Chapter Text
Creak echoing through the vast sanctuary between the preacher's sentences, Roxas shifts on the uncomfortably thin cushions of the front row pew he's sat upon for the dozenth time in the last handful of minutes. A bead of sweat trickles down his neck, beneath the starched collar of his button up as he stares a hole through the Bible resting atop his thighs. He's not sure if it's the ancient air conditioner struggling and failing to keep the central Texas heat out of the packed sanctuary… or if it's the past week finally catching up to him as he listens to his dad preach.
'Maybe,' he thinks to himself. 'I would have been better off never crushing on anyone. '
His mom lightly swats his knee with her paper fan when it starts bouncing, heel of his too tight dress shoes quietly clicking on the hardwood.
"Behave, Roxas," she leans in close enough to hiss. "People will see."
Right, he's the shining example for every other teenager his age, sitting scattered amongst the congregation. He doesn't need that lecture again.
He readjusts with another groan of the old pew, straightening his back. Trying desperately to focus on the words his dad is saying, instead of thinking. And failing miserably.
Try as he might, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to his new classmate. The way they look when they smile. How they always answer any questions asked of them with confidence. The way they'd throw their shoulders back before telling the other students who they were and where they came from. And how they're so tall for sixteen.
Though he knows he's not supposed to harbor hatred in his heart, it happens anyway.
He hates the way his gut twists in an… almost pleasant way every time he thinks about certain events from the past week.
He hates that the good-looking new student is the reason he is finally considering dating.
He hates everything at that moment. School. New students. Life.
But mostly, he hates himself.
Things should have been easy, if perhaps a bit awkward being a few months younger, to go up to the new student and introduce himself. It should have been easy to ask them to join his lunch group. It wasn't like Roxas to be shy when it came to making friends. Not when in a small town like Park Hill, being the preacher's son has made things easy on him, well, since Roxas can remember.
So why not ask the new student out?
One small problem.
A tiny little detail.
The new student is a boy.
And the second Roxas even thought about holding hands with another boy, he was halfway through a prayer, asking God to forgive him for his sinful thoughts before he fully realized what he was doing.
Now, in church, days later, no matter how much he's prayed and tried to distract himself, he can't stop thinking of the boy. Of Hayner.
But sitting there, back ramrod straight, he redoubles his efforts to clear his mind and leave those sorts of thoughts to God, stop fidgeting, and focus on his dad's sermon.
It's one he's heard dozens of times before, but the timing this particular Sunday is a little too precise, and he wonders if God came before his father and told him all about Roxas's sins.
Thankfully, it's harder to fall back into his dirty thoughts, because preaching on 'the gays' is guaranteed to get his father's volume up. Roxas nods along, as he should, while the angry words take up space in his head, filling it and driving out anything else.
But this morning it makes him… uncomfortable how no one else seems to mind the shouting. In fact, folks respond with their own loud amens in agreement, and if he looks back over his shoulder, he's almost certain folks will be nodding throughout the sanctuary.
It leaves Roxas fighting not to curl in on himself and attempt to disappear. Terrible posture would only get him another stern look from his mom and a lecture back home, so he shifts, yet again, this time blessedly without an accompanying squeak. Gut churning, and his hands clutching his open bible so tightly by the edges that his knuckles are blanched white, he stares at a point just over his dad's shoulder, wondering if the entire congregation, or his mom at the very least can hear his hammering heartbeat between his dad's shouts.
The preacher goes on and on, ranting and raving as he does, about how there are more sinful states in the country by the day, passing laws in favor of the gays instead of condemning and punishing sodomy as they should . How they're practically welcoming homosexual relationships and sin into their churches and ruining the sanctity of marriage, before, as always, he finishes the portion of his sermon with a thud of his fist to the pulpit, swearing that God will punish them all in the end.
Roxas tunes his dad out a little easier when his volume finally drops a few notches, moving into signs of the end times for the thousandth time, and instead he wonders yet again what sodomy is and why it's so bad that it's illegal .
He's certain his father had stared at him the entire time he'd been talking about it. So, is it the sinful homosexual thoughts that Roxas has been having lately? Or would it be the act of actually holding Hayner's hand and kissing his cheek.
