Luc's life sucks. He is absolutely sure he's got the shittiest superpower ever and he's doomed to die a virgin after a lonely hermit life. But everything changes when he meets Fort - a perfect guy with perfect hair and a perfect life.
It's a story...
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9.1 Fort
It's a little after midnight when I get home.
There's a cake on the table in the kitchen and a murmur of my parents' conversation in the living room.
I clear my throat. "Are Pond and Geneve coming over this late?" I ask because why else there would be a cake?
Mom gets to her feet, "Fort, baby. Happy birthday!" She runs to me and hugs me. Not suspicious at all. I awkwardly pat her back.
Dad frowns. "I don't think they are coming, Pond would've told us."
"Huh," I frown back at him. "I thought the cake is there to celebrate the engagement."
"Oh, it can wait," Mom waves her hand. "The cake is for you, darling."
"Me and your Mom didn't expect you to be home this late. Wanted to celebrate your birthday with you."
"But I'm afraid we miscalculated a bit."
"Sorry."
There's a tight annoyance waking up in my chest. I take a deep breath to brace myself for a conversation about drugs and rehabs and whatever else Pont had told them. It's not that our parents are never nice to me, no, they never treated me badly, never told me off – they mostly ignored me my whole life. Always too busy with work, or Pond, or traveling – there was never time for me. So all this sudden attention is more than suspicious.
"Come on, let's sit and eat cake," Mom says with a smile.
It's a chocolate ganache cake with raspberries on top. She made this cake the only time they celebrated my birthday as a family. I was ten. I thought it was the most delicious thing in the world. Up until my brother said, he should get the bigger slice because he's older and has better grades at school, and Mom agreed with him.
"So," Dad says, cutting the cake. "How are you, son? How's school? Sweetheart, maybe?"
Oh, this is what all this is about. Luc. Of course. I swallow and look aside. I know I didn't do anything wrong but why the hell do they make me feel like I'm caught red-handed committing a crime? Damn.
Mom probably notices my discomfort and says, "Oh, darling, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to. We are just worrying about you. That's all."
I close my eyes for a moment and nod to myself a few times like a nodding doll, like a total idiot. Why not now? Now is a perfectly wrong time to come out to my parents, just like any other time in my life. At least now, there's no Pond to make everything harder, and it seems like my parents are actually listening to me. Right? "School's fine," I say, looking at a glass of water to my right. Another deep breath and then, "I've got a boyfriend." And again, why the hell do I feel so much right now? Why this anxiety and guilt? Why does my face feel so pale and cold? These cultural norms I grew up with are so outdated and so damaging. "Sorry, I disappointed you again," I say quickly to the table. There's an ugly bitter edge to my tone.
