〖 chapter seven ⋆ the musical 〗

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

"Columbia will be great for you," his dad had promised him many times, "Hell, I bet you'll even find yourself a nice girl to settle down with right away – it's what happened with your mother and I."

There was a chuckle at the end as he thought about those times. A shake of the head and a small smile, youthful love found right where he chose to study not knowing he would fall in love. His dad made it sound so easy; go to the college that his dad had picked, find someone nice (a nice girl, it couldn't just be anyone), start life, get married, and start a family.

He could picture all of it; the wedding in a chapel (because it would be with his parents) and after a year of marriage, under the constant firing of questions from both their parents, they would be pressured into having a child even though it might not be the right time. Everything would be so pressured, so forced, and finally, years down the line, everything would explode. Yelling would begin because they were so unhappy, all the dreams they had when they first got together vanished with marriage and children and being tied down. They would divorce, his parents would be disappointed, but be would have his kids.

The kids he didn't want; the kids he had been pressured into having.

But at least he would be rid of the wife he never wanted, but that sounds horrible. He sounded like a terrible person for even thinking that he felt awful, trying awful, but he didn't want that. And then, maybe then, lost and confused because he finally was given this freedom, he would find himself at a bar and maybe then – maybe then – he could take some nameless man home and feel alright. Not forced or pressured but him.

And he thought of Peter, as cliché as he sounded. He thought of the boy who didn't believe that the kiss was a terrible mistake that he never should've made. He thought of the boy who was hurt and disappointed by him, who didn't like his smoking and came in to get ice cream every Tuesday and Thursday, sometimes on the weekend of he was lucky. The boy who rambled on and on about scientific theories that he could never keep up with or understand, who spoke so highly of his internship even though he probably really only got coffee for people.

The joy this boy had, this unending happiness and freedom. There was no life plan for Peter; he could simply do whatever he wanted and it would be okay. There wasn't an expectation for him to go to a specific college and settle down with a specific person, but he had that. And he felt so terribly envious of Peter.

Because he could never just do what he wanted, he was bound to goals that his dad wanted. He was bound by expectations and plans set for him before he was born. And he could do nothing except do as told, be the perfect boy – the perfect son.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

THE MUSIC MAN.

Tatiana smiled at him as she placed the flyer in front of him, more like grinning wildly. The crowd was loud as always, eating food that didn't deserve that title because of gross it actually was but, thankfully, Garrett had a bag of chips he had gotten afterschool yesterday and left in his bag along with a water.

Flash had his arm wrapped around Maddie and they were giving each other lovesick smiles, trading small kisses and giggles. Well, Maddie gave giggles, Flash didn't. Clayton was eating his food and Chuck was talking up the girl he had invited to eat lunch with them.

But Garrett froze as he saw what was on the poster, slowly looking up at Tatiana, heart pounding. "What's this for?" he asked his friend, already hating it.

"The musical, duh," Tatiana rolled her eyes, "It's being performed at the theatre I always work with."

"Okay? Do you want me to give this to Laurel or something? I know she'll be all over this," Garrett said, holding the flyer up to take a better look at it.

Tatiana scoffed, "No, I already told her about it. Obviously. I was just wondering if you wanna do it with us."

Garrett was about to speak when Chuck snorted, looking at the Lawson girl. "Lockwood doesn't do theatre – that's for girls," he laughed.

He felt himself sink about, retreating. Guys don't do theatre; straight guys don't do theatre...It was laughable. Everyone would know if he did, everyone would know how terrible and wrong he was. How he lived in such sin. It wouldn't be a paradise he could escape to with Peter, he would forever be entrapped in hell.

Maybe Icarus would do this – maybe he would have the confidence – but the Golden Boy sure didn't.

Tatiana fumed at him, "That's sexist, Chuck. Anyone could do theatre and, I'll have you know, that theatre used to just be for men so your statement that men don't do theatre is wrong."

Chuck rolled his eyes, "Yeah, like you said, men used to."

"Then what do you call Tom Hanks? Robert Downey Jr.? Leonardo DiCaprio?" Tatiana questioned.

"Fucking fags, that's what," Chuck replied and he stilled even more.

He felt frozen, heart beating wildly, and he wished he could do something – say something. He wanted to beat Chuck up, he wanted to punch him so much, he wanted to retaliate...but he couldn't. He didn't. Everything was crumbling and he didn't know what was happening and he just...stopped. Everything stopped.

"You're a piece of shit," Tatiana told him.

"Thankfully, I don't really care what you think of me," Chuck smiled at her, "But I know I'll have you calling my name soon."

"I'd rather gauge out my eyes," she deadpanned and he still felt so still.

He didn't see the way Peter was looking at him with concern, he didn't know that Peter heard every word and saw how his boyfriend deteriorated from it. He didn't know...didn't see. He just knew that it had to stop but it wouldn't.

He just knew that this would forever be his secret, dreams of college and freedom out the window. Faggot. He couldn't handle the word; he couldn't handle anything. Everything was moving and spinning and he didn't know what was happening.

"Hey, Garrett, are you okay?" Clayton asked him in a whisper as placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

For the first time, Garrett moved. He smiled at Clayton, the practiced, superficial smile and said the very words that spewed from his lips a hundred times and would continue to do so for hundreds more: "I'm fine."

Clayton looked at him with suspicion, obviously not believing him. "Are you sure?"

