Chapter 10:
Tuesday morning, Elias regretted turning in the paper.
Not because it wasn't true. It was the truest thing he'd ever written.
But because now it was real—outside his hands, exposed.
He avoided Mrs. Hargrove's gaze in English. She didn't say a word when she handed back the rest of the essays. But his? Nowhere in the stack.
His pulse thudded in his ears. Had she read it? Would she tell someone? Would she pity him?
When the bell rang, she caught his wrist gently.
"Elias," she said softly, "can you stay a moment?"
The classroom emptied. Elias stayed frozen at his desk, throat dry.
Mrs. Hargrove closed the door. Sat on the edge of her desk.
"I read your piece."
Elias gripped the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.
"It was honest. And brave."
He blinked. "You're not... disappointed?"
Her smile was sad, but kind. "Elias, my job isn't to be disappointed in who you are. My job is to make sure your voice isn't silenced. Especially when it's finally starting to speak."
He looked down.
"I won't tell anyone," she said. "Unless you want me to."
He nodded quickly.
"I think your story matters," she added. "But only you get to decide who hears it."
Rehearsal that afternoon felt like walking into fire.
Mr. Bianchi's voice echoed across the stage. "Let's try Act II, Scene II. Elias, Rowan—you're up. Balcony scene."
Elias's stomach twisted.
He and Rowan moved into place. The lights above them buzzed, hot and merciless.
Rowan leaned against the wooden frame of Juliet's balcony, expression gentle but steady. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls..."
Elias tried to focus. But everything in him felt exposed, cracked open from the essay.
"My life were better ended by their hate," he said slowly, voice trembling, "than death prorogued, wanting of thy love."
He glanced down—and saw Rowan looking up at him not as Juliet, not as a character, but himself.
Real. Reaching.
Elias's chest ached.
Rowan whispered the next line. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea..."
The line faltered.
Because Elias had stepped down. Moved closer.
The class fell silent.
He didn't even think—just felt.
And then, before anyone could speak—
He kissed him.
Soft. Quick. Terrified.
A breath and nothing more.
But when he pulled back, the world had shifted. He wasn't sure whether he'd drowned or flown.
Rowan was wide-eyed. Not shocked. Just stunned.
Mr. Bianchi blinked. "Well. That was...unexpected."
A beat.
Then he clapped once. "Bold choice. Let's run it again."
After rehearsal, Elias sat backstage alone, heart pounding.
Rowan appeared beside him.
"That was... new," Rowan said, smiling carefully.
"I didn't mean to."
"You didn't?"
"I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to do it there. In front of everyone."
Rowan leaned against the wall beside him. "I didn't mind."
"You didn't?"
Rowan tilted his head. "It's the most honest moment we've had onstage."
Elias let out a shaky breath. "Everyone saw."
"Yeah."
"And they'll talk."
Rowan's smile softened. "Then let them. Maybe they needed to see it."
That night, Elias didn't sleep much.
But he didn't hide, either.
For the first time, he stood in front of the mirror and whispered:
"I like boys."
His reflection didn't change.
But something in him did.
Something brave.
Something true.