CHAPTER FIVE: SAINTS

Before you start finding the solution to a problem, you ought to know what exactly the problem is.
-Dr Prem Jagyasi

When Tobias is anxious, he draws on himself. Scribbles, odd bits of poem or comedy acts he remembers, hearts, smiley faces, arrows, patterns, it doesn't matter, as long as his skin is covered with ink.

If any of his friends see his hands covered in a mess of words, his arms with beautiful patterns and markings, they know he didn't just get bored. They know.

They know this is better than when he gets destructive, when he smokes, when he drives his bike in the rain because of the what if's that give him adrenaline rushes. It's better.

Oliver lets Tobias hold him for as long as he needs, he'll fall asleep on his lap even if it's still late at night and Tobias is crushing the smaller boy to his chest. Jason will set up a fort in their living room and let Tobias pick a movie, any movie, as long as it will make him laugh.

They watch stand up comedians and reruns of angry contestants on American Idol, or Britain's Got Talent.

Felix will sneak out and get Tobias's favorite treats, he'll bring him coffee and Monster, and he doesn't care what nun is on duty to patrol that night -his best friend needs him and that's not something he will ignore.

So Tobias draws on himself more.

He marks his skin and he gets to choose who touches him, he gets control back. Everything that was taken from him, he knows how to recover. The scribbles mean this is what I enjoy and the odd marks, the arrows, they all say I own this skin and you can't change me.

He just wants to exist without feeling like he'd implode, or that his skin is too tight.

And it doesn't seem like all that much to ask.

So when Oliver woke up still pulled tight against Tobias's front, hands that are covered in ink and smudged incomprehensibly pushing against his chest, he wasn't surprised. It was comfortable. There was no awkwardness or panic while waiting for his brown eyes to blink open, Oliver just sighed and sunk further down into the other boy, head comfortably resting on his bicep.

Only around two that morning did Tobias's mind fully calm down, even though his body had hours before.

It was something Oliver Jordan has been forced to learn, that just because someone's breath was even, if they appeared perfectly fine or the strongest person around didn't mean their mind wasn't trying to kill them, it didn't mean they weren't feeling broken.

Catholic schools fucked up their students and Life did too -and the difference was that anyone would admit that.

See, their group of four wasn't unique, and all four of them hid their difficulties and trauma just as well as any other boy at Saint Agnes.

Slowly, after a nun knocked on their dorm because of skipped classes and told them to go to Reverend Mother Amelia's office, Tobias got up and he looked absolutely drained. His best friend could already tell that it was one of those day where he'll either get into a fight or break down again.

"Boys," The nun says, lips pursed and hands re-clasping in front of her after she motioned for them to take a seat. Priest Hayes was there too, and Oliver took a seat first next to him. He knows Tobias is better now, but peripheral vision is a bitch when every Priest virtually dresses the same. "Thank you for coming."

"There's some rumors going around that she would like to address, apparently it's upsetting to some of the other nuns as well as being a joke amongst other students." Priest Hayes continues, but the look in his eye and selective phrasing tells both boys he doesn't agree. "Are you two boys engaged romantically?"

Both boys- -not all together shocked but feeling raw, vulnerable and quite awkward- -stay silent.

"Are you two being... romantic, and sinning against our lord? We didn't teach you to behave this way." Reverend Mother Amelia asks, wrist crossing on top of her desk, staring down Oliver -who she knows will break first. "Silence isn't an answer."

"Implied bigotry isn't a question." Tobias replies instantly, surprising the nun.

Oliver gives him a look, not confident enough to say anything aloud but the delinquent can practically hear the shut up, Toby echoing out of the other's mind.

"This isn't any of your business," Continuing on, he pays no mind to Oliver or the hand suddenly gripping onto his jacket, tugging slightly. "And it doesn't break any school rules if we were dating, and by the way we're not. You're just a homophobic old hag pretending to be Mother Theresa."

Tobias stands up like he's about to leave, and that has Mother Amelia seething in her place.

"We're friends, best friends. That's it." Not exactly a lie, but definitely not the truth. "But I don't see you pulling Felix or Jason in here, and they make just as many dick-sucking jokes as I do."

Priest Hayes rests a hand on Mother Amelia's shoulder, just as the wide-eyed Oliver thought the quickly turning red woman was about to explode.

"Let it go, Amelia. They're right about the school rules, and your morals cannot dictate our students' lives." He says, nodding to the two boys. "That's no way to raise young men, even if they were to go down that path."

"It's blasphemous!" She hisses. "It's a dirty sin that a man lies with another."

"Peter 4:8 says 'Above all, love one another deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.' These boys, whether it is romantic or not Amelia, all they are doing is having love for one another." Priest Hays continues sternly, frowning a bit. "It saddens me you cannot see that."

"In my opinion-"

"I have literally searched everywhere, I looked through my backpack, in my left shoe and even when I was in the fucking closet," Tobias snarks out, giving Mother Amelia a glare even after interrupting her. "And I still couldn't find where I asked for your opinion about me being bi."

After all, God might judge you but according to this religion he made you, meaning his sins will always outweigh your own.

Turning up to the boys- -causing Tobias to place a protective hand on Oliver's shoulder as the smaller boy is practically curled up in his seat- -the priest raises a dismissive hand to them, "You two can go. I will see you in class. Godspeed."

"Thank you, father." Tobias, surprisingly, replies shakily and pulls on Oliver's shoulders to get him out of his chair -seeing the frozen state his best friend is in, the delinquent grabs both their bags and leads him from the room holding his hand.

It was all but an excuse to piss the nun off more.

There was a saying once that Tobias heard from a nun who said "Suffering feels religious if you do it right." after he broke down when he heard he had a meeting with a priest not even two days after stepping foot into Saint Agnes.

The delinquent couldn't disagree more.

Suffering doesn't feel religious, it feels like suffering. Like pain. Like crying until your eyes are heavy and arguing until your throat is sore.

Like razor's on skin and a hand on his thigh, like scruff against his ear and the painful thumping in his chest when he realizes his mother doesn't believe him.

That's suffering.

What feels religious to him is when he's in the living room with his friends and they're all laughing while eating dinner.

When Oliver is holding him after a long day, when he and Jason are arm in arm after playing against one another in the sun for hours on end.

Comforting Felix nightly when he needs it and waking up with everyone piled in bed next to him, that's sacrifice, that's ceremonial, that's religion. That's him believing that no matter what happens in life, it is them, those four boys, against the world.

That's all Tobias believes, and he likes to think that it's enough.

Quietly, after both boys were safely behind the door of their room, Oliver grips onto Tobias's hand tighter and pulls gently. Tobias wraps his free arm around the shorter boys middle, letting it stay his choice although he does as asked.

The delinquent sighs out and drops Oliver's hand, letting both his arm wrap tightly around him. "You know I love you, right Ollie?"

"I know Toby," He responds, voice hushed. "I love you too."

It wasn't a confession and nor did it feel like one, but both boys were content.

They didn't need to be official or strictly romantic. They were best friends. And they were in love.

It was as simply complicated as that.