Stop Pretending | Saltburn

Chapter 1

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As the morning rolled in, Ronan's mother had already downed a whole bottle of wine, and when she heard a car door slam with the might of a possible god, and her husband's voice approaching the front door, as well as the rattle of his keys, and when the front door slammed, she knew hell was about to break loose. While flinched every time, she protected her son's peace from where she sat.

"Where the fuck is that little shit?!" he shouted as he slammed the door shut. She was sure the whole ordeal woke their neighbors.

"Sleeping... now leave him be." He scoffed, threw his jacket on the rack, and kicked his shoes off.

He practically stomped into the living room like a toddler would if he were having a tantrum: "I bet he is! After everything I give him, he still acts like a dirt-poor hooligan!" She stood up and followed him as he began ranting about work and praising her for the breakfast she cooked despite being cold- she didn't cook much unless her son asked, and she hated this old, ugly man. But he was her husband.

Between bites of food, he starts complaining about his patients and their lifestyles. Those who liked the same sex or preferred the same gender were not his cup of tea with the same lifestyle. He refused to admit it, not after New York and his son almost dying, but that didn't stop him from hurling slurs at anyone who came near him.

"Leave it be, Michael... He's just a boy." He snapped and finally threw the plate just above her head, enough to make her flinch violently.

"It's sick of him, Lauren! He is making us look foolish by making that nonsense he calls music and fighting the cops. Even worse, he is with those disgusting faggots poisoning his fucking mind with that bullshit about rights! Anyfrom was far from the truth when he said, "They don't deserve it if they are directly responsible for AIDS!" That was the furthest thing from the truth, yet he still blamed a group of people he could not relate to.

Ronan sat at the top of the stairs listening to the angry man and drunken woman, not knowing when he would finally show himself. "Please calm down. You're going to wake him. I barely got him out of that jail cell last night..." Again, it was the furthest from the truth.

"Well, if he hadn't punched the cops, maybe he wouldn't be so tired! He wouldn't be tired if he hadn't snuck out with that so-called band of his! But no! The little shit just does what he wants like those rich bastards, but he forgets we are barely rich because of him!" The truth was cold, but it was confirmed they had to move so often because all Ronan did was fight other students or even teachers. He never lasted a week or even two days in a school, from private schools- good schools to public schools where he did enjoy it until his father felt uncomfortable with how close he felt his son was with a more feminine boy and unlike him, those boys were only friends, but they could have been more. Still, Ronan was never really allowed to discover much about himself until New York. Despite how it ended for him, he learned who he was, what he liked, and what he loved. He loved it so much. He even fell in love, but that boy always disappeared with a random rich white boy he would lie about. "They're usually from England. They're harmless white boys who know my cousin's family."

Ronan remembered him well because New York is where he stayed the longest because of a boy he found so beautiful but always felt like he was pretending just to get his way. Ronan saw through him, but he always seemed to disappear to England; hence, he'd wait for his return, and when he returned, he knew the boy would visit him in those slumps just to be with him for a short time, and those times Ronan held on too. Though when the ambush happened, He was never sure if the boy ever knew what happened to him. It was years ago, and he looked different, so sometimes even his mother didn't recognize him.