A/N: Swimming pool A/U

A/N: Lyrics in bold are "Sweet Sacrifice" by the band Evanescence

"You poor sweet innocent thing

Dry your eyes and testify

And oh you love to hate me, don't you, honey?

I'm your sacrifice"

He was curious. No matter what anyone says, he was just here to relax by the school pool. It had nothing to do with Tromboner agreeing to meet Anwar here. He goes by the entrance as he sees them talking. Not touching just talking. Thankfully.

"I'm not really a swimmer. The swim team's fit though" Anwar nodded.

"Not as fit as you" Eric grins.

"Yeah right!"

"You know man, the pink coats and jackets aren't doing you any favours" Eric said using the subject to pat the other boy's chest. Maybe you should go for a swimmimg pool blue. It would really bring out your eyes" Tromboner's now against Anwar nose to nose. He confidence is electric, clearly a turn on, as Anwar leans on his heels, eyes searching downwards, for Tromboner's shiny lips.

"You wanna go shopping somtime?" He asks sharply gasping as Anwar's index finger gently strokes his face...

Adam comes charging out from behind the floatie stack. Arms out like a zombie. Running towards him, his shoulders tense as he pushes Tromboner into the pool with all his might. "Trying to get a date? In your dreams Tromboner!" That smirk quickly fades when he realises that other teens are taking photos and Anwar is laughing the hardest.

Tromboner's crushed expression, makes him pause. He does want to walk around the pool. Offer a hand to lift him out. Wrap him in a towel, skip school, take him home and fuzz over him. But he can't. He knows he can't. He watches Eric swim to the other side and hoist himself out. Before Adam's walked out he can hear Miss Sands on the tanoy, calling him to the office.

Like many times before. His father is filling out paperwork when he comes in. There's that familiar twitch of the nose. Like he's a bad smell that he can't wait to get rid of. He dumps himself in the chair with a mischievous ease.

"Mr Effiong has been sent home" Michael said.

"OK"

"If you're not careful Adam, his parent's could make a formal complaint!"

"I was only having a laugh" He spouts his usual lines.

"It's always at everyone's expense though. It's it!" He snaps looking up.

Adam chews his lip waiting for his punishment. More detentions. Suspension, cleaning the grafitti on the wall after school. He tells himself to relax. He's been through all of his dad's punishments and came out the other side. There's nothing he can do or say that he hasn't heard before. He stares at the picture on the bookcase of his father and Sister, on her graduation day.

"To Apologise to Eric..."

"I'll do that" Adam shrugs.

"Of course. But I hear he was charming Anwar Sarin? We pride ourselves on being very diverse, here at Moordale. To make up for your constant abuse of LGBT students, it's about time we invest in them" Michael said waving his pen.

"Huh?" Adam asks.

"You look like a confused Madam. Maybe I should pay for Eric and Anwar to go on day trip to the theatre. Or maybe out of Moordale. To London perhaps. London fashion week is in what? June, July?"

"What? You ain't...you ain't paying for Tromboner to date that prick!" Adam splutters.

"Language! And it's not a date. It's an outing"

"That's bollocks!"

"One more incident with Mr Effiong, and I will book their tickets, before you've even snatched his lunch away! Is that what you want Adam? Eric and Anwar trasping around school together hand in hand? Eric constantly sitting next to Anwar in assembly? Having to watch Anwar cradle your crush in his arms at the next Moordale dance?"

"No!"

"Mark my words, my boy, I will make this happen!"

Adam immediately gets up and starts pacing up and down the room. He's not really a pacer. He stopped doing that in his early teens. He's imagining all these scenarios in his head. Snapshots of Tromboner and Anwar's relationship overloaded his brain. He didn't even have to ask, or plead. He knew his dad would do it. He'd have to change school's or something. Fuck he'd even go back to Mountview military than face this!

He picked at the front of his longer hair until he paused, with his father's frown.

"Wait...Anwar cradling my crush? Dad how...how did you know? I call Tromboner a faggot every day"

"Adam you're my son. Of course I know" Michael sorts out papers into a neat stack.

"AND?"

"And what else would you like me to say?"

"I like...both. And you're just...okay with it?" He stares in shock.

His father finally stops playing with the pen and raises his eyebrows. "Adam, looking at you, there's number of things I would alter or change about you. I would change your grammar, your speech. Your dress sense, your grades, your room, your work ethic. Your hair's become a little to long for my liking, and unlike your sister you have no culinary skills to speak of. You actually burnt brocoli the other day!"

"Dad, Madam was distracting me!"

"My point is, there's a spreadsheet of physical and psychological features that I would change about you. Why would I try to change your sexuality? What an ignorant and colossal waste of my time!"

Adam runs a shaky hand through his hair. Shaking his head. Never in a million years did he think he would come out like this. He never thought his dad would know, or care enough to think about it. To steady himself, he grips the rungs of the chair. His father gets up and walks around the desk. He wraps his arms around his son, who in turn, barrels into his chest.

Having his father hug him is odd. It feels weird being so close. His chin against his shoulder with his father cupping the back of his neck. His father's hands unsually used to wave at him in anger or, point him up to his room. They were now patting his back and rubbing his shoulder blade. He pats his dad awkwardly in the small of his back, as tears pricked his eyes.

"Does mum know?"

"God knows, I have no clue what your mother's thinking these days" Michael mutters into his ear. This harrasment of Eric has got to end. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah"

"Do you? Because one day son. You'll wake up and with a sinking feeling in your chest. One day you'll walk into school, stalk him at your locker. Like I know you do, and you'll look at him that morning and he'll glance right through you. Like you're not even there. Then you'll conclude, with despair, that you've lost him for good" Michael pulls away from him, steadying his son on his feet.

"I get it. But...I dunno!" Adam moans.

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know how to talk to him. I've just...spent so many years throwing food at him and smearing shit on his books. Tripping him over and being a dickhead. How else was I gonna get him to notice me?"

"Son, not all attention is good attention"

"It feels that way. Every time he looks at me. That's good attention right?"

He feels his father's blue eyes burn through him like a lazer. "Adam being feared isn't a compliment. Your punishment for this debacle will be lessons from me, in here everyday for a week. Starting next Monday" Michal decides.

"What? Why?" Adam said watching his father return to his desk.

"You need advice. Before I met your mother, I wooed a few my people in my day. You need all the help you can get!"

"Dad in your day, you didn't even have mobile phones!" Adam groans.

"Fine, get your phone out, and place it on the desk" Michael said. Like clockwork, his son does so, putting the blank screen face upwards. "Can you type a heartfelt apology that will make Eric's heart soar? Can you create a romantic letter of text that will pry Eric away from Anwar and make him feel like a prince?" Michael requests looking his son in the eye.

After raising his hand to grab his phone, Adam thinks better of it and drops his hand in a huff.

"So, next Monday then?" Michael asks.

"Shit!...What time?" Adam sulks in defeat, as he carefully takes his phone off of the desk.

"5 AM. Your punishment is settled. Now get out" Michael says calmly as his son leaves the room, with a new lease of hope pounding in his chest.