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Most people associate their birthdays with happy things, like presents and parties, but when I think of mine, all I can see is the paramedic placing my father's head next to the rest of his body. My mother remarried just a year later. Mr. William is nice, but he has a son my age, and that guy hates my guts.
For a quick explanation: my name is Heitor Takahashi Lacerda. I lost my dad, my left leg, my hearing, and my dignity in a car accident on my tenth birthday.
My mother, Helena Lacerda de Paula, married my stepfather shortly after, but I’ve already gotten over that. William Lancaster is nice; he has a thick accent and a hyperfixation on trains. The real issue is his son, Alexsander Lancaster. That kid has a lot of problems, and one of them is with me.
Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s homophobia, racism, xenophobia, ableism, transphobia, or even simple jealousy. The point isn’t the reason, but rather the fact that, because of one of those options, Alexsander decided to make my life a living hell.
Today, Mom and William are celebrating five years of marriage. They’re going on a couples-only cruise, which means I’ll be left alone with Alex. I’m going to die tonight.
—“Daniela! Where the hell is my charger?!”
Alex insists on calling me Daniela, even though that isn't even my deadname. He's dumb as fuck.
—“I don’t know. Now leave me alone.”
Sometimes, I think about just ripping out my hearing aid and being permanently deaf, but that would hurt way too much, so I just settle for recognizing my own miserable existence.
—“Ugh, you don't know shit! That's why you have to sleep with the teacher to get good grades!”
Alex also likes to insult me over hypothetical scenarios that only exist inside his own head.
Fortunately, classes start back up tomorrow. I go to a full-time school, so I end up spending most of my days out of the house. I love not having to see Alexsander's dirty, fat face.
The day started off bad. Due to my hearing loss, I need someone to wake me up. Alex loves doing this by pushing me off the fucking bed. After almost getting a concussion—again—I go take a shower to get ready for school. Once again, Alex flips the circuit breaker, and I’m forced to finish my shower in freezing cold water.
As they say, nothing is so bad that it can’t get worse. The bus was nearly twenty minutes late, and I only managed to arrive at school during second period, missing the orientation talk.
With the gloomiest face possible, I leaned against a corner and waited for some extrovert to take pity on me. But since the universe hates me, I just stood there looking like an idiot until Felipe found me.
Felipe is a Brazilian who’s been studying with me since first grade. He became obsessed with my leg prosthesis, and we ended up becoming great friends. He also has green hair with pink roots, like a dragon fruit, more piercings than grades, and a brother who is hot as fuck.
—“Heitor! I thought you weren't coming anymore!” —he shouted right into my ear as soon as he arrived. But he's my only friend in this entire school, so I’ll let it slide.
—“Hey, Felipe. Did you listen to the talk?”
I already knew the answer, but it didn't hurt to ask.
—“Pff… Of course not. There was a senior who wanted to get intimate with me, and I’m certainly not stupid enough to refuse.”
—“I thought you were dating that Scottish girl?”
—“Nah… She wasn't the one for me…”
—“…”
—“….”
—“Did you cheat on her?”
—“No…”
Lying, shameless bastard.
—“Anyway… Do you have plans after class? My brother bought a new console.”
My focus was immediately captured the moment I heard about Felipe’s brother. Fernando was simply perfect: tall, handsome, strong, smart, nice, and… did I mention handsome?
—“Actually, I don’t have any plans.” —A lie. I had physical therapy scheduled, but it’s for a greater good!
At that moment, the bell rang—not the class bell, but the one signaling that we needed to find a senior to set up this year’s class schedule.
After 45 long minutes, my schedule as a future astrophysicist was ready.
