chapter twenty-five - nostalgia

*This chapter is written from Kieran's POV and serves as a reflection on his past, but the initial narrating voice is that of little-Kieran. WARNING: Some of the content discussed may be a sensitive topic for some readers. There will be a general takeaway of this chapter at the end of the chapter for those who wish to skip this update. Sensitive topics that will be discussed/mentioned include: Arguing Parents, Divorce, Conversion Therapy, Homophobia, and Self-Harm. There will be a note indicating when the TW ends (at the page-break)*

chapter twenty-five — nostalgia

PAXTON'S BUTTON-EYE HAD BEEN SEWN ON FOUR TIMES ALREADY BY THE TIME SUMMER CAMP STARTED. It wasn't like he was a new stuffed animal: he was actually ancient— a relic of sorts. When his parents had died in an accident, Dad had gotten Paxton from the social workers. When the social workers came to visit, I'd gotten Paxton from Dad. It was funny how it worked out. Mum didn't see the humor behind it when I loudly explained it on the way back from the courthouse. She'd shushed me, but smiled anyway later that night and kissed me and Paxton when she tucked us into bed.

I liked Paxton. He was a stuffed bunny rabbit, so I wasn't sure what we had in common, but Paxton kept me company when I practiced basketball in the driveway and when Mum and Dad fought. Mum and Dad didn't know that I knew they were fighting, but sometimes their voices would shake the windows, and Paxton and I would hide in the bushes under the ledge. The fighting stopped when Jane came though, and Jane and Daniel took Dad away. The windows stopped shaking.

Paxton liked Mum. She was nice to him and gave him bits of carrots from her garden when he behaved.

Paxton liked Dad. Dad saved Paxton a seat at Daniel's soccer games and made Jane sew his eyes back on when they fell off.

And Paxton liked Matthew.

"Kieran, stop squirming!"

Jane pinned my hand down to the side of the car seat, the other one shoving Paxton to the floor before strapping me in. I whined, grabbing at him noisily. Paxton looked at me sadly from the floor, ears flopping low.

Paxton was too much of a gentleman to tell me how he felt about Jane.

"Shh," Jane groaned, plopping Paxton into my lap angrily before slamming the door.

"Kieran, I don't want to hear another word from you the entire ride, okay?"

I'm not gonna talk to you anyways. I wasn't too sure why Jane was mad at me. It wasn't like I had lied to her: she wasn't my mom.

I scowled into the soft fuzz on top of Paxton's head. I hated going to summer camp with Jane. It wasn't a fun camp like the one Daniel got to go to. There were no basketball courts or basketball nets. There wasn't much of anything really, just a big barn and a lot of older kids who would sit in a circle and read books. They weren't really nice books either, no pictures of bright colors. They were old and musty and Jane put them in a bag under the dashboard to bring them back and forth from the camp.

She'd tried getting me and Daniel to read them with her once, but the words were too small and close together. Jane didn't push us, and so she read us the books to bed. Mum read books to me too, but they were funner and Mum made silly faces when she read them.

I'd asked Jane to change her voices for the different characters once. Maybe not all of them because there were too many and Jane's voice was too itchy, but just a few.

Jane said no, but the next time she read about Abraham* her voice was a little lower and Daniel had giggled.

"Kieran, we're here,"

Jane always told me when we arrived at camp. She said it was because I was a big boy and I needed to know when we'd arrived so I could unbuckle myself and help her carry the books.

If I'm a big boy, why don't I get to know where 'here' is? I didn't even know the name of my summer camp, so I stopped answering the teacher's questions about my summer when school restarted every fall.

There was never a name with 'here', it was always just 'here'. Sometimes 'here' became 'there' if Dad was speaking to Jane about it in hushed tones past bedtime. Dad said he didn't like the summer camp and that it wasn't a good place for me. I agreed with him, hidden in the dark where Paxton and I camped out behind the sofa like we always did when we couldn't sleep.

Dad didn't like the camp because he said he was a man of science. I figured if he could have his way, I'd be carted off to a boring science camp. I didn't like the camp because there were no basketball nets, and all the older kids were no fun. It was a bad summer camp. There were too many books and not enough smiles.

Not all the older kids were no fun though.

"Kieran, sit here and don't move. I'm taking attendance." Jane whispered to me, her hands holding onto my forearms a little too tightly. She'd sat me down on a hay bale, the sharp grass poking through my basketball shorts uncomfortably.

