Havemercy Fic - Crossing the Line (10/28)
Title: Crossing The Line
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,256 for this chapter
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to the wonderful Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett, although there may be one or two of my own creation :)
Summary: When he decides to search for an art tutor, little does sixteen year old Etienne know that he's about to embark on an adventurous summer of maturity, secrets and self-discovery. However, he's not the only one in the family who's been hiding things, as Castle Nevers will never be the same again.
Author's Notes: Into double figures! Thanks to manyfacesofme22 for betaing and co-creating.
( Previous chapters)
Ethan
Jude had been quiet during breakfast, unusually so, and I knew that something was wrong. I refrained from saying anything though, knowing it might make him uncomfortable to bring it up before he was ready. If it was serious he would come to me.
He left not long after breakfast, like he normally did, and I slowly unfolded the newspaper to read at the table. If he wanted to talk, he would know where to find me.
He appeared half an hour later, knocking on the door lightly to get my attention. I looked up to see him in the doorway, half-hidden behind the door and looking at me nervously.
“Jude?” I said, gently. I didn’t like the way he was behaving; it wasn’t like him to act so anxiously.
“Dad? I, um. I need to talk to you.”
I folded the paper and put it down on the table, then motioned for him to take the chair nearest the one I was sitting on. He crossed the room swiftly and sank into it, resting his arms on the table and staring down at his hands.
I started to become seriously concerned. I’d never seen him act this way before, not even when his mum had died, and I had to force myself not to panic as I imagined the different scenarios that could have affected him like this. What if someone had hurt him? I scanned the skin I could see for marks, but I couldn’t find any. What if he’d been hurt in a place I couldn’t see? Fear rose up in my chest. My boys meant the world to me, I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to either of them.
“I like boys.”
My thoughts stopped. I couldn’t think anything past the numb surprise of his statement. Then they started up again, too many at once, jumbled and half-finished before another one came to my mind. He liked boys. He hasn’t been hurt, I thought, and I felt my shoulders slump with relief. I noticed that he was rubbing a thumb nail against a grain in the table, harder and harder, and I put my hand on top of his to stop him before he injured himself. The contact seemed to shock him. His head snapped up and he looked up at me at last.
His eyes were filled with uncertainty and something I couldn’t quite place. It was an emotion I hadn’t seen on his face before, at least not with this intensity. Fear, I realised suddenly. He was scared of my reaction.
The shock of it jolted through me and I took my hand off his to rub his shoulder, moving it across his back to pull him into a hug. I didn’t know what to say to reassure him, what I could do to convince him that everything was all right.
Alright,” I said gently, trying to make myself as non-threatening as possible. He finally allowed me to pull him against me, collapsing against my side. I wrapped my other arm around him, but he was still tense. “That’s fine.”
I rubbed circles on his back and pressed my face into his hair. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, okay? This doesn’t change anything.”
He nodded, and finally relaxed into my embrace. I clutched him tighter.
“Is this what you were worrying about this morning? Telling me?”
He nodded again, and I felt a pang of guilt.
“Why?” I asked.
“I didn’t know how you would react. I thought you would be upset, or something,” he mumbled into my neck.
My guilt worsened. How could he possibly think that I would be upset with him? I was his father; I was supposed to ensure that he was safe and healthy and loved. Had he really thought that I would react badly? I wondered how long had he kept this a secret from me, in fear that I would not take the news well. I felt awful. My own son hadn’t trusted me; had been scared of me. I felt that I had failed in my role and done badly by him. He was supposed to know that I would love him, no matter what.
I pulled back gently and took his chin in one of my hands. “You’re my son, Jude. And I’m so proud of you. You must know that I love you.”
He nodded, and gave a watery smile. “I love you too.”
I clasped his shoulder. “How long have you wanted to tell me?”
“Not long,” he answered, so surely that I believed him without hesitation. “I only really knew a few days ago.”
I cast my mind back to think of what could have happened to lead him to this revelation, and I came to the only possible conclusion just as he admitted it.
