XXX

Enrique

In most cases, my anxiety would decrease the longer it took my mother to say anything to me when I knew I was about to get an earful, hoping she would eventually just forget I was supposed to be in trouble while worrying about her five other kids. This wasn't like most cases, though… and the more hours that went by without getting an angry knock on the door and told to get my ass in the living room, the worse I felt. There was no doubt in what she saw and there was no pretending it wasn't what it looked like. I mean, what was I supposed to say? I had been giving him CPR?

She was probably telling my father, who was normally too caught up in work to bother with me unless I was really becoming a problem, or I was ten and getting the puberty talk. Even when my parents discovered I was having sex back in secondary school it was my mom who had sat me down and discussed using protection and ensuring I had consent. They had gone through the entire spiel on more than one occasion with my siblings, hitting a point where I, as the youngest, was no longer worth the effort unless it was believed that I could be tarnishing our family name. They understood that I wasn't a child anymore, proving with my five year absence that I was fully capable of taking care of myself. So why did I no longer feel like an adult? Hiding out in my bedroom in fear of what was waiting for me downstairs.

Was there going to be a family meeting for this?

I couldn't even imagine how that would end.

"Hey everyone, I just wanted to gather the whole family to tell you that we caught your brother making out with another man, so if you'd like to establish a no contact order we will be kicking him out of the house shortly."

Would they really kick me out, though?

It was the one thing I still remained unsure of… I knew my parents opinion regarding the gay community, but could I actually see myself being disowned? My mother still regularly referred to me as her baby and insisted on kissing me goodbye if one of us was ever about to leave the house. I hadn't accomplished the things that my oldest siblings had but I wasn't necessarily viewed as a lost cause either, creating even more confusion on how I was supposed to handle any of this.

Was the love I'd grown up with conditional?

I didn't want to stay here anymore, hoping that if I could sneak into the garage that I would be able to find somewhere else to lay low for the remainder of the day, maybe even calling a friend up and asking for a couch to crash on. Walking to the door of my bedroom, I opened it quietly and peeking out. No one was around from what I could tell, the hallway currently empty and silent. Not even my nephews, who were known to wander throughout the different wings of the mansion, were anywhere to be found, likely still recovering from the overstimulation of the gala last night.

Closing the door as silently as possible, I crept through the hallway on tip toes, my muscle memory still aware of the pattern I had taught my teenage self in order to avoid any squeaking boards. Honestly I couldn't help but feel like I was sixteen again, going as far as to sit down on my butt on the stairwell and scoot myself down. Even if anyone saw me without knowing what had just happened, it would be exceptionally obvious that I had done something wrong.

Making it to the bottom without noise, I eyed my parents bedroom door, opened only a crack, which was enough to hear my fathers agitated whispering.

"I told you time and time again that I didn't want that boy hanging around my son." He stated, hardly managing to keep his voice low. "I said so many times what kind of influence he was going to be-"

"He's Olivia's son, Gianni," My mother interrupted, voice filled to the brim with anxiety. "I've known her since she was hardly a toddler. Enrique grew up with plenty of masculine influence but Oliver only has a sister and a few nannies, I'm not even sure how often his father is home."

"So now you're making excuses for him?"

"He acts just like his mother did when she was in her teens. I figured once Oliver left home for school that he would have more appropriate roll models. Hell, I thought Enrique could be a better role model for him."

"How many times, Estella? How many times did I say to stop letting Enrique hang around that little faggot?"

"Language!"

"Do you know how many times he stayed the night here? How much time he's had unsupervised in our house in order to brainwash my kid? Have you even thought about what else may have been going on behind closed doors? How do we know he wasn't molesting him at night?"

"Do you really think that idea hasn't been haunting me!?"

My face was hot to the touch with humiliation. They weren't even blaming me for what she had walked in on, they were blaming Oliver. I was the one who was determined to salvage what was left of our friendship, I was the one who tried to win him back.

I was the one who was in love with him.

This was my fault. All of it was my fault.

I tried sneaking past the doorway, snagging the tip of my shoe on the hardwood and stumbling, catching myself as my foot hit the floor hard.

"Enrique?" My mom called. She sounded out of breath, like the noise I'd made had startled her. "Is that you?"

