Hartley wasn't one for team sports. He wasn't even one for doing anything much with anyone, which was one of the many reasons this all was ludicrous. Sure, he was gay. His parents had found the sketches and pictures to prove that. Had he ever done anything gay? No. Was he likely to ever do anything gay? No. He didn't spend any time bonding with people.
Of course, now there he was, at a camp full of gay people. Seemed like a logical fallacy.
He watched the other boys play "footie", having gotten out of it by saying it'd upset his hearing aids. It would not, but no one dared to argue. So he stood off to the side, at least until the angelic cherub boy hurt himself and had to sit down. Then he walked over, sitting next to him.
"Did you fake that injury?" He assumed. "Good thinking."
Aziraphale - what a name - did not look like a runner.
"No, I really did trip over myself..." Which was more embarrassing because if he had intentionally faked it, he could have had the pride of being cunning and may have angled himself away from the mud when he fell. Now his shirt was dirty and he was feeling quite sheepish. The coach supervising had blown his whistle at him three times to get off the pitch.
Aziraphale exhaled with relief and tried to clean himself off.
"I'm not sporty..." Aziraphale clarified. "I doubt I ever will be."
Maybe he could lose the gay, maybe he could love a woman, maybe he could have kids but he could not, in any universe, be a sportsman. "That I can't change."
"No, probably not. There has to be a certain willingness to run around in this weather for no reason and get muddy all over." He could admire the pluckiness of their fellow campers, but he was in no hurry whatsoever to join them. They could do that by themselves and he would watch. Gladly.
"It's a good show, admittedly." Who didn't like watching a boy be athletic and get competitive? Hartley certainly found it inspiring. "Quite a few handsome lads here."
He could most definitely appreciate that. "Any favourites?"
"Oh. Oh... no, you can't -- that's not a good topic. Remember, the leaflet, we must stay to safe topics." Aziraphale corrected awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs. He didn't want to be rude but he really wanted to change and he didn't want to discuss how handsome boys were because that was the problem and the reason why he had to be here. "We should discuss their performance, not their appearance."
He watched Bill, a charmingly rough boy, slide tackle another boy and score a goal. He seemed to be the best here, by a long shot, and was more than happy to gloat with a slurry of insults and swears.
"Oh, he is. He's very cute. He's my type. There's something about it. The more they look like they'd call me slurs, the more I want to make out with them in a locker room." It was all theoretical, but it was on his mind. Especially as he watched Bill. He didn't think Bill would call him any slurs, they were all here for a reason, but he looked like he would. Looked rough, looked like he'd be a bully given half the chance... Good at football though, admittedly. "It's not really about appearance primarily. It's more personality. Just gets expressed through appearance."
But it was the foundation for the draw. "Don't worry. I'm not about to tell anyone that we are wondering what boy is a good kisser."
"Well, yes, but-- no! No, I'm not even wondering that!" Aziraphale clarified, looking over their shoulder as if someone would emerge and call them sinners. Which, to be fair, that had happened so far while he was here. And he wasn't even talking about much, he just commented on the shirt someone was wearing and had to do push ups. So yeah, he was anxious. "I don't think about kissing any boy."
"Oi! Fuck off! That was a fucking foul, the little bastard kicked me in the back of my leg!" Bill was yelling suddenly, not about to take the fact that the one guy was trying to prove he was better than Bill and had fucking tried to trip him. "You do that one more fucking time and I'll nut you in the head, you little bitch."
"... Oh, good lord. He is quite... verbal, isn't he?" Aziraphale winced. "I don't want to be on his wrong side."
"He's all bark. Look at his shoulders, I could throw him down if I had to." Which he certainly wasn't about to do, he didn't intend to get close enough for it either, but the mind did wander. Bill was a good-looking boy. He liked the way he talked, the liked all the expletives, liked his energy. They'd probably fight, should they ever have a conversation. Probably not get along. Hartley had never mastered it, getting along. Still, it was a fun thought.
"If you don't think about kissing any boy, then why are you here?"
He was just wondering. There was little reason otherwise, after all. "Looks like you are cured. Heureka."
"I don't really think about it. I guess it's just how I am... they told me I'm not allowed to come back until I'm cured but I'm not sure if I'm sick in any way or how one measures a cure." Unlike a lot of people here, he hadn't been caught with porn or kissed a boy or any of that, it was just the way he talked and, perhaps, his book choices. Maybe it was how his eyes did linger on other boys more than he needed. It wasn't kissing he thought about, it was more romance. And maybe he projected that enough for his family to worry. "I don't think on kissing much. Girls or boys."
