(A/Ns: and i updated in less than a month! yeeess. And somehow returned with 6400 words. Anyway, this is... a sad one. I would just like to clarify now that he incredibly homophobic views stated by certain characters are NOT reflective of my own in any way, shape or form. I am also aware that the process of coming out/coming to terms with your sexuality is different for everyone. But this is not, in any way, exaggerated. Thank you for hearing me out! And please point out if i offended anyone! I may be a homosexual myself but i am in no way perfect :3

As usual, please feel free to review! :D

Content warnings: mentions of vomiting, smoking references, swearing, strong mentions of homosexuality, highly homophobic views expressed by certain characters.

Disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters!)

Chapter 6

Perhaps Leo returning to school wasn't the best idea ever.

No, Elliot hadn't come to that conclusion out of nowhere. If anything, it was uncharacteristic of him to think that considering the last 3 days without him had been just… empty. That conclusion had been pulled from the fact Leo had only gotten half an hour through Thursday's Chemistry lesson before passively whining about how he didn't want to be there – or rather, shouldn't.

Elliot wasn't even going to try to find out where he was in Physical Ed, because Leo wasn't a whiner. And because Leo wasn't a whiner – or at least, he didn't think he was – Elliot was consequently on his best behaviour. Only whatever non-existent God that was out there knew what might provoke him or set him off. And, frankly, Elliot wasn't willing to take that risk.

He could still vividly recall the events of the Monday, when he'd arrived at Leo's house to find the other barely functioning, and had allowed nature to run its course before he literally put the other to bed. Ok, so not literally. Maybe in Elliot's fantasy.

And since then, it had been 2 lonely days of boring silences in every lesson, followed by the repetitive droning of Oz making futile attempts to cheer him up. He didn't need cheering up; Oz and Lottie just seemed to like exacerbating his already poor attitude, which they just skewed out of context without any kind of regard for Elliot's dignity.

At first, when he'd spotted the noirette slumped over a book in tutor as usual, it almost felt as though a huge burden had been alleviated from his shoulders. But after barely 15 minutes, it had become evident that perhaps his relief was naivety.

And he hadn't gotten any better; if anything he'd gotten worse. He was sick, albeit some people made improvements after 3 days, but Elliot simply bit down any comments about why he wasn't getting much better (specifically regarding certain lifestyle choices which ultimately proved to be triggers) and remained mostly silent.

Because, as he'd already said, Leo wasn't a whiner.

But the urge to speak up and voice his concern (the concern he hadn't fully accepted that he felt yet) was a lot stronger than his common sense, and the longer he said nothing, the harder it became to repress.

Ok, he really needed to learn how to better restrain his thoughts.

"So, uh…" he started, tripping over his words before he even got halfway through the question. "H-How are things going?"

Languidly, Leo pulled his gaze up from the blank worksheet in front of him, sitting up to better respond to Elliot's attempt at eye contact. One hand discreetly making its way to his stomach as he partially stretched, he simply glared at the other. Weakly, at that; his usual flare – as Elliot had once described it the previous week – wasn't quite present. He groaned. "Awfully, thanks."

"Are you sure you should really be in school?" Elliot questioned, his tone more judgemental than what could be considered safe.

"I slept a few hours last night, which was a first," Leo said matter-of-factly, returning his gaze to the first question and scribbling down the answer, even more illegible than usual – somehow. "Besides, I read in a book once that you're most contagious in the first few days of an illness. So, don't worry, Elliot: you're not going to die."

Subconsciously, Elliot still shuffled in the other direction an inch. "W-When was the last time you were sick?"

"Around… yesterday afternoon." Leo replied after a short pause, burying the hand from his stomach back in his hair; leaning dependently on the edge of the table.

Another inch. "Right."

Leo froze for a brief second, the pen stilling in his gently shaking right hand, as the other hand lowered slightly to just beneath his mouth. Passively, he grunted, "I feel even worse."

Elliot flushed slightly, although not as much as Leo. That was probably his fault. He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you need to be… excused, or…?"

