Oli's POV:
Of all the moments in my life, no moment has ever felt more significant than the one I was in right now. Sitting beside Rick in a low-backed plastic chair, I scrutinized the white walls of the waiting room. Greenish-yellow splodges seeped from the corners of the ceiling and outdated posters with fraying corners were plastered on the walls, catching my attention in the otherwise dull room. The quiet hum of the television filled the room, masking the stench of sweet anticipation. Rick's hand moved to cover mine and I turned my head to look at him. His protruding stomach seemed more prominent as he sat in the plastic chair, and his grey-speckled hair had been combed back and gelled. He was wearing a white shirt and black suit trousers with a plain black tie. When I'd complimented his attire, Rick had claimed that he needed to make a good impression on the solicitor, but I knew he was also dressing up to impress Rachel; although he'd never admit it, Rick had always been infatuated with her. In my skinny jeans and t-shirt, I felt under-dressed and out of place.
I anxiously awaited my mother's arrival, knowing that today would be the last time I'd have to see her. The thought made me smile. Comfortingly, Rick squeezed my hand and gave me a lop-sided grin, which I returned.
"You okay, kiddo?" He asked, eyes flickering nervously in the direction of the solicitor's office.
"I'm a little scared," I admitted, biting my lip, "The last time I saw her..." I trailed off. Rick knew what I meant.
"It will be fine. She'll sign some documents, then she'll be out of our hair. It will be rather simple since I'm your biological father." Rick explained. I nodded in understanding though I still dreaded seeing my mother.
Abruptly ending the conversation, the gentle chime of the small, golden bell which hung above the front door announced my mother's arrival. Soon, she'd no longer be my mother. I was shocked to see that she looked exactly the same, but it wasn't really all that shocking. Rachel showed no sign of remorse or sorrow at giving me up today. In fact, she looked rather content. Ours eyes met as she scanned the room, but she quickly shifted her gaze. Rick and I silently watched her sign in at the reception desk, just as our solicitor emerged from his office.
"Sorry for the wait, gentlemen." The solicitor, Mr Ahmed, addressed Rick and I, then noticed my mother hovering by the front desk, "Ah, you must be Rachel Keaton. Do come in."
The lobster-red flustered man ushered us into his office, extending his hand towards my mother for a firm, hurried handshake as she passed him. Nervously, Rick and I stood up, following Mr Ahmed and Rachel into the office. It was a large office with grey walls and four velvet cushioned chairs tucked in around a circular table. I noticed straight away that there were multiple documents lying on the desk, ready for signing. A few pages were sticky-noted, others were dog-eared. I marveled over the simplicity of handing over custody of a child.
I was instructed to sit in the chair in between Rick and Rachel, opposite Mr Ahmed. Plush and inviting, the chair held the promise of comfort as I nestled into it. For the most part, I remained a silent on-looker, barely following the conversation that was happening around me. A lot of legal terminology was used, some of which I'd learned in my A-Level Law class. Rachel explained the situation to Mr Ahmed, from the moment she got on the plane to Australia to the moment Rick turned up asking for custody. She conveniently forgot to add in the part where she kicked me out because of my sexuality.
A few hours later, we emerged from the stuffy room. I swallowed down a gulp of fresh air, relishing in the pure smell of the waiting room; half way through the meeting, Mr Ahmed's face had flushed a deep crimson, his uncomfortable posture accompanied by a sulphuric stench which had shrouded the confined room. Gross.
"Is that it? Is it done?" I asked Rick after the foul smell had escaped my poor nose.
Rick grinned widely but Mr Ahmed spoke before he had the chance to answer, "Yes, it's all taken care of, Mr Keaton. Mr Matthews is now your legal guardian."
I edged away from Mr Ahmed, understandably uncomfortable as he tried to drape his arm over my shoulders. Rick noticed this and pulled me in for a hug. He smiling madly, his face buried in my hair. Exhaling deeply, I pulled away from Rick and faced Rachel, knowing I had to speak to her. I struggled to think of something to say to her, but I needed closure. Luckily, she spoke first.
"You're leaving then." It was a simple statement that showed no trace of the woman I'd once known, but at least she was speaking to me.
