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Warning: Contains Boys Love and vulgar language.

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Chapter 20: Expectations and Revelations


A couple hours later, after spending a little extra time with Elliot and making weak excuses as to why it was perfectly all right to stall his leave for “just a little while”, Cameron found himself gathering his things and returning home. He didn’t want to leave; it felt too soon. But he still had school work to finish, and so did Elliot. Then there was the matter of his family. Like it or not, they’d want him back home sometime soon.

Their parting had almost made leaving bearable. Even if it’d only been ten minutes ago, Cameron could still feel the warm press of Elliot’s lips against his, as if they were still wrapped up in each others arms, still pressed against the wall…

Cameron coughed and attempted to gather up as much composure as possible. With a good-bye like that, who could blame him if a part of him still lingered behind in the moment?

His family greeted him the moment he stepped through the front door, startling him out of his daydream.

“Welcome home,” his dad greeted from the living room doorway. “Did you have a good time?”

The memory of ten minutes ago—and the evening before—resurfaced in Cameron’s head, and he coughed again, his body heating up quick. “Yup! Tons of wholesome fun,” he replied, suppressing a slight snicker as he took off his coat and shoes.

His dad stood idly by the doorway. Thinking that the brief conversation was over, Cameron began his trek up the stairs, but he’d only reached halfway when Cheryl exited her room and appeared at the top of the stairway. She halted just as she was about to descend, a teasing smile unfurling across her lips. “Hey, you’re finally back.”

“Yup. Here in the flesh,” he replied, continuing on his way.

Cheryl didn’t move. In the same playful voice, she asked, “how’d your date go?”

Her words chained a sudden weight to his body, and Cameron stared at her, mouth agape, and he tensed as his dad entered the conversation.

“Date?”

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

“Yeah. You were on a date last night, right?” There was nothing cruel about her stance or words, or even her tone. But the situation, whether Cheryl realized it or not, was cruel. He was being cornered, and only too soon after he’d decided that he wasn’t ready for such a confrontation.

“Cameron?” His dad’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You were on a date? But I thought you were at Elliot’s?”

It was Cheryl’s turn to look confused. She latched her gaze onto Cameron, her expression leaving him speechless. “Elliot’s? But you said you were meeting a girl.”

“I…I was—I did,” he said.

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit together.

Cameron swallowed, his throat dry. Did Cheryl and dad have to stand so close? If they took a step closer, he might jump right out of his skin. The longer the silence dragged out, the more trouble would result. He had to think of something, and fast! “I was with a girl,” Cameron began, his voice a little cracked and forced, “but…then she had to go, and it was still early, so I hung out with Elliot for the rest of the night.”

Cheryl’s response was a long stare where Cameron could see her mentally processing the answer, no doubt scrutinizing each detail. Unable to watch her and what could become an unwanted verdict, he turned towards his dad, who seemed to be stuck on a different detail.

Studying Cameron, his dad said, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

A habitual laugh. “I am seventeen,” Cameron reminded him. “Eighteen pretty soon, too. Remember?”

A corner of his dad’s mouth pulled, and his expression became thoughtful and nostalgic. “True…”

Cameron’s fingers fidgeted at his side, and his uneasy gaze darted between the two family members, too aware of the imaginary sound of their minds gears clinking at work.

“Well…I should go now. I kinda need a shower, and I’m knee deep in school work. Busy, busy, you know?” His words met deaf ears. Rubbing the back of his neck, Cameron continued on his way upstairs. For a brief second he thought Cheryl would block his path and continue to question him, but she moved without being asked and hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. The disquiet she left behind was troubling at the very least. But neither his dad nor sister stopped him to try and keep the conversation alive, so he retreated to his room, hopefully safe for another day.


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A week passed, a complete déjà vu of the one before with a few variations. Doting and stressful teachers had pushed their stress onto their students with constant warnings of the mid-term exams that were closing in, and with the excessive workload he’d been given, it was all Elliot could do but ride the choppy and ever-growing waves as best he could.

There was still so much to do within such a tiny time limit that the weight of it all was near crushing, and because there was so much to do, Elliot spent even less time hanging out with Cameron and his group than usual. He hadn’t even gotten to go to the weeks final club meeting for that year to see what quirky ideas Cameron had planned. As weird as it sounded in his own head, that fact disappointed him. The desire to just throw everything out the window in a huge heap and spend time with the redhead was insufferable—but he couldn’t give in. There was no way he was going to waste any of his Christmas break doing any of the work that should’ve been done by the weeks end. It would be hard enough studying for his all of exams now that his parents were (unfortunately) home for the holidays—and while things were still relatively quiet at home, there was no telling how long that fragile sort of stability would last.

But now they were in their final school day for the year. It was a break for the finish line now to get everything finished on time for Christmas break, and, naturally, the clock on the wall was very strict about keeping the time.

