Coming Home [Completed]

Ch. 2: Get Me Away from Here, I'm Dying

Monday morning came much sooner than Charlie would've liked. After Julia toned his hair, the rest of the preceding weekend was spent primarily in his bed. His mom had freaked when he saw his hair, but thankfully not enough to force him to shave it all off. School might be different.

He'd half-hoped that his mother wouldn't let him go to school with dyed hair, but that didn't happen. As he parked his car in the senior lot, an overwhelming feeling of dread washed over him as he knew he was in for a shit day. Slowly, he exited the car and retrieved his backpack from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way into the school building. He fumbled with his headphones and put them in, playing the Savage Remix and doing his best impression of Isak in season three of Skam.

He kept his head down as he entered the building, walking past an obscenely homoerotic painting of Saint Sebastian's execution, finding a parallel between his current situation and the depiction of that saintly twink. Passing through the lobby mostly unnoticed, Charlie kept his head down as he made his way down the senior corridor to his locker. He hoped his headphones would distract him from whatever was being whispered about him.

Nothing really happened as he reached his locker, made his way to homeroom, and then on with his day through his class schedule, much to his surprise. Then, he realized that no one was really interacting with him at all, save for Julia and Tate. At lunch, he could tell he wasn't wanted at his normal table, filled with many of his teammates, including Ollie, so he sat alone at a table in a far corner. He was shocked when his last two friends joined him, absconding their shared friend group in favor of eating with him as a trio.

Those first few days went by exactly like that. No one was outrightly negative towards him, but no one showed him any kindness either. Well, Charlie couldn't say that. There were a few people who offered words of support and encouragement. They just weren't the type caliber of people he felt were of his deserved social status.

He knew it was wrong to think something like that, but he still couldn't help feeling even after everything that he'd much rather go back to the way things used to be with his old friends, who likely hated him now for an immutable fact of his existence and were spreading speculative bullshit about him behind his back, than associate any of the kids who didn't go out to parties whenever possible. They were better people than him, he was sure of that, but life just didn't look as fun outside of being with the popular and privileged crowd.

This strange period of isolation came to an end by midweek, because Wednesday brought Charlie's first lacrosse since coming out. He dreaded it more than anything. He'd been grateful that his teammates had resolved to avoid him, rather than a more violent alternative, but how long would this detente last when they were forced to change side-by-side with him in a confined space. Charlie had always kept to himself, maintaining a practice stare to an unoccupied space in the locker room until he could leave, so as not to arouse even the hint of suspicion. He hoped this years-long practice would be enough to avoid any unnecessary incidents.

Charlie couldn't have been more wrong about that. After the final school bell rang, he lingered at his locker for way too long before making his way to the changing rooms, planning to get dressed as soon as possible and get out of there quickly.

Upon his entry, he heard several comments that essentially all boiled down to some putrid-looking straight boy who probably never washed his face in his life joking that he would be Charlie's next "target." He tried to ignore the comments but managed to covertly glance at Ollie, who seemed conflicted about what was happening before him. He then looked to Patrick, hoping to find some reassurance, but found none.

These comments weren't targeted at Charlie directly. He now took the role of the outsider his former friends poked fun at to feel better about themselves. He hated that he felt worse about no longer feeling included than being the subject of mockery. This strange dynamic ended when Scott refocused their cruelty on Charlie, "hey gay boy, why don't you just save everyone some trouble and quit the team? Go back to your butt buddy Teddy."