Danny and Olivier

Part 2- Hope

End of January.
            

 
            “…and I’m not sad, I’m just angry…” Danny’s hand furiously scribbled into his songwriting book, letting ideas pour into his head. He had already posted a video on YouTube about his song, and it was rapidly gaining views and popularity. He was glad that other people were enjoying his song for Olivier. That was the only joy he had in his life these days. “I’m letting the candles bu—,”
              “DANNY!” The door suddenly knocked open with a bang, and Danny jumped over his notebook and screeched like a little girl.
             His 5 year-old cousin smiled at him, her little soft brown pigtails spilling over her shoulders. “Danny, look!” She held up a piece of paper, with two seemingly-mutated stick figures on it, holding hands. “Look at it!”
             Danny nodded. “What is it?” He managed to mouth to her, watching Delilah’s expression closely. Delilah jumped onto his bed and beamed at him with her big blue eyes, almost as beautiful as Olivier’s. But not quite.
             “It’s a man and a woman that I saw at the park today. They were holding hands,” Delilah beamed, patting down the hem of her shirt. “Daddy took me there today, because he said that you weren’t awake yet.”
             “Mmhm,” Danny mumbled, distracted. He reached for his pen and got his notebook out from under him, ready to get back to his songwriting. “Delilah, can you—,”
             “Danny, what does ‘gay’ mean?” Delilah suddenly piped up, leaning on her stomach on Danny’s bed. Danny instantly felt his ears heat up, and he made his hair mope into his face.
             “What do you think it means?” Danny said quietly, his head still down. Delilah patted Danny’s hand as she took the pen from him, holding his hand.
             “I don’t know. I think that’s when two girls or two boys love each other,” Delilah giggled, scribbling something onto her drawing. Danny didn’t bother to look up, knowing that his face was still red. And besides, he’d talked to the girl. He had talked for the first time in about a month and two weeks, and she barely noticed.
             “Mia has two mommies,” Delilah continued, her tongue sticking out as she continued drawing on her paper. “And she says that it’s possible for two girls or guys to be in love.”
             “What if it is?” Danny mumbled, getting out of his bed to grab a red bandanna. He tied it around his head as Delilah gazed off into the distance, thinking.
             “Well, Mia’s mommies are in love, so I guess it can work.” Delilah looked back at Danny, watching him as he tied a knot perfectly into his bandanna. “But Mia told me that her mommies were afraid to have her at first, because people are very mean and bad.” Delilah looked at Danny as if she had known something, studying him carefully.
             Danny nodded silently in agreement, getting back onto the bed and crossing his legs, watching as Delilah shielded her drawing away from him, squealing. “I’m not done yet, Danny! Stop!”
              Danny cracked a smile as he watched his cousin scribble on her page, the innocence of her dawning on him. She’s so young. She shouldn’t have to deal with things like sexuality at this age.
             But then again, she’d be better off. She’d be the change in the world. My innocent little cousin is going to be the change one day.
              “Done!” Delilah held up her drawing again, and the mutated stick figures looked more reassembled than they had before. “Look!”
             “What is this?” Danny peered at the drawing. Delilah beamed as she set her paper down and pointed at each figure slowly.
              “This…” she pointed to Danny, “is you.” The stick figure had a mope of black hair covering his face and a big, penned smile, and what seemed like a guitar in his other hand. “And this…” Delilah pointed to the second figure slowly, “is him.”
             Danny looked at where Delilah was pointing to and saw that it was a picture of Olivier. A picture that he had kept in his bedside table, tucking it away so he wouldn’t have to see that face again. But he had taken it out last night to remember Olivier, even if it was just for a little bit.
             “W-what do you mean?” Danny stammered, covering up the picture with his hand.
             “It’s your future boyfriend!” Delilah beamed as she held up the picture for the millionth time, pointing out Olivier’s blue eyes. “See?”
             “But—”
             Delilah propped her chin in her hand, smiling at Danny. “You look at the picture every three minutes. I’m not that stupid.”
             Huh. Even if Danny hadn’t known he was looking at that stupid picture, he trusted and listened to Delilah’s word. He knew that it was probably true, for it actually sounded like something he’d do.
             “Don’t tell anyone, okay, Delilah?” Danny pleaded, putting the picture away. “I don’t want my mom or dad to know.”
             “It will be our secret,” Delilah giggled as she stuck her pinky up. “Pinky promise.”
             Danny linked pinkies with her and let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Delilah, why did you ask me what ‘gay’ meant?”
             “Because I told Mia about my favoritistest cousin,” Delilah grinned. “Mia asked me if you liked boys. And you like that boy.” Delilah pointed to the bedside table. “You know, there’s a boy at school named James that told me something his mommy said. His mommy said that if you had really loved something, you wouldn’t let it go.” Danny looked up from his nails, in which Delilah was looking at him knowingly. “But I don’t think it’s true. I think that if you really did love something, and you let it go, it will come flying back to you!” Delilah stood up on Danny’s bed, bouncing up and down all over it. “No… matter… how… long… it… takes…!”
             Danny smiled for the first time in many weeks, watching as his smart, innocent little cousin bounced around his bed, squealing in the process.
             Delilah Schallinger is the poster child for hope, Danny thought. Then he patted his head and tightened the bandanna, knowing that it was going to be there for a long time.