Daniel's soccer camp had nice grass, the non-stabby kind. It was green and soft, a little rubbery if you ate some. Jane would yell whenever Daniel and I ate the grass though, so we kept it a secret. Dad said that, if Jane made enough money from the barn summer camp, that I could go to basketball summer camp. Jane never made enough though.

Paxton thought Jane would be bored if she went to camp without me and purposefully didn't give Dad the money. I would've been upset, but Paxton said that Jane deserved to be happy too, even if she yelled at us when we ate grass.

Daniel didn't agree that Jane got bored, but he always gave Paxton extra grass when we came to watch his games. We would eat it during the snack break when Jane was busy finding other parents to talk to. It was a secret. Our secret.

We were good at keeping secrets.

Matthew was good at keeping secrets too.

"Matthew Martin?"

Matthew had two first names in his name. I think that's one of the things that made him weird. No, not weird. Jane said 'weird', but Dad hated that word. Sick was the word Dad used.

Matthew was sick, and the other kids were sick too.

I wondered if Jane and I would catch the sick because we were all stuck in the same ugly barn in the same ugly circle, but Dad said the sickness didn't transmit that way, whatever that meant.

It's their heads, Dad had said, they're sick in their heads.

My head felt funny sometimes, and it usually happened after I spun around too fast. I guessed that Dad didn't know as much science as he said he did and that I was sick too. Maybe we were all sick, Mum too because I was sick and I was around everyone all the time. Breathing. Maybe they were breathing in my disease.

"Hey, Keke, watch this—"

Matthew taught me how to whistle on grass one summer. One of the other kids had broken down during the reading session, and Jane had taken him off to the side to console him. Jane wasn't good at hugging from what I could tell: the few prickly exchanges between us were always stiff and awkward. The other kid didn't mind though, and he let himself collapse in Jane's arms and he let himself be rocked like a baby.

Like a baby. Maybe this was a camp for boys who acted like babies.

Is that why I'm here?

"—Flrrrbbt—"

"—Hey!" I scowled when Matthew grinned down at me. He looked like a stick bug, even though he was seventeen and almost a man, and I'd told him that more than a few times. Matthew would always just smile and continue humming into his blade of grass.

"That wasn't a whistle! That was a fart!"

I liked throwing grass into Matthew's hair. It was dense and curly, and the blades would get caught in the curls no matter how often he tried combing them out.

"Ah, you caught me," Matthew looked at me with a pout and I slapped his knee angrily. I didn't like it when he made fun of me. It made me feel dumb. Dad made fun of me sometimes, Daniel too, and they called me dumb.

I'm not dumb.

"You're so smart that you caught me, Keke," Matthew grinned, his hands skimming the grass in front of us to find a better strand to whistle with. He yanked one up for himself, then me, pinning the grass between his two thumbs as he blew.

It buzzed.

I tried it on my grass strand.

It buzzed.

"I did it!" I waved the grass triumphantly, pausing in my celebration when I heard Jane yell something from the barn. We'd gotten a short break to let the crying kid calm down and it had been the greatest 30 minutes of my five years of living.

"You did it!" Matthew celebrated with me, the smile not reaching his eyes.

I learned how to tell when people were lying by watching Matthew.

After a few summers, the camp started getting different. Jane stopped yelling at me in the car, and she stopped taking the books out when we got to the barn. The kids seemed happier, and I even saw a few of them playing games together during lunch break. Matthew had a new friend too, a guy with long hair that reached his shoulder blades. Sometimes they would hug each other when they thought nobody was watching. Dad said real men didn't hug people, but Matthew wasn't a man, he was a stick bug, so I figured it was okay.

I wanted to be a stick bug too.

Jane still made us sit in a circle, but she let the other kids talk. They would frown when they did, but it wasn't sad the way it was the years before.

I asked Jane why we didn't read the boring books anymore and she told me to "Hush, and don't call them boring," but she'd been smiling when she said it. Even Jane could get bored of reading books I guess.

Sometimes we'd still read the books, but everyone took turns. There was a little discussion after reading them too, and people would cry then. I cried too once because I yawned so hard my eyes watered. Matthew had made fun of me for that, so I tried not to cry after that.

"What are those?"

Matthew rolled up his sleeves one day, the sun beating down on our heads hotly. Little white lines were running the length of his arm, some shorter than others and some thicker. They looked like spider webs and watching his arm flex and contort their paths made my skin crawl.

Matthew had frozen, at a loss for words. Dad did that too sometimes.

