Chapter Text
Robbe looked out the window, watching the brown, grassy hills roll by. He was glad he had stubbornly chosen to sit in the back seat, as it make it easier to avoid his mother’s searching gaze. He could feel her eyes on him in the rear-view mirror but couldn’t look at her. So he kept his head faced firmly to the hills.
They had been driving for hours and hours and it had been nothing but grass interrupted by the occasional tree. No houses, no animals, no life other than that.
“Robbe,” his mother spoke for the first time in nearly two hours, “look up ahead. Do you see that pink fence?”
Suddenly, the brown hills were a lot more appealing than the building descending upon him. It was large and white with pink trim and the whole property was surrounded by a bright pink fence. The garden out front was hardly a garden at all; it held only pink flowers standing stiffly in the dirt, evidently fake. Even the door was pink. Robbe sunk lower into his seat.
When they parked in the dirt driveway, a woman dressed in a pink blazer and matching pencil skirt exited the house, leaving the door open behind her. Her stiff, blond shoulder-length curls didn’t move in the breeze but bounced up and down as she walked toward them.
His mother was already circling to the other side of the car by the time Robbe had opened his door. “Robbe, get out,” she hissed quietly before turning to the woman and holding out her hand.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Maria,” his mother said, holding the woman’s hand with both of hers. “Lovely to meet you as well, Sophie. Patrick’s given me all the details about the… intervention. And this is your son, Robbe, I’m guessing?”
Robbe tuned them out as he gathered his surroundings. The grass beneath his feet, unlike the kind he’d grown fond of on the drive to True Directions, was vibrant green. The green went on until the fence, where it turned to brown again, and so did the trees and bushes scattered here and there.
The house was even more hideous up close. The pink looked strained against a backdrop of a sea of brown grass. As he observed the color, Robbe was reminded of a fact he’d learned about a shade of pink that could decrease stress and anxiety. He remembered hearing somewhere that many prisons used that shade to calm violent prisoners.
Fuck. This was going to be the worst two months of his life, he just knew it.
“My son, Milan, will bring your bags in, and Robbe, you can follow me to my office,” Maria said, causing Robbe to tune back into their conversation. Maria smiled widely, wrinkles becoming more pronounced as she did so. “Say your goodbyes.”
Robbe turned to his mom. He searched her eyes for anything, any regret or uncertainty he could use to convince her this was all a mistake. He saw nothing but resignation.
“It’s for your own good, dear,” she said one last time, getting close to him and speaking quietly. Robbe felt her hot breath tinted with the scent of car mints slide over his face. She grabbed his chin and pulled him down, planting a firm kiss on his cheek before turning and walking back to the car. Robbe and Maria watched in silence as she pulled out of the driveway and drove back in the direction they’d come from, quickly being pulled under by the brown sea.
“Wonderful. What a nice woman,” Maria said to herself as they began walking up the stairs to the pink door. Milan followed closely behind, and Robbe looked back. The man’s lips curled up ever so slightly and his eyes held an apology. Robbe turned back around.
They arrived in a large, green room with an uncomfortable-looking green couch on the left and a window with green gingham curtains drawn on the right. In the center stood a grand glass desk holding a green telephone, various papers, and a lamp, and two green chairs sat on either side. Maria circled the desk and sat down on one of the chairs. Robbe sat down on the other. Maria laid her forearms on the table, locking her fingers together.
“Now Robbe, you’re here because you are a homosexual.”
“I’m not, I promise you.” Robbe was just begging the universe at this point.
“You are exhibiting classic signs of homosexuality – not only are you submitting to… urges to pleasure yourself, you’re using pictures of men to do it.”
“That doesn’t mean I actually want to be with one. I would never date a dude. And I’ll have you know, I’ve been happily dating a girl for two years now.”
“But do you enjoy it?” Maria leaned forward. “When you kiss her, what are you thinking about? When you’re alone with your male friends, do you imagine what’s under their clothes? Do you think they masturbate to pictures of naked men?”
