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If Finding Love Was Easy

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love-triangle
sensitive
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highschool
betrayal
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Blurb

"What did I tell you about what's mine?" His breath was hot against my face, the smell of his sweat trailing after each word of his sensuous question.

His hand gripped me in his hand, enunciating each breath with a squeeze that cringed out a sigh of both passion and pain.

"What did I tell you about leaving the evildoing to the devil?"

When at last I braved a look at his face, I knew there was no other option but to give him the answer he needed.

An answer that could as easily finish me off as his hands...

After what seemed like endless months recuperating from his mental breakdown, Alec Kapet returns for the thrilling normalcy of a fresh start.

But all he gets is the chance to redeem himself from the actions that had led to his abrupt exit from his old prep school.

As he finds out that what happens behind closed locker rooms, old pavilions and empty classrooms, does not stay hidden at Saint-Ambrose.

And those lies, secrets and betrayals cannot stay underground for too long lest it rots everyone from the feet up.

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REACQUAINTED.
“How are you feeling?” Dad asked with an appraising eye. “You sure you’re up for this?” I finished knotting the blue striped tie bearing my school's badge, pasted on a smile, and lied through my teeth, “Most definitely.” Though we’d been over this, I patiently said, “Doctor Boudreau told me that settling back into a normal routine might be good for someone like me.” Well, at least two out of my four shrinks had. The other two insisted that I was still unstable. A loaded gun. Trouble with the possibility of rubble. “I just need to get back to school, around all my friends.” Even if I had not seen them in two years or I was down to just the probable one. Whenever I quoted my shrinks to him, Dad relaxed somewhat, as if it was proof that I’d actually listened to them. I could remember a lot of what the doctors said- because they’d made me forget so much of my life before the clinic. With his hands clasped behind his back, Dad began strolling around my room, his gaze flickering over my belongings- a stern faced, black Sherlock Holmes sniffing for any secrets he didn’t yet know. He’d find nothing; I’d already buried my contraband in my suitcase. “Did you have an episode last night?” Had he heard me shoot upright with a cry? “No.” “When you were catching up with your friends, did you confide to anyone where you really were?” he placed a plural to friends like I had much of one since I left the country. Yes Dad and I had told everyone that I’d gone for a two year music program in the US. After all it was never too early to start polishing the skills of your musical prodigy of a son. In reality, I’d been admitted into Ostrava Centre in New York, a behavioral clinic for kids. A subsidiary of a discreet psychiatry. “I haven’t told anyone about it,” I informed him truthfully, itching at the medical tape hidden in cuffs of my shirt. Why would I expose myself like that when there was already too much bad press about me coming back to Saint Ambrose? “Good. It’s our business only.” He paused before my rooms stationary occupant, the Kuhn Bosendorfer piano that had belonged to Grandpa, tilting his head down at the sheet of music. Instead of a good old fashioned Bach or Mozart, I'd taken to Johann Pachelbel's dirges. I knew he’d considered those music sheets, hearing them for the past month I’ve been back must've put back his fears but he had to see my optimism for a sign. “Have you taken your medications this morning?” “Like I always do, Dad.” Though I couldn’t say my bitter little pills had done much for my episodes, they did stave off the depression and backlashes a groggy feeling whenever I stood too much. “I left the prescription papers on the dining table last-" “I've got it in my book bag. I'll give it to the school doctor as soon as I check in.” I finished for him, knowing the direction he was going. I went to sit at the edge of my bed, pulling the new Oxfords Dad had let me throw a good quid getting. I was returning to my ostentatious private boarding school after two years of psychiatric therapy. I needed a fresh start to avoid any triggers waiting for me. That had meant new uniforms- cause I’ve obviously outgrown the last- shoes and everything that would make me feel good about myself. My short-term