Oliver

There would be no way around it… no way at all. I could only put off the walk of shame for so long, and my timer? Well… it was currently running out of sand. Stepping a damp foot out of the shower, I took a blow dryer to my hair while trying my absolute hardest to not look in the mirror, something that couldn't possibly be more opposite of my typical daily routine. My sinuses were swollen and not even close to free of dried blood and were tender to the touch. On top of that, the bruising that took up most of the area under my eyes made it look like I hadn't slept in weeks. There was no way I could go out anywhere looking like this, not without a heavy amount of cover up, which would be difficult to do when I could barely touch my face without flinching. I looked disgusting, and I felt even worse.

With a sad sigh, I began thinking on what Enrique had said to me afterward. I know it had been my first time, but… Had I really been that bad at it? The idea was humiliating, adding onto what was already an embarrassing enough weekend. What was I even supposed to say if my doctor asked me what happened? I chewed on my boyfriends foreskin like it was a fresh piece of gum? Hell, if she really needs notes I can always mention the fact that he said it was the worst head he's ever gotten in his life. If I still don't feel quite terrible enough, I could always just invite the nurses in too! No use keeping my shame all to myself!

Yes, that was definitely something I wanted in my medical history.

Putting some finishing touches on my hair, I threw on a cashmere polo and the only pair of sweatpants that I owned, making a mental note that the shirt was about a size too big for me and that I would need to ask the maid to shrink it, something that brought up another matter if I wasn't quite ready to stop love bombing my own self esteem… Celeste was right in regards to her mockery of my physique, I was far too skinny. The worst part was that it wasn't even intentional. It had taken me at least a year to convince her that I didn't have an eating disorder and that my body was just terrible at reminding me that I was hungry, which felt rather pathetic when it came to the amount of time I spent in the kitchen. I could spend an entire day making a five course dinner only to conclude when I went to bed that night that I had only eaten while taste testing soups.

Fuck… what was wrong with me? Had I really gone twenty two years without bothering to realize what a complete disaster I was?

My face continued to throb as I walked out of the bathroom, making it downstairs just as the clock hit ten. I had been trying to keep my head down as low as I could, learning unfortunately quickly that doing so just brought more pressure to my nasal passages, forcing me to correct my posture once again.

"Good morning," One of the kitchen maids smiled as I stepped out.

Her words caught me off guard, the help very rarely speaking to any of us unless it was in response. As terrible as it made me look, I wasn't sure I even knew her name, noticing mostly that she seemed to be biting at the inside of her cheek, a gentle huff of air escaping her nostrils as though she had recently been laughing about something.

"Morning," I mumbled as politely as I could before stepping toward the already steaming kettle and pouring myself an unsweetened chai before adding no less than four heaping spoons of sugar and taking my usual seat at the counter bar just as my mother walked into the room, making quick eye contact with the maid as they simultaneously threw a hand up over their mouths as though laughing as some sort of shared secret.

"Oh good," She smiled, clearing her throat with a forced cough, "You remembered your appointment."

"The excruciating pain is a good reminder," I remarked.

She hid the remainder of her face behind her hand, turning away as a throaty laugh made its way out.

"Yes, I suppose you won't be forgetting this any time soon."

"It's not funny, mama…"

No matter what her opinion on Enrique was, my mother was having absolutely no luck in concealing her true opinion on what had happened. As much as she tried to be there for me and take the entire thing as seriously as she could, it was clear she found the entire situation hilarious, letting down her mask of what it meant to behave properly and turning instead into a school girl looking up dirty words in an English dictionary.

"Of course it's not, Oliver," She grinned, "Anyway, are you absolutely certain that you don't want me to drive you to the doctor? You really should be resting up as much as possible."

"I'm well passed the age of needing my mother at the doctor with me."

"Yes, well… I was also under the assumption that you were passed the age of needing supervision in your bedroom as well."

She ruffled my hair, planting a kiss on my forehead before starting on her own tea.

"Can we just not talk about it?" I asked.

I set my empty cup in the sink, ignoring the layer of my tongue I had burned by not waiting for the tea to cool and searching for literally anything to look at that wasn't currently laughing at my expense, something which became significantly more difficult once my sister entered the room, taking one look at me and not even attempting to hold back a snort while plopping her elbows rudely atop the counter.

"How are you feeling?" She laughed, "Your face, I mean. Not your pride. Specifically your nose, I'm not asking about whether or not your jaw is sore."

"Knock it off," I huffed.

"Do you think this is God's way of telling you to keep Enrique's shlong out of your-"

"Victoria!" Our mother intervened, "For goodness sake…"

"I'm just saying, he has no idea where that thing has been. I know you have a large pallet, big brother, but there are some things I recommend just keeping out of your mouth entirely."