Robbe shook his head frantically. “I don’t know! I don’t know. Just because I don’t desire Noor doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I do. And yeah, sure I get curious about what my friends’ dicks look like, but doesn’t everyone?”
Maria slammed one hand on the desk and jabbed a finger in his face. “Aha! You see, you are a homosexual. Real men, straight men, don’t think about what’s in their friends’ shorts. They love women’s bodies and they love kissing women. You, Robbe, are not a real man. Not until you do these things too. If you can’t accept you’re a homosexual, you will have to wear this until you do. Only then will you get uniform privileges.”
Maria reached into a drawer on the desk and pulled out a grey piece of cloth, nothing short of a hospital gown. “Real men wear clothes, Robbe. Now, one of the other boys here will show you where you’ll be staying.”
Robbe stood up with the sheet in his hand, staring at the floor. He heard footsteps, but couldn’t be bothered to look up.
Maria cleared her throat. “Robbe, this is Jens. Jens, this is our last arrival for the boys. Show him to the boys’ quarters.”
Finally, Robbe looked up. All the air left his lungs. Standing before him was the most gorgeous boy he’d ever seen. Dark hair hung in gentle curls over thick eyebrows. Robbe had the urge to push that hair back so he could see more of this boy’s beautiful face, then dug his fingernails into his arm. He wasn’t gay.
Jens, Robbe thinks he remembered Maria introducing the boy as, licked his full lips before speaking with a deep, rich voice. “Nice to meet you, Robbe. Follow me.”
Robbe was gone.
He followed Jens, floating on a cloud of soft curls and that deep voice whispering in his ear. In reality, Jens was just outlining the daily schedule, but Robbe wasn’t focused on the words so much as the cadence of his voice. It was a feather traveling across his skin, fixing all his blemishes and imperfections as it was pulled along.
It’s just admiring his voice, Robbe told himself. It doesn’t make you gay.
“...and this is where all the boys sleep. Your bed is the one in the middle,” Jens said as he led Robbe into a separate building.
There were five beds in a semicircle, but only two looked occupied. The whole room was blue, down to the details on the bedding. The outside of the comforter was solid blue, but the sheets, pillows and inside of the comforter were dotted in a pattern of blue trucks. (Ah yes, peak masculinity.)
“Who’s this?” Robbe jumped at the sound of the other voice in the room. He looked to the bed furthest to the right and saw a bone-haired boy sitting atop the bedding, a book in hand.
“This is Robbe,” Jens addressed the boy before turning to Robbe. “That’s Sander,” he sighed. “Just ignore him. Now, of course, we’re all sharing a room so any… inappropriate behavior is strictly off-limits.”
“I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish by putting a bunch of queers in a room together and expecting them not to fuck,” Sander said, not looking up from his book. As he turned the page, Robbe noted the cover. A man held his head up above a sea of red waves, mouth just below the water line and hands raised just above. The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea.
“Shut up, Sander.” Jens turned to Robbe. “Just ignore him,” he repeated, but Robbe caught a lift in the corner of Jens’ mouth as he turned away.
“What are you reading?” Robbe asked, a bit rushed, before he could stop himself. Sander looked up, eyes slightly widened in surprise. “Oh- it’s, uhm, a book that apparently really influenced Bowie. David Bowie.”
“Yeah, I know who Bowie is,” Robbe said, sneering ever so slightly. Sander seemed to ignore this. “Do you like his music?”
“No. He’s gay.”
Robbe’s bluntness caught both boys off-guard. “Woah,” Jens said, chuckling slightly. “...I don’t mean to offend you by saying this or anything, but isn’t that the same reason you’re here?”
“I’m not fucking gay,” Robbe said, top lip fully curled. Jens raised his hands as if in surrender. “Hey, if anything, that kind of thinking will get you out of here faster. I’m not gonna judge.”
