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At first, it began as sort of a joke.
Jack Dawkins was part of a highly respected religious family. Every Sunday and Wednesday, he attended his father’s mass just like the rest of the family, in fact that was how he’d met Oliver Twist. Oliver was the newly adopted teenage boy in the Brownlow household, and they were regular churchgoers. Oliver threw a fit about being forced to go every week for months until Mr. Brownlow finally gave in and said that he was allowed to simply stay home on those days.
But, of course, it was too late. He’d already taken a liking to the preacher’s son.
Oliver leaned his back against the pale yellow exterior bricks of the church, the back door to his right. Hardly anyone ever used this door, as you had to go past all the back offices to get there and even those were in disuse. Hell, no one had probably used this door in years except for Jack, where he sneaked out to meet Oliver in the cover of night.
But truthfully, it had simply started as a joke. They sat in the back of Oliver’s red beetle, legs tangled together and faces flushed pink from kissing. Oliver rested his head on Jack’s chest, doodling absentminded patterns onto his skin. When had he lost his shirt? When had Oliver lost his shirt? Jack asked himself.
“I always miss you when I have to go home.” He whispered, brushing his hands through Oliver’s dyed black hair. “I don’t even want to go to service.” He sighed.
Oliver shrugged, “So don’t go.” He looked up at his boyfriend as Jack rolled his eyes.
“I can’t just skip church, Oliver.”
“Fine, I’ll meet you after it.”
“It’ll be after your curfew then.”
“So?” Oliver chuckled, “C’mon, baby, no one will catch us. I’ll be by the door out back. I’ll even give you a ride home.”
Jack smiled, “Yeah, okay.” He said sarcastically.
However, true to his word, Oliver indeed showed up at the back door with his charming little smirk and and offer to go get ice cream at Baskin Robbins because “this is positively the most boring small town and the fact that I even have a Baskin Robbins to take you to is incredible”.
And thus began to bi-weekly ice cream trips, at about 8pm every Wednesday and Sunday.
The wintry Midwestern moon hung ominously in the sky as Oliver drummed his fingers on the bricks to the tune of a Metallica song he had stuck in his head. He heard a faint buzz of commotion inside the church and he froze, stepping into the shadow in case anyone aside from Jack came out those doors.
A minute or so passed, and Oliver could hear the sound of cars pulling out of the parking lot. Mass was definitely over. He whispered to himself, “Where is the fuck is--”
And just like that, the creaky door swung open and Mr. Jack Dawkins himself stepped out. His black dress pants accompanied his blue button down, pale in the moonlight. Dark brown hair shimmied a little in the wind, as he looked around, searching for Oliver.
Oliver stepped out of the shadows, tucking an unlit cigarette behind his ear, with a grin. “You should really get new pants, sweetheart, those are getting a little tight on you.” They really weren’t, but Oliver loved to tease Jack.
Oliver’s index fingers hooked into Jack’s belt loops and pulled him in close, sliding his hands into his boyfriend’s back pocket and placing a chaste kiss to his jaw, which prompted Jack to nervously say, “Keep touching me like that, they’re gonna get a lot tighter.”
Oliver laughed and pulled away, pecking him on the lips, “C’mon.” He took his hand and led him around to the front of the church, pausing before they rounded the corner to plain view, “Did everyone else leave?”
Jack peered around the corner and nodded, “Yeah, we’re safe.”
They made a break for it-- no one wanted to be seen with Oliver Twist, who had more misdemeanors than the rest of the town put together, especially not Reverend Dawkin’s son-- and climbed into the car as quickly as they could, chuckling all while they did so, because this whole ‘hiding from the rest of the town’ thing was getting a little old.
Oliver jammed the key into the ignition, and immediately Led Zeppelin’s Houses Of The Holy began to crackle through the speakers. He turned it down, and as he backed out of the parking space, said, “Y’know, I was watching Footloose the other day, and have you ever considered how alike we are to Ariel and Ren?”
Jack crinkled his nose, “That’d make me Ariel.”
Oliver grinned, “Nah, you’re not pretty enough to be her. Nice try though.” He sped out of the parking lot, five miles per hour over the speed limit, in classic Oliver fashion.
“Dick.” Jack smiled.
The fluorescent lighting of the empty Baskin Robbins was a familiar sight. Oliver always browsed the various flavors, though he almost always got the cookies and cream one. “I’m just making sure there’s nothing new.” He defended himself.
Jack always got the butter pecan, however. And the cashier, Maria-- who was one of the few people in the town that knew of the boys’ relationship and vowed to keep it secret-- got it for him on sight.
Maria rang him up for the butter pecan, and while Jack pulled out his wallet he looked to his left, where Oliver was still browsing the flavors. “Hurry up.” He said impatiently.
Oliver, without looking up from the ice cream, said, “Cool your jets, princess, I’m still deciding.”
Of course, he ended up getting the cookies and cream, and they were sitting in their usual booth, across from each other with Oliver’s legs kicked up underneath the table on Jack’s side. One arm was casually thrown over the back to the booth and Oliver silently ate his waffle cone, looking out the window.
It was Jack who broke the silence when he said, “I love you, you know that?” The words were rushed and messy, but he said them all the same.
Oliver’s eyes went wide and found Jack’s. This had never been said between them before, and certainly caught Oliver-- Oliver “I’m probably aromantic because nobody here interests me but oh shit at some point Jack just did something like tripped over his shoelace or kissed my nose and I was done for and sometimes I don’t even wanna have sex with him because he seems so pure and amazing and there was a picture on Tumblr about a cinnamon roll and it said how the cinnamon roll was ‘too good, too pure for this world’ and I thought of Jack fucking Dawkins and yeah that’s the story of how I fell in love with him and sometimes I think about putting flowers in his locker but that’s gay as hell and yeah I know that we’re gay but I gotta be cool and casual but fuck cool and casual because he just said he loved me” Twist-- off guard. He just stared at Jack, not knowing how to respond.
Jack’s heart stopped beating. Oh no, he thought, he doesn’t love me back. “You-- you don’t have to say it back, I mean, I just wanted you… uh, to know that I…” his voice trailed off, “love… you… kind of…”
Oliver stared blankly at Jack, unmoving, for a long moment before he sprung into action, placing one knee on the linoleum tabletop and leaning over it, grabbing Jack by the collar of his dress shirt and kissing him hard enough to give them toothaches. He swiped his pierced tongue along Jack’s bottom lip, a smile tugging at him while he kissed that preacher’s son for all he was worth.
“Get off the table!” Maria shouted from the back, which made both boys dissolve into laughter.
“Hey, Maria!” Oliver called, then looked Jack dead in the eyes. “Jack said he loves me!”
There was still sternness in Maria’s voice when she yelled back, “Good for you, now get the hell off the table!”
Oliver smiled wide, then said to Jack, “I love you. Of course I want to say it back.”
This made the other boy break into a smile so genuine his blue eyes crinkled at the edges and he pulled Oliver down to him for another kiss.
He then climbed out of the booth and shouted to Maria while taking Oliver’s hand, “See you later, Maria, I’m gonna go screw the living daylights out of my boyfriend!”
The two boys laughed as they hurried out the door, knowing that no one could tear them apart, not even anyone who saw when Jack pulled Oliver in for a long kiss in the middle of the parking lot, right in front of anyone who was at the shopping center. Because pure love like that didn’t deserve to be hidden anymore.