Olivier was dead asleep on the couch when his mother woke him up.
             “OLIVIER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE COUCH?!”
             Olivier jumped, startled as hell as he recollected himself and picked up his comforter from the floor.
              “What do you mean ‘What am I doing here?’” Olivier turned grumpy as he lay back down on the couch. “Gramma and Grampa are over.”
             “Well, we got you that loft bed for a reason,” his mother snapped, cleaning up the coffee table. “There’s a perfectly good bed on top of the futon.”
             “I didn’t want to wake Gramma last night when I went to bed,” Olivier sighed as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.
             “I would sleep on the couch, too, if I had gone to bed at 2 AM last night,” his mother sniped. “What were you doing up so late?”
             Homework. Writing. Posting on my new blog. Taking pictures of the beautiful drops of rain.
             Thinking about Danny.
             Olivier didn’t bother answering her as he walked off, carrying his comforter like a cape around him.
             “I’m sorry for being considerate!” Olivier yelled as he slammed the bathroom door shut, wanting to kill his mother.
             And I’m also sorry for not wanting to wake Gramma up. I’m sorry for being deaf. I’m sorry for being gay. I’m sorry for being such a terrible son. I’m sorry that I’m beginning to dislike this family. I’m sorry that the whole family has fallen apart. I’m sorry that you didn’t accept Danny.
             I’m sorry for being your kid.
             Olivier wanted to pick up the phone and dial Danny. He hated how the person he wanted to talk to the most was also the person he least wanted to talk to.
             What am I saying? Of course I want to hear Danny’s beautiful voice. I just don’t have the guts to do it yet.
             He was sorry for what happened between him and Danny. He desperately wanted to curl up into a little ball with him and tell him everything that had been going on with him and his ‘understanding, compassionate mother’. He wanted to hold the smaller boy in his arms, cuddling him tight and teasing him. He wanted to touch his hips, that one area that made Danny completely gaga for him. But he just couldn’t bring himself to dial seven little digits. Ones that he knew by heart.
             The phone suddenly rang, and Olivier dashed out of the bathroom to answer it, clicking the talk button almost immediately. “Hello?” he said, turning up his hearing aid.
             “Hi, my name is Henry Walhberg, I’m here to inform you that your loan on…” Olivier pulled the phone slowly away from his ear, clicking the end button immediately.
             Hope. Hoping it was Danny.
              God, Olivier thought. I hate the aspect of hope.
             And that gave him an idea. He ran to his room and pulled out his ratty old laptop from under his pillow, grateful that he had a laptop, but not-so-grateful in the fact that it took five minutes to boot up.
             When it came up, though, Olivier made a post on his blog, addressing his growing number of followers.

01/30

 hope. hope hope hope hope hope.

i just spent the last two days hoping that each time the phone rings, it will be my ex-boyfriend. the guy that i can’t get over, you know? the guy that i stupidly let go? the guy that i’ve spent my whole blog talking about? yeah, him.
but i’ve realized something about hope. you’re just sitting there, sitting on your lazy ass and wishing for something to happen. nothing is going to happen unless you do something about it.
someone told me once that hope is the anchor for the soul. but it’s not. you are.
it is up to you to decide whether or not you want to anchor yourself.
and for my ex, i will call him. i promise i’ll call him someday, sometime, again.
just not today.
xx Oli.

 

And with that, he pressed publish without reading over it. This was his life now. His life online. And he wasn’t about to hold back.

  

Later on that night, though, Danny received a phone call. He hurriedly picked it up and answered it.
             Wishing. Wishing. Wishing. Wishing.
             “Hello?” Danny breathed out, closing his eyes. Wishing.
             “H-hi,” the voice on the other line stammered back. “Uh…”
             Danny’s eyes flew open. He recognized the voice. The deep tone. He could picture the boy already.
            “Evan?”