“I like Etienne.” He said it so faintly that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right, or if I was just hearing my own suspicions. He was looking down at his lap and addressed his knees rather than me.
“Etienne?” I asked to make sure I hadn’t misheard.
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “But I don’t know if he feels the same, so…”
I squeezed his shoulder. “He’s a very fine young man,” I said lightly.
“Yeah, he is.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. “Be careful, won’t you?” I asked. “The boys around here, they seem…well. They don’t seem to like variety very much.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Do you think I should tell Alfie?”
I considered his question, and remembered something Esmeralda had said years ago, when Jude was just entering adolescence. Alfie had come home in a temper, and she was asking what the matter was. I couldn’t remember his exact answer but there’d been trouble with a boy in his class, and he was ranting about him, calling him a Nellie or a Cindy, but he’d spat out the word with real vehemence. Esmeralda had scolded him for using language like that, and later, when she was complaining to me about how people branded words around and didn’t consider their impact, I’d interrupted.
“Everyone says things like that. He didn’t mean anything by it; they’re just words he picked up at school.”
“I know,” she’d replied, “but what if Jude had heard him?”
I hadn’t thought anything of it, at the time, assuming that she just meant he would pick up his brother’s bad language, but now I reconsidered the conversation.
“It might be best to wait a while,” I advised. I paused, unsure of how to phrase the next part. “I think your mother knew.”
His head snapped up like it had earlier, questioning, and I recounted the story to him. There was a brief silence when I’d finished.
“If she were here, do you think-?”
“She’d be just as proud of you as I am,” I reassured him with certainty. “She loved you so much.”
He nodded, head bowed, and we sat together for a while, each occupied with our own thoughts. I was worried what the boys in the village would do if they found out, what Alfie would say, and what was going to happen with Etienne. Jude skimmed through some of the articles in the paper, then stood up, moved to the door, and turned back to face me.
“Thank you.” He said it with such heartfelt sincerity that I felt it tug in my chest.
I smiled at him. “Any time.”
Next
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,256 for this chapter
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to the wonderful Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett, although there may be one or two of my own creation :)
Summary: When he decides to search for an art tutor, little does sixteen year old Etienne know that he's about to embark on an adventurous summer of maturity, secrets and self-discovery. However, he's not the only one in the family who's been hiding things, as Castle Nevers will never be the same again.
Author's Notes: Into double figures! Thanks to manyfacesofme22 for betaing and co-creating.
( Previous chapters)
Ethan
Jude had been quiet during breakfast, unusually so, and I knew that something was wrong. I refrained from saying anything though, knowing it might make him uncomfortable to bring it up before he was ready. If it was serious he would come to me.
He left not long after breakfast, like he normally did, and I slowly unfolded the newspaper to read at the table. If he wanted to talk, he would know where to find me.
He appeared half an hour later, knocking on the door lightly to get my attention. I looked up to see him in the doorway, half-hidden behind the door and looking at me nervously.
“Jude?” I said, gently. I didn’t like the way he was behaving; it wasn’t like him to act so anxiously.
“Dad? I, um. I need to talk to you.”
I folded the paper and put it down on the table, then motioned for him to take the chair nearest the one I was sitting on. He crossed the room swiftly and sank into it, resting his arms on the table and staring down at his hands.
I started to become seriously concerned. I’d never seen him act this way before, not even when his mum had died, and I had to force myself not to panic as I imagined the different scenarios that could have affected him like this. What if someone had hurt him? I scanned the skin I could see for marks, but I couldn’t find any. What if he’d been hurt in a place I couldn’t see? Fear rose up in my chest. My boys meant the world to me, I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to either of them.
“I like boys.”
My thoughts stopped. I couldn’t think anything past the numb surprise of his statement. Then they started up again, too many at once, jumbled and half-finished before another one came to my mind. He liked boys. He hasn’t been hurt, I thought, and I felt my shoulders slump with relief. I noticed that he was rubbing a thumb nail against a grain in the table, harder and harder, and I put my hand on top of his to stop him before he injured himself. The contact seemed to shock him. His head snapped up and he looked up at me at last.