If a higher power that I didn't believe in was going to strike me down, now would be an exceptionally perfect time for it. I wasn't sure how the word had gotten around to my entire family, likely because my mother couldn't think of an excuse for how Enrique had managed to break my nose with his kneecap, but it was becoming more and more clear that every member of my family, and possibly all of the maids, were fully aware what I had been doing to him. Or at least what I had been attempting to do to him.

I thought back to when we were in school. When Enrique had been humiliated with the picture or video- whichever it was, that I never looked at. It wasn't a from of embarrassment I had ever been accustomed to before, making it significantly less clear how I was supposed to proceed. I hadn't known what it felt like at the time, to be exposed in that sort of way, but the ones mocking me weren't school children I would someday never see again… they were members of my own family.

"I need to go," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around myself tightly. It had been so long since I could remember truly wanting to be invisible, the last time likely being when I made the decision to come out as gay.

"Oh, my sweet boy," My mother has said while pulling me in for a hug so instinctively it was as though she was trying to protect me from my own negative thoughts. "I already knew you were."

It hadn't made me feel better. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to know that my parents were going to support me, even with the hint of discomfort that my father carried in his eyes. At the end of the day it had all gone fine. I had found myself embarrassed, though, wondering if she had truly known or if she had just assumed, which made me wonder if I had spent my life being some sort of gay stereotype by the time I was three years old and discovered I looked quite dashing in pink.

This was a different type of invisibility, though. There was no fear of being in trouble, no thoughts about how disappointed my family would be or concern with how the rest of the world had begun to see me without my even noticing. This was pure humiliation.

I had been doing something blatantly sexual to him. I had wanted to know what it felt like to have a man's penis in my mouth… To pleasure someone in that way. Instead, I had done what could only be described as the exact opposite, and my insecurities were getting to me in more ways than I could possibly count.

"Call me if you need anything," My mother said, waving a gentle goodbye as I nodded in her direction.

"I'll be fine," I sighed, messenger bag in hand as I walked out the door, grateful to be alone with my thoughts once again.

XXX

Enrique

"You won't believe who I ran into today," My mother stated, leaning against the freshly polished counter top. I took a moment to look toward the maid who had been working the kitchen, and whom currently paid no mind to any sort of smudges she might be making, likely due to knowing better than to correct the woman who paid her salary, before I answered in a questioning huff of breath. "You remember your old girlfriend, Sophia, right?" She continued.

Suddenly, I found myself becoming intrigued, raising an eyebrow in a curious uncertainty. I was surprised my mother could even recall my ex's names, seeing as there hadn't exactly been a small amount of them. During secondary school I had gone through an average of two girlfriends a year, none of them lasting long. On top of that, Sophia and I had easily had one of the smoothest break ups of any girl I had ever been with, even if we'd lost touch over the years.

"Of course I remember her," I remarked, not acknowledging that Sophia had been the one to take my virginity on my fifteenth birthday on the same mattress that I was currently sleeping on, an experience that had gone quite well if I said so myself, even if I was young and stupid.

"She asked how you were doing. I told her you were well."

"That's good."

I wasn't sure where she was going with this. My parents weren't ones to just shoot the breeze, at least not when it involved other people. Everyone in my family discussed exactly two things: Themselves, and general gossip. Had I actually mentioned my first time when it happened, the entire family would have had more details that even I did by the time lunch rolled around.

"I invited her over for dinner."

I paused abruptly, chocking on my own saliva as I gasped for a dry breath of air.

"I'm sorry, you what?"

"Well I figured," My mother continued, "That after you got in touch again with Oliver and stated that you're trying to make amends for your past actions, you would probably like to see her."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"You reached out to Oliver because, in your own words, you did him wrong. Sophia on the other hand, did you wrong. You are not teenagers anymore and I felt it best for her to apologize for what she put you through."

"What are you talking about?"

"She hurt you, did she not?"

I blushed rather harshly. I had hoped to never have to have this conversation again, let alone be correcting my mother on what had happened. That had been one of the worst experiences of my life.

"Mama…" I grumbled, "Sophia isn't the one who leaked the photos. That was Isabella…"

She gave a bewildered look, eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

"Are you sure?" She asked, "I was so sure it had been Sophia."

"Yeah, I would say that I'm sure…"

If there was anything I could possibly do to end the current conversation about which high school girlfriend had leaked my underage nudes, then I would love to know what it was. I had spent the rest of secondary school being less than affectionately nicknamed George Bush and it certainly wasn't because of my knowledge of American History.