goal was simple: Don’t get exiled back to Ostrava. My long-term goal was a bit more challenging: Survive the rest of secondary school so I could escape to university. Possibly with an ocean between me and the UK. “And you and Gideon are still friends?” Dad almost sounded disbelieving, as if he didn’t understand why he would still be hanging out with me after my two-year absence. “He’ll be here soon; his Mom’s driving us to campus.” I said in an insistent tone. Now he’d gotten me nervous in seeing my oldest and only friend at Ambrose. “I like Gideon. He’s such a good friend.” At last, Dad concluded this morning’s interrogation. “I’m glad you’re back, son. It’s been so quiet around here without you.” Quiet? In the end, I said nothing about the clinic. Just two years and I’m gone. My mantra resurfaced with some comfort. “Dad I’m going to be late. They should be driving up by now.” I muttered slipping on the ’23 Cartier watch that Dad had given me as a back to school gift. A second heirloom of Grandpa. “Oh right.” He gave a nervous but happy smile. But he shadowed me down the staircase, our steps echoing in unison. At the door, he pulled me into another one of his awkward hugs and gave me a kiss on my forehead, as if I were a little boy. “Your cologne smells nice." “Thanks.” I forced another smile, then walked outside. The foggy air was so still—as if the earth had exhaled but forgotten to inhale once more. I descended the front steps with my large suitcases, then turned to gaze at the imposing home I’d missed so much. The house was just as I remembered it; a total of five rooms with a drawing room, kitchen, and a basement, its colors- wood siding of the dark chocolate cream, shutters of the darkest forest green- had remained unchanged since it'd been owned by a Kapet in the early 1900s. It was cozy yet elegant from another time. My father's childhood home; he, Uncle Charles and Aunt Marion had been born here and so had I. My whimsical smile deepened as a familiar jeep sped down the driveway of our house. “Morning, Mrs. Holden.” I greeted enthusiastically as the trunk of the large vehicle swung open. Meredith, Gideon's mom, was in a crisp well tailored suit, her dark blonde hair had been given a professional cut. But she beamed heartily at me. “Alec, sweetheart. How are you?” Gideon answered with a frown as he accessed me, like seeing me in Ambrose uniform was a thing of mystery. “You look shitfaced.” “I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” I replied, darting a glance over my shoulder as he climbed down to help me fit my bags in with his. Dad was chatting with Meredith and I distantly heard “he could get a scholarship,” alongside “I can't wait to hear him play again.” Gideon had three large suitcases stashed in the trunk which was a lot of packing compared to my one large and one medium size luggage. “Gideon, did you pack the entire Harrods for a single term?” I joked and I heard a snort from him but saw the curling smile as he pulled the trunk closed. “Mom, we'll hit traffic if we don't leave now. Hey Mr. Kapet.” Gideon remarked, giving my Dad a high five, going in the backseat with me. We were on the road the next minute, Dad promising to call my dorm superintendent every weekend which I took with a long drawn out sigh. Gideon was on his phone, typing away his next four months of technology deprivation. “Ian got this wicked Porsche for his birthday in June but he crashed it barely three months after.” I screwed my face. “Is he okay?” Ian, the pretentious reckless dolt in our year used to be the bane of Gideon's school life. Now it seemed they'd buried the hatchet with each other. Gideon nodded, his face still on the phone screen. “He's good, can't say much about the car though. He says he's going to ask his dad for a Maserati next.” And he leaned in so Meredith couldn't listen to what he would say. “He let me take the Porsche out with Christine and let me tell you, it helps for an epic shag.” What? My eyes widened at the meaning behind that disclosure. Does that mean… “Hang on, are you saying you've…” I held his gaze with deep curiosity and bafflement. A knowing smile stretched across his face as he quirked his eyebrows. “It was as unexpected as Ian said it would be.” “What? Gideon we're sixteen. How the hell did Christine feel about it?” Like age had ever been a factor to stop hormonal adolescents from having s*x. He shrugged, “We don't talk much. And stop looking at me like I’m some wild predator.” “You might as well be. So you had her put out on your first date and you stopped talking to her?” “Hey it was in the summer. No one goes back