"Probably, but I'll be sure to let you know exactly when," Leo said, as if ambiguity combined with teasing was his main objective. Then, the same expression of grimace returned abruptly, the hand holding the pen dropping it and lifting slightly to capture Break's attention. "Now. Now's when."

Right before Elliot, in his haste, was about to say that there was a ninety percent chance Break wasn't paying attention, Break miraculously responded. Wordlessly, he gestured towards the door, waving Leo off as immediate permission to leave.

Just as Leo got up to leave, Elliot was convinced that Break had used telepathy or something stupid to know what was wrong.

It was only 5 minutes before Leo returned, slipping back into the classroom unnoticed by everyone except Elliot, which was just enough time for him to stop being so flustered over it.

"Are you… okay now?" he asked cautiously.

"No, not really," Leo said in return, bluntly as ever.

That was probably a stupid thing to ask… he mentally scolded himself. And so, Elliot remained silent for what was left of the lesson, which was only another 40 minutes at this point. In fact, as an even bolder, more prominent and significant indicator that Leo really wasn't himself today, he had yet to get fidgety over a craving for nicotine.

And then, before he knew it, Elliot was yanked out of his long, tedious train of thoughts by the ringing of bell followed by increasing volume of conversations surrounding him.

"If it's alright with you, I'd rather be alone this lunch," Leo muttered, flinging his bag over his shoulder as he slanted towards the table for temporary support. "Don't take it personally. If I meant it personally, I'd say it like so."

"Oh, right… yeah…" Elliot responded, trying not to allow his words to reflect the sudden overwhelming feeling of rejection he truly felt in that moment. "I'll… be in the canteen."

"Don't say it so hopefully," Leo shut him down coldly. "I'll see you in fifth. Probably."

"Yeah, I-"

"Leo~!" Break called from the front of the room, sending the other a reassuring glance, all the while grinning shamelessly at Elliot, clearly knowing he'd interrupted him. "Could you come here for a moment please? The rest of you can go, and have a lovely day~"

"Fantastic…" Leo deadpanned, staggering over to the front desk. "Bye."

"Yeah, bye…" Elliot said quietly. He stood idly for a few moments, unsure of his objective. Then, fully aware that Break and Leo were both staring at him, he hurriedly turned on his heel, storming out of the classroom and attaching himself to the crowd of students all cramming together and dispersing at the doors to outside.

"Well he doesn't take the truth particularly gracefully, does he~?" Break chuckled.

Leo could help but grin slightly at that one, as he collapsed into the chair opposite his teacher. "Elliot isn't particularly graceful with anything."

"My my, and I thought you two were friends~"

"Possibly," Leo said, hosting the same ambiguity as usual. "Could you get straight to the point please?"

"Cheeky, aren't you? You remind me as a more… hm, recalcitrant version of Oz," Break narrowed his eyes at the noirette. "But alright. First of all, I won't ask where you went. But tell me, Leo, why are you not at home today, hm? People of your physique get ill even easier, usually. Fufu."

Briefly, Leo shifted, internally uncomfortable under the other's interrogative stare. "I'm well enough now. Don't patronise me."

"Bitter still too, I see…" Break hummed. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? I'm sure you know that the best way to heal is to rest~"

"I'm fine."

"Alright, I'll leave it," Break gave up, twirling the lollipop stick around between two fingers after plucking it from his mouth. As if luring Leo into the false sense of security, he leaned forward marginally, and looked the other dead in the eye behind the thick-rimmed glasses and mop of hair. "But if there's ever anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask me~"

Prying his eyes away from the probing stare, Leo quickly stood up, wavering slightly as the dizziness overcame him. But that didn't hold him back as he strode out the classroom, because really, that was not a conversation Leo was willing to delve into; now, of all times.

Elliot hated this feeling of rejection.

Of course, unlike most of the things Leo was the grounds for his introduction and new insight to, Elliot had felt rejection before. But not quite like this. Not quite like wandering around the school for a few minutes in search of an objective, before finally – reluctantly – settling with returning to his old friends.

Sure, he still spoke to them, and avoiding Oz was simply impossible, but ever since investing most of his time in Leo, he hadn't been around them nearly as much as before. Returning would feel strange, although when Leo had straight up told him not to hang around him, he was really restricted with where to go.