Elliot inwardly sighed while he typed away at the keyboard. He could feel a headache coming on. So much to do, so little time!

“Thank God it’s Wednesday,” Jacqueline sighed, shutting down the computer on her desk. Tucking her long curly hair behind her ear, she smiled over at Elliot from the other side of the room. “All done for the semester. No more Student Council work until next year!”

Elliot hummed his response, too busy trying to wrap up the rest of his work for a proper response. There were just a few more minutes to go until he would also be finished for the year, and then after afternoon classes, it would be Christmas break.

“Sure, brag in front of me,” a voice off to the side said. The President came into view and leaned against Jacqueline’s desk, one eyebrow arched with its usual daring. “Responsibility dictates that I double check everything and ‘close up’ for the year.”

“Right. We all know you love it,” Jacqueline teased with a roll of her eyes.

“Guilty as charged.” The President held up his hands in mock-surrender. A minor chuckle passed between them. Attempting to tune out of the world, Elliot kept as much attention as he could on the computer monitor.

That concentration came to a screeching halt as The President called out, “Elliot? You awake over there?”

“No,” Elliot mumbled, his response punctuated by the speeding clacks of the computer keys.

“Ha. You’re silly. Done yet?”

“Almost.”

“Oh?” The President approached Elliot’s side, rounding the desk so as to take a glance at the monitor over Elliot’s shoulder. “Well, what do you know. ‘Elliot Wright the workaholic’ isn’t done yet.”

Elliot shot The President a look over his shoulder; The President smiled back.

“Not that it’s a bad thing—you’re almost done. It’s just odd, considering that it’s you.” A clipped hum. “But I guess that’s to be expected. You certainly don’t drop by as much as you used to. You must really like your new friends.”

Elliot’s once flying fingers stilled over the keys. “And what of it?”

Sensing the instinctive defensiveness, The President leaned back and gave Elliot his space. “Nothing. I was merely commenting. It’s not quite the same without seeing your frown around here everyday.”

Elliot looked away from the monitor and studied the other boy. “Is this your weird way of saying you miss me?”

The President shrugged, his attitude as (frustratingly) aloof as ever. “Interpret it as you will. Who am I to tell you what to think?”

Elliot almost pinched the bridge of his nose from the minor frustration that ensued due to his friend’s comment. Sometimes—although more often than not—it was hard to tell just what exactly the jet-haired boy meant. Didn’t help that he often refused to elaborate, either.

“He’s right,” Jacqueline said, moving to rest her chin on the back of her propped up hands. “It’s not the same without you here—and when you are here, you’re usually too busy catching up on work to really talk to us much.”

Elliot’s frown softened, but he denied himself the impulse to explain to his friends why he hadn’t been around so much. However, he couldn’t blame his friend's reaction. So much had changed in his life, and these very changes had yet to have been confided in them. And they did have a point; he really wasn’t around as much as he used to be.

“I’ve just been busy,” Elliot said after consideration. It seemed a safe enough answer.

“I’ll say,” The President replied. “You’re going to make it up to us at my Christmas party, right?”

“Yes, you know that,” he assured them automatically. How could he not?   Every year on Christmas eve, The President’s family held a Christmas party; casual in dress, formal in atmosphere. He’d been going since The President had moved to the area years ago—in fact, it was because of those parties that he even knew The President, as his parents had met The President’s at a few business meetings. While their parent’s relationship remained casual, theirs had gone the extra step when they’d discovered they were going to the same school.

“Good. You know the place and time, right?” The President teased.
This time Elliot rolled his eyes at the obvious answer, though he couldn’t help his own barely visible smile. “Yes. I’m not an idiot.”

The President raised his eyebrows at the statement, prompting Elliot to groan out an “Oh, shut up” while Jacqueline chuckled at the scene. Then Elliot fell quiet as he tried to return to his work, though unable to tune out his friends conversation. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in their presence—to be in the comforting pattern of teasing conversations and intimate understanding that had taken years to build. It felt nice to be around them again, yet Elliot couldn’t shake off the nagging guilt at the back of his mind. The people he trusted the most, his closest friends, he wasn’t being completely honest with.

They knew, to a certain degree, what he’d gone through over a few months ago—what he was going through, in some respect. It’d even been The President’s idea to be open to new ideas, and Jacqueline, despite what’d occurred between them, still stood by him as a friend, a friend that he hoped would still support him. But they didn’t know of the answers he’d found, and just what exactly was going on…

But he had to tell them eventually. There was no escaping that fact. Friends confided in friends, and he wanted to trust them with his secret.

However, a quick glance at his conversing friends, and his mind quipped: later, I’ll tell them later.

But when exactly was “later?” Later had to come sometime soon.