to school with summer flings.” Again with the mindless shrug. I frowned. Wow how my sensitive happy-go-lucky best friend has changed in two years? Guess it wasn't just his height and build that had made a drafted shoot since that time. It unnerved me that I might not know Gideon as much as I used to. “Don't worry you'll get yours. I mean I’ve been getting texts and posts about you coming back. There are a lot mad theories of where you went.” I didn't want to bother thinking how that correlated with his behavior towards Christine, a girl we were friends and frequently hung out with. I hiked my shoulders and said imperatively to my “playboy” best friend. “They shouldn't be guessing their lives away, everyone knows where I went.” “Music program, right?” he couldn't overstate his skepticism any less. Figured I'd have to stretch the music s********e more. I looked away to the passing scenery out the window, giving him only “Mmhmm.” I didn’t bother drag out a conversation and let him return to his phone. My thoughts drifting to all the scenarios I expected from being back at Ambrose. It was a gesture overly discouraged by my doctors. Delving back to the past and dwelling on the negative was a landslide to a relapse. After over an hour on the road, Meredith pulled up to a lineup of cars moving through the fearful familiar gates of Saint-Ambrose Prep – SAP preferably used by the students. And as expected from SAP, branded by the number of expensive vehicles found on the campus, was the most prestigious school in the entire county, possibly in the entire country. The campus was a whole ten miles away from the city, secluded with only a military school as our closest neighbors, but it might as well have been a world away. The school was chock-full of carefully curated pedigree- a mix of old blue bloods and nouveau riche, foreign debutantes, sons and daughters of politicians and oil tycoons, and even the offsprings of royalties who wanted a blend of strictly conservative and expensive education for their heirs. I'd only gotten into this exclusive society by means of the dying reputation of my Grandpa and the hopes that I would follow in his footsteps. Though now the entire school had a different view of that dream. What with the incident that had ensured my two year absence. The security detail handed Meredith a gate pass and waved us towards the parking lot filling with mogul parents and pretentious children. Resumption usually covered the expanse of the first weekend of September to make sure all students had time to return from their summer vacation abroad. My chest thudded with apprehension as Meredith eased the car into parking. Gideon tucked his phone into his pocket and got out of the car. Wish I had his enthusiasm. “Alec, come on.” I threw back my head and took deep breaths through my nostrils and out my mouth. Breathing techniques Dr. Boudreau had taught me. I got out of the car and met Me with sympathetic expression. I looked away to find Gideon with two other students with matching indigo lined fourth year blazers. Their faces seemed familiar and their names crossed through my mind but I disregarded the recognition and set out to get over the resumption checkpoints. The sooner I got to the dorms the faster I'd escape prying eyes and intensive interrogation from students looking for the next gossip hit. But unfortunately Gideon didn't want that as he pulled me to a stop as I was about to roll my luggage into the auditorium for checking. “Alec you remember Robbie and Judi?” he introduced pleasantly. Their eyes came onto me like searchlights, scouring my appearance with that humiliating suspicion and interest. They surely recognized me. I nodded and drew on my best smile. They have to see that I’m okay to believe that I am not some suicidal liar. “Alec, wherever did you get your haircut? It's radical.” Robbie, redhead and lanky said referring to my shaven head already sprouting spiky tufts of hair. I really must look like a psych escapee. “Isn't radical another word for unhinged?” Judi Theron quipped, her glossed lips tilted up into a smirk. I fought the urge not to let the smile drop from my face but not the fact that I needed to get out of there. “It was nice seeing you again, Judi, Robbie.” I hefted my book bag on my shoulder and dragged my suitcases past them, following a group of students towards the auditorium. The building was large enough to be nearly half the space of a stadium, stands with the five dorm flags and house masters seated at desks to process the resuming students like we were prisoners. We might as well be. Suitcases were opened and