Thankfully, as Elliot stepped through the canteen doors, he was quick to notice that his usual group, sitting secluded in the corner, was much smaller than usual – the only two there were Oz and Lottie, and if those two weren't the biggest teases, Elliot might have been happy.

"Hey! Elliot~!" Oz called from across the room, shamelessly drawing a few of the other students' attention to Elliot. Sneering derisively at the unnecessary fuss, Elliot sauntered over to their table, dropping his bag carelessly and plonking himself onto the seat opposite them. "Where's Leo?"

Dick. "He's… not too well," Elliot said: the vaguest answer he could give. "He wanted to be alone."

"Well… tell him to get well soon!" Oz pouted exaggeratingly in some terrible attempt at showing sympathy.

"How the hell am I gonna tell him that?!"

"Sorry!" Oz yelped. He glanced aside momentarily at Elliot after trying to avoid his piercing glare, finding that he wasn't eating but instead picking at the food. "Hey Elliot… are you not gonna eat anything?"

"No," Elliot snapped back at him. "I'm not hungry," he said stubbornly, continuing to pick at the salad with the plastic fork.

"Mhm, what's his problem?" Lottie hummed, twirling a few strands of her hair around with delicate fingers.

Unnoticeably, Oz shifted an inch towards Lottie, staring at Elliot – still sulking – in the corner of his vision. "I think it's because Leo told him to stay away…"

"Ah, it seems the time has come to finally talk about this~" she chimed, swivelling around on her seat and looking Elliot dead in the eye. With an uncharacteristic sincerity laced into her usual quirky tone, she continued. "Elliot, what really is Leo to you? Tell your big sister Lottie, hm?"

"N-Nothing!" Elliot yelled, far, far too defensively. "Why the hell are you a-asking me that?! H-He's just a friend…"

Oz and Lottie, both silencing instantly, shot each other a concerned gaze, before their vision darted back to Elliot, sulkily picking at his food once again. They both knew exactly what each other were thinking: he was the epitome of denial. Sure, forcing it out of him probably wasn't the best option, but even a blind person could tell conclusively that something about the situation was bothering him. And really, they wanted to help, even if it was for their own goddamn satisfaction.

"Tch, why are you two staring at me…?" Elliot scoffed, his tough-guy façade of repudiation faltering.

Glancing back at Lottie, Oz gave her another sigh of defeat. Restlessly, he fiddled with his hands in his lap for a moment, an awkward expression forming over his features as he lifted his line of view back up to Elliot. Gingerly but sincerely, he began to speak. "Elliot, I think we… well-"

Before he could even get one sentence out, Lottie cut him off, her sharp eyes narrowing at Elliot. "Alright Elliot, cut the crap. Oz and I know you have a little thing for Leo~"

Elliot wanted to kick something. Especially when he felt his face involuntarily darken with a deep blush. "Look, I-I don't know what you two think you know but you're wrong! T-There's… t-there's nothing bothering me, I don't have a thing for Leo, and I'm not… I'm not gay! So cut the crap, because I'm not interested in you two thinking you understand everything I feel! You have no idea what goes on in my head! B-Because… i-if you did…" he paused, sucking in a breath and lowering his voice. "… t-then you wouldn't be… saying everything you do."

Oz and Lottie silenced promptly.

"Well don't just stare at me and say nothing, jeez…"

"We just…" Oz stammered, flapping his hands around frantically. "We want to help you! If there's something bothering you, that is… I just want you to know that we're here for you. I-If you need it."

"Well I don't," Elliot said, his tone stern as if to further validate his point which, clearly, no one was getting. Still, he hadn't stopped blushing. "Y-You seem to be forgetting that Leo is a guy… and even if he means a lot to me as a friend… I'm not gay!"

"Hmm, maybe that's why he's getting so defensive, hm~?" Lottie suggested teasingly, but with an edge of genuineness. "Are you sure about that, Elliot~? Tell us, when was the last time you liked a girl?"

"S-Shut up!" Elliot yelped. Defensively, as usual. Too defensively. "That means nothing!"