Elliot shook his head, clearing as best he could the flurry of thoughts. Nothing would get done by over thinking things to death. One thing at a time, Elliot. He went back to finishing his work for that year.


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The Christmas holidays finally arrived, and Elliot couldn’t have been happier. No more deadlines and assignments due dates swam in his head. All that remained was getting ready for Christmas and mid-term exams, and he already had the tree up and ready and exam study packages ready to go through. Seeing as his estranged parents were home, Elliot had no problem confining himself to his room to do just that.

However, some of that mentality changed when he realized one afternoon, only the second day into Christmas break, that it was the twenty-first—Cameron’s birthday. Feeling compelled to at least call and wish him a happy birthday, Elliot strode downstairs and into the kitchen, ignoring his father sitting at the table, reading the local newspaper, and picked up the phone. Elliot dialed the appropriate number, and after the expected rings, Cameron picked up.

“Aloha!”

Elliot almost snickered at the abnormal greeting. Cameron had only said a word and already his mood had lightened up. “Hey, happy birthday.”

“You remembered? Aww, that’s so sweet!” Cameron teased on the other end, a hearty laugh following. Voices interrupted in the background, and Elliot heard Cameron retort something random back before turning back to their conversation. “Sorry ‘bout that. Dad’s worried I’ll forget about them or something. Did you know he’s making me cook today?”

“Somehow ‘make’ and ‘you’ don’t go together,” Elliot replied. “I can’t see anyone making you do anything against your will.”

“I know, right? But Dad’s all ‘it’s your eighteenth birthday, we have to do something special as a family!’ And now we’re cooking this huge special meal, and I’m supposed to make the desert, only I don’t really know what I’m doing. Do you know what a ‘tsp’ is? I want to say ‘The Sex Pistols’, but that doesn’t sound right.”
Elliot suppressed a small laugh. “Tsp is short for teaspoon.”

“What? Really? Aw, Crap.”

Elliot heard Cameron turned away from the conversation once more, this time warning his dad of something, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Elliot smiled at the thought of the situation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything like cooking with family… On that thought, he turned around so that he wouldn’t have to see his father out of the corner of his eye. “I take it you’re busy today, then?” he asked once Cameron rejoined the conversation.

“As far as I know. I’m way behind on this thing. Who’d have thought it’d be this hard to make a simple—wait! Rewind button! Was that an invitation to hang out?”

Elliot paused. In all honesty, he hadn’t planned anything like that, but now that it was brought up… “If you want it to be,” he replied, then bit his lip. That had definitely come out much huskier and suggestive than intended.

Dead quiet. Wondering if he’d have to repeat himself, Elliot went to speak when Cameron sputtered out, “Y-Yeah, sure! Just give me a sec to convince dad to loosen the leash a bit. Probably take all of my skill in persuasive conversation…or at least a lot of bribery. Anyway, yeah, one sec!”

“Take your time,” Elliot said, knowing Cameron hadn’t heard him. Left alone with static and the crinkling sound of newspaper pages turning, Elliot shifted his weight from foot to foot, and when it took longer than ‘one sec’ for Cameron to return, he began to pace about half of the kitchen. Then he heard foot steps from behind him; he didn’t need to glance back to know who it was, and neither did his father, who remained engaged in his own world of news and stocks. Shoulders tensing, Elliot leaned back against the counter for support. While he didn’t like to admit it often, being around both his parents at the same time made him edgy. There was always something negative to expect out of them, and a fact that was harder to admit was that he had no control over that, no power to stop them once they got going. Being anywhere near them once they did start was never a good idea, so he made it a habit to avoid too much contact when they were both nearby.
The sounds of his mother fetching herself a beverage and snack occupied Elliot’s mind; he worried his lower lip and hoped Cameron hurried back so that he wouldn’t be stuck in the same room as them for much longer.

“Okay, back,” Cameron sighed with relief on the other end. “I convinced him to say yes—but! Only for a little while, after supper. He’s hell-bent on this ‘special family day’ thing.”

“That’s okay,” Elliot replied, his voice hurried. As much as he would’ve liked to keep a longer conversation going, Cameron had things to do—cooking and phone conversations weren’t always the greatest idea—and there was no way he was staying in the kitchen any longer than needed. “How does a coffee trip sound?”

“Coffee’s gross—way too bitter. You can have the coffee,” Cameron replied with a good-natured laugh. “Make mine a hot chocolate and you got yourself a deal.”

“Deal. Call me when you’re ready?”

“Will do. Later!”

After hanging up, Elliot set the receiver back into its cradle and left the kitchen with hurried steps. Once he’d entered his room, Elliot relaxed, tension seeping out of his shoulders, and he sat at his desk. Both disappointed that their conversation hadn’t lasted any longer, and thankful that his parents were still in a relatively calm state of existence, Elliot grabbed a nearby set of notes and turned his restless mind to studying.