The only firm conclusion that Roxas comes to is that God must have told his father everything. No doubt he's in for a world of lecture over lunch, because if his dad knows, then his mom does as well. And if she knows, then all the women at the church do too. Then, if the wives know… would they have told their husbands? Would they have warned their kids? Told them not to speak to Roxas ever again? Would Roxas be tossed out of his group of friends on Monday? Shunned by his favorite teachers? Shouted at by churchgoers for the rest of his life? Disowned by his parents? Ostracized for being a disgusting homosexual?
The thoughts have him repeating prayers in his head for the rest of the service, half-wondering if he would have to run to the bathroom to throw up. He prays and prays and prays, hands folded atop his Bible when he's not flipping pages, hoping that God will finally listen to him now that he's sitting in church.
And blessedly, by the end of the service, all the thoughts of cute transfer students are gone, replaced by promises of hellfire and brimstone.
The prayers work. Or they do up until midweek, when Roxas is in gym class.
Hayner is one of the last to walk out of the locker room, finally joining them in dressing down. He wears basketball shorts and a worn t-shirt featuring a team from his home state. Roxas's jaw drops as the boy jumps straight into warm-up stretches.
Staring, though, is a dead giveaway, so Roxas snaps his mouth shut and moves through stretches of his own, angling himself in a way that lets him watch Hayner from the corner of his eye.
Hayner is so… athletic looking. Toned and tanned as if he's come straight off of the beach. He smiles widely when another student says something to him, and Roxas notes how nice it is. When the boy runs a hand through his dirty blond hair, Roxas catches himself wishing it was his hand and he wonders; does he gel it into those waves? Or is it soft to the touch. Silky between his fingers.
A wistful sigh escapes Roxas's lips, and he freezes, legs shaking, nearly dropping into a mortified crouch in the middle of the gym.
What is he doing ?!
'Forgive me my sinful thoughts, Father.’ The prayer starts up in his head automatically, loudly, as if trying to drown out every other thought in his head.
'Turn yourself from temptation, boy,' his father's voice practically booms in his mind.
He's heard the line thousands of times. And Roxas dutifully obeys, turning his back on Hayner.
All he has to do is remove himself from the situation. Avoid Hayner. If he doesn't talk to the blond, he won't risk sinning. It was that easy.
Right ?
But two days later, Hayner approaches the same lunch table Roxas is at, greeting all of his friends with boisterous enthusiasm and an eye crinkling grin.
"Hayner! Glad ya accepted my invitation," Olette waves at him, scooting over to let him have a seat.
Roxas rounds on her. She doesn't know where Roxas's thoughts have lingered over the past couple of days, but he still wants to gripe about her betrayal. How dare she invite his temptation to sit with them?
But the words die on his tongue as he makes eye contact with a rather lovely hazel pair looking right at him, and he swears Hayner's grin widens as he says, "And miss out on sitting with the most popular kids in school? I don't think so!"
Hayner doesn't have a drawl like the rest of them do. Roxas loves it. And he hopes that it doesn't look weird or forced or stupid when he smiles back, heart skipping.
"So, what are you guys talking about?"
What had they been talking about? Roxas shovels food into his mouth before he can say something stupid. The new arrival doesn't help, so instead he focuses inward.
Amen.
"And then like an idiot, I took off into the street after our ball." Hayner gestures widely. "Bout got hit by a car."
"A car!" Olette gasps. "Weren't they watching for y'all?"
"Not in the city." Hayner shrugs. "Seriously, I wish you guys could see it." Everyone at the table is leaned in, listening intently to what the newest student is talking to. After all, most of the group was born and raised in their sleepy little town of Park Hill.
Roxas tries to focus as Hayner tells them about the skyscrapers, but after the boy smiles in his direction once more, Roxas becomes too busy trying not to throw up the butterflies careening around in his stomach. Instead, he sits back, pushing away his half-eaten lunch and once again nodding along as he should to the comments his friends throw out, yet not really hearing them. He knows he shouldn't remain sitting across from temptation , but he doesn't want to have to give up all of his friends because of one boy.