"Yeah." I answered plainly. Rachel eyed Rick and Mr Ahmed in turn before turning back to me.
"Can I speak to you in private?" She asked, shooting a loathing glare in Rick's direction.
I sighed but nodded, "Okay."
I followed Rachel out of the building, the bell chiming on our way out, and we stood beside the entrance. Rachel pulled a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket and lit it hastily, her body practically shivering with anticipation as she took a drag.
"Since when do you smoke?" I asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. Smoking's a disgusting habit.
"Since whenever the fuck I want," She snapped. My eyes fell to my feet, then I heard Rachel grunt in annoyance, "I know you think I don't care about you, but I'll probably miss you." She muttered, our eyes never meeting when she spoke.
I leaned against the wall, admiring the thick white clouds that dotted the sky, lazily watching them float along. A frown formed on my lips when I couldn't make out any shapes in them. Rachel seemed to notice I was ignoring her because she stopped waiting for my response.
When she spoke, she sounded aggravated, "It hasn't been easy, you know. Raising a child is hard, especially a gay one." She spat out the word like it was poisonous.
"Right." I answered bluntly, still watching the fluffy clouds. They reminded me of small poodles: fluffy, white poodles running about in the sky.
"Whatever, you're obviously not going to listen to my side," she complained, swiping her hair out of her eyes. There was a gentle breeze, just enough to ruffle my hair without dishevelling it completely.
"No, I'm listening. Tell me how difficult it is to raise a gay kid." I mused, feigning nonchalance. Truthfully, it pained me to hear her speak this way.
"How can I explain it? You know when you get a cute little puppy, and you can play with it and the concept of caring for it is exciting for a while. But then it shits all over your house and chews all of your furniture. That's what I felt like when your father brought you home."
"You're comparing me to a puppy?" I asked in disbelief.
"Precisely." She grunted, rather proud of her analogy.
"Great."
She rolled her eyes, crushing her cigarette butt under the heel of her boot. There were a few minutes of silence before she spoke again, "Harry asked me out on another date. We're in a relationship now and I think we might get married." She bragged.
"Awesome." I purred, refusing to contribute any more than that to the pathetic conversation.
"Well, anyway. Have a nice time in Australia or whatever." And she brushed me off just like that, disappearing back inside the solicitor's building. It saddened me that Rachel acted this way. I somewhat pitied her.
"Yeah. I will." I mumbled to no one in particular. Confused and embarrassed, I felt tears brimming in my eyes. I quickly suppressed them, just as Rick pulled open the entrance door.
"You ready to go, mate?" He asked, squeezing my shoulder affectionately. I nodded, fearing that, if I spoke, I would break down.
"Nice chat with your mum?" He asked sarcastically. I nodded again.
"Yeah, it was great." My voice was shaking slightly as I spoke. Rick took my hand and led me towards the car, suggesting we grab a milkshake from somewhere on the way back to the hotel. I shook my head, wanting to get back as soon as possible.
"Don't take it to heart, kid. She's always been a cold bitch." Rick stated loudly as he started the car.
"It seems you have a type." I muttered under my breath so Rick wouldn't hear.
The drive to the hotel was silent. I preferred it that way. Watching out the window, we passed nothing out of the ordinary; eye-sore council buildings, dog walkers, joggers, graffiti, a woman being mugged. A typical London day. Rick seemed baffled by the amount of homeless people and petty crimes we saw in the twenty minute car journey, whereas I was used to it. As I said, a typical London day.
Once parked in front of the hotel, Rick and I exited the car. He paused after locking it and turned to grin at me mischievously.
"I'll race you." Rick offered, eyes alight with amusement.
A smile spread across my face and my foul mood slipped away, "You're on."
Rick counted down from three and, when he reached one, we both set off running, crashing through the doors of the hotel. Eyes of strangers fell upon us as we raced through the hotel, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Three flights of stairs later, we were tripping each other up and pulling each other back to try and overtake, but it was a pretty even match. Sprinting down the corridor to our hotel room, I cried out that I had won, collapsing in a heap against the door to our room. Laughter erupted through me as I panted heavily and Rick made it to the door a few seconds after I did. He congratulated me, laughing heartily along with me. The door opened and I fell into the room, landing at Vincent's feet, still laughing like a hyena.
