Not giving up on you [BoyxBoy]

I pushed the door to my room open and stepped inside, putting my luggage on the ground. Back home... I looked around – it's been over three months since my family left for a prolonged summer holiday to Barcelona where we lived in my uncle's house. It was like a dream there – the sun, free open-minded people, rich bold colours everywhere... But even as I took it all in with a relish at the pleasant change, I felt like I didn't belong there what with my shyness and overall taciturnity. I closed the door behind me and went on to pull the curtain aside so that the little what was left of light could come in. As I looked down at the street a new wave of the same feeling that reverberated inside me ever since we got back to Britain washed over me – I simply fit here perfectly. In the very town I was born in and where I'll probably die too. My life is in a perfect harmony with the scarce sunlight, plenty of rain, cold relentless wind and the buildings of black, grey and brown, matching with the grim sky make me feel I belong.

"Oliver!" I heard my mother's voice from downstairs.

"Right there!" I shouted back and walked out of my room and down the stairs to meet her. She was standing by the entrance door, still in her coat and shoes.

"We're going to church, okay, honey?" she asked as my father emerged from the kitchen.

"Wha', we've just arrived, I thought-" I stopped right there when I read the disapproving looks on their faces. "Sure," I said quickly, grabbing my coat and following them out.

My parents are deeply religious and committed to the Church of England until the death does them apart... So am I, really, at least more than any of my peers – I even sing in the choir and attend most of the community sessions. My life practically consists of church, school and sleep. The fact that we live less than 5 minute's walk from the church helps a lot.

***

Pastor Jonathan was elated to see us. He's absolutely terrific, I lov- I mean, I like him a lot – everybody does. As we were going to leave, he took me aside and we talked about my holiday.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. God knows you need to smile more, Oliver," he patted me on the shoulder. I smiled at him widely – if everyone was like him, maybe I would be smiling more...

"So, tell me," he continued, "are you going to school tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you won't have problems catching up, hm?" he smiled warmly. I shook my head – I missed the first month but I could level with my schoolmates in one week tops - with the pace of progress at our school, grades were never an issue for me. Someone accosted us and asked him for a private talk so he quickly informed me that the choir practice will be on Tuesday and Friday this school year and granted me one more of his characteristic heart-warming smiles.

***

I got on my bike in the morning and felt a shiver of deep satisfaction run through my body. Oh, how I missed riding – the wind in my hair, the speed, passing the cars that were stuck in a line, passing people on the pavement who were too slow. I felt alive again, for twenty minutes on my way to school and another twenty from school to church every day. I smiled wildly until I remembered where exactly I was going. School... It's not that I worried about results in school... and it would be too much to say I had problems with friends – ha, I wish – I had no friends. I didn't want to go back there but at the same time I desperately yearned to be with people my age again, even if they didn't like me.

I was trying hard to ignore the looks on their faces (those who actually noticed that I wasn't in school before) – they were so readable, they told the one thing all over again: "Oh, I totally forgot he even existed." With a heavy sigh, I entered my History class. Several new faces, all of them already better socially accommodated than I'll ever be. I sat down and heard a chair beside me being pulled back for someone to sit down.