Instead, he clasps his hands together beneath the cafeteria table and prays once more for God's protection.
And yet the devil is clearly continuing to test him. That's all Roxas can think of come Sunday morning when he's standing there in his dad's church, shaking Hayner's hand, and trying not to let his thousand-watt church smile fade at the creeping nausea. Hoping and maybe praying a little that Hayner isn't too disgusted by his clammy palm.
The boy's family sits lined up on another front row pew, in a spot where, when Roxas keeps shifting, he catches glimpses of blond in his peripheral vision. At least until a swat from his mom's fan has him mumbling an apology before he trudges his way up to the front to join the choir. Halfway there he stumbles over his feet with the realization that he'll have to shake hands with Hayner again during fellowship. His eyes burn and he's surprised he makes it up the short steps without tripping again. And between songs he bites down on his tongue until the pain is all he can focus on.
It doesn't help that Hayner's smile brightens, as it always seems to, when he approaches Roxas again.
Once he's back in his seat, he focuses on trying to guess what his dad's going to say next instead of spiraling down into his shameful thoughts.
Maybe if he prays a little harder. Kneels beside his bed that night and asks for help. And if he lays awake in bed a little later, swearing to himself that he'll get better, it's between him and God.
But week after week there's no getting away. No reprieve, save for maybe a Saturday now and then. Otherwise, he sees his crush out and about. Grocery shopping with parents, some odd church event, just passing by on the street. Church on Sundays where he shakes Hayner's hand at least twice. Then right back to school on Monday. And Hayner is always close by from drop off to the final bell. They share a majority of their classes after all, and avoiding the boy between classes would be painfully obvious to everyone around, so they start walking together down the halls.
The more he talks to Hayner, the more it feels as if they’ve known each other for years. To Hayner it probably feels like they're falling into an easy friendship. But to Roxas it's a mess of heart-fluttering infatuation and gut-churning guilt.
They talk in the walk between classes. At first Roxas told everything he could think of to tell about Park Hill. The park and Main Street, mostly. Not that there's much else unless you head to the next town over. He knows nothing about the video games his friends share and what little TV he's allowed is carefully vetted by his mom.
However, Hayner is happy to talk. Sometimes he fills Roxas in on plot points of the latest RPG he's been playing. Other times he tells tales, possibly tall ones the more time goes on, about his old haunts back in the city.
Roxas is thankful for the brief break lunch brings, when Hayner can focus on the friend group as a whole, and Roxas can finally focus on something other than things like the nuances of Hayner's accent, or the strand of hair that's been hanging in his face all morning. At least until Hayner starts sitting beside Roxas, bumping into his arm, ruffling his hair, playfully slugging him in the arm with a laugh.
Little things that leave Roxas wondering if maybe… Hayner is like him. If Hayner likes him.
Never having an interest in flirting before, Roxas isn't practiced in the art. Not to mention, he knows he shouldn't be trying to flirt to begin with Hayner of all people.
But somewhere on a bright Tuesday morning, as he stands out in front, under the shaded front awning waiting for his friends to arrive, his crush shows up first for once. It's going to be the two of them for any number of minutes. Church and his father are completely forgotten as he leaves his bag behind and heads out into the sunshine.
"Hey," he says, meeting Hayner halfway. "Y'all… uh, I mean… you look good today."
And Hayner does in a shirt featuring some cute, pixelated monsters from a handheld game Roxas will only ever hear his friends talk about, and dark wash jeans. Casual and comfortable compared to Roxas’s usual khakis and polo.
Hayner raises an eyebrow, looking down and plucking at the front of his t-shirt with a chuckle. "Come on, Rox. I look like this every day."
"Y’all look good ev'ry day, then."
Barking out a loud laugh, Hayner claps Roxas on the back. "You're a good guy, Rox. Best friend a guy could ask for."
The hit knocks the wind right out of Roxas's sails, bringing him back down to Earth, to his sins, and he swallows hard. "Yeah," he chokes out. "The best. Thanks."
And if that wasn't bad enough. The punishment for his transgression is swift.