"I suppose our lawyer was, at the end of the day, the one to handle the case… I can't say I had been keen to know every detail about my underage child's sexcapades."

"Please never say sexcapades again."

"Either way," My mother sighed, "It could be good for you to see one of your old girlfr- classmates again."

"I guess?" Don't get me wrong, the idea of saying hello to someone I had once cared deeply about wasn't one that I was against, but it seemed extremely out of the blue. I could always look into the option of setting her up with my brother and just not mentioning the virginity thing. "This isn't… about Oliver, is it? You aren't trying to get me to leave him for a girl?"

"Enrique, are you under the impression that I am trying to set you up with the girl who I was under the impression leaked pornographic images of you when you were a minor?"

"Are you saying you would try to set me up with her had I not been a minor?"

She touched a palm to the back of my head, pulling me in and kissing my temple gently.

"Stop being a brat."

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises."

Drawing myself back, I turned my gaze to anything that wasn't another human being. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. My mothers acrylic nails grazed the perfectly shined counter top, bringing my mind back to Oliver and the shimmering white marble he had humbly bragged about picking out himself. I wondered how he managed not to stain it, thinking about how terrible of an idea it would be to ever have a white counter in an Italian home.

"Do you know what Elias and Emmanuel do for work?" I asked, desperately changing the subject to the only other thing that I could think of.

"Enrique, darling, are you suggesting I don't know the career paths of my own children?"

"No, it's just that… I think that maybe I should start looking into getting a job."

A snicker disguised as a huff of air left her flared nostrils, lip curling into the most gentle of ignorant smiles.

"Who are you and what have you done to my son?"

"It's not a joke, mama. I'm almost twenty four and I've never worked a day in my life."

"That's the point I'm getting at, dear. Where's the sudden change of heart coming from?"

Would my mother feel uncomfortable if I brought Oliver back into the conversation in this way? Because the truth was that he was the entire reason I had begun looking into the idea. He had so many things that he was passionate about, be it cooking, the bakery he ran, or his two hundred different art projects he seemed to simultaneously have going at the same time. He managed two different degrees in five years and my current resume was, for lack of a better word, imaginary.

"Are you suggesting there's nothing I'm stilled enough in to make a career out of?" I smiled.

"I'm sure there's plenty. You're bilingual for one, and you know enough Spanish and French to get by conversationally."

"So my talent is just talking?"

She nudged my forehead gently, taking a moment to straighten up my shirt collar without being asked and thankfully not mentioning the hickey I had been trying to hide. Not that I could complain after breaking Oliver's nose with my kneecap, something his mother wasn't only aware of, but also aware of what had been happening beforehand.

"Well, what is it that you'd like to do?"

"That's why I'm asking about options. Papa's people sure as hell aren't going to hire me, even if you bring nepotism into play."

"Your father works with extremely confidential information; you know this."

"I more meant the queer kid aspect of it."

"Enrique Gian." She said with a glare, face contorting into a look of disgust. "I don't want you speaking like that in front of your mother."

"I'm just saying, it's not inaccurate."

"Your romantic life is not the business of the rest of Europe. There are certain topics it's better to keep to yourself."

"Are you saying that you don't want me telling anyone I have a boyfriend?"

She closed her eyes, sighing rather uncomfortably.

"I would prefer you used the term significant other. It's more gender neutral and doesn't cause any questions."

"You told me that you would try and be open minded."

"I am, Enrique," She continued, "Oliver is a lovely young man, and at the end of the day, all I truly want is for you to be happy, and Oliver… well, if he makes you happy, then I suppose- I'm just saying that you're going to have to meet us half way when it comes to your father and his political ties. It's not about keeping it a secret, but it would be best to at least remain quiet about the entire thing if no one is asking. You are, of course, still free to bring him to any events that may be happening, but I would prefer you keep public displays of affection to a minimum."

Heat began rising to my face and the words I currently wanted to say were suddenly unable to find their way out. Oliver's parents weren't perfect, but they had been so excited at the prospect that he had met someone. Up until learning that someone was me, of course. I couldn't help but feel jealousy toward the love they had for their one and only son. On top of that, they seemed to be slowly accepting our relationship, regardless of their opinion of me. I wasn't who I used to be, and I truly did love him.

Who knew that breaking his nose while getting a blow job would be the thing that made them come around?

"Never mind," I sighed, "I can just ask around and see what people think."

"Hold on, now," My mother continued, "I never said I was against the idea of you working, you simply caught me by surprise. If you would like, I'd be happy to get the word out that you're interested in a job. Anyone would be lucky to have you, both as an employee and as a boyfriend."

I smiled only slightly, giving a small nod before grabbing a pastry from a plate on the counter.

"Thanks," I mumbled.