Chapter 6: 5. NUMB

Witches' Sabbath, Francken II, 1607

_________________________

"Josiah, the headmaster was looking for you just now. He received a call from your parents. They say it's urgent."

His eyes widened. "Okay professor, I'll head to his office right now."

Shit.

He knew they would figure out on their own eventually, but he didn't think that girl would alert his parents of his ditch only two days after their arranged date. Still, he wasn't regretful nor frightened in the least. How much harm could they cause through one phone call?

Surprisingly, a lot, as he learned after the fact.

After a few minutes of screeching through the phone, his mother had given him a "rightly deserved punishment". The first part included a slash in his personal finances, a rather useless punishment for someone who wears the same hideous uniform every day, though he wasn't going to argue.

It was his second part of the punishment that made him agitated. His parents demanded his return home that weekend to have a formal dinner with the ridiculous girl and her family. They were making him fly all the way to bloody Oxford to meet a stubborn brat! As if his life couldn't be more irritating: first Isaac Harley discovers his secret and now this. He didn't think his week could possibly get any worse.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Josiah Elliot Beckett! In case you magically forgot, you are still seventeen and therefore must obey your parents' orders!"

"Mother! Please, just hear me out."

"You will have this dinner with Charlotte Fitzgerald and you will be charismatic and you will enjoy it! I've had enough with your childish behavior."

It was around seven when the Fitzgerald family showed up at his doorstep. According to his mother, they were distantly related to the royal family and filthy rich. Not that any of this information mattered to the boy, for he was never in a million years going to marry into their family.

When he opened the door, he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Charlotte's white skin and golden hair resembled a familiar devilish delinquent. His type, that's what his mother described her as. How unsettling.

"Hello, you must be Josiah." Her voice was faint and he could see her cheeks burning up. "I'm Charlotte. Nice to meet you."

Josiah, though rather irritable, knew it was time for him to put on his mask and play the character of perfect boy once again. He smiled his most charming smile, the one that revealed his left dimple, and simply replied, "the pleasure is mine." before bending down to press his lips against the back of her hand.

Dinner was just as, if not more, awkward than he expected. The servants were in and out with various appetizers, which eventually turned to entrees. Other than the plates clattering, the only noise in the room was from Charlotte's father asking Josiah countless personal and meaningless questions as if he planned to wed him with his daughter right then and there.

"I hear you hold the top spot in academics at Eton," he said with a mouth full of steak. "In fact, I think I've even read about you in the local paper once! Your parents should be mighty proud. Tell me, Josiah, was that difficult to achieve?

Of course it's difficult. What kind of demeaning question is this?

"In general, I'd say it's rather hard to be successful at Eton, rankings aside. Nonetheless, I've definitely had to cut my social life and reduce my hobbies in order to maintain my position."

"Speaking of hobbies, your mother informed me you are a skilled violinist, no? My daughter is an excellent pianist, you must perform a duet together in the near future!"

Future plans? God no.

"Why of course, I'm sure she's a lovely musician. I can often tell when a person is talented, for talent likes to reveal itself through physical beauty." Charlotte's face reddened once again at his charming choice of words. "Who's the preferred composer? Bach? Mozart?"

"Whatever the musicians desire!" Charlotte's father held up his champagne, because the theoretical duet between the two deserved its own celebratory toast. "Josiah, if you don't mind me asking, I actually have another question regarding your school."

"Of course."

"Well my wife and I have been debating," he said, nodding towards the older woman, "about the controversy involving a...set of queers, I guess that's what you're supposed to call those, that was caught on campus."

No. Please no.

"You see, my wife thinks the story is true, and that they sent him somewhere to be fixed. I said 'Honey, they'd never accept a queer at a school of such high status in the first place, especially one of same sex! Now that's just nonsense. Imagine the level of stress the other kids would suffer.' but she refuses to listen to common sense! My question is, so my wife and I can settle our petty debate: is this story true?"

