Oakleaf Academy For Boys

eighteen

Quinn had instructed his parents to park as far away from Oakleaf as possible. The last thing he needed was for people to see him as a spoiled rich kid, getting a lift from his posh family - the only problem was, it meant walking a couple of miles with heavy bags and shivering fingers.

"Fucking hell, why didn't you just tell them to park closer?"

Quinn rolled his eyes at Kit's comment, "It's fine, we're almost there." He lied.

"So, how're you gonna introduce me, Quinny?"

"I'll introduce you as my fuck buddy, what d'you think?" He replied sarcastically, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder. "I'll just say you're my friend. You know...unless you want to be introduced as anything else." He added quietly.

"Depends." Kit sighed heavily in contemplation, a smirk edging its way onto his lips, "Y'know, if you really like pissing your parents off, you could introduce me as your boyfriend. See how that one goes down."

Quinn slowed, his feet not being able to keep up with the whirling of his mind. "Really?"

Kit halted too, examining the other boy carefully. And damnit, every time he looked at him, he was somehow more attractive. "Well, yeah. You're always talking shit about them, so I just assumed you'd wanna piss them off."

Quinn grinned widely, then lowered his eyes, worried he would appear too keen otherwise. He nodded slowly, "Yeah. Sounds good."

Kit nodded and began to walk again, Quinn following close behind. Kit would never admit it to Quinn, but he was nervous. He wasn't an idiot - he knew how other people saw him. A lost cause. And that's exactly how Quinn's parents would see him. He wasn't even sure why he cared about what they thought; he had never cared before. Maybe it had suddenly dawned on him that these people wouldn't be as open and accepting as their son was.

"Quick heads up?" Kit said thoughtfully. "Your parents...they're tories, aren't they?"

Quinn laughed to himself, "Unfortunately."

Kit groaned loudly, "They already sound like wankers."

"Just please don't get into politics with them." He begged. "It's insufferable."

Kit raised his hands in surrender, "You know they're the reason Toblerones have shrunk?" He murmured sulkily, earning a playful slap on the shoulder, "How far do you live anyway?"

"Canterbury."

"'Course you do." Kit rolled his eyes, a chuckle vibrating his throat.

A few more twists and turns and a shortcut through a shadowed alleyway which transitioned into a twenty minute detour, and they were there. The next corner they turned, the two boys came face to face with a shiny black car with tinted windows and polished paint. Quinn took a deep breath, his fingers absentmindedly brushing against Kit's. The latter noticed his discomfort and interlaced their pinkies, taking the first confident stride towards the vehicle.

Kit hauntingly noticed that the car reminded him of a hearse. But that was unsurprising, he already knew this would be his funeral; that was a decision he had made.

The first one out the car was Quinn's Mother, a tall but frail woman nearing her fifties. Her silver hair was styled into a neat bun, her lips coated in pale gloss, her eyelids wearing a shade of grey. She wore an elaborate pearl necklace and short heels, her baby blue dress reaching just past her knees. She stared Kit up and down suspiciously, before turning her attention onto her son, a tight smile forming on her lips.

"It's nice to see you, Quinton." She glided forward and wrapped her spindle arms around him, a hug which looked awkward and uncomfortable. Kit had to bite his lip to restrain his desire to laugh. And the new found knowledge that Quinn's real name was Quinton only strengthened the urge to scoff.