"Dad has those too," I'd tried touching them only for Matthew to shove away from me hurriedly. He'd ignored me for the next week, spending more time with the long-haired boy as I groveled with Jane by my haystack. Paxton told me that Jane needed more hugs, and I could see it too: even though the kids were laughing, her brow was contorted and her hands held onto the boring books too tight.

Dad started yelling at Jane a week after I didn't hug her.

The windows were shaking, and Daniel hid with Paxton and me under the bed.

After that, we started reading the books again. Jane yelled at me again, more than once now on the drive to the barn. Matthew's spider webs grew, and sometimes, when he fell asleep during the lunch break, I'd cover his arms with grass to dust the webs away.

"They're weird," Jane would mutter to herself on the drive there, "I need to help them"

Paxton said she was trying to convince herself that she was good. I didn't think Jane was good and would've told her that she sucked, but Jane started crying before I could. Her head was on the steering wheel of the car, and the older kids looked through the windows like she was an animal at the zoo. Like I was an animal at the zoo.

I hated summer camp.

I hated it because it was too hot and the barn was too dusty. I hated the bubble that surrounded all of us in the barn, and how stale the air inside had become. I hated it because it made Jane cry, and made that guy cry too. I hated it because Matthew's arms looked like a prison cell: like he was tallying the days until camp ended.

I hated it because I couldn't play basketball, and I still didn't know what 'here' was.

Why am I here?

Why is anyone here?

Jane didn't want to be here anymore, but Dad was making her (even though he was a "man of science"). Matthew didn't want to be here ever, and neither did his friend. I didn't want to be here.

I don't want to be here.

I told Matthew that when he was leaving. I didn't know it was his last day at the time, but that day had felt different from the start. The long-haired boy wasn't there, and Jane hadn't given us a break when someone had started crying. Instead, she'd made everyone watch them.

Except her. Jane couldn't focus her eyes on the crying boy for more than a minute.

I watched for the longest out of everyone because Paxton said I needed to. I needed to see how sick everyone was because how could I forget...

... they were sick.

I was sick.

"I want you to get better"

Matthew's smile had faltered, feet shifting awkwardly as he squatted to my height.

"Here," I thrust Paxton at him, his stuffed ears limply dangling, "Take him"

"Keke, I can't take your—"

"—Take him!" I was screaming and I didn't know it. Jane was marching over to where we were at an alarming speed and I didn't want to see her. I just needed Matthew to take Paxton and not be sick.

"You're sick, right?"

Matthew hesitated before nodding slowly, "Yeah, 'M sick"

"So take Paxton, and get better," I dropped Paxton in the grass at Matthew's feet as Jane neared us, eyes glowering.

"I can't—" Matthew's hand tightened around Paxton's arm too tight, and stuffing shifted to my stuffed bunny's chest, the cotton pushing at a weird angle. Oh, his heart is gonna explode.

"—You have to get better"

Jane grabbed my arm and tugged me behind her, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she glared down at where Matthew was still holding Paxton. I didn't hear anything though, my head spinning and whirring with the sound of thunder because my head was sick too. But Matthew needed Paxton more than I did. She dragged me away from him, one hand grabbing my ear so I couldn't turn back and see him one last time. I couldn't say bye.

"Matthew's gonna get better—!"

She buckled me into the car seat wrong, pinching the skin on my stomach in the process. It hurt, but I didn't cry, my hands grabbing at each other feeling for the ghost of where Paxton would be.

"—He's not going to get better,"

Jane whirled on me, hand cupping my jaw so tight my lips pursed together like a fish.

"None of them," She quietened, letting go of my jaw as I finally started to squeal, fat tears rolling down my face.

"None of them are going to get better"

Because they're sick.

Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ

*TW ends here, you may resume reading if you wish*

Lukas-fucking-Schmitt was passed-out on top of me. It was a little hard to breathe, but he was surprisingly un-heavy for being a giant. His cheek was smushed up against my chest and oh— gross. A tiny trail of dried drool decorated the corner of his smiling, sleeping mouth.

Gross.

My hand fluttered up from where it was pinned to my side, ghosting over Lukas' cheek. He muttered something in his sleep, his grasp on my waist tightening before he turned, more of his face now squashed against my abdomen. I wasn't wearing a shirt and, for some reason, neither was he, our skin melting where they touched. It wasn't a gross melty feeling, it was comfortable.

Like fondue, not ice cream. Natural.

I felt like cheese and I oozed into my bed, my eyes fluttering when the harsh lines of sunlight cut into my face through the blinds. Lukas took the brunt of the attack though, solid lines of light carving into his back like tally marks from a prison cell.