He thought of dancing and holding hands and being happy with someone. A boy, probably. God, his family were right, he was afflicted. "I try not to think about it all or I will damn myself so I will give this all a jolly good try and hopefully I can return home with no issues."
"Maybe you are asexual. Then you have a decent shot, I suppose. Otherwise this whole farce is nonsense. You are what you are. I'm not going to stop being gay, no matter how much I pray." And he didn't pray at all, when he could help it. He was a scientist, not an idiot. "Just tell them you want to marry a good woman and you'll be home soon enough."
Although Aziraphale did seem very gay. Painfully so. However, yes, who knew. He might be asexual.
Suddenly music could be heard - Queen, if Hartley was not mistaken, very much not Christian - and then there was the sound of a car. Black and sleek looking, it stopped close to their football field, causing all the boys to stop playing and stare, to pretend to know things about cars.
The car door opened and a boy got out, dressed in black with the tightest pair of trousers - were they leather?! - that Hartley had ever seen on anyone. He was wearing sunglasses and had long, dark red hair that was tied together.
"Oh. Wow." What else could there be said about that? Especially when the boy turned to get something that was attached to the roof of his car, turning to show his tightly leather-clad arse to all those repressed gay boys gaping at him. He had a snake tattoo curling around his biceps. This was insane. "What is this?"
"A test. It's a test." Aziraphale knew it had to be a test because no one should be allowed to look that good. The pants, the tight pants, the tattoo and the -- oh no, when he lifted his arms to his roof rack, his shirt came up a little and Aziraphale stared with wide eyes. And the very obvious feeling of his dick twitching tragically reminded him that no, he was not asexual, as lovely as that would be.
"You got a bentley? That's well swank." Bill called out, not afraid to talk to the hot guy and yes, he was apparently the only one who knew anything about cars. He kicked the ball away and came a little closer. "You with us queers or what?"
The whistle blew again and the coach put his hands on his hips. "Bill, stop bothering the gardener! And watch the language, we don't use that word here."
Aziraphale watched Crowley with fascination. A gardener? Really? That man was a -- why?! Were they usually bigger and uglier?
Crowley flashed Bill a smile, lifting his shoulders with a shrug that made his shirt come up a little again. There were some audible sighs from the boys watching. They were all horribly pent up. "Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk to you. Good on you though, recognising a good car when you see one."
He was handling a rolled up hose. This had to be someone's idea of a joke. Hartley blinked, then glanced over at Aziraphale. All right, not so asexual after all. "What about kissing him?"
He asked him quietly, unable to resist the opportunity to tease. Also unable to look away for too long, especially as Crowley was walking right towards them, carrying his equipment. Swaying his hips. Damn, those pants were tight.
Aziraphale was in a state of shock. Words did not matter, they did not come. He was just there, staring, stunned and mesmerised. Bill had returned to football but he was about the only one, most of them were just standing around staring. The coach was blowing this whistle but how could anyone focus like this?
Finally, Aziraphale looked away, blushing furiously. "That is certainly not right. To invite such a-a-a man like -- this is a test."
And yes, he wanted to kiss him but no, he would not admit that. Not aloud, of course.
"I don't know. I mean, he's brought an apron along. I don't know if a trap would have brought an apron." An apron, gloves, everything a gardener needed. He simply was not wearing it yet. Hartley decided to watch him, because why not? He watched as he set down the equipment, watched while the coach berated all the other boys and watched as the gardener started lifting his arms and stretching to reach the branches of the tree he was apparently inspecting.
Hartley didn't care about the tree, he just cared to watch him. "Hm. I'm pretty sure that's a natural redhead." Food for thought. "So. Seems as if you like bad boys. The leather-clad type. Can't blame you."
Hartley had finished brushing his teeth and he was wide awake. Of course he was wide awake, he never slept this early at home. He hardly ever slept when he had a choice about it, there were much more important things to do with his time. At least there were when he was given even a little leeway. Here they had taken his books, his flute - apparently flutes were suggestive, which tickled him - and all he could do was try and compose a song or do calculations and jot down some notes. Difficult to do in a vacuum.
He shared a room with Aziraphale, who was already tucked into bed, eyes closed. It was not yet lights out, so Hartley was sitting up, glancing over at his roommate. "Are you still thinking about him?"
"No." Yes. Of course he was, what else was he supposed to think about? That hair, the glasses, the smile. The way his lips felt against his hand. The swagger, the touch to his waist, the way his hips swayed in a hypnotic way. In a way he never knew he wanted to be hypnotised. He wanted the gardener. He hated himself for him, he had prayed and tried his absolute best to get his mind off it but here he was, trying to pretend he was asleep and sort his head out.
