Chapter 11

“So, is there a particular topic you wanna go over?” Chester asks brightly, holding his front door open for me. It’s a nice place, cute and bright. It matches his family. “Um. What topics do you hate?” I suggest, leaving my shoes at the door. Chester lets out a groan, leaning against the wall. 

“Why do we have to do my worst ones? Can’t we pick something I’m great at?” He whines, but I just roll my eyes. “No, I’m going to help you with whatever is your worst topic, okay?”

Chester gives up, instead just admitting defeat and leading me upstairs to his room. I don’t know what I expected the place to be like, but somehow it’s completely perfect for Chester. The walls are covered in art pieces consisting purely of white paint on black paper, all done in big loud gestures; abstract shapes and random words. There’s nothing particularly subtle about any of the decor, and especially not when it comes to the rainbow flag strung up on one wall, a trans flag next to it.

“I like your flags,” I say honestly, sitting down on the floor next to Chester and pulling out my books and a pen. Chester smiles, flopping down next to me. “Oh thanks! The bright colours kind of ruin the color scheme of black and white but I like having them up,” he says brightly, glancing over his shoulder at the two flags.

Chewing on my lips, I consider asking him confirmation questions, but it should be obvious that he likes guys, right? But for some reasons I want to make sure.

“So…you like guys?”

Chester slowly meets my eyes, before nodding. “Yeah. I’m gay and trans.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I smile tentatively back. “Nice…me too. About the liking guys bit, not the being trans bit…” I fade off, going back to chewing on my lips and fiddling with the cast on my wrist. I should be able to get it off soon.

“You’re gay? I had no idea. My gaydar must be broken,” Chester says playfully, looking away but unable to completely conceal from me the hint of a blush on his cheeks. 

“Um. Yeah. I don’t know if I’m gay or bi or whatever, just the only person I’ve ever had a crush on was a guy, so…” I clamp my mouth shut, upset about how that particular incident had ended up.

I’d had a massive crush on this guy in one of my sixth form classes, and by some miracle he’d confessed to me. I panicked and asked him to give me some time…and then I went under the radar for a few months, not coming into college at all…and by the time I next got back to classes, he was already dating someone else.

It’s a reminder that people won’t wait for me. 

A reminder that I’m not worth waiting for, anyway. 

Get out of your own head, Avi. Low self worth is another thing I need to work on in therapy but I need time to get through all the guilt towards my parents’ deaths first. And then I guess we can talk about the freezer, although that bothers me way less than my parents. Maybe because I was already starting to become emotionally repressed at that point.

“So…you the kind of guy that likes boyfriends or are you more into casual stuff?” Chester asks, not quite meeting my gaze.

“I would want a relationship, I guess, but I’m not sure anyone else would…” I fade off, gripping my pen tightly. I kind of come with a lot of baggage, and I’m not in the right place for a relationship any time soon. I need to be able to somewhat take care of myself first before I even think about anyone like that - I mean no one wants to date someone who has panic attacks that end them up in A&E, so I definitely need to work on that first. Although I’m pretty sure that whole incident was a special one-off. My panic attacks aren’t normally that…severe.

“Aw come on Avi, don’t sell yourself short - you’re hot, smarter than you let on, and I can tell you’re a sweet softie beneath that gruff exterior,” Chester says playfully, poking my arm as he looks a little embarrassed about what he just said. My cheeks heat up a little and I press a cool hand to my face. I didn’t realise anyone actually thought of me like that - I’d always thought that I’m just the awkward quiet guy whose whole personality is being hard of hearing.

I much prefer how Chester sees me.

“Ok embryonic transfer: what the fuck is it and how does it work?” Chester snaps me out of my thoughts and I quickly rifle through my old notes until I find the incomplete and shitty ones I made. Maybe it’s time to do them properly…it might help Chester, after all.

We study together for a while, and explaining things to Chester helps me to revise the topics anyway. Plus it’s nice to just spend time with him - Chester is effortlessly easy to get on with, in a way that I haven’t really found in anyone else. There’s something so…relaxed, about him. I love how we don’t always have to be talking to get on well, and we can instead just enjoy being in each other’s presence. But if we did want to talk about whatever, that’s fine too - I don’t feel pressured either way, and that takes the stress off me to talk.

It’s not that I don’t like talking, but sometimes it’s just a lot more effort than I can be bothered with. But around Chester that doesn’t matter, because he’s also happy to just sit in silence and do our own things.

After another hour of studying, Jeremiah gets home as well as Mrs Kennedy. Jeremiah crashes our study session, lying on Chester’s bed and texting someone. “How’s Mandy?” Chester asks, without even glancing over at his brother. Jeremiah grins, holding his phone tightly. 

“She’s great. Everything’s so great,” Jeremiah’s grin grows and he lets out a longing sigh. Chester meets my gaze, rolling his eyes. “Heteros,” he whispers so quietly that I wouldn’t have understood what he said, if I hadn’t been thinking the same thing myself.