That afternoon, as their history tests are handed back, Roxas stares down in shock at the bright red '78' circled atop the page.
A C?! But he'd studied for a week straight!
With a tap on Roxas's shoulder from the desk behind, Tidus leans in and whispers, "Psst, Rox. What'd ya get? Hayner says he got an 86. I got a 70. Bullshit, huh?"
Roxas hurriedly flips his test over with a loud slam. "Yeah," he agrees.
"You get a 90 instead of a 93 or somethin'?"
"S-somethin' like that."
"A lowly B… It ain't fair." Tidus sighs.
"Maybe if y'all studied more, then…" Roxas trails off as he turns back towards Tidus, catching the eye of Hayner instead.
The blond holds up his paper, pointing at the red mark up at the top, rolling his eyes, sticking out his tongue, and making a gagging motion. Roxas nods, as his cheeks warm.
"Rox?"
Roxas forces his focus back on Tidus. "Huh?"
"Studyin'?"
"Yeah… y'all should just study more."
"Yeah yeah, I ain't doin' that. I don't need no academics. Gonna graduate and become a sports star."
"As ya keep tellin' us," Roxas mumbles, turning back around and slumping down in his seat, prying up a corner of the test to make sure he hadn't been seeing things.
78.
His dad is going to kill him.
He plans to spend the time before dinner coming up with an excuse for the grade. Only to stop dead in his tracks, front door slamming closed behind him. Swallowing his heart back down, he straightens his posture, eyes locked on his dad standing in the living room, arms crossed over his chest.
"H-hey, dad," he stutters out. "Whatcha… what are you doing out of your den before dinner?"
"Yer mom got a call from the school this mornin'. I expect you to put some extra time into history for a while. No phone, no TV. Understood."
If he asks how long he's grounded for, his punishment will only take longer. So, instead, he bows his head like the contrite son he is. "Yes, dad," he mutters, staring down at the floor.
"Speak up when I'm talkin' to you, boy."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now get on upstairs and get studying before yer mom calls you for dinner."
Another couple of weeks, a few more failed attempts at flirting, and what he feels was Hayner putting emphasis on the word 'friend ,' a hand catches him by the arm after class, dragging him to a stop over by a set of lockers.
"Rox… have you been feelin' ok?"
"Yeah? Why?" Looking the guy over, trying in vain to remember his name. He's not a regular at the lunch table, but Roxas is pretty sure he's at least talked to him once or twice between classes.
"Folks sayin' you're bein’ weird lately," the guy shrugs, "Actin' all gay and stuff."
Roxas has to swallow back the excessive amount of saliva that floods his mouth as what's left of his breakfast threatens to make a return. "Nah, man. You're imagining things."
"Yeah, yeah. Just thought you'd want to know some folk in our class were makin' stupid comments," his... friend? Friend right? He snorts. "Group of us figured we'd check in and see if you wanted us to shut em up." He thumbs over his shoulder to a group of students standing huddled together talking and laughing. They could easily be on the football team, if the school was big enough to have a decent athletics department.
"No!" Roxas waves his hands wildly between them, stumbling back a few steps. "I don't want violence on my account. Especially over somethin' like silly rumors."
"Yeah," the guy laughs, patting him so hard on the shoulder that Roxas fears his knees are about to buckle. "Anyway. Maybe try and take things down a peg or two, I guess? I'm sure y'all don't want those rumors spreading further."
"R-right. Thanks for tellin' me." Roxas nods, hoping no one comments on his burning face. "With my dad, that'd be a death sentence."
"No kidding!" the wannabe football player shakes his head. "Ain't none of us want your dad after us. Come on. Let's get to lunch."
But lunch isn't much better. Or maybe it's worse.
He sits at his usual table, barely acknowledging his friends before trying to focus on his food. Only he winds up mechanically eating as his mind races. What exactly did those guys mean by shutting up those spreading the rumors? What would they do to another student in his defense? Why would they even feel the need to defend someone like him? Is it because of his dad? It has to be. Who'd want to get on the preacher's bad side?
"Roxas?"
