PART SEVEN: In which roses have thorns and shirts have slogans.
PolkaDot asked for more kissing scenes, so here I will oblige. And so that nobody feels missed out, expect a bit of everything this chapter from angst to comedy. And gardening. Thankyou to all my reviewers. I do listen and I will try to answer any questions. Fata Morgana, I see J-P as very much the vocal guest speaker at gay pride rallies, in the words of the Northern Star himself (I asked him and he said I can quote him) "If something's worth doing, it's worth doing wholeheartedly and annoying as many people as possible on the way"
"Did we do the right thing, telling everyone like that?" asked Bobby nervously as they walked together in the rose garden. Ever since Storm had left with her little clique for pastures new and the search for the diaries of the blind seer Destiny, a search which many of those who had remained at the mansion thought was a wild goose chase, neglect had slowly been setting down roots in the garden. The once meticulously pruned rose bushes had become knots of densely tangled foliage and the rose arch had become near impassable. Without the loving guardianship of the weather goddess, the door had been left open for weeds and aphids, both slowly sucking the life out of the once neatly planted beds. But nobody noticed this, all they noticed was the heady smell of roses, the bright colours and the impression of life everywhere.
The walled garden was also an excellent spot to talk without being overheard. Yet, more than that, it was a beautiful place to be, free from the noise of the school. And it wasn't just the newly enamoured duo that thought so, Bobby knew that Sammy had built a den somewhere in the lush overgrowth; he had heard Cain moaning that he couldn't follow the little fish-boy in.
"Do you think we've done the right thing?" said Northstar, turning the question back onto him.
"Yes; no; maybe, I'm not sure," mumbled Bobby, "everything seems to be happening so fast."
"What did you think we were going to do? Did you think that I was going to sweep you up in my arms and carry you away, and then you'd go back as if nothing happened to live the same old lie?" despite the slightly mocking tone of his voice, there was a sympathy to Northstar's words which showed in his face, released from the habitual mask of knowing superiority.
"I dreamt of it. That's how it happened in my dreams. Except in them we never came back."
"Then, you are a realist. You know that things have changed, and you accept them. What everyone else does, that is their decision to make. And it doesn't matter, not really, your friends will come to accept you as you are, and in time they will be unable to imagine you in any other way. Only one thing matters, Bobby, and that is your own happiness. Are you happy?"
"Yes. I feel so light it's as if I'm floating; I don't have to worry anymore about how people see me, about how I should behave to fit in. I tried to be normal, I really did, I wanted to be able to like girls, for them to make me feel warm inside like you do, I kept trying to persuade myself that I just hadn't found the right one yet, that one morning I would open my eyes and I would be totally normal," Bobby had begun to babble, as the pain of years of hiding from himself came out in a torrential flood.
"That is because you have freed yourself from having to live a lie. You feel frightened because everything's changed but you are still free. When I came out, I spent half the night crying, as the media tried to dissect my life to try and find where my queerness started; they treated it like a disease, an affliction, when it had always been part of me. I felt like an interloper in my own life. I'm glad you don't have to face that. You can adjust to the world at your own pace. And whenever you're afraid, you can just think of what would have happened if you hadn't stopped living that lie, that fiction. Remember Robert the mud monster? How soon would something like that happened again? Your life is your own now."
"Some people," said Bobby moving his head slightly towards the mansion, "would say it's like being a mutant. Once you accept yourself, other people will accept you more easily. I'm not sure though. Flying around in costumes, sometimes I just feel that it's bought us nothing but grief."
"But that grief is tinted with happiness, it is better to be free, than to live a pleasant yet bitter fiction and fear the truth with every breath. I cannot myself think of anything sadder than not doing what one was born to do. I cannot think of any joy greater than flying. Or at least, cher Robert, not one that can be accomplished on one's own."
"Hey! We should really get you a T-shirt or something with BORN TO FLY INCREDIBLY FAST on the front!"
"Robert, c'est fantastique!"
"…and AND CRASH INTO THINGS on the back."
"But of course!"
Northstar pulled out his latest cell phone, it looked like a custom job with a white star set into the silver flip top but it wasn't too ostentatious, there was no point in having a phone somebody'll mug you for. Not that any lowlife mugger would stand a chance against an angry airborne Canadian. The phone had speed dial, a single beep and Jean-Paul Beaubier was speaking incredibly fast in short staccato tones. Bobby felt he was only speaking in English because he was with company. This made him feel…what exactly…he did not know. But there was time enough for French lessons, then he thought of French kissing lessons and felt warm and eager.
"Hallo? Sandy, this is Jean-Paul, could you have a T-shirt printed for me? Avec un slogan merci. On the front, let's see, BORN TO FLY INCREDIBLY FAST and on the back AND CRASH INTO THINGS… Well, of course it's one of those spur of the moment things… Go up to my flat and look in the bottom left hand drawer it's full of my T-shirts, just pick a style you like… Black on white, of course… Where? There's a shop on the Rue Soleil in Quebec. They've done my T-shirts for years. I used to live there a long time ago…d'acord…I'll chat later."
Bobby was desperately trying not to giggle, "I can't believe you just did that!" he spluttered.
"Pourquoi pas?"
"It's not like you. You're serious. Your middle name would be serious, if it wasn't Paul. You're Jean-Paul Beaubier the incredibly serious mutant, who' s seriously gay and works in a serious business."
"Bobby, from you own experience, I'd have thought you would have learnt to not judge people by the face they present to the world. Just because I'm serious, you see these things often get exaggerated more than anything else, doesn't mean that I don't have a sense of humour. I have a rather large collection of T-shirts, thank you very much, and some of them do have some very snappy slogans on," said Jean-Paul fully getting into the spirit of things.
"Really?"
"Yes. And Paul isn't my middle name, it's half of my first, there's a hyphen."
"Tell me one then. God, this sounds like a game of truth or dare," exclaimed Bobby, having got back into his usual good spirits.
"Let's see. YES, I'M GAY, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE I got that after I came out, I got fed up with all the moronic questions, the phrase "so you're gay then?" should be banned, it was wear the T-shirt, or punch half of Canada. Did you want a more cheerful number? How about NO, I CAN'T GIVE YOU AURORA'S PHONE NUMBER? Having the Canadian face of wonderbra for a sister can get a little wearing, you know."
"They're very you. Sharp. What's that word? Wry; that's it! Got any in French?"
"Of course. But, you don't speak French, do you?"
"You know what, I think it's time for some language lessons," said Bobby, turning to face Jean-Paul and resting his arms on the other man's shoulders. Bobby felt Northstar's arms encircle his waist, and he was just thinking of how this made his heart beat faster in his chest, when he stopped thinking at all, as the Canadian lent in and placed his lips on his, and his silver hair brushed against his forehead. They kissed, at first awkwardly and then with abandon, their mouths eager and their hearts free from care. There was no-one here to see them, and this just added to their passion, safe from questing eyes, their kisses became longer and deeper, at once fast and slow as they explored each other's mouths and revelled in each new sensation. The buzzing of the bees in the garden and the smell of the roses in full bloom became faint and insignificant as the world contracted around them.
They never heard the rustling in the dense overgrowth as Samuel Parres crept out of his den with a thousand burning questions rolling over in his mind.