Lottie grinned. "But can you answer it~?"

"Tch, I'm done here," Elliot scoffed, aggressively picking up his bag from the floor.

"Elliot, please! Talk to us about this!" Oz called after him as he stood up, tugging on the sleeve of his blazer. "I'm sorry if we upset you! I know you're missing Leo right now but please just talk to us! We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong!"

"I don't need your help," Elliot spat bitterly at him, yanking his arm away from the other's grip. And, without a second glance, he stormed off.

He didn't even know where he was going. He just needed to walk away, because really, Elliot was not ready to have that conversation yet.

Six hours on, and all he could think about – no matter how much studying he did as a futile attempt to distract himself – was why the hell he'd gotten so defensive. And, really, deep down in his conscience where he rarely dared to visit, he could only think of one explanation.

Perhaps they were right.

It was an awful thought: one which sent butterflies to his stomach with the nauseating feeling of anxiety to accompany it. But it was an incessant thought: one which concerned him with how much it wouldn't leave him, and not thinking about it was proving to be more difficult than he initially thought. He'd really tried, though, locking his bedroom door, pulling out some work, and plugging in headphones to drown his thoughts.

Nothing could silence the ceaseless, persistent, nagging thoughts which dominated his conscious mind.

One distraction could have been the music, but when one song in particular began, which Elliot didn't even recognise, that plan would soon fail. Confused, he listened intently to the music for the first few seconds. It wasn't really music – at best, it could be described at sounds. But something about them, like a nostalgic aura to the tender notes of a piano playing lightly in the background, made him stop writing for a moment. Then the verse began, the piano music dropping a few octaves to a gentle melody.

Elliot really didn't listen to music like this, and he definitely hadn't listened to this before, but there was something… something inexplainable, which made it irresistible; impossible to skip, or turn off.

Then, the lyrics started.

'When I was in the third grade, I thought that I was gay, 'cuz I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight'

Well he was not in the least bit ready for that.

There was no reason – no valid reason whatsoever – why his pen should have stopped, or why he was totally zoned out by the foreign yet far too familiar lyrics. However, that didn't take away from the fact that his pen had stopped, and his attention had drifted away from his work.

Familiar. He'd heard this somewhere before. It was sickeningly familiar, bringing back memories he'd tried so hard to forget; obviously to no avail.

"I think it's because Leo told him to stay away…"

"We want to help you! If there's something bothering you, that is… I just want you to know that we're here for you."

"We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong!"

"I-If you need it."

And then it hit him. Oz really had been sincere when he'd been talking about all that. Still teasing and playful, of course, but there was also sincerity woven into his voice. So woven into it that Elliot hadn't noticed it.

With Oz's "jokes" still ringing in his ears, Elliot had no choice but to face up to those thoughts.

So what if – not that he was saying it was fated and already decided by the entire fucking universe and it couldn't be changed and it was set in stone and that was it – but what if he was gay. What if they were right? What then?

Shame. Disgust. Self-hate.

… those probably weren't the best things to start with.

But when was the last time he liked a girl? That was something he genuinely… couldn't answer. Because the answer was never. Even amongst his earliest memories, he had no recollection whatsoever of feeling any kind of attraction to another girl. Never.

Surely, though, that didn't mean everything. No, there had to be something else. Just because you'd had no interest or attraction to the opposite sex whatsoever didn't mean that you were automatically gay. That wasn't how it worked.

Wasn't it?

Elliot didn't know, however he knew – really, he did know, he was just in denial – that there were other things. Those other things just so happened to be the intense feelings of rejection and disappointment felt when Leo had left him.

Yes, Leo. The noirette he'd met less than 3 weeks ago who somehow managed to intensify every single goddamn emotion he ever felt.

Leo who… also happened to be a guy.

Even at the thought of him, the mere thought, Elliot could feel the same, strengthened emotions flooding back to his conscious – as well as the irrefutable tightness which had magically appeared in his pants. Now of all times, of course.

His breathing increased. The blush which had also magically appeared on his face deepened. His palms, one still wrapped tightly around the pen, were clammy.