I didn't say anything, hoping they would think they were hearing things and just go back to talking, but luck wasn't something I currently had much of these last few days.

"Enrique," My father yelled more sternly. "Get in here."

"Stop it," My mom stated, opening the door fully and looking at me with an uncomfortable frown. "Let's go to the sitting room," She said, touching a hand to my arm just in case I was going to make a run for it.

She walked with me, taking a seat directly next to me on the couch and taking my hands in hers. She still had hope for me, hope that maybe I was normal and didn't need an exorcism to remove some sort of gay demon that was in the process of stealing my soul. My father on the other hand took the loveseat, resting his elbows on his knees and crossing his hands together, looking at me like I was in jail and he was debating if he should pay my bail. They were waiting for me to start the conversation but I couldn't. The words were caught in my throat and refusing to release.

"Are you gay?" He outright asked, causing my hands to start shaking in fear. I was trying not to cry, they would see me as so much worse if I started to cry.

"No…" I mumbled as quietly as I could possibly muster.

"Enrique sweetheart," My mother chimed in, squeezing my hands harder. I could feel her staring at me, but looking her in the eyes was currently the last thing I wanted to do. She always played the good cop, the entire situation playing out the same way it had started when he asked me if I had gotten someone pregnant my sixth year. My father might be more harsh, but my mother would decide my punishment in the end. "I need you to tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on."

"Are you having sexual relationships with other men?"

If the sun chose this moment to explode, sending a flaming fireball of death to take out the entire planet in half a second, I would be completely fine with that. Anything to stop this conversation from happening.

"I don't know…" I mumbled, trying to make myself as small as I possibly could and being swallowed whole by the couch I sat on.

"It's a yes or no question," My father stated. "Has that kid been inappropriate to you? I understand that he's your friend, but if something is happening then we need to get authorities involved."

"What?" I suddenly looked up, raising a confused eyebrow while looking back and forth between the two of them. "No, absolutely not, it's nothing like that."

"Then you're going to tell us what your mother walked in on. If not, you'll be leaving me no choice but to report this as sexual assault. Now I'm going to ask you one more time and you're going to answer me honestly. Are you gay?"

I bit my trembling lip, squeezing my eyes closed so that the tears were able to fall. This wasn't my coming out moment, it was a forced interrogation in which I had no choice. I was being dragged out of the closet kicking and screaming and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed.

"So you are?" My mother asked, my father cussing loudly under his breath and then reciting the same prayer he used to do when one of us was in trouble as a kid.

"No. Not exactly, I mean."

"I don't understand."

"I'm attracted to women," I tried to explain, going back to hanging my head low. "I just- I like men too sometimes, I guess…"

"Did Oliver put you up to this?" She continued, "Has he been putting ideas in your head?"

"No."

"You're either gay or you aren't, Enrique. If you're confused then we can take you to talk to someone about it. I'm sure there's someone at the church who understands what's going on."

"Hang on," I stated, "You wanna send me to a shrink now?"

"Not a shrink, I want you to speak with a member of the church."

"Absolutely not!"

My father had stood up, now pacing back and forth and pulling at his hair, the same mannerisms I had developed when anxious.

"You also need to quit hanging out with that little french kid." He said.

"Oliver." My mother corrected.

"I'm not a kid anymore!" I yelled, suddenly finding myself angry. "You have no say in what I do!"

Whack

A loud ringing erupted from my left ear at the sudden impact, my mother quickly standing up and throwing herself between my father and me. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me, but it wasn't something that happened very often, being the one punishment my mother had always strictly drawn the line at.

"Enough!" She yelled, possibly to me and possibly to him. It was hard to tell which one of us was currently in more trouble. "Gianni, we've talked about this before, you do not lay a hand on my children, ever. Enrique, I don't care how old you are, you will not speak to your father that way. You live for free in a home that he's paying for and you will treat him with respect. Do the both of you understand that?"

For a moment, neither of us spoke, a silence that was eventually interrupted by my fathers cold words.

"Go to your room." Was all he said, my mother catching my eyes and waving her head the direction of the stairs.

Although I gave no verbal answer, I walked away from the both of them and towards the front door of the house, ignoring the sound of my name being called behind me.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Somewhere that isn't here." I shot back.

"I'm not above freezing your credit cards, Enrique."

"I don't care what you do anymore."

