Love, Hate and the Line

Chapter 20

I didn't see Ben the days after that. When I returned to school three days later he wasn't there. I was pretty sure he was alive, though, as I got a giant bouquet of white roses delivered to my house when I was discharged. The note merely said, "Get well. Soon."

For some reason, everything he said sounded like an order. He couldn't have said 'get well soon', no, it was 'get well. Soon.' Of course, grammatically they were both imperatives but still, that little point there, it made a difference.

Then again, why am I whining about this.. I just got a bouquet of the prettiest white roses I've ever seen!

I forced my mind to stop thinking about Ben and his stupid beautiful roses. Instead, I found myself looking for Owen, whom I hadn't seen since first period.

A couple of minutes and a helpful janitor later, I found him in a small nook outside the Arts building. I struggled carrying two dozen rainbow-colored balloons, a couple of party poopers, a party hat and confetti.

With my usual subtlety, I screamed: "SURPRISE!" and threw all of the confetti on him while furiously blowing on the party poopers/horns.

"No but seriously, O, congratulations on the Supreme Court ruling. Now I can be your groomswoman!" I beamed.

"Wait, is that selfish? Yeah, it probably is," I muttered.

It was only then that I noticed why Owen was so silent. He looked up to me, tears in his eyes. I frowned, sitting down next to him. "Hey, what's up? Why are you crying, this is a happy thing! Hashtag-lovewins and all that!"

"Yeah, I guess, I just don't feel so good.." he said, his voice breaking. I had never seen Owen crying, only once but that was when we were a lot younger. Right now, the tears were streaming down his face.

"What happened, did you talk to Oliver? He must be so happy!" I asked.

Owen let out a bitter laugh. "No, he's not, he.."

"He what?" I prompted.

"He called me an hour ago, using some payphone outside of the military campus. Said this was a mistake, we were a mistake, that he wasn't a 'faggot' and that I could never tell anyone and I don't know, I just don't- I don't understand, this day of all, you know, this is supposed to be fucking happy and all that and I just, I can't think, I can't breathe I-" Owen broke out in sobs, and I cautiously wrapped my arms around him to try and calm him down. You see, when girls cry, they often just feel like crap and silently let the tears stream down their face. When Owen cried, he trashed around, cursing, yelling, hitting rocks and- by accident- people.

"Shh, calm down, it's okay, shh.." I whispered while Owen slowly calmed down.

Meanwhile, I tried to process what he had just said. Owen had dated many guys, and I had approved of not one before Oliver came along. He had dated players, bad boys and guys who looked like they just wanted him for his money. Oliver had been different, though. While I initially told Owen to be careful, Oliver being closeted and all, he was one of few that succesfully helped him come out of the closet and remain in a relationship after that. Oliver had been afraid, cautious yet véry enthusiastic, the unhealthy amount of PDA I'd witnessed could attest to that. They were two opposites of the same coin and they fit perfectly together until Olivers parents found out about his sexuality.

They were extremely conservative and as such, punished their son to the extremes. He got house arrest, was pulled off Serenity Lake Academy and forbidden from seeing Owen again. They even hired a female escort as well as a priest to 'cure him'.

Needless to say, he didn't take it all that well and nor did Owen. Eventually, I came up with a plan. I introduced myself to his parents as his girlfriend and spent a few nights over at his place. We had the most fun of our lives in his bedroom - watching Netflix and playing cards while fake-moaning eachothers names everytime we heard one of his parents come up to his room. After a while, he was allowed to spend nights at my place where I had arranged for Owen to be waiting for him. My father had helped and always supported them, lying to Olivers parents when needed. The plan worked for a while but suddenly, on the eve of Valentine's Day, Oliver's father showed up on my doorstep.