The old man was laughing, cackling even at his story. With every hiss and every wheeze, Josiah could see masticated meat, whether stuck between his teeth or sliding on his tongue. Disgusting.

"I think that..." he felt his soup rising in his stomach. "...That I need to be excused." Josiah shoved his chair back, allowing it to shriek as it scraped against the wooden floor.

"Josiah!" His mother cried and ran after him.

Josiah quickened his pace. He needed to remove himself from the dining room before his mother could grab him and pull him back in.

"Why have you been so disrespectful lately? What the hell has gotten into you?"

Josiah continued to run through the endless halls of his house. If he was going to have this conversation, he was going to have it as far away from the Fitzgeralds as possible.

"Josiah Elliot! Stop right now. Explain yourself this instant!" She yelled at the top of her lungs.

"It's nothing, mother!"

"Josiah! I have had it with your bullshit! What do you have against the Fitzgerald family and their daughter? Has she hurt you?"

"She hasn't done anything to me! She hasn't touched me and...she never will!"

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean Josiah?"

"It means I'm fucked up like the kid from that story. I'm a filthy queer, mother! I like guys!"

They stood, both frozen in their tracks. His mother's face grew red with rage. "Who...who is it? Who did this to you? It's those damn bloody drugs, isn't it? Who made you this way?"

"Mum! What are you talking abo—?"

"Did you think your father and I wouldn't find out? We found your bag, Josiah! If it's the drugs that's harming your mind and making you desire men, we can find someplace for treatment!"

"W-why the hell did you look through my—"

It happened to suddenly, the cracking sound of skin hitting skin. The sharp, piercing sting, and the burning heat radiating from where blood rushed to his cheek. She had struck him right across the face, leaving him stunned.

His mother's eyes widened as she stared at her hand in disbelief of what she had done in her moment of uncontrollable temper. "Josiah, wait!"

It was too late, his mother had already revealed and acted on her true feelings. On his way out, Josiah grabbed his bag by the door. He turned his head to see his mom sobbing, petrified as she stared at her hand.

For a brief moment he wanted to give her a chance—to hear her out. He wanted to give her a hug and tell her that they'll be okay. He wanted to comfort her and be comforted in return, to cry with her and reveal his true, terrible self to her and beg for forgiveness. But he was sick, and he was tired, and he knew that if he didn't leave now he wouldn't be granted another opportunity, so he left without looking back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Shit!"

Josiah rummaged desperately through his belongings, trying to find the one thing that could calm his uneasy nerves. When he couldn't find it, he realized his mom wasn't bluffing and took his stash.

He swore again.

It was freezing outside, reminding him that he hated spring, especially its nights. They were cold, but not as cold as winter ones to the point where he always had a heavy coat available. To him, spring in general was just an intermediate between winter and summer. There was no point to it, other than to make the weather inconsistent and pass time for three months until it was finally summer. Summer, the one season where he didn't need to worry about his goddamn perfect image, and his hours of schoolwork, and the Isaacs of Eton, and maintaining his academic rank, maintaining his athletic rank, and—

After thirty minutes of walking in the cold, empty streets of Oxford, he found a pub lit up by neon signs. Perfect, he thought.

If he couldn't numb his mind alone, he'd numb his entire body instead.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Josiah felt the hours go by as his simmering blood was cooled by the rush of chilled alcohol throughout his body. He downed another small beverage.

"Screw it! Dear good sir! My lord and savior! Heavenly father!" he called, referring to the bartender, "Give me your strongest. No fancy juice mixed in. No ice. Give it to me straight!"

"Sir, I-I don't think that would be a good idea considering the amount you've had already."

"Nonsense. I'm asking for your strongest drink! So give me your strongest drink before I go mad already!"

"But sir—"

"Give the man his drink already! And while you're at it, get me the same as well."

Josiah, startled, shot his head back in absolute denial towards the forever recognizable voice.

"H-Harley?"

___________________________

it'd mean the world to me if you left a

vote or comment!