Monday
* 07:30 - 08:00: Registration & Form Time
* 08:00 - 10:00: Mathematics
* 10:00 - 10:20: Break
* 10:20 - 11:20: Chemistry
* 11:20 - 12:20: Physics
* 12:20 - 13:20: Lunch
* 13:20 - 14:20: Guided Study (Physics)
* 14:20 - 15:30: Physical Education
Tuesday
* 07:30 - 08:00: Registration & Form Time
* 08:00 - 09:00: Chemistry
* 09:00 - 10:00: Physics
* 10:00 - 10:20: Break
* 10:20 - 11:20: Literature
* 11:20 - 12:20: Guided Study (Advanced Algebra)
* 12:20 - 13:20: Lunch
* 13:20 - 14:20: Literature
* 14:20 - 15:30: Citizenship / EPQ
Wednesday
* 07:30 - 08:00: Registration & Form Time
* 08:00 - 09:00: Grammar
* 09:00 - 10:00: Biology
* 10:00 - 10:20: Break
* 10:20 - 11:20: Mathematics
* 11:20 - 12:20: Advanced Mathematics
* 12:20 - 13:20: Lunch
* 13:20 - 14:20: Philosophy
* 14:20 - 15:30: General Assembly
Thursday
* 07:30 - 08:00: Registration & Form Time
* 08:00 - 09:00: Sociology
* 09:00 - 10:00: Guided Study (Philosophy)
* 10:00 - 10:20: Break
* 10:20 - 11:20: Biology
* 11:20 - 12:20: World History
* 12:20 - 13:20: Lunch
* 13:20 - 14:20: English History
* 14:20 - 15:30: Advanced Physics
Friday
* 07:30 - 08:00: Registration & Form Time
* 08:00 - 09:00: Geography
* 09:00 - 10:00: Physics
* 10:00 - 10:20: Break
* 10:20 - 11:20: Mathematics
* 11:20 - 12:20: Guided Study (Mathematics)
* 12:20 - 13:20: Lunch
* 13:20 - 14:20: Grammar
* 14:20 - 15:30: Debate Club
Felipe called me crazy; I call myself focused. His schedule is literally made up of mandatory subjects, P.E., and sports clubs.
Since it was the first day of school, the students were left to do as they pleased. Some were helping freshmen and exchange students find their way around, others were catching up on their studies, and others were just chatting.
I honestly wanted to go to the library, but Felipe insisted on introducing me to his friends, and my goodness, what friends! Avery, Derek, and Ethan, the three most gorgeous British guys I had ever seen.
Avery was on the shorter side, only a little taller than me—and I’m 5'7" (1.70 m). He had dull black hair and sky-blue eyes that seemed to read my very soul.
Derek was the stereotype of an American: blonde, tall, light brown eyes, sports team outfit, and pecs bigger than most women's breasts.
Ethan reminded me of Fernando, just less handsome. Brown hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, an easy smile, and an older-brother vibe.
They were kind, but I realized Ethan had lied and wasn't British at all. I know a gajo when I see one. That guy was Portuguese, and from Porto, no less.
Avery also slipped up on his accent occasionally; I’d guess he was from Scotland, but his English was way too clear. Either way, the only one who didn't seem to lie as a hobby was Derek.
He simply believed with all his heart that he had been born in America. He played American football and even pronounced his "t"s like "r"s sometimes. It was almost pitiful.
The conversation with the guys flowed surprisingly easily, serving as a temporary anesthetic for the anxiety that was eating away at me over what would happen later. Ethan really had a passable accent, but his expressions gave away his origin every three sentences.
When Derek began explaining, with an almost religious passion, the tactical difference between American football and rugby, Felipe just looked at me sideways, holding back a laugh.
—“Mano, you should see Derek trying to explain this to the teachers here,” Felipe teased, lightly slapping the blonde’s shoulder. “They look at him like he’s speaking ancient Greek.”
—“They’re the ones who don’t understand the complexity of the sport, alright?” Derek shot back, adjusting his varsity jacket with unshakeable pride.
I smiled, but my thoughts ended up orbiting back to Fernando. The prospect of going to Felipe’s house after class was the only beacon of hope in my day. Thinking about his eyes was infinitely better than anticipating returning to an empty house with Alexsander.
When the final bell rang, scattering the crowd of students down the locker-lined hallways, I said goodbye to the group and followed Felipe to the exit. The discomfort of my prosthesis felt lighter with the distraction. We walked to the bus stop, and the ride to his house was filled with endless gossip about who had changed their look over the break and which teachers seemed most likely to snap in the very first term.
When we crossed the threshold of Felipe’s house, the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. And there he was. Fernando was sitting on the living room couch, his eyes glued to the TV screen where the menu of a next-gen game glowed. He was wearing a simple dark t-shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and his hair was slightly messy.