It wasn’t until after dinner time, many hours later, that Cameron finally called back. After laughing and rambling about how his adventures with cooking had gone, Cameron proposed the place where they’d go for the hour, and brought up that it would also be a good time to exchange Christmas gifts, seeing as the much anticipated holiday was just around the corner. After agreeing and ending their phone call, Elliot grabbed the Christmas gift he’d bought and wrapped up for Cameron—a neon green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt—as well as his jacket, wallet, and car keys. Elliot slammed the front door shut behind him without a single good-bye.

A short drive later and then he was parked outside Cameron’s house. Not a minute passed before Cameron was scrambling out the front door and hurrying down the driveway to the car door. The door slammed closed as Cameron appeared beside him, dressed in a warm winter coat. His hands were covered with thin gloves, and held in those hands was a wrapped present.

“Why hello there,” Cameron greeted, offering Elliot the present and his trademark smile. “This is for you.”

“Yours is in the back seat. Might as well put that one there for now,” Elliot said, taking his car out of park and back into drive. Cameron took the suggestion and lightly tossed the gift into the back, then turned his attention back to Elliot as they began talking. Light conversation that dabbled into shallow waters, like the cheesy American remake of yet another Asian horror movie that Cheryl had shown Cameron just a few hours earlier. That topic quickly waded into a similar subject, as Cameron rambled about a short movie clip he’d made a long time ago that was being “impossible to edit”, as he put it. Elliot took it all in with a few comments here and there until they arrived at the Starbucks that sat just at the outside of the suburbs, bordering onto a nearby highway that led down town.

They got out and headed for the front door, Cameron dashing on ahead. He held the door open, and after allowing a young family to exit, they entered.
Few people were inside; the majority occupied the two-seat tables situated by the windows, with the extra seats covered in large bags—late Christmas shopping, by the looks of it. Upbeat and sickeningly sweet remakes of Christmas music played in the background, just low enough for it to be somewhat tolerable yet annoying all at once.

“I’ll get the drinks—Coffee, right?” Cameron said while fetching his wallet.

“Yeah,” Elliot replied, pulling out his wallet and handing Cameron a ten. “Medium--er, venti, or whatever they're calling it now. One milk, one sugar.”

Cameron visibly paused, eyes rolling up a bit as he mentally repeated the order in his head. “Okay, got that,” he replied, back-pedaling to the minor line-up behind him.

Elliot nodded, then turned to go and get them some seats. He grabbed some vacant seats around the corner and near the back, where he sat studying the light brown strips of wall between the windows, thoughts digging deep about his friends and the upcoming party until Cameron appeared with their drinks.

“I think this one’s yours,” he said, handing Elliot his drink, a few tiny containers of milk and sugar, and a small white spoon. Cameron took a tentative sip of his, then nodded. “Yup. Mine.”

“Thanks.” Prying off the top, Elliot went about adding the cream and sugar and stirring it into the dark brown liquid. Just as his thoughts were drifting again, the clearing of a throat pulled him back ashore. Elliot looked up at the other boy. “Huh?”

“You’ve been stirring that for a while now,” Cameron said, taking another sip of his hot beverage. “I bet you’ve got a whirlpool going on in there by now.”

“Oh.”

Cameron puckered out his lower lip. “Something up? Besides the ceiling?”

Elliot shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Uh oh. Sounds serious,” Cameron said with mock-severity before his lighthearted grin reappeared. “Thinking about what?”

“Just thinking.” Elliot took a slow sip of his coffee, appreciating the familiar taste. He considered whether or not he should talk about it or not. A quick glance at the other boy told him that not only was Cameron attentive, but that deep down, Elliot wanted to talk about it. Something about Cameron’s sincere expression just seemed like he’d understand exactly what he meant. After all, he was in the same sticky spot, wasn’t he? Elliot took another sip of coffee to help stabilize his nerves. The taste alone calmed him. “You know how I was thinking about talking to my friends about…us? I was thinking about doing it soon. I don’t know when exactly, but I’d rather sooner than later.”

Cameron’s eyes widened. “Oh!...Really?”

Elliot felt himself hesitate, but he answered in a clear and definitive voice, “Yeah.” It felt relieving to have some sort of plan, even if it was vague and undefined. Either way, the decision was final, and it felt good to say it and mean it.

“Oh,” Cameron said again. A soft smile spread across his lips but it didn’t reach the rest of him. Something akin to confusion glimmered in his blue-green eyes. “That’s…great! I’m glad you were able to figure out what you want to do. That’s great, really.” The cardboard cup spun in a gradual circle in Cameron’s hands while he spoke; Elliot watched the buildings logo appear and disappear a couple of times. “Aren’t you scared?”