Chester continues flicking through the pages of my old notes, thumbing down the pages of particular topics he wants to come back to later as well. He suddenly stops on one page - the third or so page of the first notebook - and taps his finger against it lightly.

“You know how some of these pages are dated? Some of this stuff dates back two years, so I was just wondering why - like is it an England thing where everyone is put forward two years or are you really just a genius?”

Shaking my head, I chew on my lips, trying to look anywhere other than Chester’s face. But it’s a little hard when there’s a cute guy I get on well with sitting literally right in front of me- nope, that’s not the reason I can’t stop staring at him. It’s the piercings. Definitely the piercings. I’ve just never seen someone with so many before, and that’s why I’m staring. Yep.

This is the first time I’ve had him sitting right in front of me, and normally I don’t really look at people’s faces - I’m too busy avoiding eye contact or staring at their lips to try and guess what they’re saying, so having Chester right in front of me…I’ve been looking at him a lot.

And he is definitely attractive.

Especially his piercings. 

Especially the one in the centre of his bottom lip. I think it’s called a vertical labret? Anyway the bar looks great, and there’s something really satisfying about that combined with the horseshoe septum a little above it.

Stop looking at his lips.

He has nice lips.

Jesus Christ, I find out Chester likes guys and right after telling him that I definitely don’t want to date anyone, I sit here and thirst over him for far too long?

Plus, the guy’s seventeen. Only just, from what I understand. And I’m eighteen, and it’s only one year but it’s odd to me. So absolutely nothing is going to happen and I should just get out of my own head.

Yeah right, you big idiot.

“Um. Kind of the opposite. I uh. I didn’t skip a few years- I was held back. When I came here. To America. In England I had finished the equivalent of high school, I guess. I was at the point where I would’ve been going to university - the equivalent of American college,” I explain, watching Jeremiah stop texting for a moment to stare at me.

“Wait- holy shit, how old are you?!” Jeremiah exclaims, sitting up on Chester’s bed. 

“Eighteen.”

“Fuck! We have some of the earliest birthdays in our school year, so we’re normally the oldest people but you’re- you’re way older! When’s your birthday?” Jeremiah continues, looking like I just told him my deepest secret. 

“Not for ages. I only turned eighteen a few months ago, right after I arrived in America. I’m normally the youngest person in my year, being an end of summer baby.”

“Wait, I don’t get why though?” Chester interrupts whatever Jeremiah had been about to say, and leans forwards to inspect my expression closely, the light glinting on his eyebrow piercing. “Why would you have to repeat two years? I’m pretty sure you must’ve been a straight A student at your old school, right?”

Shrugging, I nod. “I was. Until I wasn’t. I failed all my exams,” I explain, surprised by how easy this conversation is for me. Normally people pointing knowing that I could achieve something if I wanted, but choose not to…it makes people wonder, and then I have to come up with some excuse that isn’t ‘I can’t be bothered’ because people won’t accept that as a reason. Although I am a little more bothered about my studies again now.

“What, did you leave the test sheet blank or do wrong answers only?” Chester jokes, but I shake my head. “Nah. I just didn’t go to the exam.” Not by choice, but Chester and Jeremiah don’t need to know that.

“Wow. Wasted talent, bro. If you’ve got the skills you might as well use ‘em!” Jeremiah exclaims, somehow looking offended by the fact that I skipped all my exams. Chester glares at Jeremiah over his shoulder, but I don’t really mind. It’s the truth, anyway.

“Yeah well I’m sort of trying now. And Sam and Joyce want me to do well, although they never ask me how I’m doing in school…I think they’re more worried about…everything else.” Like if anyone is picking on me, or whether I’m able to stomach actual food at the moment - sometimes, but I’ve been living off smoothies and these special milkshakes made of nutrients that look disgusting but don’t taste too bad - anyway, there’s just a lot for them to focus on.

“Why d’you call your parents by their first names?” Jeremiah asks, his eyebrows furrowing together. Chester swivels to glare at him again. “Dude why do you keep asking dumb questions? It’s obvious that they’re not actually- uh,” Chester suddenly interrupts himself, glancing over at me slightly guiltily. He knows Joyce definitely isn’t my mum, and I thought Jeremiah knew that too, but maybe he hasn’t picked up on that from our conversations about them.

At least I know Jeremiah is only asking because he’s confused, or doesn’t know, rather than asking specifically to push my buttons. Because some people do like to do that.

“Because they’re not my parents. I mean they tried adopting me but I flat out refused, and we’re still working on the, uh, happy family thing, but we’re getting there. Slowly.” Scratching my neck, I catch Chester’s eye for a brief moment, and he gives me a sweet smile.

How he manages to look edgy and emo whilst still being a ray of sunshine, I really don’t know. But it’s perfect for him either way.