His eyes were filled with uncertainty and something I couldn’t quite place. It was an emotion I hadn’t seen on his face before, at least not with this intensity. Fear, I realised suddenly. He was scared of my reaction.
The shock of it jolted through me and I took my hand off his to rub his shoulder, moving it across his back to pull him into a hug. I didn’t know what to say to reassure him, what I could do to convince him that everything was all right.
Alright,” I said gently, trying to make myself as non-threatening as possible. He finally allowed me to pull him against me, collapsing against my side. I wrapped my other arm around him, but he was still tense. “That’s fine.”
I rubbed circles on his back and pressed my face into his hair. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, okay? This doesn’t change anything.”
He nodded, and finally relaxed into my embrace. I clutched him tighter.
“Is this what you were worrying about this morning? Telling me?”
He nodded again, and I felt a pang of guilt.
“Why?” I asked.
“I didn’t know how you would react. I thought you would be upset, or something,” he mumbled into my neck.
My guilt worsened. How could he possibly think that I would be upset with him? I was his father; I was supposed to ensure that he was safe and healthy and loved. Had he really thought that I would react badly? I wondered how long had he kept this a secret from me, in fear that I would not take the news well. I felt awful. My own son hadn’t trusted me; had been scared of me. I felt that I had failed in my role and done badly by him. He was supposed to know that I would love him, no matter what.
I pulled back gently and took his chin in one of my hands. “You’re my son, Jude. And I’m so proud of you. You must know that I love you.”
He nodded, and gave a watery smile. “I love you too.”
I clasped his shoulder. “How long have you wanted to tell me?”
“Not long,” he answered, so surely that I believed him without hesitation. “I only really knew a few days ago.”
I cast my mind back to think of what could have happened to lead him to this revelation, and I came to the only possible conclusion just as he admitted it.
“I like Etienne.” He said it so faintly that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right, or if I was just hearing my own suspicions. He was looking down at his lap and addressed his knees rather than me.
“Etienne?” I asked to make sure I hadn’t misheard.
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “But I don’t know if he feels the same, so…”
I squeezed his shoulder. “He’s a very fine young man,” I said lightly.
“Yeah, he is.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. “Be careful, won’t you?” I asked. “The boys around here, they seem…well. They don’t seem to like variety very much.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Do you think I should tell Alfie?”
I considered his question, and remembered something Esmeralda had said years ago, when Jude was just entering adolescence. Alfie had come home in a temper, and she was asking what the matter was. I couldn’t remember his exact answer but there’d been trouble with a boy in his class, and he was ranting about him, calling him a Nellie or a Cindy, but he’d spat out the word with real vehemence. Esmeralda had scolded him for using language like that, and later, when she was complaining to me about how people branded words around and didn’t consider their impact, I’d interrupted.
“Everyone says things like that. He didn’t mean anything by it; they’re just words he picked up at school.”
“I know,” she’d replied, “but what if Jude had heard him?”
I hadn’t thought anything of it, at the time, assuming that she just meant he would pick up his brother’s bad language, but now I reconsidered the conversation.
“It might be best to wait a while,” I advised. I paused, unsure of how to phrase the next part. “I think your mother knew.”
His head snapped up like it had earlier, questioning, and I recounted the story to him. There was a brief silence when I’d finished.
“If she were here, do you think-?”
“She’d be just as proud of you as I am,” I reassured him with certainty. “She loved you so much.”
He nodded, head bowed, and we sat together for a while, each occupied with our own thoughts. I was worried what the boys in the village would do if they found out, what Alfie would say, and what was going to happen with Etienne. Jude skimmed through some of the articles in the paper, then stood up, moved to the door, and turned back to face me.
“Thank you.” He said it with such heartfelt sincerity that I felt it tug in my chest.
I smiled at him. “Any time.”
Next