“…Maybe a little.” Elliot took another sip of his drink.

“Don’t blame you. That’s pretty brave,” Cameron said, and it baffled Elliot how someone as courageous as Cameron would think anything like that of him. “How do you think your friends will take it?”

“I don’t know.” That was, perhaps, the hardest part. The unknown. He thought he knew, but he couldn’t be too sure. “I guess I’ll find out.”

A few more comments were made on the subject, but they didn’t delve too deeply, not while they were in a public place. Cameron reassured Elliot that everything would be fine, although he said it all with the usual light-hearted laugh, a laugh that made Elliot want to give in and believe the other boy’s optimistic words. No longer willing to dwell on the unknown future of the subject, they both allowed the conversation to wander, flowing with more ease into discussions about the upcoming holidays and their plans. Elliot brought up The President’s Christmas party, and Cameron mentioned that a near-by family member also held an annual party. Cameron made a slight face and joked about how it was “the mild-mannered” branch of the family, so he and Cheryl would have to liven things up. Elliot tried to imagine just how they would do that; when it came to those two, especially Cameron, the possibilities seemed endless.

Their conversation continued until they’d finished their beverages. After a reluctant admittance at the time, they dropped their empty cardboard cups into the garbage and went outside. They halted on their way to the car when Cameron let out something like a gasp.

“Is that snow?!”

Elliot looked straight up into the thick cloud blanket that made up the sky, blinking a few times as he searched for movement. Focusing on a specific area, he caught the slightest movement of white, and he gazed upwards as tiny snowflakes wafted down in slow, wavy paths; the first snowfall of the season.

Elliot lowered his head and stared at Cameron. “Point is?”

“Hey, cut me some slack,” Cameron said, still staring at the sky. “I’ve never seen snow before. Not in real life, anyway. I have to savor the moment.” He let out a small huff and mumbled under his breath, “The one time I didn’t bring my camera.”
Elliot let out a slight snort. “You’re just stalling for time, aren’t you?”

“Can it be both?”

Elliot rolled his eyes, though Cameron’s response didn’t exasperate him. Instead of reminding Cameron of the time, he stood by his car and watched Cameron marvel at the falling snow. Having never lived anywhere else in his life, it baffled Elliot that Cameron was so amazed by something as common as snow, especially when Cameron wasn’t exactly a lover of the cold. Yet there he stood, staring up at the sky with curiosity and wonder.

It wasn’t long before Cameron shivered, reminded of the cold. He hurried to the other side of Elliot’s car, and after Elliot unlocked the doors, they both got in. Elliot started the ignition, but before he could go any further, Cameron’s hand planted itself over his, stopping him.

Cameron grinned sheepishly. “We don’t have to leave just yet, do we?”

“So you really are just stalling?”

“Maybe a little. Hey, don’t give me that look! Can you blame me? I hardly see you enough as it is.” The side of his mouth pulled to the side, and Elliot caught the flicker of embarrassment that passed over him. “Besides,” Cameron added, “I want to see you open the gift I got you.”

“What, you mean now?”

“Yeah. No time better than the present. I want to see your reaction.”

Wanted to see his reaction? What in the world did Cameron buy? Elliot shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What?” Cameron blurted. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not Christmas.” Duh.

“Oh, c’mon! Who really waits, anyway?” When that didn’t garner the desired reaction, Cameron smirked and said, “Fine. If you don’t open yours now, then I won’t open mine now, either.”

Elliot couldn’t help but smirk. “Fine by me.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious! That’s no fun.” He hit the back of his head against the seat.

Elliot pursed his lips. The pout pulling at Cameron’s mouth didn’t suit him at all. On impulse, assured that no one could see them in the dark, Elliot leaned forward and lightly pressed his mouth to Cameron’s, hoping to ease the other’s mood. When he pulled back, he was met with wide blinking eyes. He didn’t get to pull back much further, as Cameron’s hand snaked to the back of his neck. The touch sent a tingle through him.

“More please,” Cameron breathed. His sensual voice added another shiver ripple through Elliot, and it was all he could do but comply with the boy’s wish. He gave into the heat and the softness, his mind on nothing else but the tenderness he gave and received .

Maybe stalling wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.


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A couple of days passed after their small date, and now, in less than an hour, Elliot would get in his car and on his way to The President’s for the Christmas party—and to have “a talk” with his friends. It didn’t matter that his nerves betrayed him, that he wanted to back out and do it some other time. His mind was made up; it was happening tonight.


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After a fifteen minute drive, Elliot arrived at The President’s house (alone, much to his relief; his parents would arrive later, if at all). Cars were parked along the side of the road, and the flashing Christmas lights blinked along the outline of the sophisticated looking house. A light layer of snow frosted the roofs and the lawns, and any snow near the colourful lights caught their brilliance in a muted glow.