Of course Hartley asked. Why did he ask? He didn't want to be asked. "I have other things to think about." He did not. He opened his eyes and looked at Hartley. "I don't have a one track mind." He did. Apparently.
"Ubi amor, ibi dolor. Where there is love there is pain." It was a simple enough statement and Hartley supposed it wasn't overly helpful right now. He wanted to help Aziraphale, but he was unsure how. He wasn't good at comforting and he knew Aziraphale bought into this. Into all the absolute bollocks they were teaching here. "Si vis amari ama. If you want to be loved, love. It's not a sin. To want what you feel, there's nothing wrong with that. You won't be punished for it. Not by some greater power, anyway."
By this place? That was a different matter. "Anyway, thoughts are free. Simply think about it. I would. If I had a boy like that pay attention to me the way he did to you, I'd be thinking about it all night. It'd be nice, don't you think? To have someone who can be your world."
"People keep saying, in books and in philosophies, that you won't be punished for it and yet, I think I disagree." Why else would he be here, no books and no family, alone and tormented by visions of the most beautiful man he had ever met and could never have. He could never be normal but he could learn here how to repress and hide. And if he could do that, perhaps he could be left alone. He could be alone, he didn't mind, just him and his books. A true safety. "It would be nice if it was ... a romantic story I was weaving in my mind but I'm afraid it is not."
It was a heroes journey and he was stuck on the biggest trial of all. Denying himself love to be a better person because God had cursed him for reasons he would never understand. "I want to get better, Hartley. Please." His sighed. "You must stop talking to me like this."
"Fine. Then, if you do not care for seeing it as romantic, let me argue the rationale. Let me lay it out logistically. Isn't it true, by what you believe in, that a sin committed in thought is just as grievous as one committed in deed? And that there are sins that you cannot come back from, no matter how much you repent?" Ah, it did look as if there was reason for despair, laying it out like that. He felt bad for Aziraphale, he truly did. He was trying to help him with this talk, even if that might not be so readily apparent.
"Therefore, it does not matter anyway. If it is punishment you deserve for this, you will receive it. So why then deny yourself the sin, at least in thought, as it won't change anything about the outcome?"
Aziraphale was quiet for a while and then he closed his eyes and rolled over, his back to Hartley to try and make it clear that he no longer wished to engage. "God is forgiving above all else and I will prove I am worth being forgiven. And as long as I pray and make amends, my toxic thoughts can be forgiven and I can be a better person. I can go home with my family and I can be normal." And that was all he wanted. To be normal. To not have to deal with being the weird one, to not have his family hurt him over it either.
"Please stop doing this to me, I'm really trying very hard. I just--" Aziraphale sighed and buried his head in his pillow. "I just want to go home..."
Hartley said nothing for a while, feeling a pain in his chest that he knew wouldn't go away. Feeling a burning inside him, a deep-seated anger and frustration with the injustice of all this. Aziraphale was a good person. He was always helpful, always polite, he was caring, sweet and selfless. Patient, too. He didn't deserve to feel like this and Hartley, who felt he was far from being a good person, far from being anything other than an angry person these days, didn't want to be the one causing him this pain.
But it was not right. It was not just. "I think you are good. The way you are."
He lifted his hands, showing that was all he was going to say. "Good night, Aziraphale. Lights out."
With that, he turned the lights out. And then it got tedious very quickly, as he could do nothing in the dark but fester in his own even darker thoughts. So, eventually, he got up and quietly exited the room, closing the door behind himself silently. He didn't really know what to do or where to go from there, so there he was. In his obnoxiously boy blue pyjamas, making his way outside. He figured no one was going to look there and at least he had the moonlight.
"Alright, mate. Christ, you do an half look gloomy, eh?" Bill could see Hartley, it was hard to miss him, the pyjamas were a dead give away. Bill was sitting on the deck of the cabin, looking up at the stars and trying to take his mind off how much he missed smoking. He hadn't had a cigarette in God knows how long and it was fucking losing his mind over it.
"I would tell you about the stars and all but I ain't got a clue what they're called or nothing, they're just dead pretty." He tilted his head back and smiled. "Just like you, yeah?"
Well, it was an easy line, why resist it? With a playful grin, he tilted his head back even further to look at Hartley. "Sit down, you miserable sod."
Hartley let out a snort at the line, rolling his eyes. Easy line indeed, not exactly innovative. Also blatantly untrue, because he knew he wasn't the pretty type. He had no idea what type he was, but he didn't think it was pretty. Prickly, maybe, to stay alliterative.