Garrett nodded. It was mechanical and he felt like such a robot, such a character. He wasn't Garrett Lockwood, he was never Garrett Lockwood. He was the Golden Boy, the perfect boy who played soccer and was going to Columbia and would find a perfect girl to spend the rest of his life with. He would be happy, he was happy. He was always so happy and this wasn't affecting him; he wasn't breaking down. He was fine. Totally and completely fine.

"Of course," he told Clayton, because he was. The Golden Boy was always happy. Everything was always fine with him.

It was expected of him, so happy he would be.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Peter didn't show up at the ice cream parlor. He didn't expect him to show up after everything, but he still felt so disappointed when he never came. Tatiana could see it, he was sure, but she didn't comment on it, just patted his shoulder and gave him a comforting smile.

Two weeks passed and Peter was still aloof. He still found himself thinking of the kiss, thinking of what he said in response, and he hated himself so much because of it. Because he wanted to kiss Peter, he wanted to kiss him so badly and be whatever Peter wanted, but he couldn't.

He still wanted it, though. And so Icarus truly born.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After lunch Tatiana caught up to him. "Hey, so I still didn't get an answer about the musical," she said as they walked to class.

Garrett bit his lip. He wanted to do it, he did, because he loved acting. He loved watching others act, he loved seeing his little sister up on stage becoming a different character and the process of rehearsing lines with her. He felt so proud as he did so and always found himself interested on being on the other side.

And he thought of himself as a good actor. At least, good enough to trick everyone. To be their Golden Boy at every given moment they were around and be Peter's Icarus. He had to be good at acting to maintain his masks, so maybe he would be good at playing another character. Maybe it would be better, maybe it would be easier, and maybe it would overthrow him. He wanted that.

But his mind flashed back to lunch. To Chuck. To the others he spoke. Only fags do theatre. Chuck would start rumors, he would make everyone believe that perfect Garrett Lockwood was gay and liked sucking dick...and he couldn't have that no matter how true it actually was. He couldn't.

No matter how much he wanted to throw himself into this, to try out for the musical and be with his friend and sister, to give himself this experience that was just him...he couldn't. He wouldn't.

So he smiled at Tatiana. "No thanks, theatre really isn't for me," just another lie to protect his status as the Golden Boy.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The Lockwood family ate dinner together, as always. The two children sat beside each other and across from their parents, as always. Laurel mirrored their mother and Garrett mirrored their father, as always. It was a typical dinner, filled with conversation about school and work and college (because he was a senior and it was their favorite thing to talk about).

"Have you finished up your application?" his father asked him and he shook his head.

"Not yet," he answered as he took another bite of his French dip.

"Garrett," his father sighed in disappointment, "The deadline is coming up soon for Columbia."

"I know, dad, but I have schoolwork and I've been writing up applications for other schools," Garrett answered him.

His dad frowned again, "Why are you writing applications for other schools? You're already set for Columbia."

"It's just a precaution," Garrett told him as calmly as he could, "Just in case I don't get it."

"There's no way in hell they'll turn you down. You don't need to bother yourself with other schools, just finish the application for Columbia and send it in," he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if Garrett's world was going to crumble if he didn't get into Columbia instead of weeping with joy.

"Greg," their mother broke in, "Let him explore other options. It's just a safety net."

"But he doesn't need to. He wants to go to Columbia and he shouldn't waste time trying to write an application for a school he doesn't even care about," he said back to his wife.

Garrett wished his father would say that about everything – about Columbia. Because he was wasting time writing one for Columbia, he was wasting time trying to think of the perfect words because his father wanted him there so desperately even if all he wanted was to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But Emma gave her husband a stern look and he sighed, steering the conversation towards their daughter. "So, Laurel, anything interesting happening at school?" he asked.

"Well, it's not exactly at school, but the theatre Tatiana does work at is putting on The Music Man so I'm going to audition for it," Laurel told them confidently.

"That's wonderful, sweetie, I bet you'll have a great time," Emma smiled at her and Laurel smiled back.

But then she continued, "And Tatiana and I are trying to get Garrett to do it, but he won't."

Their father frowned, he was always frowning, "Why would Garrett want to do theatre? He's a sports guy."

"Athletes do theatre too, dad," Laurel spoke for him, "And it'll make him look more well-rounded on applications if he does theatre."

"But he already does soccer and that's more than enough," Greg decided.

"The musical doesn't interfere with soccer, dad, that's doesn't start until spring," Laurel said, "And it'll be a lot of fun."

"Garrett doesn't want to," Greg waved his daughter off and Garrett took a sip of his drink.

He was always being spoken for him, never time for him to give his own opinion. But Laurel looked at him, "I think he can decide that for himself. So?"

Garrett gulped, eyes on him again, waiting. He knew the perfect answer – the expected answer – to be no, he didn't want to do the stupid play. But he also knew the truth was yes, he wanted this so badly but he would never actually do it because that's who he was; a coward.

So, he shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I'll think about it and everything, but I don't know."

Laurel grinned at him, "See? It'll be fun, Garrett."

But Greg stared with eyes of Medusa at his son, "You're not doing the damn musical." And that was end of the discussion.

Garrett wished he could retaliate again, he wished he would stand up for himself and say that yes, he was. Because that was what he wanted. Not Columbia, not even soccer anymore. He wanted theatre. He wanted boys, he wanted to be free. He wanted to be Garrett Lockwood – himself – not the Golden Boy or Icarus. Just him. He just wanted to be free.

But the choice was made for him, so how could he disagree? Nothing would be okay if he did.