- Saturday, March 12th, 2016 -

– 1,5 months after the disappearance –

I wake up with a minor headache in the morning, after staying out until way past my curfew to drink with Jaimie. We hung out at the playground a couple of blocks from my house, swinging on the swing set and sliding down the swirly slide. But since my parents are out for the weekend, it didn't give me any trouble to stay out for so long. They will never find out anyway.

Jaimie kept bugging me about hanging out with Stan so much, asking me how all of the sudden we became such close friends. I just kept the story to the original reason we got in contact; community service.

Jaimie doesn't need to know about the details of my "friendship" with Stan. He's one of those Catholics that thinks being gay is a sin. We aren't close friends for no reason; we shared a lot of opinions.

But I found out I can't help these feelings, and I still do good things, help people, go to the supermarket to get groceries for the old lady living next door. I still go to church every so often, I still live like I used to when I thought I was heterosexual. I'm still me; I just happen to like a guy.

But I simply can't tell Jaimie about these feelings because he will judge me. He will think it's a sin. He will tell me exactly what I've been trying to forget; everything I was told over the years.

I roll off the bed and head towards the shower to try and wake up. I promised Emma to go with her to watch the soccer match from my old team. Jacob recently started playing and she wants to support him.

Emma and I haven't been on the best terms lately. She really dislikes Stan and by now even Julia, the lather since she likes Stan as a friend.

Just last week Emma accused me of replacing Finnley and her with Stan and Julia, since I have been hanging out with them a lot.

After my shower I decide on wearing my old shirt to support my team some more and go downstairs to get some breakfast, texting Stan, who asked me what I'm doing today.

I grab the mail that is on the floor in the hall and take it to the kitchen with me, looking through the small pile of cards, bills and an envelope addressed to me.

Throwing the rest of the mail on the counter, grabbing cornflakes and milk, I sit down and open the envelope, revealing a small paper note;

I recognize this handwriting like the back of my hand. How many times didn't he write endless notes on my homework to tell me what I did wrong or right? The letter "F" is just a formality that I don't need to know this note came from him; Finnley.

My heart drops before it picks up speed, a weird feeling washing over me. I'm frozen in my spot, staring towards the note with my mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

He's alive.

But why didn't he just come to me? Where the hell is he? Did he really run off on his own? That would mean he left me in the dark for about six weeks while I was worried sick about his wellbeing.

And what the hell is he asking me if I can keep a secret? First of all, how am I supposed to answer this question if I don't know where he is or how to contact him? Secondly, what secret should I keep from who?

On one hand I'm excited and relieved after this note, since he is obviously alive and capable of sending me a note. On the other hand, I'm confused as hell about the words on the note.

* * * * *

I decided on thinking about the meaning behind his question a little longer before talking about it with anyone. I could ask Julia to help me with this weird note, but what if he means I should keep this note a secret?

I want to know more, but I don't want to ruin his trust by running to someone right after he obviously tries to reach out to me.

Maybe patience is the key to getting the answers I've been looking for.

It feels wrong to not go to the police with this, since it's a clue about his disappearance. But on the other hand; what good would it do? It's not telling anything about his whereabouts or why he's gone.

Don't get me wrong, if the envelope would have a post stamp, I would have tried to figure out where it got stamped, but it doesn't have one. Which might mean Finnley threw it in the mailbox himself. Which would mean he's somewhere around here.

I'm nervous and guilt for hiding this from everyone is eating me alive. It took me a while to recover from the initial surprise and shock, causing me to be late to pick up Emma. Since Stan wanted to tag along he offered to drive and pick her up on the way. She wasn't too pleased about his presence and hasn't said a word during the ride.

She's been eyeing him in annoyance and I'm seated between them. Stan ignoring Emma's moody comments, watching the game with little interest for the actual games. All the more attention he's got for the sweaty boys.

"You sure you're bisexual? Not just gay?" I chuckle, speaking with a soft voice to prevent others from catching my words.

"Come on." Stan nudges me. "Sex with boys is so much better. But I do think some girls are hot."

"Yeah... right." I grin, resisting the urge to lean against him. Right now I'd rather want to be home with him, his arms around me, just relaxing and enjoying the freedom the privacy of his room offers us.

"Cris?" Emma nudges me. "I think I'm going home, okay?" She's already getting up.

"Why?" I pull her back down. "I'm here because you wanted to go."

"Yeah, but I didn't want your boyfriend to be here too." She hisses under her breath.