He sat down next to Bill, not hugely surprised to catch him out there. Some were just more likely to break the rules. Bill chief among them. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky as well. "They are in perfect balance, you know? Stars. The light we see, that's the photons that keep it from collapsing."
Terribly interesting, he was sure. "Sorry. I know more about the physics than the romance of stars. Or of anything."
"What's a photon?" Bill asked and then frowned. "Like the thing you sleep on, ain't it? Guess not, if it's in the sky."
He didn't know much of anything and he assumed a guy like Hartley would think he was a proper idiot but he didn't much care. He didn't expect to see him again after this whole mess and at least he could learn a fancy word or two. It was interesting. He stopped caring about learning when he was 12, stopped going to school at 14 and that's how he ended up being fostered by these bastards. They thought the homosexuality was why he was a thug - as fucking if.
"They need the photon thingy not to collapse? The stars, I mean. Is that how they work? I dunno the first thing about 'em."
"A photon is a particle. That just means it's a small part. It's a quantum of light or other electromagnetic radiation. In the case of stars, it's light. Futon is the thing you sleep on, by the way." Hartley wasn't sure why he was lecturing, but Bill didn't seem to mind and, hey. He was better at that than actually making conversation.
"Stars have a lot of mass. They are giant and heavy, so that would make them collapse inward. However, because they have that light pressure, the photon energy, inside them, it pushes back outwards. So they are in balance, as I said." Hartley lifted his hands to demonstrate by linking them. "Push and pull. Like yin and yang in a lot of Eastern philosophies."
"Push-pull. Like a door." Bill snorted in amusement and looked up at the stars for a while. "Kinda cool, ain't it? That something like that just happens. The world is fucking bonkers. I don't think there's any bloke in the sky but somehow, that makes it weirder. That the world just found it's way." He found it all so fascinating. "Then again, you probably get it all more than me, maybe it ain't as weird to you."
Bill was aware that next to Hartley, he was a total numskull so it was hard to know if he was being an idiot or not. "You a scientist or something? You gonna be one, I guess."
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Of course, now there he was, at a camp full of gay people. Seemed like a logical fallacy.
He watched the other boys play "footie", having gotten out of it by saying it'd upset his hearing aids. It would not, but no one dared to argue. So he stood off to the side, at least until the angelic cherub boy hurt himself and had to sit down. Then he walked over, sitting next to him.
"Did you fake that injury?" He assumed. "Good thinking."
Aziraphale - what a name - did not look like a runner.
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Aziraphale exhaled with relief and tried to clean himself off.
"I'm not sporty..." Aziraphale clarified. "I doubt I ever will be."
Maybe he could lose the gay, maybe he could love a woman, maybe he could have kids but he could not, in any universe, be a sportsman. "That I can't change."
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"It's a good show, admittedly." Who didn't like watching a boy be athletic and get competitive? Hartley certainly found it inspiring. "Quite a few handsome lads here."
He could most definitely appreciate that. "Any favourites?"
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He watched Bill, a charmingly rough boy, slide tackle another boy and score a goal. He seemed to be the best here, by a long shot, and was more than happy to gloat with a slurry of insults and swears.
"I suppose Bill is rather talented."
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But it was the foundation for the draw. "Don't worry. I'm not about to tell anyone that we are wondering what boy is a good kisser."
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"Oi! Fuck off! That was a fucking foul, the little bastard kicked me in the back of my leg!" Bill was yelling suddenly, not about to take the fact that the one guy was trying to prove he was better than Bill and had fucking tried to trip him. "You do that one more fucking time and I'll nut you in the head, you little bitch."
"... Oh, good lord. He is quite... verbal, isn't he?" Aziraphale winced. "I don't want to be on his wrong side."
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"If you don't think about kissing any boy, then why are you here?"
He was just wondering. There was little reason otherwise, after all. "Looks like you are cured. Heureka."
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He thought of dancing and holding hands and being happy with someone. A boy, probably. God, his family were right, he was afflicted. "I try not to think about it all or I will damn myself so I will give this all a jolly good try and hopefully I can return home with no issues."
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Although Aziraphale did seem very gay. Painfully so. However, yes, who knew. He might be asexual.
Suddenly music could be heard - Queen, if Hartley was not mistaken, very much not Christian - and then there was the sound of a car. Black and sleek looking, it stopped close to their football field, causing all the boys to stop playing and stare, to pretend to know things about cars.
The car door opened and a boy got out, dressed in black with the tightest pair of trousers - were they leather?! - that Hartley had ever seen on anyone. He was wearing sunglasses and had long, dark red hair that was tied together.