I feel nauseous.

I hastily pushed Lukas off of me, exerting myself more than necessary as he jerked awake and rolled to his side. His hair stuck up in weird directions, eyes blinking sleepily. Dragging a hand across his jaw, Lukas wiped the dried drool off his face while looking at me sheepishly.

"Sorry, Keke—"

"—Bathroom," I spluttered, yanking the sheets back and barely making it to the bathroom in time. My knees hit the tiles too hard, slamming down as I cradled the toilet seat and threw up. It was the remnants of last night's party, my throat burning just as bad as when the alcohol had gone down. Eyes watering, my tongue lolled out and I gasped, resting my head against my forearm as my stomach churned again.

I never throw up when I'm hungover.

"Hey,"

A soft hand started rubbing circles in between my shoulder blades and I pressed back into the feeling, my head spinning. Everything smelled sharp, acidic and it burned. My eyes, my throat, my chest: they all constricted and stung painfully as I bent over again to empty the contents of my already-empty stomach.

Bile. Bile. Bile.

My tears joined the mess inside the toilet bowl, dripping off my chin in an odd pattern.

Lukas was cradling me, the crying boy, rocking me slowly and whispering secrets in my ear. He felt solid. Soft.

"I'm sick," I whined, tilting my head so it fit under Lukas' chin. The point knocked against the top of my head painfully, but it was a welcome distraction as my body started to heat up dangerously. Dangerous, but I didn't have the strength to pull away.

"You're not sick, silly goose," Lukas hummed and his throat vibrated against my cheek, "Just a little too much to drink last night"

He held me until the tears stopped.

"I smell something good downstairs, let's get some food in you, yeah?"

I sniffed, pulling myself up to the sink to brush my teeth in silence. Lukas hovered behind me, grabbing the spare toothbrush we kept aside for him specifically. There was a glistening line running down his collarbone to his chest of where I'd cried all over him.

He met my gaze in the mirror and the glass distorted until all I could see was him.

Lukas could pull off bathroom lighting well, the sickly fluorescents making him look tired. I looked fucking dead, but Lukas just looked tired. Tired of babysitting me.

I'm not a baby.

I kept telling myself shit like that, but I couldn't ignore the cold fact that I was. I was a baby and I wanted to be babied. I liked it when Lukas hugged me tight and when he smelled like bread in the mornings. I liked it when we made blanket forts instead of doing math. I liked it when he smiled and the room lit up because he was just that bright.

Beautiful.

"Fuck," I spat into the sink, smiling as best I could when Lukas looked at me questioningly.

"Man, I hate myself"

"Kieran, you're awesome," Lukas rolled his eyes and swatted my brooding aside easily, "Now, smile, you amazing creature"

"Fuck you," I smiled.

"Fuck you too, Keke," Lukas leaned over me to finish up, his arms curling around me locking me against the sink. He grinned, cheeks pushing so far up his eyes squinted.

I shivered.

Lukas grabbed one of the shirts he kept in my closet before we headed down and I changed out of everything because I felt too hot. Apparently, I'd upchucked last night too, hence why Lukas and I weren't wearing shirts this morning. I'd tried blowing up an Axe can too, the remnants of my volatile experiment flooding the hallway with the stench of a middle school locker room.

It smelled nostalgic, but I was done with the past.

"Morning, sleeping beauties," Fionnuala smiled smugly, pushing a plate with eggs and toast in front of Lukas and me. There was a small Advil next to mine and I quickly gulped it down, ignoring the sly wink Finn tossed in my direction. She'd been staying over incessantly and Marco had a running bet with me on if she would move in or not.

I didn't think she would, but, like about most things in my fucked up life, I was probably wrong.

"Where's Mum?"

My legs knocked against Lukas' under the countertop and we waged a silent war, toast stuffed in our mouths and eyes unassumingly looking down at our plates. My socks skimmed his shin, his leg wrapping around mine and tugging. My seat screeched as it shifted over towards him, our shoulders bashing together suddenly.

"She's looking at your baby pictures," Finn chuckled, pulling her hair up so she could wash the dishes.

"There are some really embarrassing ones in there. It would be a shame if anyone whose opinion you cared about saw how horrendously embarrassing—"

Lukas was up out of his seat before Fionnuala could finish and I was hot on his heels.

Dammit, Finn.

"Kieran, honey!" Mum was seated criss-cross on the floor, her hair pulled back and her eyes gleaming. It was a bit frightening— how she'd surrounded herself with pictures like an occult ritual— but Lukas ignored the strangeness and plowed right through to sit next to her.

"Oh, hello, Lukas dear," Mum grinned, passing a stack of old pictures to Lukas. He smiled fiendishly and I scowled, powerless.

What's that saying? If you can't beat them, join them?

I trudged through the mess of photos, plopping down a little too close to Lukas. He just smiled, arm slinging around my shoulder and pulling me tight against him. The picture in his hand was of me and Daniel, both of us gap-toothed and grinning broadly. I spied a bit of grass caught between our teeth and I snickered into the back of my hand.

Our secrets.

Lukas looked at me questioningly.

"We used to eat grass"

Lukas guffawed, squinting and holding the picture closer to his eyes with glee. Mum giggled from beside us, cradling a picture of what looked like a pink, shriveled, newborn Kieran. Dad's face wasn't in the picture, but his hand looked firm and steady on Mum's shoulder as she beamed at the camera. His sleeves were rolled down, cuffed at the wrist.

"I used to eat grass too, Keke," Lukas nudged me with his shoulder, tongue caught between his teeth as he fought back another giggle. Don't. I wanted to hear him laugh.

"Caoimhe and I used to eat grass," Fionnuala supplied slyly, folding into a pretzel on the couch beside Mum. She passed Mum a mug of steaming coffee, tucking a loose strand of Mum's hair behind her ear as she peered at my baby picture with interest.

Our secrets.

"Let's make a grass-eaters club," Lukas suggested with a squinty smile. I chuckled, leaning into him tiredly and squirming my way under his chin. I liked Lukas' chin, it was pointy, but it didn't hurt. Felt nice.

"Let's not," Finn scoffed, blowing on her mug of coffee.

No more secrets.

The windows hadn't shaken in years.

______________________________________________________________________________

*Abraham is a biblical figure in this mention, but he is a prominent figure in Catholicism, Judaism, and Islam.

3985 words

Summary/Clarification:

A lot of these plot points were implicit so I'm hoping you caught on. Here is a bullet list of plot points and new information (I'm hoping you caught these, but my writing was a bit haphazard so I made this list):

Kieran used to have a stuffed bunny named Paxton

Kieran's Mum and Dad got a divorce when he was five

Jane was a counselor at a "conversion camp"

Kieran would tag along with her and effectively attended "conversion camp" for many summers

Jane's homophobia was rooted in religion (she begins to regret her stance as she sees the poor mental health of her camp kids!)

Kieran's Dad's homophobia is rooted in science (he thinks homosexual-behavior is biologically flawed and labels it a 'mental illness')

He is not religious and fights with Jane frequently on why his homophobia makes more sense (-_-)

Kieran adopts his Dad's mindset (and Jane's), but remains naive (he's a just a kid)

He gives Paxton to Matthew (a big-brother figure he met at the camp) so Matthew can "get better" because he is sick

Both Matthew and Kieran's Dad have self-harmed

(I will not be expanding more on this, but I think it's important to know)

Not mentioned, but important to know (in case anyone has questions)

Kieran's Mum (Caoimhe) is not aware that he is being taken to a conversion camp

She and her husband had differing stances on homosexuality, but she didn't know the extent of his (and Jane's) hatred

Jane completely regrets having run the conversion camp, but can't say anything about her change of heart in fear of her husband

Daniel is also unaware of the "camp" his Mom and Kieran went to

Kieran will not be talking about his childhood to Lukas anytime soon; however, he is now aware of what he went through

Hey guys! Sorry for the terrible updating (book done by the end of August my ass). This chapter was arguably the hardest thing to write for the entire book. I didn't want to fit in all the heavy stuff in one chapter, but my laziness prevailed and I did just that. I also know that I wrote everything in a really vague (and probably annoying to decipher) way and I apologize, but I'm pretty happy with how the chapter turned out!

If I didn't answer any questions in the above summary/explanation, please feel free to ask me with a comment and I'll answer to the best of my ability (unless it spoils an upcoming chapter/spin-off).

The next chapter should be a light and fluffy one to contrast this one, and I'll hopefully get to the good stuff soon! I want to finish this book by chapter thirty, but we'll see what happens... I can't really make any promises, but I will finish this book: That's my only promise.

Anyways, thoughts on this chapter? Sorry again that it was heavy, I hope it doesn't impact anyone too harshly. I send you all good, happy vibes.

Stay safe and have a beautiful week! Thank you so much for reading <3