Out of reasons (Boy × Boy) ✔

Epilogue

There's just one question I haven't answered yet: what about the House?

We didn't know the answer when it was time to move away from the dormitory. Actually we had very little ideas about the future in general: we didn't know where we would live or what town we would choose, we only knew we would go there together. I had lived with Kuisma since the day I met him and I knew would continue doing so.

We spent the first week at Kuisma's parents trying to make a plan. It would have been smarter to make a plan before moving away from the dormitory, but we had had so much to think about that we had simply forgotten it.

One day, not knowing what else we could do, I brought Kuisma to see the House. The entire travel there I barely said a word and just tried to keep myself together. I didn't want to go to the House and I wasn't any readier than I had been a year ago, but at least I wasn't going there alone.

"What the heck? This isn't a house but a mansion", Kuisma exclaimed when I opened the big gates that brought us to the driveway. The building in front of us had three floors, dark brick walls and huge Victorian styled windows and terraces. It was true that the House was more like a mansion.

My hands were stembling when I unlocked the front door, but Kuisma had his hand on my shoulder, giving me courage to go in. In front of us spread out a spacious lobby and a curved staircase. The walls were cream white, but the floor and the stairs were dark polished wood.

Kuisma looked around in awe: it was quite a view. I took him on a tour around the house: a living room with walls covered with bookshelfs, a dining room with a long table and decorative chairs around it, the luxurious bathrooms, the posh penthouse that had been unused for a long time and all five bedrooms.

One of the bedrooms was the one I grew up in, but there was no trace of me. Actually there was no trace of me in the entire house: I wasn't in any of the pictures, even if mom, dad and Lina were, and all my belongings had been thrown away. Well, except my trophies that we found from a big cardboard box hidden in the penthouse.

We didn't go to my dad's old office, and I probably wouldn't go there at any point. The old mahogany door would stay locked, keeping the ugly secrets away from me. Being in the House brought back memories. Some were good, but mostly they were bad.

Seeing the old mahogany door made me think that maybe dad didn't kick me out of the House because I'm gay, but because I reminded him too much of himself and all his dark secrets hidden behind that door. Maybe we were too similar in his eyes, yet I'm nothing like him.

"I think I'm going to be sick", I mumbled, feeling nauseated and overwhelmed.

"We should get some air", Kuisma suggested and we went to one of the balconies. For some time I just breathed deeply, trying to ease the queasy feeling in my stomach.

I examined the view from the balcony: the House had an enormous yard. There were old oaks, loads of green overgrown grass, stone statues, a man-made pond with a fountain and high fences surrounding the plot.

"I have an idea. And your dad would have hated it", Kuisma said cautiously.

"Okay, you definitely got my attention", I smiled at him.

***

One year later

If you were an abusive homophobe when you lived and try to continue your mischief posthumously — get ready to turn in your grave.

Remember when I told you my dad kicked me out when he found out I was gay? Well, that house he drove me away from become a shelter for gay and trans teens, who had gotten kicked out of their homes. When we started the shelter, we had 3300 euros, as well as the money we got from selling some of my dad's pricey personal property. We used that money to reform the House, so that it didn't remind me from my childhood as much.

We replased my dad's pictures with LGBTQIA+ flags, just to show him how much we appreciated him. Does that sound disrespectful? Well, let's just say I don't think I owe him anything. You make the bed you lie in.

I moved to the penthouse with Kuisma. We bought a double bed, an easel, a Monstera deliciosa and other plants and some other essentials. It was a beautiful and spacious place for us, because the penthouse alone was threefold the size our flat had been.

Then there was of course the rest of the House, wich was probably the size of the dormitory building, so we had more than enough space to live in.

Our first resident wasn't gay or trans, but he did date a trans woman, who visited us frequently. Can you guess who I'm talking about?

Fareed had rented a room there, because he had gotten into a recognised art school in town, and there hadn't been any other affordable apartments for rent. So, we helped Fareed with the housing and Fareed helped us by paying a little rent.

Getting the shelter going took a lot of burocracy and it was time-consuming, since we couldn't get the grapevine working immediately. Yet, a year later we had four teens (and Fareed) living with us. The youngest one was 15 years old and the oldest seventeen. They were all mouthy rascalls, but we loved each of them like family.

They regarded me and Kuisma like a couple who had everything in order. Funny enough they even thought I was a "real adult" , when in reality I was less than ten years older than them, and I had no idea how to act like an adult.

I got everything I had dreamed for: working at home, getting to paint every day (in a penthouse!), having someone I wanted to share the rest of my life with and I had even found myself a therapist. Whereas Kuisma got into a dance academy and his dream of becoming a professional was also looking more and more tangible.

We weren't a perfect couple who had everything in order, though. We still fought about trivial things and I still had my insecurities, but I was healing. Sometimes it was messy and sometimes it was teary. Sometimes it was tears of joy and hearts filled with affection.

I had so many reasons not to get where I am now. I thought I had all the reasons never to fall in love again, not to fall for a guy who woke me up at 5 am every goddamn morning and lost his temper for the smallest accounts. Today I'm out of those reasons. All of them.

***

A/N: I wanted to use an old art school, where I studied in the middle of nowhere for a year some years ago, as a milieu, because it brings back good memories. 🌞 Kuisma's story about the letters was where this story started in my mind, so I guess in a way this story really was about him. Thank you millions, if you made it this far. ❤ Give me a star if you liked this story, that would mean the world to me. (2019)

*Edit, 2022: Okay, so, I want to add a few words. When I read this story through years later (while editing it), there were many things I wanted to change. For example, I'm not happy with the way Joakim ended up. Another thing I wasn't quite sure of was whether the part of Daniel's dad and the door was necessary in the story. But, actually, I think it is. There are many nuances in this story and many threads leading to the big picture, and Daniel's past was one of those. Maybe you can tell I was rather young when I wrote this story, but I don't know. We all have to start somewhere, I guess. :)