There was no way he was…

It was a mistake. Yes, a mistake. Elliot was content with that. A coincidence at best. An unlucky coincidence which possessed and captivated his thoughts and pressed at his conscience repeatedly, day after day, polluting his mind with ugly thoughts that just could not be true. It was…

True. Of course they fucking were.

He was just going around and around in circles at this point. He wasn't stupid. Just in denial.

But how could you blame him? His parents were explicitly intolerant to homosexuality. So were his siblings. God forbid if they ever found out, for it would be the end of him. Why? Because their youngest son, their baby, their boy, their prized son who was supposed to have enough pride to be the last to hold up the family name and reputation for as long as he lived. The son who was meant to get married to another upper-class female from some random aristocracy and pass on their family name to future generations. But their son wasn't going to do any of that anymore, because their son was…

Gay. He was gay.

Almost hyperventilating after that extremely tiring thought process, Elliot lifted a hand to his face, concealing the look of utter horror and confusion and self-hate from the rest of the world. The song had just finished.

And he didn't know what to do.

There's…

I can't… hide from the truth anymore…

If it were possible to crawl into a hole and just die, right there, Elliot would have taken up the opportunity in a heartbeat. Because his newly discovered self-revelation was not something he wanted to deal with. Or even accept, regardless of how true he knew it to be.

It was fact. Elliot Nightray – the successful, prideful, and earnest child of an aristocracy – was gay.

So much for pride…

Suddenly, he was yanked from the thoughts which he'd buried himself in by a knock on the door; he'd never been this overly hypersensitive before now.

Then, his sister – Vanessa – called in with another couple of knocks, her sharp tone doing nothing to slow the panicked pace of his… everything. "Elliot? Why is your door locked? Come to the dining room now, dinner's ready."

"I-I'm just coming," Elliot managed to force himself out of his trance, returning his words to a barely casual level of shakiness, just praying his sister wouldn't pick up on any of the paralinguistic cues that he was royally screwed. The moment he stood up, however, the bulge in his pants suddenly came to the front of his mental priority list. Clearly, focusing so hard on that hadn't helped. "Just… l-let me go to the bathroom first."

The dissipating echo of his sister's footsteps told him fairly conclusively that she was no longer listening in, as he sauntered into the on-suite bathroom and slammed the door behind him, the permanent scowl on his face even more bitter than usual, probably due to his excessive and unwanted blushing. Calming down just marginally, he locked the door slightly quieter.

It wasn't fun, it wasn't enjoyable, it wasn't clean, it wasn't nice, it was just embarrassing. But if Elliot was going to go downstairs to eat with his family presentably, it had to be done.

Trying desperately to will away the blush from his face caused by those thoughts nagging incessantly at him from forefront of his consciousness, Elliot saw no other option. He had to get this off his mind somehow. He had to tell someone.

In the heat of the moment, he stormed over to his desk, picked up his phone, and pulled up the 'new message' option for Oz's contact.

[To Oz, 19:05]
I think you were right.

Elliot didn't notice the spam of replies as he traipsed back across the lower level of his bedroom towards the door and out into the corridor.

[From Oz, 19:05]
Huh?

[From Oz, 19:06]
Elliot?

[From Oz, 19:06]
What are you talking about?

[From Oz, 19:06]
Hey!

[From Oz, 19:06]
Wait…

[From Oz, 19:06]
Elliot…

[From Oz, 19:07]
Don't tell me you've just come out…

His hands were trembling and sweaty. He was shaking and he knew he was shaking. His ears felt hollow; everything felt so numb and yet so painful. And his hypersensitivity was well and truly in its prime.

Why the hell did he ever think to tell that doofus Oz?!

In his defence, it was the best option. Really, it was. Telling his family was unthinkable, and telling Leo was entirely off-limits, no questions asked. And that, unfortunately, left Oz. It also left Elliot questioning his standards.

Tch, some standards I have… Elliot scoffed at himself mentally, wiping the scowl off his face as he pushed the door open to the dining room.

He was the last one to arrive, but that was no surprise. He didn't expect his brother and sister and father had to do what he'd just done in order to sit down for a bloody meal. They clearly had higher standards than him.

