Eric’s POV:

My parents’ house is exactly how I remembered it. I was kind of hoping that, in the time away from home, I’d made it out to be something awful. Like I blew it all out of proportion, and my parents were the same as all other parents. 

I shouldn’t be thinking like that. My parents pay for most of my college. They let me stay with them for the three gap years I took to prove to them that a major in creative writing would be worth it in the long run. Do they really care though? Or do they just care about how it might make them look to have a gay son with a degree in something worthless like writing. 

Every thought that goes through my head while I enter the house makes me feel worse. Both about myself and about my parents. Why hadn’t I noticed anything while I lived here? Maybe I did, and I was just trying to delude myself to stay as positive as possible while living there. There are plenty of reasons, but there isn’t much time to think about them- I’m about to be plunged back into the uncomfortability of my own home.

My parents show Finn and I to my room and then to the guest room that Finn isn’t allowed to stay in for some reason. Well, they said it was because it was “under renovations”, but I know they just didn’t want him messing up anything in there for future guests. Finn was rather rudely instructed to sleep on my floor, which obviously will not be happening. There’s no way I’m letting my boyfriend sleep in the same room as me and not share my bed. Besides, it’s just common courtesy. Especially when my bed is big enough for both of us plus some extra room. Nothing like the tiny dorm beds. There’s one thing I miss about home. My bedroom is my sanctuary, and I never really liked to spend time outside it. Whenever I left my room, there was always a lecture waiting outside for me. So I figured it’d just be better in general to stay there. And it’s a great room- a nice desk, a large bed, the most decorations in the house- probably more than the rest of the decorations in the house combined, actually.

My parents leave Finn and I alone briefly to unpack our things. As soon as the door shuts and my parents seem to be gone, Finn immediately crosses the room over to me. 

“I thought I had an idea of what it would be like here before, but damn-” Finn starts before I cut him off by placing a finger on his mouth.

I tilt my head towards the door and whisper to him, “They haven’t gone downstairs yet. Don’t say anything rash.”

Finn’s face contorts into offended confusion, and I know it isn’t towards me. I’m guessing he thinks it’s strange that my parents would stay upstairs and listen to our potential conversations, but to me, it seems perfectly normal. After all, they basically invited us over to give Finn an inspection, to be perfectly frank. Maybe he was confused about the noise that the stairs made when they “went downstairs”. I know the sound each and every one of those stairs make- well, not individually, but I know how it sounds when either of my parents go up and down those stairs. The sounds the stairs made this time were only the sounds of the first few stairs from the top- they were pretending. For some reason. 

Finn and I unpack in an uncomfortable silence. I know he wants to talk about my parents, and I’m a little glad they might be eavesdropping, because I really don’t want to talk about them. Not now and not here, anyway.

After a while, my parents return to my room. They invite us to dinner downstairs. We follow them downstairs equally as silently, and neither of them attempt to make conversation. I never understood how they managed to get married, since neither of them like to speak. Maybe it’s because they enjoy each others’ company, but my assumption is that their marriage was planned, and neither of them really got a say in it. Knowing my grandparents, it wouldn’t shock me. At least they’re happy, and at least they haven’t tried forcing marriage on me yet. I don’t think they even want grandchildren, which is a relief. I couldn’t imagine them being openly friendly with children. Or anyone, for that matter.

When we sit down at the kitchen table. I remember one thing I missed at home- Mother’s cooking. There’s really nothing like the cooking you’ve been raised on. My father can cook as well, but our household normally sticks to the stereotypical gender roles. My mother cooks and my father works. Although, my mother has also always worked. She didn’t even take maternity leave when she had me. Most people would call that child neglect, since she immediately left me with a caretaker, but I’d call it efficient. How else is someone supposed to make enough money to live on? Especially in this economy.

I glance across the table at Finn, who seems uncomfortable. I can’t blame him at all, to be fair. If I were in his position, I wouldn’t want to be here either. However, I need him here to keep me from driving myself insane. 

Suddenly, a voice breaks me away from my thoughts.

“So…” My mother starts. “How is your dorm? Well, I say dorm, but I mean apartment. There’s no way the dorms on campus would have satisfied anyone’s real needs. Thank God there are apartments on campus as well.”

“Our apartment is well-suited to my needs, Mother. Thank you for your consideration.” My voice is flat.

My mother gives me a suspicious look and my father glances at me out of the corner of his eye. 

Finn clears his throat. “I always thought those rooms were too luxurious to be dorms. I had no idea, since I was offered a scholarship and they recommended the building to me. It’s a shock that the rent was the same as that of the dorms.”

My father nods. “Indeed.” Then, he adds, “Have you two been getting along well?”

This is strange. My father never really got interested in my relationships. Although, I’ve never asked to have friends over before, and now suddenly I’m asking him to bring my roommate across the fucking Atlantic to meet them.

“We get along fine,” I tell him, in case Finn says something that suggests more than that.

My father glances at me and then Finn briefly. 

My mother heaves an unconvincing sigh. “Really? I was hoping you’d finally make some friends. You’ve never been very good at that. What on Earth is wrong with your social development? Have we failed you as parents?”

I flinch. “Of course not. Finn is my friend, I swear. You haven't done anything wrong.”