Work Text:
"This is what I mean by closet," Janza said, his hand flicking out again touching Jerry's cheek, but lingering this time for the fraction of a second in faint caress. "That you're hiding in there"
"Hiding what? Hiding from who?"
"From everybody, From yourself, even. Hiding that deep dark secret."
"What secret?" Confused now.
"That you're a fairy. A queer. Living in the closet, hiding away."
A sense of failure filled Jerry's gut.
You're caught.
I'm not he's just messing with me.
You're going to be killed at fourteen, a brother will find your dead body, beaten and bruised, and you’ll cause your father even more grief that he’ll have to sleep away,
The worse thing was to be called queer and the only thing worse than being called queer is being queer; which Jerry was beginning to suspect he might be, even by a little. He finds girls wonderful, beautiful with their long, well-maintained hair that splashed their shoulders like a waterfall. He wonders if a girl will ever like him. Yet, at the same time girls didn’t have a noticeable Adam’s apple or the little V thing on their abdomens that Jerry found oddly captivating and made him feel nauseous with interest.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Hey, you’re blushing,” Janza quipped , smiling with content as he found a vulnerable spot. “The fairy’s blushing…” Jerry felt his brain beg of him to back away and run quickly, anywhere, no one was going to safe him, but his knees wouldn’t push away from the pathway that led from the football field to the gym. His gut swirled with anxiety as if Van Gogh was painting the Starry Night on his abdomen.
“You’re polluting Trinity. You won’t sell chocolates like everybody else and now we find out you’re a fairy.” Janza shook his head in mock, exaggerated adirmation. “You’re really something, know that? Trinity has tests and ways of weeding the homos out but you were smart enough to get by, weren’t you? You must be creaming all over- wow, four hundred ripe young bodies to rub against….”
“I’m not a fairy,” Jerry muttered firmly, “If I was I wouldn’t jack it off to you or any of your buddies.”
“Kiss me,” Janza said, puckering his lips grotesquely, making a point to lean forward as Jerry finally found himself pulling away. Emile leaned to far and ended up clanking teeth to teeth with Jerry as he fell on top of him. Vomit forced its way out of Jerry’s lips for a mixture of reasons, feeling nauseated since the bus ride to school and the shame from feeling soiled by Janza, for not fighting back. Emile pulled away as lunch and stomach acid painted his lips. Waiting for a rain of fists, Renault burrowed his head in his arms, shrinking beneath Janza, muttering a Hail Mary and a Hail Holy Queen; asking the Blessed Virgin to pray for him.
God had answered his prayer as Janza only called him a faggot before kicking Jerry’s head. The New Eve must’ve also came to comfort Renault as it felt that she covered his eyes with a black veil.