But on a more pressing note… people are calling him gay? Did they catch his miserable attempts at flirting? Has he been staring at guys without meaning to? Or is it something else that he has yet to notice? Oh, God. What if his friends are thinking the same things? What if they're all disgusted with him? What if they're only his friends because of his dad? Because they feel they have to .
"Roxas?"
But would Hayner be smiling at him like that if he was just pretending? And Lord, Hayner looks so… handsome today. Dressed in—
"Roxas?!"
"Huh?" Roxas shakes the thoughts from his head, looking over at Olette. She's got an eyebrow raised, and a frown on her face.
"Are you ok?"
This again? "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"It's just… that's the third time I called your name?"
The pizza he ate five minutes ago turns to lead in his stomach. "Sorry. I'm… tired, I guess?" Every person looking at him has to know it's a lie. He spaced out in the middle of a crowded cafeteria, sitting among all his friends talking away about the latest… well, Roxas hasn't a clue what they'd been yapping about.
They've probably heard the rumors, and they all have to know he's been staring at his crush, sitting right across from him today. And Roxas watches as Hayner bites down on his bottom lip, and his mouth turns up at the corners as if he's trying to fight a smile. There's no chapping skin, just a slight divot from his teeth when he finally smiles for real at who he's talking to.
Leaning in, resting his chin on his palm, Roxas reaches for his drink. He can't help when his thoughts drift once more as he watches his crush.
'Are his lips soft? Would he hate my chapped lips when we kiss?'
The plastic water bottle in his hand crunches as he grips it tight, spilling out a not insignificant amount of water onto the table. There's a mad scramble for napkins as Roxas vomits up apologies, lapsing into silent prayers as his friends assure him that he's cool.
He’s not though. Kissing? Really ? He berates himself as he shoves a mess of wet napkins onto his tray, pushing it away. Not up for eating the last of his pizza, he sits back, looking anywhere but at Hayner. It's at that point that he knows something has to be done.
"Roxas, wait up!"
Unable to keep his feet moving at the voice , Roxas waits. It's been perhaps three days since he put his plan into action.
Hayner catches him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "There you are. I haven't seen you in ages. " If he notices how Roxas's entire body tenses, he doesn't mention it.
"We have the same class?" It sounds so stupid once he says it.
"You know what I mean, you dork."
"Yeah. Anyway, what's up?" Does he sound casual? Is his voice shaking too much? Does Hayner know that Roxas is avoiding him?
"What's been going on, man?" Hayner asks. "Been missing you at lunch lately."
"Sorry." Roxas catches that flutter of hope in his chest and tries to beat it back down. He waves a hand, trying to force a grin. "Been…" he cuts off the 'hiding in the library,' he wants to say and instead says, "Just spending extra time trying to study for this stupid physics test that I've got comin' up." It's the only class he doesn't share with Hayner.
"Gross. That sucks, man. Well, hope you'll rejoin when it's over. Lunch isn't the same without you." He claps Roxas on the back when the bell rings. "Gotta run to my locker, see you in class, Rox. Good luck with your test!"
Roxas watches him go, standing there in the emptying halls until someone jostles into him with a muttered apology, startling him out of his trance. He takes off in a near sprint, ducking into class right as the bell rings.
Avoiding his friends turns out to be a lot of work the longer it goes on. He's left ducking into locker bays and bathrooms, ignoring the shouts of his name over the heads of other students, glad for once that his meager height allows him to easily disappear into a crowd. He spends lunch in the library tucked into the quietest corner he can find and subsiding off of vending machine snacks; all of the unhealthy foods his mother would reprimand him for eating. Food technically isn't allowed in the library, but the librarian never tells him off when she rounds upon him with a mouthful of chips. She simply waggles a finger and shakes her head with a smile before walking off.
It's a little surprising that it takes until the following week before one of his friends comes to find him.
"There you are!" A hushed whisper makes Roxas nearly jump out of his skin. Pence sits down beside him, craning his neck to look at Roxas's notebook, at the mess of math equations that are probably incorrect. "Folks been asking 'bout you. Is this where you've been this whole time?"
"Yeah?" Roxas winces when it comes out as a question. "I'm sorry. It's just…" That he's been trying to avoid his sinful homosexual crush? No way. He can't say that out loud. Biting the inside of his cheek, he wracks his brain, too aware that he's taking too long to respond.
