Chapter 8 #2
That’s surprising. In my head, Olly was way past the first kiss I’ve had.
It makes it even more impressive how well he knows himself.
I want to go back and tell him that it would be a shame to hide that on stage, to not sing the song that moved me to come out to him, but how can I think my advice is better than Elaine and Marty’s?
They 138know what they’re talking about… They’re the professionals. I’m just me.
Olly
Tarun sits in silence, his forehead wrinkled in thought, before he looks up at me.
‘Was there a reason you and Zeb were so convinced I was straight?’ he asks.
‘I overheard Hugo talking to you and Oisín about how “being in musicals was a great way to pick up girls”, and you didn’t say “no” when Oisín suggested that was why you’d joined your am-dram…’
He flushes. ‘You heard that? I only didn’t say anything because I was so in my head on the first day. Inside, I was rolling my eyes so hard at what Hugo said.’
I laugh. ‘See, another example of why we should discount anything we thought about each other on the first morning of rehearsals!’
‘Aye, I definitely didn’t start performing to pick up girls.’
‘So, your mum knows? But not your dad?’
‘Well … he talks to me like I’m the straight “lad” he wants, but I think he knows. I haven’t told him though. I’m not telling him much at the minute… Not even about the Larrys. He’d hate that I’m here.’139
‘Why?’ I ask.
Tarun breathes in, then breathes out. ‘He thinks musicals are for gay people… And he doesn’t want his son “associated with that”.’
‘He said that?’ I ask, pulling my pillow close to my chest.
‘I … I actually really liked musicals when I was a kid. Mum would put on DDLJ – it’s an amazing Bollywood musical that’s the longest-running film in Indian cinema history – or Mary Poppins and I’d dance around in front of the telly.
Dad would always grumble about those films “not being for boys”, but Mum didn’t listen to him.
She said she was going to find a performing club for me to join.
One day though, when I was about six, I put DDLJ on myself, and I found Mum’s Anarkali dress.
That’s, like, what she’d wear to Desi weddings.
It was this beautiful purple dress, covered in beads and sequins, and …
I put it on and danced along to the film. ’
Tarun’s keeping his voice measured, but he’s hurting. I can guess what’s coming.
‘Dad walked in on me,’ he says, holding back a sob in his throat.
‘He didn’t get mad… He went all quiet, and all I could see in his eyes was shame.
He told me to take off the dress and he turned the film off.
He said that “men” didn’t “prance around” singing and dancing.
That men like that would never make their family proud. ’140
My heart bashes against my chest. The little six-year-old Tarun discovering queer joy for himself and having it … trampled over by a bigot. His own dad.
‘I was only a kid, but I understood he’d never love that version of me. So, when Mum said she’d found a performing arts group, I refused to go, and I stopped watching musicals for … well, ten years. I didn’t want to see the shame in his eyes again.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s absolutely shit.’
They’re the only words I can think to say. I want to reach out and take his hand, squeeze him tight, maybe even give him a hug. But I don’t know if he’d think that was too much.
Tarun shakes himself from the painful memory. ‘It’s better now. He’s moved out of the house, and basically out of my life, with his new girlfriend. I still found my way back to musicals, didn’t I? Better late than never.’
‘Yeah. And when did you start playing the guitar?’
‘Mum got me one, not long after I turned down joining a performing club. It was her attempt at giving me an outlet that only required me, and I started watching video tutorials and practising every night. But I decided I’d only play it to myself.
The guitar will always be just for me. My way to express myself.
No one can taint something you don’t share. Not even my dad.’
‘I wish he hadn’t made you feel like that.’141
‘It’s okay… It doesn’t compare to what you’ve been through.’
‘It’s not a competition,’ I say softly. ‘Yes, my mum died when I was young, and that was bad. But … she told me every day that she loved me, and so does Dad. They encouraged me to always be myself. It’s the least a child should ask for, but I know how lucky I am.
Not everyone gets that from two parents, even if it was only for the short time I got to spend with my mum. ’
‘Yeah, you’re right. My mum’s more than made up for my dad being an eejit though, just so you know.
She’s too accepting if anything,’ he says with a chuckle.
‘Like, constantly pushing me towards any boy she even thinks might be possible boyfriend material, and she whoops and cheers so loudly when she comes see my shows.’
‘Good,’ I say. ‘That’s what you deserve, Tarun.’
‘I mean, it was a bit much for her to give me a mid-show standing ovation for my few lines as Admiral von Schreiber last year… But yeah, it’s better that way than the other.’
‘I look forward to her doing the same when she watches on Saturday night,’ I say, which causes Tarun to hide his face behind his hands.
‘She better not! Will your dad be there? Is he as tall as you?’