searched for prohibited items or edible contraband, unauthorized casual wears or excessive number of accessories. Phones were checked in to be collected only for weekends. But it didn't stop some seniors from sneaking theirs in. Yes Ambrose was a world of fancy uniforms and expensive education but they were as brutally conservative as any seminary school. “Mr. Kapet, how glad to have you back with us.” The familiar bland enthusiasm from the dark skinned man with a bulbous face, reached me as it came to my turn. I nodded, fixing my eyes forward and not to the surrounding students who perked up at my name and whispered to each other. My two suitcases were searched, my boarding items checked off the teacher's clipboard then tagged and taken away by a porter who would deliver it straight to my dorm room. “Everything's in order. If you have any medications to declare, you'll stop by the bay stand.” Mr. Rufus, his name tag read, waved to his left. “I was… uh wondering if I was given a different dorm. I’m not exactly a new nor a resuming student.” Dorms were given to a new student in their first year and were never changed till they graduated. Mr. Rufus shook his head and stated. “Unless there was special request from your parents before today, there were no changes made.” My hopes weren't exactly dashed. But I had faced the worst of the discriminating and aggressive attacks from my own dorm mates. I sighed and started to heard for the stand where the school doctors and nurses were stationed, making the mandatory check ups for students with whatever medical condition they lived with. There weren't many students there. So it was obvious who they were muttering and giggling about. “What is he doing here? Going to get checked up for mental homosexuality?” “Didn't think the rumor of his return was true.” “Yeah, for once I wanted it to be lies. No one wants to school with an attention-crazy faggot.” “Can you imagine if his roommate turns out to be him?” “It'd have been easier if he'd succeeded in killing himself.” My face heated with something embarrassment and shame. My head was whirring back to the memories of this déjà vu replaying itself. So I didn’t go to the medic stand and simply got out of the auditorium hall. My heart racing and breathing erratic as I barged into the boys bathroom. I fell to my knees and threw up my unsettled guts. The dry heaving ensued and it took another minute to clear the blurry daze over my eyes. It was in the silence after my puking that I heard the muffled groaning and gasping moans coming from the next stalls. From my position on the floor, I saw discarded trousers pooling around ankles of a pair of tanned athletic legs. “Oh, Kylian. Kylian! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop! I’m coming!” the gasping moans became more audible alongside the slapping of skin against skin. I'd never watched porn or made myself present in the house those times my cousin Duke made out with his girlfriend. It was all too uncomfortable for me, which was why I had been shocked by Gideon's new active s****l experience and why I was mortified witnessing this. Then suddenly it stopped and replaced by a giggling sound, shuffling of bodies redressing. The metal of belt buckle clanging in the enamel tiled walls of the stall. “I'll see you later.” A feminine voice called in between kisses. Heels trotted out and exited the bathroom. Feeling that I was finally alone, I rose to my feet and flushed the toilet before leaving the store. But then I froze as I saw the tall boy standing at the sinks in front of the mirror. He glanced up as he washed his face with water, the mirror reflecting my face. An older boy with the darkest eyes I had ever seen. Then an awful smile spread across his face. Heat rushed through my body, and it felt suddenly hot, like I should take off my jacket and loosen my tie. Kylian began fixing the buttons on his white shirt and pulling his fifth year magenta striped tie as he turned around and went to the stall he’d just f****d a student with long, confident strides. His eyes were heavy-lidded and slightly uplifted at the end. "What's your name?" I teetered on my feet and ground my jaw shut, remaining speechless either from fear of puking my guts over his uniform or something else I couldn't remember. He asked again, louder and enunciated, "What's your name?" My silence was excusable the first time; perhaps I had not heard him. Now it was not. "Alençon." Why had I given him my full name… so formal? It was the name my father had given me, hopefully but injudiciously, at my birth, and for the first time it tasted of bitterness on