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The hands on the clock twist to exactly nine when Demetrius enters the hall. One. Two. Three.
His steps fall precisely between a stroll and a stride—never so gauche as a jog. When they come to a pause, he stops, sits, and stares resolutely ahead. His classmates' whispers chime around him. He doesn't join them. He dismisses their verbosity and stakes no claim on their lexicon. That's why, when a peer nudges him excitedly, his limbs reach zero-kelvin. He visibly solidifies, staring down at the still (and clammy) hands in his lap.
He doesn't understand why.
...and then he does.
But his eyes harbor no reaction, and the boy flinches, a nervous smile twitching on his face. Demetrius only turns away and rises, walking towards the podium, mahogany cloak trailing behind him.
"First Prize for Academic Excellence to Demetrius Desmond!"
Others follow, they always do.
------
Damian stands outside, fidgeting nervously, happiness leaking out of him rather injudiciously. His face is bright with an emotion unknown to Demetrius.
Demetrius doesn't understand what he wants.
Demetrius doesn't have what he wants, and he has somewhere to be, far away from the hope in this boy. He swiftly turns on his heel and heads to the arts and crafts room.
------
It's at the end of the day when Demetrius comes to his father's study.
Donovan barely raises an eyebrow when he walks in, hand outstretched instead.
Demetrius doesn't sigh. Such an action would be pointless, and Demetrius doesn't ascribe to obsolete gestures. Instead, he drops an object into Donovan's hand, conscious of the sudden cooling of his palm, away from warm metal.
Donovan’s eyes drift downwards. His fingers remain perfectly flat, refusing to close around the tiny, handmade rainbow badge.
"What is this?" Donovan asks. His voice is a flatline.
Demetrius sighs then, and plunks a Stella Star into Donovan's waiting hand.
Donovan nods once, his eyes locking onto the gold star. He picks it up, brushing the rainbow trinket aside. It slides off the edge of the polished desk, dropping onto the thick carpet below, forgotten.
Demetrius doesn't know how he should have expected anything different.
------
He walks out, scooping up the rainbow badge as he exits and placing it inside his pocket.
He has it now, so why does he still feel so cold?
He's not sure how far he's gone. He passed the door, passed the study, and left the building. But even though he is walking, he isn't moving. Not really.
He doesn't realize how far his feet have carried him until someone coughs, forcing him to categorise the amber walls and gilded windows of Eden back into his periphery. Behind him is the classmate from earlier.
"Demetrius?" The boy's face scrunches up and his arm extends instinctively as if to support him.
Demetrius lets out a shaky breath, and banishes his father's study from his mind. He then turns to the boy.
"Anton, I presume?"
Anton's eyes widen comically, and he jerks backwards. Demetrius registers this dimly, until the sudden sound of Anton's laughter pulls him violently back into the moment.
Demetrius freezes again, but then Anton smiles, and holds out his hand.
Demetrius takes it.
------
Years later to that day, the cobblestones of Eden have given way to green grass and the air is heady with a mix of perfume and sweat. Donovan stands out like a thorn amongst roses in the dense throng of people.
Demetrius represses the urge to snort as he listens to this description, catching a wink as he shifts to see this for himself. It is true; his father is in no way at ease in this gathering. He meets his father's gaze and deliberately turns away. Donovan's eyes narrow and Demetrius doesn't smile. He only moves closer.
He does, however, raise Anton's hand higher, aware of how the light catches the rainbow badge clasped between their joined fingers.
"I'm gay," the badge proudly declares.
From the crowd, he can barely make out a pink head of hair, bobbing and weaving to the music. Beside her, Damian is laughing, entirely unbothered by the heavy fabric of the dress he chose to wear, looking adoringly out of the corner of his eye.
Then, his eyes drift. He suddenly blanches, seeing a familiar head of dark curls beside a disconcerting flash of red... was that his mother? With Yor Forger? Well, it seems like the divorce had been treating her well.
"You alright?" Anton whispers, his eyebrows furrowing in a concerned expression as he searches Demetrius's face.
Demetrius steps closer to Anton and kisses him on the cheek. "Yes."
Anton grins. "Happy anniversary, babe."
Demetrius doesn't respond, but squeezes his hand tighter, raising it even higher, though the iridescent rainbow banner behind him sends the message well enough. Donovan's eyes are no doubt slits at this point. "Bearing a remarkable resemblance to a lizard," Anton murmurs in his ear.
But Demetrius cannot bring himself to care. He turns away, Donovan forgotten.
Okay, perhaps he is smiling.