Unlike the previous party Elliot had been to, he knew what to expect here—that brought its own form of comfort considering what he planned to do.

Elliot walked through the front door, meeting a tranquil atmosphere with soft-spoken voices and music coming from the living room. Although this was a Christmas party, The President’s house still retained a hard-set state of order and precision; nothing was where it shouldn’t be, including the guests coats and shoes. The same as always—just with decorations.

“Look, the life of the party has finally arrived!” The President called from the living room doorway, dressed respectably for the night in a casual but nice pair of denim jeans and a buttoned-up white dress shirt.  “Now the party can start.”

Elliot rolled his eyes as he hung up his coat in the hallway closet. “You’re hilarious. Ever thought about doing stand-up?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I prefer to sit,” The President replied before leading Elliot into the living room, where several small groups of middle-aged adults congregated. The Christmas music was a little louder, but it didn’t compete with the voice level in the room. A Yule log burned on the wide-screen TV screen; and in the corner was a large, decorated tree (fake, like every year before, as The President’s family detested the mess that came with real trees).

Elliot stood off to the side while The President finished readying numerous amounts of dips for the various crackers, vegetables, and fruits displayed on the table. He eyed the room, failing to see Jacqueline anywhere in sight. Certain no one was listening to them—why would they?—Elliot couldn’t help his caution. “Is Jacqueline here?”

“Not yet, but she should be here any second.” The President glanced at him with an arched eyebrow, and it was as if a powerful spotlight had fallen over Elliot, making him break into the beginning of a cold sweat. “Any special reason why?”

Elliot flexed his hands, cursing his sudden clamminess. “No. Just wondering.” He grabbed one of the jars on the table and opened it. “Here, I’ll help,” he said, ignoring the odd look his friend gave him. The President didn’t question it, however, and they worked in relative silence.

A young man drifted over, a brunette with striking cobalt eyes and the same aloof aura as The President. Elliot looked up and greeted The President’s father with the same formal manner he’d learned to use around the strict man. The President’s father mumbled a distracted response. He eyed the table spread with a critical glance.

“There’s a little too much dip in that bowl, don’t you think, Kenneth?” he mused with an exasperated sigh, then wandered off before any defending argument could be made. Elliot caught the momentary pursing of The President’s mouth into a grim line before he inhaled heavily and grabbed a nearby spoon to remedy the situation.

It was just after they’d finished the table and cleaned up that Jacqueline arrived with her family. No one had to see to know that fact; a loud male voice, booming and commanding, alerted everyone of the Moores arrival. Elliot and The President went to the front door, where the Moores stood—a tall man with distinct features and golden-blond hair and a flushed face; Mr Moore. A slender brunette with a kind expression and hesitant movements, Ms. Moore, stood to his side and just a little behind him. A young boy, with his mother’s hair colour but his fathers commanding attitude, pushed past his conversing parents and jumped straight into the party. Then there was Jacqueline, who went about setting aside her coat and shoes.

Elliot stood back while The President went to greet Jacqueline. Something built up inside him as he stood there, waiting for the opportune moment. Elliot knew what he had to do—what he was going to do. The decision had lent him strength before, but now it had vacated the premises, leaving him vulnerable. Now his planned seemed like a house of cards. One wrong move…

“Merry Christmas, Elliot,” Jacqueline greeted, bringing Elliot into the conversation. She stood beside The President, wearing a white sweater that fit her form well and matched her knee-length skirt. “I can’t believe you got here before I did! That’s never happened before. I guess that’s what I get for dad insisting on a drink before we got here.” Then a thoughtful expression overcame her features, and she said, “Elliot, you all right? You look a little pale.”

“Fine, fine.” Despite the slight shakiness in his muscles at any hint of movement, Elliot put a clammy hand on both Jacqueline’s and The President’s shoulders and began to steer them away from the rest of the party, hopefully to some place much more private. To his relief, they didn’t protest.

They ended up climbing the staircase at the end of the hallway, where they lingered at the top steps, far away enough for privacy while able to oversee the front door. Any and all light came from below, aside from the faint glow emanating from the bathroom down the hallway. A room with a door might have been more fitting, but the thought of being completely closed in while divulging such an important secret to his friend invoked an unneeded claustrophobia.

Jacqueline seated herself on the top step, and The President leaned against the wall with one leg bent. Elliot stood a few steps down, unwilling to sit.

The President spoke first. “The reason you dragged us up here and away from the party is because…?”

Elliot swallowed through a dry throat. “Because I need to talk to you guys.”

“Uh oh,” The President murmured. “Why am I getting a ‘guys, I’m pregnant’ vibe?” The President’s eyebrows rose, as if to display innocence at the looks he received. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about being correct. But I digress—please continue.”