My mom was crying now, although she made no attempt to convince me to stay, allowing wordlessly for me to walk out the door without trying to get some final word in. She was likely going to call Oliver's parents and it might be in everyone's best interest for me to go over there and explain. I knew that I'd hurt his feelings but he must have understood why I didn't want him here for this. The last thing I needed was for my mom and dad to start gaining up on him. Oliver did not take things like that sitting down, he would have defended himself immediately and all it would have done was make everything even worse. I wouldn't put it past him to blurt out that we had slept together out of pure spite.

I needed to warn him that all hell was about to break loose, though. If I didn't it would be the equivalent of stepping right into an active mine field.

I couldn't do that to him.

Not again.

XXX

Oliver

Although I was used to trains rarely sticking to their designated schedules, I couldn't help but feel annoyed at the amount of time that we seemed to merely be sitting there, a repeated announcement regarding an issue with the track interrupting my thoughts roughly every fifteen minutes. Flying was my preferred mode of transportation due mostly to the fact that my family owned a private jet that we used to get from place to place, avoiding the chaos of flight schedules and other passengers so long as we were able to rent out a runway for the time slot we were looking for. I did have a pilots license, something I'd actually gotten before my drivers license, but I had no interest in ever flying a commercial airline plane, preferring to rent something small on occasion that I could take out for an hour or two at a time.

I sighed, checking the time on my phone with a tired yawn and wondering if I could rest my eyes for a moment without being robbed. It had been over an hour since the train had boarded and we hadn't moved so much as a meter. On top of that they didn't currently want anyone getting on or off until whatever commotion that was happening on the track was sorted out, making me assume some poor animal had been electrocuted. Probably a pigeon.

I didn't even have a truly valid reason for not telling my parents where I was, although they had stopped asking as I'd gotten older. I didn't like keeping secrets; I wasn't the sort of person who hid things, a personal statement that I viewed as ironic based on the fact that there had been several years of my life where I hadn't been out to anyone yet, once being in the same position that Enrique currently was. No one in my family had even walked in on anything. On the contrary, I had made the decision only a month before my eighteenth birthday that I was going to sit my parents down and tell them. I could still remember all these years later how afraid I had been. Although my family name was well known, we weren't exactly what you would call famous, particularly outside of France. We made the news several times a year and had minor celebrity status in Paris, receiving special treatment many places and owning one of the most expensive homes within the city itself, but being in the restaurant business wasn't the same as being a famous actor or musician.

Realistically, my mother and father had little to lose in regards to my decision not to hide that part of my identity anymore and I did understand where Enrique was coming from in regards to the political ties his family had. It felt wrong to use it as an excuse, though… and it felt even worse to realize just how ashamed he was of me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me and forcing myself back into reality as I checked the screen, the stupid picture Enrique had taken of himself the other night lighting up behind his name. I debated briefly whether or not I should ignore the call, deciding at the last minute to answer just before it would have gone to voicemail. I was upset with him at the moment, but he had just accidentally outed himself and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know how everything had gone down afterward.

"Enrique?" I stated, not bothering with hello. My mother would be mortified at my manners.

"Are you home yet?" He asked bluntly.

"Do you seriously think I made it back to Paris in less than two hours?"

"Where are you?"

"The train station."

His voice was shaking as he spoke, meaning things had either ended badly after I left, or the adrenaline of being caught had yet to settle.

"Has it left?"

"No, the train has been stalled for over an hour now."

"I'm gonna come pick you up."

"You don't need to do that."

"I need to talk to you."

I grunted slightly, now becoming annoyed with him. Had he not thought about this before kicking me out of his house?

"They don't want anyone getting on or off right now, I think an animal fell in the tracks or got hit."

"Just tell them it's an emergency, I'll be there in ten minutes."

He hung up without waiting for my response, causing me to give an agitated sigh and roll my eyes before inevitably getting to my feet, opening the door with a hard push as one of the men who stood on the outside began shouting at me.

"We're asking everyone to remain on the train right now," He tried to explain.

"There's been an emergency," I lied, "My sister called me and said I need to get home immediately, I need to get to an airport right now."