"Hayner… said you have a test coming up?" Blessedly Pence saves him, looking down at Roxas's notes again. "We don't have a test in geometry, do we?"
"Oh, no. No, no. You're good, man. I was just… taking a break from studying?" Another question.
"You're taking a break from studying for a test…" Pence raises a brow, "with geometry ? I always knew you were weird." It's said lightheartedly of course, alongside the usual ruffle of his hair. "You're such a teacher's pet, Rox."
"Yeah, well…"
"Anyway, you'll have to come back to the cafeteria soon, everyone misses ya, Rox."
"Sure thing," Roxas nods, nausea creeping up with each word. "I'll see y'all next week."
But he'd lied. And he'd lie again.
The next week, he's stopped right before lunch as someone yanks him by the arm to a stop. It's weird seeing Tidus of all people frowning. Wakka stands half a foot back, arms crossed over his chest.
"What's going on with you, man?" Tidus asks. "You avoiding us all now? We too good to sit with at lunch now?"
"Tidus… no. It's not y'all. I've got this…" Think quick. Is there a class that he doesn't share with both Tidus and Wakka? "English Lit? There's an assignment due soon that's a huge chunk of my grade."
"And your parents expect perfection or you'll be grounded, yadda yadda. We get it. But still." Wakka waves a hand.
"Why not get Olette to help you? She's really good at writing."
"I work better alone," Roxas says, taking a step back.
Both Tidus and Wakka look at him as if he's sprouted a second head, and a beat later it hits Roxas. They've all been in a study group together at some point. Multiple times, actually.
Shit .
The word rings through Roxas's head and immediately he's inwardly chastising himself for swearing, even in his own mind.
"Look, whatever it takes." Wakka shrugs. "Just wanted to make sure we hadn't pissed ya off."
"I said y'all are fine," Roxas insists. "I'll see y'all soon. I swear."
And once he's safe in the library, he doesn't bother getting a notebook out. Instead, he presses his forehead to the cool wood of the table, muttering a prayer. "Forgive me for lying, Father…"
Trying to avoid one sin is leading him to commit others. And it's not like he's even truly managing to avoid the original issue, not when three of his friends, one of them being his crush, catch him coming out of class before lunch.
"Rox," Olette starts off.
"Are you sure everything's ok?" Pence asks. "It's been weeks ."
"Seriously. Is there anything we can help out with?" Hayner chimes in last.
"Y'all…" It's endearing that his friends care so much, which only makes it worse when he lies, yet again. "Everything's fine. I've just been struggling a bit with a couple of assignments, letting my grades slip. Y'all know how my parents are."
The trio wince in response, but his crush laughs after, clapping him on the shoulder as he's always done. "You've got this, Rox. We'll keep your seat warm for whenever you come up for air."
"Yeah," Olette agrees with a grin. "You know where to find us if you ever need help with anything."
"Thanks, y'all. I'll keep that in mind."
Blessedly, they all head off to the cafeteria, leaving Roxas alone, and he immediately bolts for the bathroom, ignoring the pair smoking in a corner and locking himself in a stall as his eyes burn, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't cry though. His dad always told him that men don't cry. And thankfully, as his stomach churns, there's nothing in it to come back up.
That doesn't come until the evening when he gets home from school. Tossing his book bag onto the couch, he heads on into the kitchen for a quick snack before he plans to dig into homework.
"There you are, Roxas."
He stops dead in his tracks, eyes darting between both of his parents. They stand at one end of the table, bracketing the chair he sits in for meals, and he thinks back, wondering what he's done that would merit a talk .
"Have a seat, son." His dad gestures towards the chair.
Swallowing hard, he walks to the table, sinking into his seat, shoving his shaking hands up under the table, balling them into fists when the trembling won't stop.
"Is there anything you want to tell us, dear?" His mom reaches out and lightly touches his hair, smoothing down the locks Roxas is sure are sticking up after his near breakdown in the library. He'd run his hands through his typically smooth hair until it half stuck up and he'd been surprised to look in the bathroom mirror and find any left.