Elliot knew that the other boy meant well, but the minor joke did nothing to settle his nerves. His friends fell silent. The hot spotlight was on him again, but Elliot didn’t let himself wilt under its intensity. He couldn’t.

Inhale—he could do this; it was no big deal—exhale.

“You guys know that I’ve been spending a lot of time with other people these days—well, more so one person—”

Jacqueline and The President exchanged looks. Although momentarily losing his place, Elliot continued, refusing to let his anxiety conquer him with something as simple as a small reaction aid it.

“—And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and…” He stopped, at a sudden loss for words—what should he say? What comes first? Should he be blunt? He’d thought about this moment for a long time, yet now that it was here, he didn’t know how to go about it. Was it supposed to be quick and painless, like a band aid? It sounded as good as any other idea. Yet he felt so nervous, like a child preparing himself to admit a gnawing guilt towards judging parents.

But wait--how was telling his friends in any way parallel to that? This wasn't a shameful thing--nothing involving Cameron and him seemed shameful, anymore--and no matter how many times he thought of it in that awful light, the less and less he began to think of those thoughts containing any sort of truth.

No, he would tell his friends because he wanted to, not because he had to. He'd tell them and take any reaction that came of it.

A deep breath as he shoved all fears aside for the moment, he said… “And Cameron and I decided to go out.”

Jacqueline and The President, with blank expressions, exchanged another look before The President said, “You mean like boyfriends?”

Uncertain whether this could go good or bad, Elliot did the only thing he knew how—he moved forward. “Yes.”

“So you’re—” Jacqueline caught herself and lowered her voice, her eyebrows knitting together with what Elliot hoped was only confusion. “So…you’re…?”

“Gay,” he said with confirmation. It scared him to say it aloud, yet somehow it also felt liberating. He almost wanted to say it again.

Another awful stillness followed. Elliot became aware of the intense drumming of his heart pulsing in his entire body. All that faced him were twin blank expressions, and they were staring at him. Oh, God, he’d made a mistake. This was not time—what had he been thinking?!

But then The President relaxed against the wall, all tension leaving in a physical exhale. “About time,” he sighed, then cast a stern look upon Elliot. “For a second there I’d thought you’d dug yourself into some trouble. Again. Thanks for the scare—I really enjoyed that.”

“…What?” Elliot blurted.

“You heard me.” A smile then graced his lips, and for a moment it occurred to Elliot that maybe the entire world hadn’t shifted its axis at his confession. “Seriously. About time. You’re painfully slow with these things, you know that?”

Relief hit him hard, and Elliot almost laughed. “You mean to tell me that you ‘just knew'?"

One eyebrow rose with daring. “Naturally. Who do you think you’re talking to? Honestly, Elliot.” All sarcasm dissipating, The President said in a more solemn tone, “It’s a little weird to hear it aloud… ‘confused’ doesn’t always mean ‘gay’… And Cameron, you said?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, this would make some pretty good black mail material.”

Elliot narrowed his eyes as his blood ran cold. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Never crossed my mind,” replied The President with a devious grin.

Elliot shook his head and leaned back against the wooden poles of the banister, feeling them press into his back, distinct as the thoughts going on in his head. “Seriously. Could you guys not tell anyone? I want you guys to know, but only you guys.”

The President made a motion across his mouth—locking up the secret and throwing away the key. While Elliot wished The President had agreed in a more conventional way, he was nevertheless thankful for the support. Turning to Jacqueline, who stared off into space, he said, “Jackie?”

“Someone’s being quiet,” The President noted.

Jolted by their words, Jacqueline pulled herself together and looked at them both, eyebrows rising up, mouth open though no words came. “Oh, well…yes, of course. Your secret’s safe with me.” Her eyes fell to her hands that smoothed out her slightly rumpled skirt. “I’m sure it must’ve been extremely hard to tell us this…”

His previous relief twisted with a budding paranoia. “And?”

It was Jacqueline’s turn to flounder, her mouth opening and closing like a fish stranded on land. “And…and…and I really need some air right now—” She got up and hurried past Elliot, down the stairs.

Elliot’s eyes remained transfixed on the empty space before him. Before her reaction could seep in, he bolted up from the stairs and followed her. He spotted Jacqueline grabbing her shoes and her coat, fumbling with them before deciding to just flee through the front door with them in hand. Elliot kept driving forward after her, ignoring his own winter articles of clothing, accidentally stepping over shoes as he went for the door, even when it was slammed in his face.

The brisk winter wind nipped his skin, but Elliot didn’t falter. The front door slammed behind him, shutting off the party—there was only the two of them, a long row of cars, flashing colours that were out of place for such a scene, and a moonless night.