At that moment Sander got up from bed. “It’s time for group,” he said coldly, pushing Robbe roughly with his shoulder as he walked out.
“What’s with him?” Robbe asked. “Probably your homophobia,” Jens sighed. “Look, Robbe, if this were a front, I wouldn’t judge – whatever gets you out of here the quickest. But I see what’s in your hands.” Robbe looked down at the gray sheet. “My advice?” Jens continued. “Admit you’re gay, even if you don’t really believe it. You won’t get any further to being out of this hell until you do. Now follow me, I’ll show you to the group therapy room.”
–
When Robbe ripped the blue ribbon off his chair, no one cheered louder than Maria. The rest clapped slowly, appraising him and making judgments before he’d even opened his mouth. It was probably because of the thin piece of fabric he’d shrugged himself into a few minutes before.
The chair sat in the middle of the room so that everyone else was seated in a semicircle around him. All the eyes would be on him.
“We’re all going to reintroduce ourselves for Robbe, okay?” Maria said, addressing the group. “Britt, you’ll start.”
A girl with a pinched mouth and long, straight blond hair stood up. “I’m Britt, and I’m bisexual.”
“Britt,” Maria said warningly. Britt rolled her eyes. “Since apparently bisexuality doesn’t exist, I’m a homo.”
“We will be discussing this later,” Maria hissed in her direction. It must suck to be seated next to Maria, Robbe mused. The next person stood up. They had evidently altered the girls’ uniform—pink button-down with a conservative pink knee-length skirt—with a black long-sleeve shirt underneath and copious amounts of jewelry. “I’m Mila, and I’m nonbinary and pansexual.”
Maria sighed loudly. Mila cleared their throat. “Excuse me, I must have forgotten just like Britt that the only sexual orientations that exist are gay or straight. So consider me gay, in every sense of the word.” Mila winked with one heavily lined eye at Robbe, piercings jingling as they sat down.
Jens stood up next. “Hi Robbe,” he offered a warm smile that made Robbe’s ears redden, “ I’m Jens and I’m, ehm, a homosexual.” He cleared his throat as he sat down.
The person seated next to Jens was Sander, who just glared at Robbe. “Sander?” Maria prompted snidely. Sander rolled his eyes. “We met.”
“Introduce yourself, Sander,” Maria ordered. Sander stood up with a sigh. “I’m Sander and I like dick.”
“Sander! We do not use such vile language here at True Directions!” Maria gasped, mouth gaping. “I’m disappointed in all of you and I would like to see more dedication as we move forward in this journey. Now, Juliette, let’s see if you can do better than everyone else today.”
Juliette, with a loose braid slung over her left shoulder, stood up. “I’m Juliette, and I’m a homosexual.”
“Thank you for that, Juliette,” Maria said, drooping in her seat. “Now, Robbe, please introduce yourself.”
Robbe shifted in his seat, debating standing up. He decided after a moment not to. “I’m Robbe, and I’m not supposed to be here.”
Yet another sigh escaped Maria’s lips, this one quiet and disappointed. Robbe didn’t wait for her to speak. “I mean, I’m faithful, I go to Church every Sunday, I have a girlfriend who I love very much. I’m not… gay.” Robbe shivered.
“Do you like being with her?” Mila asked. Robbe looked at them, confused. “Yes, I love her.”
“No, I mean in bed. Sexually.”
Robbe shook his head adamantly. “I won’t have sex before marriage, I’m a good Christian.”
Britt snorted and Sander rolled his eyes. Mila continued. “Okay, then what do you jerk off to?”
“W-What?” Robbe blushed once more, but this wasn’t like when Jens smiled at him. This was when you felt smaller than everyone else in the room. Humiliated. “I-I don’t-”
“Don’t lie,” Sander spoke up, laughing. Laughing at Robbe. Laughing at the shuffling of his feet, the wringing of his sweaty hands, his red face, his darting eyes. Robbe decided then and there that Sander was a huge dick and he hated him.
