The Headmaster's Son-Chapter 1

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The Headmaster's Son

Chapter 1

"Turn that damn thing off!," Jean-Pierre half-moaned, half-shouted, "it's too damned early you  

fucking yank." And this is what dad considered a "respectable young man", Garyn thought to  

himself. "Sorry," he muttered, raising up to see the blaring clock flashing 6:30 am, he reached  

and turned off the alarm. Classes didn't start until 8:30, but he liked to get up with enough time to  

shower, dress, and make sure everything was together for the day ahead.

After laying in bed for a few minutes, pondering what the day might have in store for him, he finally  

got up, grabbed his uniform and headed to their bathroom. One perk to rooming with the  

headmaster's son was they had their own bathroom, not to mention, a larger room in general.  

While in the shower, he went over his schedule for the day: Latin, History of Early Civilizations,  

Spanish, and Psychology, all subjects that would be considered college level back in the United  

States. Once dried of and dressed in his school uniform, black slacks, white dress shirt, green  

and gold tie, and a kelly green blazer emblazoned with the logo of the school, a gold lightning bolt  

across a green shield adorned with the DuPont crest, topped it off. He quickly styled his short  

blonde hair into a messy look that had long been popular back home, though it wasn't as chic as  

the sleek, Euro-styles the other boys had. Looking at his reflection in the large, ornate mirror,  

staring into his own sky blue eyes, he quietly mumbled to himself, "Well Garyn, I suppose this is  

as good as it's gonna get, wonder what kind of turmoil you'll face this year."

He stood in the bathroom looking at himself for what could have been hours, he didn't know, all he  

did know was, the person he was staring at was Garyn Laene, son of a billionaire, top mark  

student at one of the most prestigious schools in the world, and also gay. A secret only two  

people knew, Stark, his abusive ex-boyfriend from back home, and Laykynn, his best friend since  

he was three. He wasn't ashamed of who, or what, he was, just scared of the repercussions of  

what others finding out would bring. He didn't try to hide it, he just didn't talk about or flaunt it, not  

that he really had a chance to, since very few students would talk to him, let alone, acknowledge  

his existence. There he was, fifteen and gay, in an all boys boarding school, he chuckled at the  

irony of it all. Then came the banging on the door. "Get out of there already, I have to ralph!,"  

Jean-Pierre yelled. "Shouldn't have drank all that bourbon," he muttered under his breath as he  

opened the door, only to be thrown out and have to door slammed in his face before he could  

protest. The next sounds he heard were of Jean-Pierre vomiting. Hopefully this time he actually  

makes it in the toilet, he thought to himself as he walked over to make his bed, a chore that had to  

be done before going to class.

It was only 7:45, "Still enough time to get to the library and read up on my lessons for the day," he  

said quietly to himself. The reason he received top marks was because; Garyn liked school, he  

liked learning, it made him feel empowered to know so much about so many different things. He  

wanted nothing more than to escape the world that his family lived in, he wanted to make his own  

fortune and become famous on his own. He secretly desired to be a top fashion designer,  

something he would rather die than tell his father. His dad referred to gays as "a sub-human  

abomination to the world that should be exterminated." So one could see his reasoning behind  

keeping it hidden, and the one thing he had to work hardest to keep hidden, his attraction to his  

new roommate, Jean-Pierre.

Jean-Pierre Laurent, son of the headmaster of Louis DuPont, Gilles Laurent, was everything you  

would expect the son of the headmaster to be, pompous, egotistical, cocky, and just an all-around  

ass. He was obviously the most popular boy at DuPont, and apparently the sleaziest. He would  

always brag about his weekend conquests to his group of goons, whose combined IQ was  

probably less than one hundred, Garyn guessed. He was always finding some way to smuggle  

some form of alcohol into the dorms, he didn't care what he was drinking, just so that it made him  

feel good. Garyn had never been offered any of the plundered liquor, nor did he ever expect to