—“Hey, guris!” Fernando said, looking up from the screen and flashing that smile that could disarm anyone. “Heitor! I’m so glad you came. I thought Felipe was making things up when he said you were hanging out here today.”
—“Hey, Fernando…” I replied, trying to keep my voice as casual and steady as possible, though I could feel my cheeks warming up slightly. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to see the new console. And, well, Felipe was pretty insistent.”
—“Liar, he agreed instantly!” Felipe exposed me, throwing his backpack onto the floor and flopping onto the rug. “Come on, hand over the controller, I wanna test out campaign mode.”
We spent the next two hours playing and talking. Being there, laughing at Felipe’s absurd mistakes in the game and getting encouragement from Fernando, made me forget for a few moments the feeling of inadequacy that had haunted me since I was ten.
Fernando was incredibly patient; when it was my turn to play, he sat next to me and gave me controller tips without any rush, his proximity making my heart skip a beat or two.
At one point, the boys' mom came in offering a snack. Felipe joked that Fernando should feed the sandwich straight to my mouth while I played—I had never felt such a strong urge to kill myself right in front of him.
Fernando, damn him, laughed and agreed. He settled right behind my back against the sofa, his chest pressed against my shoulder blades, his arms wrapping around me as he fed me with one hand and guided my movements with the other.
I don’t know what shocked me more: how hard his abs were, his hand-eye coordination, or the fact that my life had suddenly turned into a cliché movie out of nowhere. Not that I was complaining.
And, because Felipe hates me:
—“Guys, I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Be right back!” he said with the most villainous smile I had ever seen, quickly vanishing into the house and leaving me alone with Fernando.
I swear I tried my best to focus on the game, but it’s hard to focus on anything when you have strong, firm arms around you. Fernando was either extremely innocent and truly saw me as a younger brother, or he was the biggest player in all of London and was entertaining himself with my suffering.
The atmosphere in the room felt like it had suddenly grown warmer. I could feel every breath Fernando took against my neck, which made my hands on the controller tremble more and more. The character on screen ran straight into a wall three times in a row before I finally managed to let out a nervous laugh and pull back a bit, trying to hide my internal breakdown.
—“Fernando, you’re distracting me,” I muttered, trying to keep a playful tone as I placed the rest of the sandwich on the coffee table. “And if Felipe takes two more minutes, I’m going to assume he fell into the toilet.”
Fernando let out a low chuckle, that deep sound reverberating near my ear before he leaned back onto the sofa, giving me a little space to breathe.
—“Felipe is unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head with an amused smile. “But seriously, Heitor, it’s really good to see you here again. You seem a bit stressed today. Is everything okay?”
The question caught me off guard. For a second, the image of Alexsander and the empty house crossed my mind, but I quickly pushed the thought away. I didn’t want to ruin that moment.
—“Just the exhaustion of the first day of school,” I made excuses, adjusting the position of my leg to relieve the pressure from the prosthesis. “And the prospect of dealing with the pace of the schedule I set up for myself.”
—“You’ve always been way too hard on yourself,” Fernando commented, watching my movements closely. “But if you ever need help with STEM subjects or just a quieter place to study, you know the door here is always open, right?”
Before I could come up with a response that didn’t sound too desperate, we heard Felipe’s hurried footsteps coming back down the hallway.
—I’m back, família! Did you miss my illustrious presence too much?” he announced, throwing himself back onto the rug as if nothing had happened.
—“You took so long that Heitor almost broke the map record by himself,” Fernando teased, throwing a cushion at his brother.
Despite the lighthearted tone, the clock on the wall kept ticking relentlessly. When night finally approached, the reality of returning home settled heavily back on my shoulders. I said goodbye to the two of them, thanked them for having me, and left for the bus stop.
The trip back to my neighborhood was silent. The streetlights were just turning on, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as I walked up to the entrance of the Lancasters' house.
The front of the house was partially dark. I grabbed my keys from my pocket, unlocked the front door, and walked in silently. The silence in the entryway was heavy, broken only by the metallic sound of my own footsteps.
As soon as I closed the door and turned the deadbolt, I heard the sound of a door opening upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps heading down the stairs.
The night alone with Alexsander was just beginning.