"How is school?"

Dad asked over coffee, we had just finished our brunch. I came home last night for summer holidays. I'd be gone again in a day to spend it with my school buddies. It was just a day and a half I had to spend with my parents. But even that was suffocating. I guess it was the burden of the lie. It had put a wedge between us.

I couldn't go on like this. I wasn't even sure why I was afraid.

"Jake?" Mom gently said, sitting next to me.

"I'm... gay." I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

I had come out to so many people in the past year. But this was different. These two were the reason I was born. They took pride in my intelligence. When I got the scholarship to do my full schooling in a prestigious private academy, they were over the moon. They fought over to decide whose genes made me smart. My son was a phrase that was said with joy and self satisfaction. Would it change now? Would they fight now to know who gave me the faulty gene that made me gay?

"Go to your room Jake, we will talk about this later." Dad said setting his coffee down.

My face burned as I got up.

"Oh, no. Stay." Mom placed her hand over my arm, I sat down.

"Ty... Let him go. We should talk first."

"You're so oblivious sometimes. Look at his face!" Mom took my chin and forced my face upwards.

"Now... now... Ty...What's wrong with his face? Being gay won't change his face. Your ignorance is mind blowing, baby. Let him go and I'll tell you what is what."

I coughed to cover my untimely laugh. I could see what was happening. They were fighting. To see who was better at handling their son's coming out.

"This man! Jake is worried that we won't accept it... I mean him."

"Do you accept it?" Dad asked, unaware that his mouth was open and hanging.

"Of course. I'm not the old-school one in this room!"

I sighed. Mom worked for a non profit organization that's cleaning Earth of its toxic waste. Dad's working for a company that produces giant ass amount of toxic waste on a daily basis. So yeah. They both had this ongoing argument of who was more ignorant.

"I'm not old school, Ty. I'm practical." He pointed a finger at me. "Jake, you can be anything. Just don't lose your focus. I want to see you as a doctor. I don't care if you are a gay doctor. Understood?"

I bobbed my head. My school was famous for producing future scientists and doctors. We did only one thing in our school. Study. No sports except the mandatory Physical Ed. My scholarship would be revoked if I fail in two consecutive tests in a term.

"Do you want to talk to someone baby? I have a colleague whose daughter is gay." Mom said chewing her upper lip.

"No... um... no... I'm good. I just wanted to let you guys know."

"We're glad."

"Yes baby. We are."

****

Back in my room, I called my OTF — One True Friend. Harry.

He was the first person I came out to. It was last Christmas.

The conversation was something like this.

"I think I like boys."

"You sure?"

"99 percentage."

"What about the one percent?"

"I need to kiss to know. Can I kiss you?

"Nope."

"Please Harry. . ."

"Ain't happening."

"If I was a girl, would you kiss me?"

"No, even if you grow the biggest boobs and become the prettiest, I won't. You're my friend. That's what you'll always be."

Now my sexual orientation was proved beyond any doubt and I had done things with boys that Harry claimed to make him puke. But we still shared everything. I knew his sexual adventures and vice versa.

One true friend.

The call connected and Harry's voice cracked through the phone.

"Came out?"

"Yes."

"Okay...?"

"They're cool. They don't care as long as I get to have a stethoscope."

"Cool. Wanna come over?"

I walked over to my window, looking at the bright flower beds mom had put around the lawn.

A golden head caught my attention.

"Nah. I'll call you later." I cut the call and jogged down the stairs.

I hadn't seen Trevon in two years. While his pompous school was a half an hour bus ride away, mine was two states away—a whole eight hours of drive. I came home only for big holidays. And his family went to either London or Shanghai to spend it. Mom told tidbits about him when we talked on phone. This was the first holiday I had seen him here. I was just curious to know if he was still the same.

He was sitting in a blanket under a tree, a variety of books spread all over the blanket. His head was bent down, nose buried in the paper as he wrote.

Totally lost in his own little world.

"Hey, cherub." I called out, standing behind him.

He jumped so fast, papers flew around.

Oops. I scared him.

He tilted his upper body around to see who it was.

When he saw me, he wasn't impressed.

But I was.

He was still a cherub, still had the baby fat. But somehow looked older. With long eyebrows and sharp nose.

"Staring is rude!"

I nodded, mesmerized— out of my element. I couldn't pull my gaze away from his face. His curls framed his face in golden lines. He looked like some kind of god. Baby god?

Infant Jesus?

How old is he anyway?

"How old are you?"

"Almost ten. Why?"

Boy Jesus, then.

I smirked as I thought of Trev in those old style, flowing Jesus clothes.

Trev glared at me.

Nah, he would be the worst Jesus. He didn't know how to smile.

"You are almost ten but don't you know you have to clip your papers when you are outdoors?"

He looked back at his spread of books and saw some of his papers were now on the bushes, beyond his reach.

"Oh, heavens." He got up, running to the bushes, and I followed him.  "You mister are always bad for business. The day was going as it ought to be. Exquisite weather, the ideal time for being outdoors. And I was working on them. That's why they weren't clipped! You should know better than to creep on unsuspecting people like that!" He picked the papers and flicked his hair to glare at me properly.

His hair was molten gold.

Eww, what?

His hair was as bad as Jesus'.

"Don't you use conditioner?" I asked.

He scoffed. "That's for adults who do not eat healthy. Or boys like you who don't have hair."

Automatically I touched my very healthy, very fine hair.

He smirked at his win.

No one could smirk at me and get away with it. "Or babies like you with bird nest for hair," I replied.

His eyes grew bigger and he stomped towards me, "I am not a baby! Apologize right this instant!"

I laughed like mad and mocked his words. "Apologize right this instant!"

"AAAAAAHHH. . . " He screamed from the bottoms of the hell.

I panicked and ran without turning back to check who acknowledged his scream.

Turned out no one checked on him.

From the safety of my room window, I watched him work. He hadn't changed much. He still called me mister. He still stomped his foot, still had absurdly long hair. Still talked with long unnecessary words. But I had changed. He was. . . I don't know. I wondered how he would chat with me if we were friends. Would he smile then?

Nah, he was a tiny boy. Still my waist high. He probably played with slime and giggled for Peppa pig. I had better people to befriend.

And who needed his ridiculous vocabulary!

I ought to exquisitely apologize this instant to unsuspecting mister Jesus for comparing him to Trev!

Ha. . Ha. . Ha. .