Just after she’d slipped her dress shoes on, Jacqueline turned and stared at Elliot with conflicting emotions. “What?” she said with hesitant accusation; a tone that didn’t suit her. As if deciding better of it to not ask, she shook her head and added in haste, “Please leave me, okay?”

Elliot remained where he stood, refusing to turn back and just leave. “Why’d you leave like that?”

Jacqueline winced. “Elliot—”

“Does it piss you off? What I told you?” he said, his voice hitting a crescendo. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to them, but he couldn’t hide his hurt and anger and the form it’d taken. With a grimace, he said, “Do I disgust you?”

“No! No, no. It’s nothing like that, Elliot. I swear. It’s just…I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting it. Not now, at least. I knew you were confused…but that was it.” She paused, composing her words and ignoring the chilly winter air, even with the coat in her hands. “It’s just a bit sudden, I guess. And you spent so much time away from us…just seeing you in class or at the Student Council room isn’t the same. It’s like you’re changing and going somewhere else; it’s like we’re losing you.”

Elliot grimaced, unable to fight the heavy guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. “Jacqueline…”

“I’m sorry my reaction wasn’t the one you wanted. It’s all just a little hard to swallow.”

“No. Don’t apologize.”  He stood there, unable to shake off the feeling that he was a fool for ever having expected that everything would’ve gone perfectly well, or perfectly horrible.

Jacqueline didn’t respond. They both eyed the coat in her hands as she toyed with it. With a heavy sigh, she shrugged it on and headed for the house, the thin blanket of snow crunching underneath her feet. “I don’t feel all that well. I think I’ll go ask mom to take me home now.”

“I could take you home,” Elliot blurted.

Jacqueline shook her head. “No thanks. You should stay here and enjoy the party; have some fun.” She touched his shoulder, the gesture feather-light. “Regardless of anything else, I know you’re still you. I just need some time to adjust.”

Defeated, he felt lower than low. He'd thought he was strong enough to handle every possible reaction...but maybe he wasn't. “Sure.”

Elliot waited a heartbeat after Jacqueline reentered the house before letting the cold drive him back inside. Jacqueline was nowhere to be seen, but as if on some unheard cue, he spotted The President waiting for him at the bottom of the stairwell.

Unable to mask his bitterness, Elliot muttered to him, “I should’ve waited.”

“I think what hurt her the most was that your secret was kept from us for as long as it was—understandably so…but the result remains the same.” The President lead Elliot back upstairs, back into dim-lit privacy. “Any problems she has are things she’ll have to deal with on her own, but she’ll come around when she’s ready.”

“I know.” The question of “when” held a different answer, but he couldn’t think about that now. The night was still far too young, and the wound still too fresh.


~+~+~+~+~+~+~


He returned home a few hours later, weary from the long night. Fortunately neither of his parents were home. One had arrived at The President’s party a few hours ago; the other was God knew where.

Elliot collapsed on the couch, coat and shoes still on. A tight pressure built between his eyes, almost throbbing, and he pinched his nose to quell it. Only Muffin brought him out of his suffocating thoughts with the sound of crinkling paper. He glanced over at Muffin and rolled his eyes when he saw her resting on some of the Christmas gifts underneath the decorated tree.

“Off, Muffin.” He got up and went to her, hauling her up into his arms before his eyes strayed to one of the gifts she’d been sitting on--Cameron’s from the look of it. Elliot knelt down and picked it up. “You’d better not have broken whatever it is,” he warned Muffin.

Muffin meowed, looking free of all possible guilt.

Elliot went back to the couch with both Muffin and the gift in hand. As Muffin made herself at home in his lap, he went about opening the gift—to make sure that it was fine (Muffin was a hefty cat, after all). His eyes widened at the sight: two chef aprons sat in the wrapping paper: one white and professional-looking, the other a joke apron that made Elliot’s cheeks warm up at the off-key humor. Spotting a small card on the former, he picked it up and read it :

Got you two so you don’t spaz.
But you have to wear the funny one at least once!
No, you can’t “lose it in a freak kitchen accident”, so don’t even try that.
Merry X-mas!
—Cameron

There, right underneath his name, was a scribbled heart.

Elliot stared at the card and aprons, speechless. The pressure around and behind his eyes returned, somehow more overwhelming than before. Muffin pawed the aprons, testing them, and Elliot allowed her to do so for a moment before stopping her, then he ran his own hands over the aprons in marvel.

The thought that someone out there had seriously considered the gift—even if half was a gag—and had thought of him and perhaps was even thinking of him at that very moment… There were no words.

Before readying himself for bed, he reread the card and let himself bask in the thought that someone like as Cameron accepted him no matter what. Somehow, that made the pressure around his eyes more bearable.


~+~+~+~+~+~+~


To Be Continued