His oldest siblings were Claude and Fred, who'd both left home a while ago to pursue their high-end, successful careers in medicine. Just a bit younger than them were Gilbert and Vincent, who – as mentioned previously – had moved out and worked as teachers. At Elliot's school, that was; apparently the pay was good. So, to summarise, none of them were there, which only left Ernest, who was 19 and studying Business at a nearby university, and Vanessa, who was 17.

"Elly, why are you late?" Ernest asked, serving himself a plate of food from the exquisite selection lined along the centre of the table.

Elliot, internally drawing in a deep breath to cool himself once again, sat down reluctantly in the last remaining seat, next to his father and opposite Vanessa. "I was just… finishing the question I was on, and then… going to the bathroom."

Vanessa knotted her eyebrows at her elder brother, muttering under her breath. "I did inform you of that 3 minutes ago…"

"You two, please," Their father promptly cut off their inchoate argument. Silently, he cut up some of the food on his place, glaring at Elliot in the corner of his vision and gesturing for him to eat something. Intimidated, Elliot hastily sat up, and did exactly that. "So, Vanessa. Tell me, how was your day?"

"It was okay, father," she answered, irritated. "Although, I must say, some of the girls in my Maths school do not belong at such a prestigious academy… all they do is talk about their boyfriends."

Unlike Elliot, Vanessa didn't go to Lutwidge Academy. Instead, she attended an all-girls private school, which was slightly further away from where Elliot's was, and studied Maths, Law, History and Latin. She was upfront, opinionated, and downright obnoxious sometimes. Whatever she said, or thought, was always right in her eyes. Elliot begged to differ most of the time, however her conformational personality meant that, sometimes, it just wasn't worth it.

From beside her, Ernest sneered, as he sipped on the drink. "Can't be as bad the gay couple who constantly make out at the back of the lecture theatre…"

At that, a look of utter disgust twisted onto Vanessa's features, their father stopped eating for a moment, and Elliot attempted to remain casual – in actuality, his blood ran cold, and his senses doubled in efficacy.

"I suppose you're right, that is worse," Vanessa scowled. "Some people just lack consideration well."

"Yes, well, whilst I agree entirely, you must be careful with such opinions," their father said. "Soon they will realise that homosexuality does not exist; same sex love never existed and should have never been legalised. I hope all of you will carry on the family though, regardless."

Elliot was sure he visibly flinched; that hurt.

"Elliot?" Shit shit shit shit please don't ask me- "What do you think?" Vanessa interrogated. Fuck.

"Well…" he stuttered, picking at his food. His grip on the fork tightened in sublimation for his urge to throw it at them. Or cry. Crying worked too. He hated feeling like this, but the fact was he did. "G-Going back to Ernest's point, surely it's your own fault for watching them."

"Hmph, not really," Ernest said, averting his gaze from Elliot. "They're only after the attention-"

"Elliot why are you defending homosexuals?" Vanessa cut him off brusquely.

Giving into his sister's sharp, almost aggressive stare, Elliot shrank back into his chair. "… nothing."

The rest of the dinner proceeded, being consumed by an awkward silence, spare the clanking of forks against china plates. It took mental and emotional strain for Elliot not to flip out at them; so what that people are gay? Why should it matter?

It shouldn't. It didn't to him. But every single one of the people he was sitting nearby strongly disagreed.

The very second he finished eating, Elliot didn't hesitate for a single moment in leaving, placing the knife and fork lined up neatly on the plate and pushing it aside. Then, without even asking, he stood up, tucking the chair under the table and silently hoping to go unnoticed.

"Elliot?" His father piped up, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Where might you be going?"

Idiot. Of course you weren't going to get away with that. "I, uh… sorry, I have a lot of homework to do."

"Very well," the other granted. "But watch your manners, boy. Next time you will ask before getting up."

"Y-Yes father…" Elliot stammered, lowering his head before hurriedly making his way to the door.

As if the door to the corridor clicking shut was his cue, as soon as he was out of their hearing range, Elliot's façade crumbled, and he was only a few seconds from letting all his emotional barriers down completely.