"He's not my..." He is, right? And Emma accepts gay people. Shouldn't I just spill this out? Shouldn't I just trust her and tell her why exactly I like to be around Stan? But then again, I'm not ready to come out just yet. Not even to the people I know would easily accept it.

There used to be a time in which Emma and I would tell each other everything. She confined in me by telling me about being in love with Finnley. And I'm already hiding the fact I got a note from him.

"He's not your..." She sends me a glare, telling me she's not buying it.

"Shut it." I groan, grabbing her wrist, pulling her off the bleachers and towards the back of the locker rooms for some privacy.

"Wooh, Cris." She pulls away from my hold. "What are you doing."

"He is my boyfriend, okay? We are dating." I hiss. "I like him, a lot. And I would appreciate it if you'd stop bitching about him."

"No way." She starts laughing loudly for a while, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. "You're kidding, right? I was kidding when I said he's your boyfriend. Are you gay, Cris?"

"I would say bisexual and I prefer it if you would just look at me as a person, not as someone with different sexual preferences."

She laughs loudly again, clutching her stomach, bending over. "You're such a hypocrite!" She manages to tell me in between laughter. "You always condemned them. Saying it was a sin, an abomination. And now you're playing for their team?"

"Shut up." I seethe in anger. "I can't help it, okay?"

"That's what I've been telling you for years!" She chuckles again. "So, you're the bottom, right? Stan is too masculine to be a bottom."

"Excuse me?" My eyes widen. "I'm not masculine?"

"Oh, you're a fuckboy alright." She nods, agreeing with her own statement. "He's just more of a man."

"He's not!"

"You're telling me Stan actually is the bottom?" She shakes her head.

"I'm not discussing this with you." I mutter, my face heating up in embarrassment. "Stop bitching about him, okay? It hurts me."

"Well, I still think you're a hypocrite and I don't like him, Cris. I don't trust him. All the things he's been telling us about Finn just don't add up."

"But he's my boyfriend, can you please accept him, for me?"

"I'm sorry." She looks serious, shaking her head. "I don't trust him and I don't want to be associated with him." She shrugs.

"Oh, great Emma." I groan. "Seriously, just admit you hate him because Finnley slept with him instead of you. He's probably the whole reason Finnley didn't want to date you anymore."

"Fuck you, Cris," She snaps in anger. "It's not about that, okay? Yeah! I hate to think about Finnley being gay, never interested in me. He probably fucking used me to pretend being straight. That pisses me off, yes. But Stan is shady and I don't trust him." She turned around and starts walking away, turning back around about five meters away from me. "I don't want to see you as long as you're gonna call me jealous and all. It hurts, okay? I was your friend first. Then Julia and Stan came, and suddenly I'm not good enough to hang out with anymore."

"Wait, Emma..." I call out. "You're not going to tell anyone about me and Stan, right?"

She shrugs. "Not my secret to keep. Just hope he'll accept the fact you're too ashamed to come out."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I won't tellanyone. Okay?" She snaps. "I couldn't care less."

She walks away and is soon replaced with Stan, who looks worried, looking for me. "What's going on?"

"She called me a fucking hypocrite, she refuses to act normal around you..."

"Why did she call you a hypocrite?" He cocks his head to the side a little, looking curious.

"I told her about us." I mumble. "I couldn't keep a secret for her, now could I? It hurts like hell to think Finnley kept all those secrets hidden. I don't want to be like that."

"You told her?" He seems pleasantly surprised. "So, you're starting to really accept these feelings?"

"Yeah..." I grin. "I think we can trust Emma. And honestly, I just want her to get off your back and treat you normal. I hoped she would accept us hanging out a lot when she knows why I like to be with you."

"You're such a cutie." He grins, stepping closer.

"Yeah, well. I'm just a sucker for your attention." I chuckle.

"Oh, quite a sucker you are." He wiggles his eyebrows, his hands sliding from my shoulders down my arms, grabbing my hands in his.

"Oh god." I laugh a little. "That's so cheesy." I take in a deep breath. "I learned from the best..."

"Is that so?" His voice husky, his eyes dark with lust. He closes the small gap between us, his arms sneaking around my waist while mine are on his chest. He kisses me gently. It's a slow and sweet kiss, turning me on a bit.

"Stan." I mutter, lips against his, before I push him backwards. "Not here, not in public."

"Well, let's go home then."

"Right." I nod. "Let's go home."