"Oh. Wow." What else could there be said about that? Especially when the boy turned to get something that was attached to the roof of his car, turning to show his tightly leather-clad arse to all those repressed gay boys gaping at him. He had a snake tattoo curling around his biceps. This was insane. "What is this?"
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"You got a bentley? That's well swank." Bill called out, not afraid to talk to the hot guy and yes, he was apparently the only one who knew anything about cars. He kicked the ball away and came a little closer. "You with us queers or what?"
The whistle blew again and the coach put his hands on his hips. "Bill, stop bothering the gardener! And watch the language, we don't use that word here."
Aziraphale watched Crowley with fascination. A gardener? Really? That man was a -- why?! Were they usually bigger and uglier?
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He was handling a rolled up hose. This had to be someone's idea of a joke. Hartley blinked, then glanced over at Aziraphale. All right, not so asexual after all. "What about kissing him?"
He asked him quietly, unable to resist the opportunity to tease. Also unable to look away for too long, especially as Crowley was walking right towards them, carrying his equipment. Swaying his hips. Damn, those pants were tight.
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Finally, Aziraphale looked away, blushing furiously. "That is certainly not right. To invite such a-a-a man like -- this is a test."
And yes, he wanted to kiss him but no, he would not admit that. Not aloud, of course.
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Hartley didn't care about the tree, he just cared to watch him. "Hm. I'm pretty sure that's a natural redhead." Food for thought. "So. Seems as if you like bad boys. The leather-clad type. Can't blame you."
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He shared a room with Aziraphale, who was already tucked into bed, eyes closed. It was not yet lights out, so Hartley was sitting up, glancing over at his roommate. "Are you still thinking about him?"
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Of course Hartley asked. Why did he ask? He didn't want to be asked. "I have other things to think about." He did not. He opened his eyes and looked at Hartley. "I don't have a one track mind." He did. Apparently.
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By this place? That was a different matter. "Anyway, thoughts are free. Simply think about it. I would. If I had a boy like that pay attention to me the way he did to you, I'd be thinking about it all night. It'd be nice, don't you think? To have someone who can be your world."
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It was a heroes journey and he was stuck on the biggest trial of all. Denying himself love to be a better person because God had cursed him for reasons he would never understand. "I want to get better, Hartley. Please." His sighed. "You must stop talking to me like this."
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"Therefore, it does not matter anyway. If it is punishment you deserve for this, you will receive it. So why then deny yourself the sin, at least in thought, as it won't change anything about the outcome?"
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"Please stop doing this to me, I'm really trying very hard. I just--" Aziraphale sighed and buried his head in his pillow. "I just want to go home..."
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But it was not right. It was not just. "I think you are good. The way you are."
He lifted his hands, showing that was all he was going to say. "Good night, Aziraphale. Lights out."
With that, he turned the lights out. And then it got tedious very quickly, as he could do nothing in the dark but fester in his own even darker thoughts. So, eventually, he got up and quietly exited the room, closing the door behind himself silently. He didn't really know what to do or where to go from there, so there he was. In his obnoxiously boy blue pyjamas, making his way outside. He figured no one was going to look there and at least he had the moonlight.
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"I would tell you about the stars and all but I ain't got a clue what they're called or nothing, they're just dead pretty." He tilted his head back and smiled. "Just like you, yeah?"
Well, it was an easy line, why resist it? With a playful grin, he tilted his head back even further to look at Hartley. "Sit down, you miserable sod."
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He sat down next to Bill, not hugely surprised to catch him out there. Some were just more likely to break the rules. Bill chief among them. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky as well. "They are in perfect balance, you know? Stars. The light we see, that's the photons that keep it from collapsing."
Terribly interesting, he was sure. "Sorry. I know more about the physics than the romance of stars. Or of anything."
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He didn't know much of anything and he assumed a guy like Hartley would think he was a proper idiot but he didn't much care. He didn't expect to see him again after this whole mess and at least he could learn a fancy word or two. It was interesting. He stopped caring about learning when he was 12, stopped going to school at 14 and that's how he ended up being fostered by these bastards. They thought the homosexuality was why he was a thug - as fucking if.
"They need the photon thingy not to collapse? The stars, I mean. Is that how they work? I dunno the first thing about 'em."
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"Stars have a lot of mass. They are giant and heavy, so that would make them collapse inward. However, because they have that light pressure, the photon energy, inside them, it pushes back outwards. So they are in balance, as I said." Hartley lifted his hands to demonstrate by linking them. "Push and pull. Like yin and yang in a lot of Eastern philosophies."
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Bill was aware that next to Hartley, he was a total numskull so it was hard to know if he was being an idiot or not. "You a scientist or something? You gonna be one, I guess."
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