He knew he couldn't legally prevent me from leaving, only giving a look of annoyance as I stepped foot on the floor of the station, now crawling with police and paramedics. It actually made significantly more sense now, dawning on me that there had been an on board emergency, likely regarding the conductor. It was possible they had fainted or maybe had a heart attack as a worse case scenario, and they had to not only get him to the hospital but also find a replacement to take what remained of his shift. It wasn't a situation that happened often, but it was one I had seen before.

Making my way out of the station after stopping briefly to use the restroom, I kept an eye out for Enrique, spotting that damn tacky Ferrari that stuck out like a sore thumb just as it pulled into an open parking space. Not exactly the ideal car to take on a drive that would last half the day, but I was currently making more progress than I had been on the train.

"Hey," He mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and keeping his head low. There were large bags under his eyes and he appeared to have been recently crying, causing me to have a bit more sympathy than I had only moments ago. "Can we go find somewhere to sit and talk? Before we start driving, I mean."

"There isn't much to talk about," I said, "It's not like I can stop you from being ashamed of me."

"That's not even close to what happened," He gave me a face I rarely saw on him, clearly irritated by my response.

"You kicked me out of your house during a moment I was a direct part of, you couldn't even give me the decency to be there for you during the aftermath. I finally trusted you and you broke that."

"God, do you give a shit about anyone other than your goddamn self, Oliver!?"

I froze, unsure how to respond to his sudden outburst of anger. He was the one who was repeatedly letting me down and now he was going to stand there and act like he was the one being wronged?

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed, "I let you back into my life and you've continuously let me down again and again. I'm supposed to be the one who stays by your side when things are bad and you don't even want me for that. You want me when it's convenient for you."

"Look," He grunted, closing his eyes and rubbing aggressively at his temples. His face had become contorted with disgust. With himself? With me? I wasn't sure. "I'm glad that you've lived this great life since the literal moment you were shot out your moms crotch Oliver, but why can you not seem to get it through your thick skull that some of us actually have shit to lose? I've apologized so many times for running away from you; I've tried so hard to make things right so when are you going to stop punishing me?"

"I'm not punishing you!" I yelled through gritted teeth, stomping my foot to the ground like a toddler. "But you need to decide if you want me or not! You can't keep throwing me away!"

"Asking you to leave is not the same thing as as throwing you away! None of this was supposed to happen this way; maybe you're glad that it did, maybe your parents would throw you a whole big coming out party and celebrate with cake and balloons how far you've come but mine aren't like that! You don't give a shit about any of that, though. All you care about is getting your way and me being like you but I'm not. I'm not like you, so what do you want from me!?"

He was screaming. I had never seen him this angry.

"I want you to stop treating me like some dirty little secret and start treating me like your-"

I suddenly paused, catching the final words in tightly closed lips and feeling the heat of embarrassment rising up my face.

"Like what?" Enrique huffed in annoyance, glaring at nothing through the corner of his eye while his nose scrunched tightly in his current state of disgust with me.

"Forget it." I said with a turn of the head, crossing my arms to my chest and taking a small step away.

"Like what, Oliver?"

"Like… a boyfriend…"

I couldn't look at him, holding tightly to what little pride I had left. The tension in the air suddenly seemed to release at my words, though, his posture starting to relax, even if he still seemed irritated with me. I still didn't understand, though. Nothing that happened had been my fault.

"Is that what we are?" He asked quietly.

"No, but do you think we can say with complete honesty that we're only friends?"

"I guess not…" He seemed significantly more calm now, getting out of his system all the things he'd been wanting to say to me. "I'm sorry…"

"The things you said weren't wrong. If anything I appreciate that you're willing to stand up for yourself."

I approached him, hugging him tightly as he brought his hands around my shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze, groaning in annoyance when his phone suddenly started ringing.

"Ignore it." He sighed, "My parents have been trying to call me since I left."

"Did it not end well?"

"That would be an understatement."

"What happened?" We began walking, neither of us completely sure on our destination but no longer able to remain still. We needed discuss what had gone down and the inside of his car was not the place to do it. "How about we go somewhere to talk? I could use caffeine."

"Only if you order a real drink and don't try and act bad ass with your little cup of black coffee."

I didn't say anything, wanting to pretend that he wasn't completely right.

"Only if you promise to never tell a soul about my behavior when we were at the hotel."

"I don't know, I feel like I could get a lot of mileage with that one."

All I could do was sigh, finally ready to accept the fact that he was back in my life.