"What the Hell happened?" Vince chuckled, dazed yet amused. I continued to laugh, the sound filling the hollow room. I started to grow hysterical. Then, just as suddenly as they'd appeared, my giggles melted into sobs. My body trembled as the tears flooded through me. The events of the day washed over me, leaving me stranded on a strange island. I felt Vince sit down beside me and pull me into his lap. Rick stepped around us to find his wife after Vince shot him a look. I allowed the sobs to run through me, drenching Vince's shirt as he held me to his chest.
"Are you okay?" He mumbled into my hair. I shook my head, accidentally wiping my eyes on Vincent's shirt, soaking it further. I cried until there were no more tears left to cry. After the tears had stopped, I continued to sob for a while, but it was just noise. Fighting for breath, I lifted my head from my stepbrother's chest, ashamed at the salty mess I'd left on his shirt.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.
"You don't need to apologise. I can put on a different shirt." Vince assured me, baffled that I'd even mention it. I smiled through my sadness, aware that my eyes would be puffy and my nose would be as red as my cheeks.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly, his expression bereaved.
"I don't know why I'm so upset, it's not like it was a shock or anything. I know she hates me but..." I trailed off, trying to think of what I had wanted to happen, "I guess I wanted her to at least smile at me. Or be happy for me. Hell, I would have settled for a nod of acknowledgement but, of course, it's just too damn hard for her to be civil." I quickly tamed the flames of anger that threatened to whirl out of control. I sighed heavily, closing my eyes briefly.
"Stop huffing and puffing, you're not a steam engine." Vince smirked sympathetically, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
"I am too." I countered, crossing my arms childishly over my chest.
Vince chuckled lightly, watching me with intense curiosity, "Now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance," He remarked, earning himself a thump round the head, "Ouch, that hurt." He whined, rubbing the side of his head.
"I do not look like a train." I grumbled, glaring at him.
Vince laughed loudly, drawing the attention of Silas who emerged from the bedroom. Vince noticed and called his brother over, "Hey, Si. Doesn't Oli look like a steam train?" Vince asked, patting the floor next to him for Silas to sit down. Silas remained standing, glancing nervously back and forth between Vince's amused expression and my offended one.
"Uh..." Silas stammered, unwilling to answer the question.
"Whatever, come sit down." Vince said, waving him over. Silas was visibly relieved that he didn't have to answer. I smiled brightly at him, encouraging him to join us in the corridor.
Hesitantly, Silas sat next to his brother, across from me. In the time Rick and I had been gone, Silas had retreated into his shell again. Shy and innocent, he was acting nothing like himself. Vince shot me a pained look, signalling that I shouldn't say anything about it. Vince, being his bubbly little self, started a very one-sided conversation. Silas was staring at his feet, refusing to partake in conversation, and I was watching Silas, tuning out of Vince's babbling. Silas had a bruise around his left eye that hadn't been there when I'd left this morning.
I gingerly broached the topic, careful to keep my voice low, "Silas, what happened to your eye?"
Fear flashed in Silas' eyes and he threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Vince scoffed at me, muttering disdainfully under his breath. Knowing Silas wouldn't tell me anything in this room, I pushed myself to my feet and held out my hand to pull him up.
"Take a walk with me?" I asked softly. He shook his head swiftly, but I wouldn't let him off so easy, "Please, Si." I begged in a whisper. Eventually he nodded and started putting his shoes on.
"What the fuck, dude?" Vince muttered, his annoyance clear on his face. I knew he was only trying to protect his brother, but I was worried about the origin of his bruise.
"I just want to talk to him," I answered, guiltily aware that Si could hear us talking about him, "Sorry, Vince." I whispered as Silas followed me out of the room. Vince slammed the door on Si's heel, making the boy tremble slightly. He was really shaken up.
"He's just trying to protect me." Silas whispered, watching me glare at the door.
I nodded, smiling sombrely, "I know."