‘I’ve an inch or so on him, but yeah, he’s a big bloke as well.’142
‘I’ll look out for the one who can’t fit his legs behind his seat,’ he says, making me laugh as he checks his phone. ‘We should probably sleep…’
It’s not far off one in the morning. ‘You’re right. Do you want to…’
But before I can ask if he wants to change in the bathroom again, Tarun pulls off his t-shirt right in front of me on his bed.
I do what I can not to stare, but I’m struggling. I knew he was good looking, but seeing his lovely body with soft muscle definition is a whole new experience. His chest, covered with a smattering of hair, is a lighter shade of brown than his face and arms, where they’ve caught the sun.
He shimmies out of his trousers, and I look away as he’s in just his boxers.
I hadn’t thought about the ramifications of him coming out.
It means the attraction I’ve felt for him – especially to those dimples that look at home on his now relaxed face – has somewhere to blossom to.
But that’s stupid, isn’t it? Just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean he’d like me back.
But all the chats we’ve been having about important stuff… Getting closer to each other… It makes it easier to imagine the possibility of ‘what if’.
I look back as he yawns, stretching his arms above his head and inadvertently showing off the shape and contour of his toned arms.143
My heart is racing faster and faster.
Fuck. I like him.
Tarun
I jump into bed quickly after deciding I don’t need to hide my body from Olly anymore. He knows now he’s not sharing with a ‘straight boy’ and that I’m not going to have any kind of reaction to a glance my way when I’m in my boxers. He’s looking at me strangely when I’m under my duvet though.
‘Everything alright?’ I ask.
He smiles, but there’s a wrinkle across his forehead. ‘Sorry, yeah! Away with the fairies… All good. How about you?’
‘Aye. I can’t believe we’re already halfway through the Larrys…’
‘Yeah, it goes so fast, doesn’t it? But then next week, when we’re all missing each other, it will feel like we’ve known each other for years!’
Next week … when I won’t get to hear Ella’s opinions on everything or see Olly smile at me whenever I want. ‘Yeah, it’ll be weird not seeing you all.’
‘You learn to manage a network of online friends spread across the country quickly, don’t worry. Zeb and I 144Facetime most nights to vent about all the fuckwads at school.’
We’ve been so in the bubble of the Larrys, I hadn’t thought about the fact that the rest of the year Olly exists in the regular world with the rest of us.
He fits in so naturally here, and yet if he went to my school, I know what my mates would say about him.
That he was ‘too much’ or ‘cringe’, like they think musicals are.
He’s the type of person my dad means when he thinks of the type of gay person he doesn’t want me associated with.
It makes more sense, thinking about this, why he needs Saturday to go perfectly.
He deserves to come to London for drama school in September and make his entire life like he gets to have it this week.
‘We’ll have to Facetime too,’ I say, I hope not too bold. ‘When I’m missing our DMCs in here.’
His shoulders relax. ‘Yeah. I’d like that a lot.’
I inhale as he whips off his own top and climbs under the duvet of his giant bed.
It’s instinct to look away, isn’t it? Now the shoe’s on the other foot, maybe I get why he’s made such a song and dance about giving me privacy when we change.
Coming out and knowing you’re in a safe space with another queer person doesn’t shake off the years of looking away in the sports changing rooms at school.
But … it’s nice to peek at Olly’s big, strapping body without fearing for my life. It’s nice to look at, full stop.145
‘Night then,’ he says, plumping up his pillow.
‘Sleep well, Ol.’
He smiles like his usual self, replying, ‘Yeah, you too.’
We both flick off the light switches next to our beds and attempt to go to sleep.
Neither of us seem to find it easy though, and eventually I reach for my phone on the bedside table.
There are a few notifications from people liking my post from earlier: a pretty arty shot of the Thames with the illuminated South Bank on the other side.
Zooming in, an unusually tiny Olly and even smaller Zeb can be made out in the bottom corner.
They look so comfortable with each other, and when I zoom in on Olly’s face until it’s nearly all pixels, I can still see his charismatic smile through the square distorted, blocky image.
But my heart stops when a new notification swoops in at the top of my screen.
Oisín McIlhenny liked your post
It’s the first time he’s ever liked any of my (admittedly few and far between) posts.
The rush his like gives me makes me understand why people get addicted to posting.
I know he doesn’t want to talk about our kiss, and I don’t like how competitive he’s been with Olly, but I still have a great big crush on him.
Maybe I should post more, so he 146has more chances to like my photos and give me an endorphin boost. Maybe even to like me.
I put my phone back, a stupid grin on my face from Oisín’s like, and just what a good day it’s been chatting with Olly and my new mates. I try to calm down and get to sleep, but Olly’s still tossing and turning, definitely not sound asleep. What is it that’s playing on his mind?