my tongue. It had a consequential meaning and had been the city where I had been conceived. So my parents were sentimental to give me the name. I waited for him to make a joke out of it, some witty jape about my foreign yet funny name or place the familiarity of it to the famous gossip on campus. He did not. Perhaps, I thought, he's still coming off from his s****l high to. He took the blazer that was lying over the stall door and shrugged into it, fixed the two center buttons, and then leaned forward. “You know better than to say anything to anyone, right Alençon?” And I didn't miss his perfect French pronouncement of my name. My head went up and down in a nod and he reciprocated the gesture rather curtly. “Good. Welcome to Ambrose.” And he left. ~?~ I spent the next few hours in my dorm room in Tudor Hall, unpacking into one of the three mahogany wardrobes in the room. My scheduled roommates hadn't yet arrived so I took the liberty of choosing the bed at the extreme right, close to the windows that overlooked the chapel. So that each night I’d have the company of saints on the stained glass windows of the building. The entire dormitory was agog in noisy liveliness of resuming students. Some crowded in their friend's rooms to share summer vacation stories. I hadn't seen Gideon since the auditorium and I guessed he had gone in search of Ian after his check-ins. As I laid face up on my bed, the pale blue painted ceilings swirling like would-be clouds, I heard a knock on the door. I turned my head and saw the third year pulling his suitcases into the room. He was dark haired with comic wide tawny brown eyes that plucked a familiar cord. “Are you in this room?” he asked, leaving his stuff at the foot of the middle bed. I nodded. “Yes and you're… my roommate?” it wasn't uncommon to have junior roommates. In fact it was school policy to room different years together except for the sixth years who had their classmates as roommates. “Nassif Byrd.” I blinked at the name. I'd been in the same class with a Byrd but a girl… his sister, maybe? “Nice to meet you.” I turned my head back to the ceilings. “Are you new here?” I shook my head. “Just returning. I’m Alec, fourth year.” I heard his low gasp and understood his realization of rooming with me. Unless there were other Alecs in school with an abominable reputation. The sun was descending in the horizon and checking my watch, I knew dinner was nearing. Taking my toiletries, I left the room to get a shower before the bell rang for dinner. Each floor of the dormitory had five communal bathrooms; a convenience for the number of students in Tudor Hall. I took the one in my hallway, three rooms away from mine. A couple stalls were occupied, the myriad fragrance of bath soaps and steam clouded above the stalls. I moved to an empty one at the end and got right to it. As I lathered and scrubbed, I listened in on shared jokes from the others and chuckling quietly. I heard names belonging to my old- and I suppose current- classmates. I wanted to be part of the jolly repertoire, to reintegrate myself into their group and friendship. But I had missed out on two years of bonding plus my past defined as a distinct wedge in reintegrating or making quick friends. And as if like clockwork, they started. “Did you hear that Alec Kapet is back?” I stiffened at the mention of my name. “Who?” “You know that kid that felt up Lucas Parkway in our second year. Derek, you remember him, always the top of English and History in our entire year?” “Oh yeah,” Derek placed my name finally. “I thought he gave Lucas a blowjob and then tried to kill himself because no one believed him when he said Lucas molested him.” The other guy snorted in the same disbelief I had gotten those years ago. “Like anyone would believe that. Lucas is the star midfielder for Stuart and has shagged three of the hottest girls in the school.” “That doesn't mean s**t, Abram. It was just his word against that Alec kid.” The hot shower had washed off the soap suds on my body and I was beginning to feel pruny but I couldn't leave just yet. This Derek seemed skeptical about my accusation and it filled me with a rush of fresh content that someone questioned what had happened when even my father hadn't. “So you're saying you believe that bullshit story that Lucas assaulted him?” “Look I don't know. I honestly don't give a s**t about that whole mess, I just want to concentrate on being first bench in the soccer team this year.” And the subject reverted to soccer and their individual training stats gathered through the summer.

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