Violet's Delight

Chapter 7: Lunch Part. 2

~Violet's POV~

They did not let you eat in the library after all.

But, I chose to sit in the back where no one could see me and finished my chocolates in peace while reading a random book I grabbed from a shelf.

I know, I'm such a rebel.

I got bored of the book and my "lunch" was gone, and I didn't want to get a real lunch, so I decided to leave the library and roam the maze of a school.

I made it down a few different corridors with smooth sailing, but my luck ran out when I turned the corner and someone crashed into me, almost making me drop my phone.

"Watch where you're going!" I shouted and looked up to see who it was.

All my anger left when I caught sight of the shiny, tear-filled light blue eyes of a boy.

"I– I'm sorry," he said shakily, turning his face away from mine.

"No! It was my fault! I wasn't watching where I was going and I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry," I apologized. I rarely apologize to people. But I've seen that look in his eyes before. I would know, I've had it before.

Shame.

"No. It was my fault. It's always my fault," he replied, looking at the floor as his hand wiped at his face.

I flinched at the words. All too familiar.

He caught the gesture and looked up at me, confusion on his face.

"Follow me," I said as I grabbed his arm, gently, and led him to the girl's bathroom I had passed.

He didn't protest and I think it was because his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

When we entered the bathroom, I let go of his arm.

"Splash some water on your face. It will help the redness and the swelling clear up faster," I said as I walked along the bathroom stalls to check they were all empty.

When I confirmed they were, I turned back to the boy.

He was still standing in the entrance, looking at me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

I gestured to the sinks and that got him moving. He did as I said and ran some water over his tired face. I brought over some paper towels when he turned off the water for him to wipe his face with.

"Thanks," he said, skeptically as he took the towels from my outstretched hand.

"So, how long have you known?" I questioned in a soft voice.

His head jerked up.

"Wha– what are you talking about?" he asked, defensively.

"Stop me at any point if I got this all wrong. But, I'm going to tell you a story. When I was a middle schooler," I began to say, "I learned that girls could like other girls and boys could like other boys."

I paused, waiting for him to yell at me, shove me, stomp out. He didn't do any of those. And I continued.

"All my life, I had grown up watching movies with my parents about Princes saving Princesses and all those boy meets girl and they fall in love stories and I thought that was the only romantic love there was. Then freshman year came and I was in France and they had a class that taught everything from equality of race and gender to LGBTQ+ rights. I had known most of the information taught in that class, but I felt a door open that year. Like, another possibility was added. And I liked that possibility. My mind allowed me to think of not just boys in a romantic way, but girls as well."

I paused again, just to be sure. But he was listening attentively to my story now.

"So, I did what most people do when they find out they're gay, lesbian, trans, or in my case, bisexual. My dad loves me, and I felt it was safe to tell him. And that's as far as it got. My dad was originally from Ukraine. But, despite a conservative upbringing, my dad is open to everything and was supportive. But, he said I couldn't tell my grandparents. You see, like in many cultures, the older Ukrainian generations aren't open about the LGBTQ+ community. So, I couldn't and can't tell my grandparent. So, whenever they come over to stay at our current house, though rarely, I still have to listen as they say things like, 'gay people are selfish because they can't have kids'. And I nod along. I know my dad is keeping it a secret to protect me from being looked at differently by my own grandparents, but it still hurts. And every time I see them, a little part of me shrinks away."

I pause to sigh and run a hand through my hair.

"When I saw you in the hall and looked into your eyes, I recognized that look right away because I wear that look every time in my room when I'm alone and my grandparents are in the other room. I'm not being true to them, and most importantly, I'm not being true to myself. I flinched when you said 'it's always my fault' because I blame myself for everything too. But that's beside the point. The point is, you can tell me," I finished. I had looked at the ground throughout the end of my story, and when I looked up, I saw the boy looking intently at me.

"Since June," he answered my original question.

"That's not long," I replied.

"No, it isn't. I'm gay and I can't tell anyone. I especially cannot tell my family. And the reason I was... was because I tried to tell my friends, but I couldn't get the words out. I just feel like I'm letting them down," he admitted as he let out a long kept sigh.

My heart clenched for the boy before me.

"You know, you're the first person I've told," he said with a small smile.

"And I won't be the last," I replied with a smile of my own.

"Thanks. For everything. For listening and for telling me your story. It really helped," he said.

"Look, you don't have to talk to me, but now that I know, if you ever want to talk, just ask. I can give you my phone number if you'd like to keep in touch," I added, slightly hopeful. No one should deal with something this big alone, and selfishly, maybe I could make him my first friend here.

"Yeah. That sounds great, actually," he said, sounding relieved and truthful.

We exchanged phone numbers.

"I'm Violet," I said after writing down his number. I stuck out my hand for him to shake. He took my hand with a laugh at the faux formality.

"I'm Noah."