Assembly of Gods Around Jupiter's Throne, Romano, 1532
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Josiah opened his eyes to find himself in the worst of his 'morning after' scenarios yet. Beside him lay a stark naked Charlie, and on his floor were remnants of last night's cannabis spilled out of its bag and scattered across the hardwood floor of his room. His head throbbed violently, trying to recall events of the previous day. Once he did, he immediately regret it because he remembered why he put himself into this situation in the first place.
"Listen to me Josiah. Do you know how long it took us to get on good terms with a family of that status? Your father and I finally had dinner with her and her parents after several months of planning. She's stunning and quite the bookworm. I'm sure she's your type. If she was a student at your academy, I bet she'd be neck and neck with you for the top spot in grades. She's absolutely perfect for you."
Yeah, she'd be perfect if she went here, Josiah thought to himself, because attending this academy would mean she was a he, and maybe then he would spare an ounce of thought for his mother's meddlesome plans.
I want you to meet her soon. When are you next available? I'm telling you, she's the one.
God, he really needed his parents to get off his back.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of softly rustling sheets beside him. He turned his head to see Charlie finally waking up. The smaller boy had no shame, lying on top of his bedsheets without any undergarments, allowing the palest parts of his body to be illuminated by sun peeking through his half open shutters. Milky skin reflected light into his eyes like snow, blinding him beyond extent.
"Josiah! You're already awake. It's so early."
"Indeed I am. But you shouldn't be here right now to see that."
"I know...I should've left...but," Charlie
sighed, deeply distraught, "...but I really miss sleeping next to you, that's all. Is there something wrong with that?"
"Considering the school we attend, yes, of course there is. And considering the circumstances of our relationship, there's no need for extra acts of intimacy beyond our usual activities. Sleeping in the same bed is simply unnecessary."
The best word to describe Charlie and Josiah's relationship without undermining its existence would be 'unconventional'. It developed early last year during a peculiar discussion about the social stigma of homosexual relationships. Why they were talking about this in the first place he didn't know, but he did know that for an odd reason it made the tension between them as thick as butter, and through means they realized they both enjoyed they managed to ease it. The two prefects were certainly not romantically involved, but Josiah sometimes felt that Charlie thought too deeply about the significance of his words and actions.
"Your heart is as cold as ice!" Charlie cried dramatically, placing his hand over his heart as if to clench it. "To you I'm just a warm body you use to thaw it. Oh my! I'm a human microwave."
Josiah tried to hold back a chuckle, but a smile crept onto his face and before he knew it he was accepting defeat and burst into a fit of charming laughter. "Okay, I'll reluctantly admit that was clever. Now get out."
"Fine," he said as he sulked to the door. For the most part, Charlie had dressed himself, and Josiah could feel a bit more content with his life knowing this.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It was around noon when Josiah started feeling anxious in the middle of class. He remembered that yesterday he told his mother he'd meet with his perfect girl this afternoon, but he loathed his future plans. His only solution was to relax through his own methods, so he told his professor that he needed to use the restroom before proceeding to find somewhere discreet to deal with his personal grievances.
As per usual, his luck was low, and he had only ten minutes of serenity before he heard a familiar cocky voice. He caught smoke in his throat at the sight and coughed relentlessly.
"Well, well, well. What is this I see with my very own eyes? Is it a bird? A plane? No, I think it's the prefect! Not flying but certainly high in his own way!" Isaac Harley laughed at his own ridiculous play of words.
"Please, I just wanted some peace for like fifteen minutes," Josiah pleaded, joint in his mouth so that his words were muffled. "I know I've let you off the hook several times, so I beg of you, just go on with your day."
"But this is such an odd sight, how could I let this go unheard of? Tabloids eat this stuff up like raccoons do garbage." He gasped. "Now that I think of it, I don't think our schools ever had a paper. I'll make one just for this. I'll call it The Bourgeoisie Boys of Eton. First headliner: Your Prefect: A Sly Guy as High as the Sky!"
"First of all, I wasn't aware we lived in eighteenth century France," he sneered. "Second, I already know that by your callous nature you'd much rather use this as an opportunity to take advantage of me instead, so get to your damn point already."
"Your staring has paid off. You know me so well." Isaac leaned in, bringing his face close enough for only Josiah to hear his request. "I want to leave campus this weekend and I need you to cover for me if necessary."
From this distance, he unwittingly noticed every little detail in the other boy's face, from the freckles sprinkled on his porcelain skin to his glinting, dark grey eyes that resembled the smoke of a wildfire and its sparks. And this was no ordinary wildfire, for although it was thoroughly untamable, it was also captivating and impossible to look away from—addicting like the object he held between his fingers. His features were feminine as well: a delicately pointed nose and full rosy lips stirred something deep within Josiah that he didn't understand.
"Leaving campus isn't even against the rules."
"I know, but I figured that my 'list of offenses fit for an entire house' might make people think I have immoral intentions." The grey-eyed boy responded.
"Do you?"
"Have intentions? Of course, but whether I'm able to follow through with them successfully depends on something, more specifically someone, I have no control over."
"Whatever. I'll tell them you've locked yourself in your room for personal reasons and leave them to suspect anything they want. Are you done yet?"
"Yes," he said as he started walking away. It startled Josiah when halfway through this walk, he felt it necessary to turn his head back and obnoxiously announce, "Hey Beckett, just so you're aware, I like you so much more when you're stoned!" before disappearing completely into the distance.
He couldn't help but wonder how someone could have zero cares for the consequences of their actions. Isaac would gladly tell his parents to go to hell and give the devil his greetings if they tried to control his life like his did. In fact, he was pretty sure he did exactly that when a teacher gave him a lecture about his behavioral issues.
What exactly was it that Isaac Harley had in him that Josiah lacked? Perhaps that wasn't the case at all. Most likely, this was a case of Josiah being forced to have something Isaac didn't care for: an idealized character of himself that he perfected by meeting every unnatural expectation, at any expense.
He was a Renaissance sculpture, created to portray the ideal man and his beauty, but he played no part in creating a masterpiece of himself. The artists were his family, teachers and even friends who with every strike of a hammer into a chisel wore him down until he became Michelangelo's David. Like cold, lifeless raw marble, he simply allowed himself to be made.
Nonetheless, their efforts were futile because what they made of him was flimsy, and he never once believed his false perfection could compare to the bold, flawed, and uncut Isaac Harley. Josiah will never understand his real motivations, but knew for sure that the boy never acted for the sake of appearance.
Bastard, he thought.
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