I never wanted to lose him again.

XXX

Enrique

"So that's it," I mumbled finishing up the details about what had happened after he left. "They keep trying to call me but I haven't answered. I don't feel like getting screamed at right now."

I had left out the parts that involved him, not wanting him to know how much blame my father had put on him in regards to what happened or the words that he had called him. All it would do is upset him and there was no point in doing that.

"I've wondered before what your parents think of me," He sighed, "I guess it makes sense that your mother started talking to me about girls that first time I stopped by."

I gave a small nod, sipping at my cappuccino slowly as Oliver began doing the same. The milk froth stuck to his upper lip and I couldn't help but give the tiniest hint of a smile as he licked it off with his tongue before blotting his face with a napkin.

"I don't want to have to hide anymore," I continued, "I just want to be able to be me, you know?"

"I think that's what everyone wants at the end of the day, to live their lives without fear of judgment. Something that's a lot harder when you're gay…" He looked at me, "Or bisexual."

"You know, I never had any desire to be gay until I came back for you. Now I think that it would make everything easier. Like when I was a teenager and used to think about how much easier my life would be if you were a girl. Back when we used to play together, I mean. I wouldn't have to worry about my dating life because I could just date you."

He paused, not just for a moment, but for several, the silence becoming awkward after the first few minutes and causing me to continue. "Sometimes I wonder if there was ever a point where I didn't love you…"

"You shouldn't say that." Oliver mumbled, a sudden wave of sadness filling his face. His phone pinged as he spoke and he pulled it out from his pocket, raising an eyebrow as he watched the screen. "They're closing that train track now, rerouting everyone."

"Does it say what happened?"

I watched the movement of his eyes as he read and then began typing on his phone.

"This is just railway information, but I'll check online and see what I can find."

I had put my phone on silent awhile ago, taking away from the time and effort it took me to ignore my parents. Elli had also begun calling me, causing a sinking feeling in my stomach at the idea that my mother may have told my siblings what happened, Oliver's phone also suddenly going off. "Your mom is calling me." He said, giving me a raised eyebrow.

"Please don't answer, I don't want to deal with any of this right now." He put his phone away with a nod as we both continued sipping on our drinks quietly, unsure what our next step was supposed to be. We really should spend a little more time together before taking such a long car ride, guilt now beginning to eat at me for the way I had yelled at him earlier. "Do you want to take a walk before we head out?"

"Only if we can get gelato." Oliver smiled.

I couldn't stop looking at him during the moments where his face brightened, containing the cutest grin that always seemed to melt my heart while also making me internally debate how it was even possible for him to actually be this cute.

"Deal,"

"And your paying."

We stood up together and I found myself unable to stop my body from taking a step closer and wrapping my arms around him, bringing him forward and into my chest in a tight embrace. I ran my fingers through his hair, soft and fluffy without containing a single tangle and said the words I had, until today, been keeping inside.

"I really do love you," I whispered.

He didn't say it back, but he also didn't immediately pull away from me in order to say I was completely insane, which I currently took as a good sign. Although it had hardly been more than a few months since I had slipped back into his life, it was the one thing I knew for sure. I had never felt for anyone, male or female, the way that I felt for Oliver.

Releasing him from me, we didn't break eye contact for the first few meters we walked along the pathway, faces only turning forward once he slipped his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers together. Our shared silence in a way said more than our words could, both of us taking a moment every few minutes to watch the other from the corners of our eye and smile. Was this it, now? Were we going steady? Neither of us had specifically said it but there were times with a few of my ex girlfriends where we'd also never actually exchanged the words either, simply hitting a point where we knew the label was there.

Was Oliver my boyfriend?

"How long do you think it will take for your parents to cool off?" He asked holding the crease of my elbow with his free hand.

"To hell if I know, I'm still not completely clear on whether or not I'm even allowed back home. I hope that if they kick me out that I'll be able to pack a few bags first."

"They won't kick you out, your parents love you."

"My parents don't even seem to like me right now."

He leaned his head into my shoulder, finding ways to comfort me that only Oliver could possibly do. He allowed a small silence, always managing to perfectly frame the timing of every word that left his lips, no matter how minor they were. He could make the smallest sentence feel important.

"What's not to like?"

It was all he had to say.