish and his mothers face is pinched, expression worried and upset and disappointed, all at once.
His heart almost stops.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asks, all manners and politeness, just like she wants.
"Darth, I have to get ready for work. Why don't you show your...friend...out?" says his mother, and there's just something in his voice.
She knows, realizes Darth, she knows.
So Darth does like his mother says and starts down the hall, motions stiff and mouth drawn into a thin line. He yanks open his front door and then just stands there, staring Jonesy down as he ambles outside.
Then, he leans forward and his words are little more then an angry hiss. "What did you say to her?"
Jonesy looks confused, but answers anyway. "I just wanted to know what was going on. I haven't been able to find you since you ran off, which was majorly uncool by the way."
It takes a moment to sink in. When it does, Darth finds for a split second that he cannot breath and wonders if he should be afraid or just worried. Decides that he should be both - and that, more then that, he is angry.
"You told her - you told her I kissed you? You belligerent, ignorant asshole!" his words are still hissed, but that is just because Darth knows better than to yell when his mother is near. Habit, not a conscientous decision.
Jonesy pulls back, and he looks more startled than anything. That look is only there for a second though, and then the older boy is scowling and angry and defiant. "Now wait a second! You're the one that-"
Darth cuts him off, eyes narrowing. "Just- just go away, Jonesy. And don't let me see you here again."
Then he oulls the door shut, not slams it, and waits for his mother to leave.
-x-
His mother leaves at the same time she does every evening. The phone rings exactly twelve minutes later.
It's his father, informing him that he has until Sunday to find a new place to live.
Oddly enough, Darth cannot bring himself to hate Jonesy this time. Instead, he just feels numb.
-x-
Darth leaves for work that evening, just like always. Same clothes, same time, same bus route there and back. He opens the store and mutters a hello to the customers, but it is all mechanic and stiff and unbearable.
Darth cannot quit thinking about his mother, his father, their quickly made but firm decision. Cannot think of anywhere to go either, because he doesn't really have all that many friends, not ones in the same state as he is.
So he takes his time and he thinks and then suddenly it is near eleven at night and most of the mall is dark and quiet. Finally, Darth flips the sign and locks the door, only to turn around and find himself face to face with Nikki.
"You're here late," he says, and doesn't realize how off he sounds until after he speaks. Then he clears his throat and tries to stand taller, not look so defeated.
Nikki purses her lips together, places her hands on her hips. "Don't pull that small talk with me, Darth. You tell me what's going on between you and Jonesy, now."
Darth only does as requested because he cannot think of any reasons not too. With Jonesy involved, it is sure to be public knowledge soon enough. He would much tather the story be accurate, at least.
"Thanks to Jonesy's impromptu story time with my mother this morning, it has been deemed that I am a sinner and unable to keep living in the family home." says Darth, and he is keeping his voice as stiff and neutral as possible. "So do thank Jonesy for that, will you? I'm going to be too busy myself, trying to find somewhere to live."
And then he brushes past the girl, trying to ignore the fact that his chest is tight and his eyes feel rather damp.
-x-
Darth sits at home that night, on his own. Up in his room with the door shut and the lights off, knees curled to his chest and blanket over his shoulder.
He does not cry though, hasn't in too many years to start right then. Instead, he stares at the wall and tries to figure out just how many days it will take him to pack all of what he owns.
Rather, how many hours.
Darth doesn't own an awful lot, after all. It shouldn't take him too long.
-x-
Darth takes his lunch in the cafeteria, and orders himself a lemonaid and half of a turkey sub. Doesn't pay anyone that passes by any attention until someone stands across from him, their shadow falling across his plate.
Glancing up, he frowns at those blue eyes. "Jonesy."
"Darth." A pause, and then Jonesy rubs the back of his neck. Shifts for a moment and sits down, leaning forward and looking as close to being apologetic as Darth has ever seen him. "Can we talk?"
Pursing his lips together, Darth merely turns back to his sub.
Jonesy sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he does. "I didn't know - you never said anything about it!"
Darth gives a slight snort, because he isn't going to let this be turned on him. It isn't his fault and he is not in the wrong, no matter what his mother and father and church seems to think. "I didn't think that you would be rude enough to show up at my house uninvited."
The other boy is silent for a moment and Darth glances up, maybe a tiny bit amused at how hard Jonesy seems to be concentrating. Then that concentration is gone, replaced by a beaming grin and shining blue eyes.
"You should just stay with me!" says Jonesy, eagerly.
"What?" asks Darth, staring up at the older boy.
Jonesy nods, looking for all the world like an eager puppy. "Just move in with me. I know the house is kind of crowded, but everyone pretty much stays out of my room. That would work, right?"
For a long moment, Darth just stares. Can't even begin to comprehend the offer, and maybe it is partially because he knows of the older boys record with relationships. Was positive that he was just another one of those brief moments of 'jonsing', and nothing else.
"Why?" demands Darth, past being confused.
Jonesy answers with a kiss.
A/N 2:
1. The bible verse featured in this story is an actual verse. It is often taken out of context and used to support anti-homosexuality propaganda. The meaning of the verse, when put into context (and this is provided by someone with a major in religious studies and supported by many) is that in the time of the bible, women were treated as property. As such, men should not lay with a man as he lays with a woman...meaning he should not treat another man as property, but as an equal.
2. I know this probably isn't what you wanted, Popping Pear, so feel free to make a more specific request. I'm more than happy to do another one based around religion!
3. The poll is still open and has now been updated to include new subjects for future stories. Please stop by and vote! c: