Chapter Text
Catholicism sucked. Catholicism sucked so hard and Ray really wished the entire religion would take its lips from around his dick because he wasn't feeling it. He stared at his reflection in the floor length mirror in his mother's bedroom. His tie was too short, his sweater too big, and his belt was making his pants crease all weird in the front. Ray pushed up his glasses and made a face. Why the fuck was Catholic school even a thing?
If there was no Mount Saint Peter Academy there'd be no stupid scholarship or stupid honors or stupid uniform that fit Ray like an outfit found at Goodwill. (Not that he didn't appreciate the effort his mother went through to find him that Top Gun-esque jacket in the sixth grade.)
But no. Here he was, two days before school started, with his bags sitting in the hall and a tightly wound, shuddering knot sitting in the middle of his chest. Ray sighed and fiddled with his tie once more, giving up with a huff when it continued to look just as ill-fitting as before. There was a jingle of keys at the front door. Ray frowned and looked at the clock. It was entirely too early for his mother to be home yet, she was supposed to be working a double shift tonight, right? As the front door creaked open, the sound of rustling and thumping filtered in.
“Ray?” his mother’s voice called out.
“In here, Mama.” He called from her bedroom. He gave another futile tug at his pants.
“I switched shifts with someone at work,” She said among the rattling and noise. “I have to work early on Monday, but that’s okay if I can spend time with my baby on his last day in the city. I even got groceries, so tonight we’re having your favorite-” She stopped once she got to the doorway. She still had on her work clothes and her eyes were tired, but something in her face softened as she took in the sight of her son in the Catholic school uniform he hated.
Ray visibly pouted. “I look stupid.”
His mother clicked her tongue and glided across the room, taking his face in her hands. “You look fine, baby. Very classy.”
He leaned his face into her soft touch, her warmth distracting from the acrid smell of ammonia on her clothes. She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. They stood like that for a moment, together in the warm light of the setting sun. Eventually his mother pulled away and gave his face a reassuring pat. “Go put the groceries away, I’m going to change.”
With another tug at his tie, Ray went and busied himself for a few minutes putting away the food his mother had purchased. “Don’t forget to call me every week, okay?” She called from the room.
Ray smirked as he put the milk in the fridge, “Yeah, Mom. Of course.”
“Just remember to study hard and be safe!”
Be safe? Isn’t that the reason he was being bussed out to some random private school in the first place? To make sure he was safe? The sound of police sirens on the street below seemed like enough of an answer.
Once he was done with the food, Ray moved back to the bedroom. His mother was in her usual faded housecoat, taking off her jewelry and putting in on the nightstand next to her bed.
Ray walked over to the bed and plopped down. He laid there for a moment and watched his mother struggle to unclasp her necklace, the sound of sirens still in his ears. “Don’t forget to deadbolt the door while I’m gone.” He says more jokingly than he intended.
“I’ll be okay, mijo. It’s you I’m worried about.” She finally unhooked the necklace and placed in on the nightstand next to her earrings and the wedding ring she still wore out of habit. She nudged Ray, imitating the pout he had been sporting earlier. “Scoot.”
He shuffled over to give her space and she lay down next to him. The two of them stared at the ceiling in silence for a bit. “You have bus fare?”
“Enough for there and when I visit for break.” The bus he was taking tomorrow was the first of three. He would have to leave at an ungodly hour in the morning just to ride for hours out of the city, through the suburbs, and all the way to the edge of bumfuck nowhere.
His mother rested her hand on the top of his head and ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry I can’t take the day off tomorrow, mijo.”
Ray shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Nah, it’s cool, Mama. Wouldn’t wanna look like a loser with my mom helping me move in.”
“Oh? You ashamed of your mother?” She put on a look of mock hurt before grinning and jabbing him in the side. “Do I embarrass you?” She prodded him again and again, the prodding turning into tickling as Ray dissolved into a fit of giggles. The tickle attack eventually ceased and mother and son quieted down, lying in bed and once again staring at the ceiling. “You’ll do great there, baby.” She said. Ray didn’t respond, choosing to run the slick material of his tie through his fingers again and again. “You’ll meet new friends, learn all sorts of things, and be away from all…this.” She gestured to the room as a whole, her arm casting a shadow on the wall.
The police siren wailed in the distance.
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It was still dark outside when the alarm went off. Ray blindly swiped his phone off of the nightstand and tried to shut it up. The phone’s light was blinding in the early morning darkness.
Well, today was the day.
Today was the day and Ray wanted to stay curled up in his bed forever. But eventually he mustered the energy to roll out of bed and shuffled his way to the bathroom down the hall. He showered and dressed and washed his face like he was on autopilot. Only when he was brushing his teeth and staring at his own sloppy reflection in the mirror did the reality of the next few years of his life come crashing down on his shoulders.
‘Lord help me.’ He thought to himself before spitting frothy toothpaste into the sink.
His mother was packing him a bag lunch when Ray entered the kitchen. What he assumed was breakfast (eggs between two slices of buttered bread) was sitting on a plate next to the stove.
Ray planted a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek and wordlessly grabbed the plate. As he stuffed hot eggs and bread into his mouth, he took in the sight of his mother under the bright kitchen lights.
She had always looked young for her age, but Ray took note of the dark shadows under her eyes and the way the skin around her hands was thick and calloused in some areas, yet began to sag in others. When was the last time he had seen her make breakfast? With two jobs and shitty hours, Ray placed it sometime between the fourth and fifth grade.
“You’re truly blessed, mijo.” Her voice was soft and steady, breaking Ray from his train of thought. He made a noncommittal noise around a mouthful of bread. She folded the edge of the paper bag again and again and again before looking up at him. “God’s given you a wonderful chance, and I know it may not seem like it now, but you’re going to do great. You’ll make new friends and grow and learn.” The fluorescent lighting caught the tears in her eyes and Ray felt his throat close up. “The Lord will watch over you, baby. And no matter what, you’ll make me proud.”
Ray nodded his head, mouth still full. When he tried to put the plate back on the counter, he misjudged the distance and it landed with a loud clatter. The rattling sounded distant in his ears as he pulled his mother into a hug. His chin rested on her shoulder and her warmth ran through him from head to toe. The cross on the wall above the stove was blurry as Ray blinked back the tears.
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It’s still dark when the bus pulled up to the bus stop at the end of the block. It’s dark, and it’s not late enough in the year for Ray to be able to see his breath, but a persistent chilliness ran through his body to accompany the vibrating tightness in his chest. As Ray dragged all of his stuff on board – backpack, duffle bag, and suitcase – he resolved to not look back. But the bus didn’t even roll down to the first light before that resolve broke and Ray chanced a look back at the neighborhood he was leaving behind.
Rows of apartment complexes towered overhead. Someone was smoking on the rusty fire escape stairs that twisted along the side of a building. A small convenience store, its front window boarded up, sat between a diner and empty lot. The basketball court was empty this early in the morning and it looked strange and deserted through the chain link fence. Flickering neon bar lights, sneakers hanging from telephone lines, rats scurrying in the gutters. Everything fit together in the early morning darkness like a great big portrait titled “Home”. Ray tucked the image away as it faded from view and the bus rattled on.
The ride was long and boring. Tall buildings and a thick layer of grime gave way to the whitewashed siding, spacious lawns, and neat picket fences of the suburbs. The houses were packed tight together at first, like matches in a box, but they started to thin out after a bit until they completely yielded to rolling hills and thick forests.
After two transfers and hours of riding, Ray fell asleep at some point. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when, but by the time he woke up the trees had edged closer to the road and formed a shadowy canopy over the bus. They were lush and green despite the impending fall chill, spreading overhead like a great viridian umbrella. Mottled light filtered through from above and a silhouette appeared in the distance. The silhouette solidified into a gateway as they drew near. It’s large and ancient looking and covered in ivy and moss. The bus rolled through an open iron gate and as they passed beneath the weathered stone arch, Ray caught the words “Mount Saint Peter Academy” on a faded peeling sign.
The grounds inside the gate clearly received better upkeep than the gate itself. Through the grimy bus window, just beyond the entrance, Ray could make out an ornate statue nestled among a few well-manicured bushes. There’s a modestly-sized garden off in the near distance and what looked like the top of a chapel peeking over the roofs of the closest buildings. Every building as far as Ray could see was framed by sleepy vines curled around iron bars and tucked into the spaces between stone brick.
The bus rattled to a halt and the driver informed Ray with a gruff voice that this was the last stop. Clutching tightly to the strap of his duffle bag, Ray tried to will his heart to slow down and said a quick prayer. He stepped off the bus.
The midmorning sun was still relatively low in the sky, casting soft light on everything on the campus. As Ray was still trying to take in everything happening, someone bumped into his shoulder. His initial reflex was to apologize, but the person was already long gone, lost in the crowd of people milling about. Now that he wasn’t in the safety of the bus, high off the ground with the world barely visible through dusty glass, Ray suddenly felt lost at sea. There were all sorts of cars parked around the grounds (flashy and expensive and wow) and an assortment of people Ray had never seen in person before.
Ray tried to focus. He had a checklist of stuff to complete before he could marvel at pastel polo shirts and matching tennis outfits. Now if only he could find a directory or sign or something that would direct him towards Arcadia Hall so he could check in. He meandered over to the base of the statue he spied from the bus window. It’s taller up close; Ray had to lean back to take it all in.
The statue was of a man swathed in robes. Even though the stone edges were aged and worn, the folds of his clothing looked impossibly delicate. A rosary hung from around the man’s neck and a ring of keys hung from his waist. The man’s face was in his hands, his fingers obscuring his expression. Ray could only assume that he was meant to be crying.
It was nice, he supposed. Kind of a regal, distant feeling that Ray figured required some sort of reverence.
When Ray had his fill of artistic awe and religious deference, he turned to continue his search for Arcadia Hall. He almost ran into a kid standing next to him. The kid was a little taller than Ray, with thin framed glasses and a beanie pulled low over his ears.
“Sorry.” Ray said automatically, even though the kid didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.
He tilted his head to look at Ray, an eyebrow raised, “Nice, huh?” He nodded his head toward the statue.
Ray frowned a bit before shrugging, “I mean, I guess…”
“One day I’m gonna vandalize the shit out of it.”
There was literally no buildup to that statement, so all Ray could do was stare at the weird kid with the brown curls peeking from beneath his hat. “Uh, what?” He tried to laugh it off. Maybe Ray heard him wrong.
The boy shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and rocked on his heels. “You new here? Cause you, uh, you look lost.” He smiled, and the way the morning sun hit his face, Ray noticed that the boy had freckles.
Ray shrugged again. “Yeah well, y’know.”
The boy didn’t seem to mind the vague answer as his smile grew wider. “If you’re looking to check in, The Annex is that way,” He pulled his hand out of his pocket to point at a building with tinted windows.
The Annex? That’s not where Ray needed to go. He was looking for Arcadia. When he tried to voice his confusion, the boy cut him off. “The official name is ‘Arcadia Hall’ but everyone calls it ‘The Annex’. There’s a lot of shit like that around here: The Annex, The Fort, even Weeping Dick over here,” He nodded towards the statue looming over them. “Don’t ask me why, I have no friggin’ clue. Been here since the sixth grade and it still doesn’t make any sense.” He shoved his hand back in his pocket and headed over to the building with the tinted windows. “Just follow me, I’ll help you out. Name’s Michael by the way.”
Ray stood still for a second. This Michael kid seemed alright enough. A bit of a mouth on him, but Ray found that a little comforting. He shook himself from his thoughts and jogged to keep up.
“Ray,” He said shakily. “My name’s Ray.”
“Well welcome to the Academy, Ray. Good luck, dude.”
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Michael proceeded to help Ray get all checked in and lead him to his assigned dorm. Apparently each dorm was one half of a pair. There was a “Gentleman” building and a corresponding “Lady” building that went by the same name. As Ray took in the several floors of Hunter Hall, Michael rattled off a few names of girls he knew who were also in Hunter. None of the names stuck with Ray but he didn’t have the heart to ask Michael to repeat any of them.
They rode the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to the end of the hallway. The number “420” was shallowly embossed on the plaque next to the door. The keys were suddenly heavy in Ray’s hand and his mouth had gone dry. His chest had seized up again and his heart was in his throat. His feet were rooted so steadfastly to the floor he didn’t even budge when Michael clapped his hand on Ray’s back.
“Well dude, I’ve still got shit to unpack. I’m one floor above you and a few doors down if you ever wanna hit me up.” Michael turned to leave and offered a backwards wave, “See you at Orientation tomorrow!”
Ray’s tongue felt too much like sandpaper for him to reply and he kind of hoped Michael didn’t take his silence the wrong way. Not that he was much of a chatterbox the whole way over here. Ray stared at the numbered plaque again. He squashed the urge to run his fingers over the fading door number and shoved his heart back in his tight chest where it belonged. He slid the key in the lock.
When the door creaked open, Ray briefly wondered if his roommate had arrived yet. It was getting to be around noon and the number of people around the campus was starting to pick up.
"Oh! Are you Ray?"
Well that answered that.
There were boxes and crates and a half open suitcase strewn all across the floor of the room. Standing amidst the mess was a lanky blonde kid with an armful of posters.
"Sorry about the mess. Moving in's a bitch, yeah?"
Ray didn’t really hear what was said. The only things running through his head were accent and nose and hair and accent. “Yeah…” He muttered, though he hadn’t a clue what he was agreeing with. His roommate was apparently some foreign model because he definitely had a sort of Euro trash look about him. Not that it was a bad thing, Ray decided, it was just that he was distractedly, conventionally, definitely pretty. From a purely aesthetic standpoint of course. As far as Ray could tell, his hair stuck up on all sides and his fashion sense was decidedly odd (because argyle plus stripes plus plaid was more dizzying than decent). But we all had our hang-ups.
“I’ve already picked a bed if that’s alright.” His roommate stepped over his own mess and dropped all of the posters onto the bed farthest from the door. He dusted off his hands, looking quite satisfied with himself, before making his way over to Ray.
“Gavin,” He held out a hand and Ray fumbled the strap of his duffle bag.
“Ray.” They shook and Ray hoped Gavin didn’t notice how sweaty his hands were. “So I take it we’re roomies?”
“Seems like it.”
They spent the next twenty or so minutes shoving Gavin’s stuff to one side of the room. Ray noted how measly his own pile of stuff looked, all tucked away to one side. He rifled through the duffle bag, pulled out sheets and began to make the bed. “So what are you in for anyway?” Ray asked. A casual conversation to fill in the awkward silence.
“Ah y’know, parents wanted me out of the way while they finalized the divorce.”
“Oh.” Yikes.
“Yeah, that was last year. It sucks pretty massive knobs but,” Gavin shrugged. He was pretty casual about the whole thing. “You know.” He ran his hand through his hair and sat on the edge of his bed. The mattress squeaked beneath his weight and Ray could feel Gavin staring at his back. Gavin’s full attention was on Ray and Ray was actually pretty uncomfortable about that. “How about you?”
“My mom figures it’s better for me all the way out here. Less likely to get into trouble.” Ray ran his hand over the sheets to smooth out any creases. He surveyed his handiwork and decided it was good enough.
“You’ll like it here Ray.”
“Ya think?” Ray turned around and sat on the edge of his own bed. Their beds were on opposite walls of the room and there was a window on the wall behind Gavin’s.
Gavin looked a bit sheepish, his right leg bouncing up and down. “Kay so you won’t hate it. There’re some pretty...pretty cool lads around here.” He suddenly grinned wide and waggled his eyebrows. “Plus you’ve got me. Coolest bloke.”
Ray let himself chuckle at that, feeling a little more at ease. “Dude, if you’re the best this place has to offer, I’m in deep shit.”
They both laughed and Ray began to feel things shift into place. Gavin may have been a rich pretty boy, but he had a generally open face and a nice smile and the tightness in Ray’s chest loosened up just a bit.
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