He really hoped he was just being paranoid. He really did. Perhaps he'd just gotten the wrong idea, and one day – not today, or even soon – but one day, he'd be able to come out to them.

But no. Not anymore. They were blatantly, explicitly, bluntly, disgustingly homophobic, and just downright unaccepting of homosexuals.

His heart didn't stop racing all the way until he reached his room, locking himself away along with a false sense of security. Well, at least he was alone.

Yes, alone. With his thoughts.

Real safe, of course.

Kicking the first piece of furniture he saw, Elliot couldn't help but bury his face in his arms, face-planting the wall. Words could not convey how lost in his own mind he felt. Betrayed by his own self, even.

His attention was abruptly captivated by a ping from his phone, which jolted him just as much as the realisation that he'd told Oz struck him like lightening. Cautiously, he proceeded to the desk where he'd left it, picking it up and reading through the spam of messages. Oz must've replied the moment he initially sent the message.

As much as he hated to admit it, Oz wasn't a total idiot; Elliot saw no point in denying it any longer.

[To Oz, 19:22]
Yeah, I guess I did

The reply came in less than a minute.

[From Oz, 19:22]
OMG

Great. You've really fucked yourself over now.

Elliot facepalmed, burying one hand to his hair and climbing the stairs to the second level of his bedroom where his bed was, situated above the bathroom. With an overly exasperated exhale, he collapsed on his front onto the bed, the mattress responding with an audible thump.

What if Oz hated him for it? Really, he could have only been joking. He came from an aristocrat family too, right?

God, what was he thinking?

Finally working up the courage to lift his face, donning an expression of shame, from the pillow. There was no hope in distracting himself, and all Elliot did to stir those thoughts of doubt was google "how to come out" to wallow and regret all the things he did wrong.

However, only a few seconds later, he was distracted yet again – probably a good thing, or possibly not – by a knock at his window. Curious, Elliot languidly lifted his head, eyes widening the moment it registered in his brain that, currently, Oz was outside his window, perching on the ledge.

"Oz!" Elliot hissed, remembering with a sigh that Oz was his neighbour and that it didn't take more than a minute to make it across both estates. And up to Elliot's bedroom window, it seemed. Or perhaps he was just extremely eager.

Eager to mock him. Of course.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Elliot yelped, unlocking the window and letting it swing open, before restlessly pacing back and forth. But when Oz's mouth dropped open to answer, Elliot changed his mind; he didn't want to know. And so, aggressively, right before the blonde uttered his first word, he cut him off to continue. "N-Never mind! Don't answer that, because I know why you're here, hah? Y-You're disgusted at me, a-and appalled, and if you want to walk out of here and never speak to me again then go ahead because I'd… I-I'd understand if you did!" His rant faded off slightly. "B-But… I'm not going to apologise because it's not my f-"

"Hey! Elliot!" Oz shouted over him, flapping his arms around and attempting to shush him.

Elliot tried to draw in a deep calming breath, albeit failed. "Tch, w-what?"

Wordlessly, Oz took two steps forwards. Two steps forward which, before Elliot could noticed, successfully closed the gap between them. Without a moment of hesitation, Oz wrapped both arms tightly around Elliot's waist, an earnest sparkle of sympathy in his bold green eyes staring up at the other's expression of pure shock for a moment before averting to the adjacent wall.

The more he sunk into the embrace, the more Elliot could feel his emotional walls begin to falter. "Oi, s-shorty. What are you doing?"

When he opened his mouth, Elliot really did try to sound tough, but the emotion-driven crack in his voice shattered that façade.

Oz smiled warmly into his shirt, and proceeded to respond in the softest, most genuine tone he'd even spoken in. "You don't need to apologise for who you are, Elliot. There's nothing wrong with it."

That was the last straw for Elliot, before his barriers broke once and for all.

Already feeling tears brimming in his eyes and escaping his eyelids, totally out of his control, Elliot hastily slipped out of Oz's hold, pulling away and retreating a few steps. His back turned to Oz, one hand instantly flew up to his face, the other hugging his own waist. Like a shield, really. All he could do was shield himself, and that included the hand planted over his eyes to conceal the tears trailing down his face.