Part of him wants to pour his soul out, confess to every last indiscretion from the past month, but after giving himself away for things his parents weren't even going to lecture him on and receiving a worse punishment in the past, he clamps his jaw shut and waits.
Would his parents even help if he flat out told them, 'Hey, I think I might be gay?' Would they toss him to the streets? Get the church involved? Or would they send him away to some camp. It wasn't like he'd be the first one to leave for a summer and come back… different .
Would more people be able to pray the filth out of him? It's not like his own prayers have worked. "I'm…ok?" He says, trying to stare a hole through the worn wood of the kitchen table as his dad's gaze burns into the back of his head. His mom keeps stroking his hair, and Roxas wants nothing more than to slap it away, to tell her not to touch his filthy body.
"We're concerned, dear," his mom finally continues. "We've had a few parents calling us in the past week or so. Your friends are concerned that you're overworking yourself."
Roxas doesn't mention that they're the ones that expect him to keep a 4.0 average and still have a social life.
He opens his mouth, ready to pour his heart out… and lies.
"I'm fine? I was only tryin' to get some studyin’ done for midterms. They're comin' right up, and I was worried about fallin' behind in physics." Roxas inwardly cringes as his accent comes out stronger with every word. It always does when he's tired or nervous. Or in this case, scared out of his mind.
He's sure his parents are going to catch on, but they seem to accept the lie without issue.
"My poor baby!" His mom croons, once more stroking his hair, petting him as if he's ten again, "Don't you be worrying yourself to death. You're young. Enjoy your time with friends while you can."
"Your mother is right," his dad gruffs out. "As much as you need them grades, the right connections can help you out once you take my place."
Where his mom treats him like a child, his dad treats him as if he's going to be off to college, get married, and take over preaching within the year. Roxas is almost sixteen. Not twenty something. But if he made a comment, his dad would only remind him that some of Roxas's school friends have their lives practically planned out.
Meanwhile Roxas hasn't ever been in a relationship. Instead, here he is, all sorts of messed up, lying to his friends and family.
"I'll try to..." he mumbles, trailing off with a stern look from his dad. And he clears his throat to try again, straightening his back and speaking up. "I'll be sure to hang out with them a little more on Monday?"
"That's my boy." His dad claps him hard on the shoulder before ruffling his hair, mussing it up and making his mom's mouth go thin. "Why don't y'all get on upstairs and get that homework done?"
"Yes, dad." And Roxas trudges to his room, sitting down at his desk and staring blankly through the window for a few long minutes. But the nausea builds as he digs out his textbook, prayer on his lips. Finally, it sends him running down the hall to the bathroom where he clicks the lock into place and doubles over the sink. All that comes up is a bubble of stomach acid that burns his throat, the meager amount of chips he had for lunch have long been digested.
And like the dutiful son he wishes he was, he does as he'd promised and rejoins the lunchroom come Monday. To his surprise, he's wedged in between Olette and Hayner, the latter of which throws his arm around Roxas, ruffling his hair up and clapping him on the back before returning to an animated conversation with the friend across from them.
Roxas can't think too much on the interaction as questions are heaped on him.
"How was that test? Did you pass?"
"Did y’all finally finish all those assignments?"
"Yer parents finally get off yer ass?"
"Please tell me you quit taking breaks with geometry ?"
He slaps his church smile onto his face and does his best to answer without wincing too much at each lie. But, he's welcomed right back into the fold as if he hadn't brushed them off. As if he hadn't been ignoring them all for dangerously close to a month.
"I thought y'all would be mad?"
"Pfff," Olette waves a hand. "As if we could stay mad at you, Rox."
"Yeah, your dad would smite us all or something," Hayner says, bumping arms with Roxas.
"You're… not wrong," Roxas tries to laugh, hoping they don't notice how flat it comes out.
"Anyway," Olette chimes back in, and Roxas swears he could kiss her—on the cheek of course— when she continues on. "Whatcha want for your birthday, Rox?"
Roxas happily latches onto the topic, glad it's not one that heaps more guilt upon him. That it's something he doesn't have to lie about.