“Fapping? Beating the meat? Tickling your pick-”
“Mila, that’s enough,” Maria snapped. “Stop talking such garbage. And everyone, give Robbe a moment.”
Robbe looked down, feeling disgusted that Maria was defending him. Who’s side was he on? Who’s side did he want to be on? Because these people—at least, Jens, Britt, and Juliette—seemed like people he’d be friends with. If he didn’t know they were gay, what would he think?
No, they were sinners and were going to hell. They were here because they needed help.
Robbe blinked. He exhaled.
“I’m here because my mother found… dirty… magazines under my bed.”
“Aah,” Sander said quietly. Robbe sent him a quick glare, which Sander replied to with a smirk.
“Do you use those magazines when you… do it?” Juliette said quietly. She has a lovely voice, thought Robbe. There. Not gay.
“...Yes. But I don’t think that makes me gay.”
Sander let out one loud laugh, like a bleating sheep. “You jerk off to pictures of men, Robbe? Cut the crap. You’re fruity.”
“Robbe, do you think that’s something everyone does?” Jens asked. Robbe felt a cool relief at the sound of his voice, refreshing in the stifling heat of everyone’s judgment.
“Yes. Just like guys wonder about their friends’ penises. It’s just something people do.”
“But maybe they don’t. Have you ever thought about that? Maybe it’s been normal for you your whole life so you assumed everyone else does it, but they don’t. I’m gonna be honest, Robbe, I’ve been friends with a lot of straight guys. They’ll make gay jokes, occasionally slap each other’s asses in the locker rooms, but when it comes to private times, they’re looking at pictures of naked women. And they definitely have sex with their girlfriends.”
“It’s easier to be a prude because of religion than admit you’re not sexually attracted to your girlfriend, Robbe,” Mila said, smiling ruefully.
Robbe leaned backward until his shoulders touched the back of his chair. Their words wrapped around him, rushing in and out of his mind as he dissected each part of each sentence. Broken phrases and far-off voices formed a fog around his head. Robbe felt tears gather in his eyes.
Maria’s voice cut sharply through the fog. “Real men don’t cry, Robbe.” He tried sucking the tears back into his eyes to no avail. All he could do was take his shitty hospital gown of an outfit and pull it over his face to wipe the tears away. When he pulled the hem back down, the group looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and sympathy.
“Does he get a hug like I did?” Juliette asked. “No. Women are hugged because they are sensitive emotionally and need that extra support. The physical protection of a hug offered to women shows their position in the relationship, which is being protected by her husband. Robbe should be able to handle himself.”
Robbe stood up on shaky legs and shaky breaths. “I’m Robbe, and I think I’m a homosexual,” he said quietly, looking down at the carpet. The claps from the other seven people in the room were deafening.
The next thirty minutes consisted of Robbe pulling his chair into the semicircle as a symbol of him officially joining the group of hopeful-heteros and listening to Maria drone on about why they were gay. He vaguely registered her instructing them all to think about the cause of their homosexuality; the first time they’d experienced something that made them question the traditional—and proper—roles of men and women. She called this the “root”. Robbe had no idea what his root was.
When they were dismissed, Robbe was handed a small pile of clothes that matched the other boys’ outfits. It was a light blue button-down with dark blue shorts, a tie of the same color, and blue suspenders. He was told his outdoor clothing would be given to him at his next session with Patrick.
He was the last to leave the room, dragging his feet as he trailed behind Mila and Juliette, who were talking quietly between themselves. As he passed through the threshold to the porch outside, a figure darted in front of him. It was Jens, standing directly in front of the setting sun. It caused him to be surrounded by a halo of light, which Robbe thought was fitting.
Oh, God. His feelings about Jens made sense now.
He expected that deep voice to roll over him like a wave, carry him down to the bottom of the ocean—a journey Robbe quickly realized he enjoyed taking—but Jens only scanned their surroundings for a moment before pulling Robbe into a tight hug.