He sniffed, shaking his head as if Oz's stares of concern were invalid. Weak, pathetic, wretched: that's what he felt.

That's what he was.

Meanwhile, only a few feet away from him with both arms still held open wide was Oz, standing and wondering what to do. It was inherently obvious that Elliot was really, really upset. And, clearly, this was the result of everything which had been repressed and bottled up for so long all being released.

If their lives were a sitcom, this would certainly be a cue for a chorus of sympathetic sighs from the studio audience.

Then, after over two minutes of sobbing uncontrollably to himself, Elliot finally plucked up enough courage to do something. With tears still burning in his eyes, and slipping down his cheeks behind the safeguard of his hand, he subtly shuffled back a few steps, settling on the end of his bed. Turning his gaze to the wall, and wiping some of tear-stains from his face, Elliot confessed weakly, "Sorry… I'm just… really hypersensitive right now. I… I know it's pathetic."

"Argh, stop self-pitying yourself!" Oz said, frustration evident in his tone. Noting that his rash words probably hadn't helped the other, Oz adopted more delicacy when he perched on the bed beside Elliot, and began to rub light but comforting, reassuring circles on his back. "Erm… did something happen?"

Elliot, still having to bite back the tears stinging in his eyelids, tried to keep his voice together as he admitted, "Earlier, at dinner… a-after everything that'd happened… my father, and siblings were all, just… talking and talking about how disgusting it was." He sucked in a deep breath, tilting his head upwards and staring at the ceiling, his tear-glazed eyes glinting in the light. After a short pause, he sniffed again, and continued. "I'm supposed to have pride, so I can't… I can never tell them. I'm just… a mess."

Oz had known Elliot for a long, long time. Since he was born, to be precise; births among aristocracies – especially of males – was always big news. They'd always been to the same parties, even if their families did share a history. They'd always been neighbours, and they'd always attended the same school.

And in all those years Oz had spent with Elliot, he'd never, ever witnessed him lose his composure to such extent. He'd never seen him this upset, and just… broken.

How long had he fought back, and ignored the existence of those thoughts, and doubts?

Too long, undoubtedly.

"Elliot… you are no less of who you are because of this. Your pride for your identity is… still as honourable as it always has been to me…" Oz said firmly. "Your pride isn't damaged by something so… trivial. And so what if your family reject you? Because you still have friends who love and care about you… and, hehe… Elliot will only ever be as 'Elliot' as he chooses to be."

Whatever it was about what Oz had just said only turned on the faucet of his eyes once again, tears burning his eye sockets, his dark lashes clumping together as he tried to wipe away the wetness from his eyes. Then, regretfully, Elliot laughed, almost, shaking his head to his tragic self. "Wow, I really am just… a mess…" He sniffed again. "I can't even imagine if… you know, Leo… saw me right now, like… this."

"You really do like him, don't you?"

Elliot bit down on his lower lip, nodding tentatively in response. "Yeah… I do. And it's… only been… three weeks, which is just… stupid."

"Just do what your heart tells you, no matter how cringey that sounds!" Oz said, puffing out his chest. Then, he chuckled, standing up from the bed and re-opening the window. "I have to go now, Oscar… doesn't know I'm gone, hehe…" There was a small pause of silence. "Just don't rush things, okay, Elliot?"

"Y-You got it," Elliot stuttered, trying to play it cool. "And… you need to keep this a secret between us. Or I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but…"

"Of course I will, Elliot," Oz winked, readying himself from the decent from the second-floor balcony just below them, the nightly breeze brushing through his hair. "Goodnight!"

The tear stains still a painful reminder of his true emotional capacity, Elliot hesitantly stood up, glancing up at the star-scattered sky. With his emotional burdens temporarily relieved, one single thought of hope was finally allocated the freedom to cross his conscious mind.

A secret between us, huh…

I suppose that's… just about okay…

(A/Ns: Thank you for reading! Unfortunately, in exactly 27 days, I have the first of my very important series of exams. I will not abandon this fic; it will just not be on the top of my priority list, but i will try to share a new chapter with you guys as soon as i can)