Out of the asylum (and the closet) ch9

It's been three days Jacques hadn't seen Gaston. The wannabe soldier didn't come by his house anymore. The small child in ribbons had tried to meet him at the school but every time he was kicked out either by the pupils or the schoolmaster himself. One time he finally caught a glimpse of his favorite ponytail and ran to him.

"Gaston!" He shouted in a broad smile. "I'm here!" His friend didn't even turn back. He shouted louder. "Gaston! Where you going? I'm right here!"

He still didn't look back and strode away. He looked like he wanted to avoid the little farmer boy. A sorrowful fear filled up Jacques' heart. So much it brimmed over his wet eyelids. He ran at Gaston again.

"Why you don't turn back? I'm here!" He cried. Gaston paced up. "Why you running? Gaston! I love you!" His lover ran too far away for Jacques to find him. "I love you!" He sobbed.

Gaston had finally lost his cute pancake. He stopped by a shady back-alley the villagers were used to litter with peelings, egg shells or fish bones. Here he tumbled down and burst into tears. Oh God, it hurt! It hurt so much! Much more than his father's punches. Yet Gaston felt his petite crêpe suffered a thousand times more! This monstrous thought made his tears thicker and his whole body quiver.

I'm sorry. I'm so terribly sorry.

He craved to go back, jump on his adorable doll, cover his cute face with kisses and squeeze him to death in his arms but he couldn't! He'd put his precious pancake's life in danger if he did! He could still hear Petite crêpe sob, call his name and yell 'I love you'.

I love you too! I love you too!  He yearned to yell back. He was such a horrible, lame friend! He tells him he loves him, then has to choose between putting his life in danger or making him suffer. No wonder he had no friends at school. No wonder his mother had left.

Back at home, at the right hour of course, his father decided to train him like usual. Like forcing him to do a hundred push-ups, carry heavy rocks for hours or shoot at wild animals with his old rifle. If Gaston missed the target or just injured it, he had to finish it with a knife, no matter how long it'd take or how loud the beast shrieked. The soldier's son didn't really like that part but it had to be done if he wanted to eat or become a great soldier himself, right?

"Congrats, son! I must admit you have exceeded all my hopes today!" His father told him as the night was falling.

"Re-really?" Gaston's face glowed.

"Yeah! In fact, I'll give you a reward. A well-deserved reward." His father carried on. "You'll have it tomorrow night."

"Wh-why tomorrow night, father?" Gaston dared to ask.

"Being a true man is also being patient, son." His father replied before he slapped his son's head.

Little Gaston was so glad he finally made his father proud. Maybe to quit seeing the light of his life was a necessary sacrifice. Maybe… maybe his reward was… Would his father allow him to see Jacques again? Now he was pleased with his son, surely he'll let him be happy again! For as far as he could remember, the little hunter's apprentice had never been more happy than with his beloved sweet crêpe. Yes, Jacques actually was his only reason to smile and hope.

As Gaston was daydreaming, he joyfully rushed down the stairs. But his bliss quickly drained out.
Weird-looking men had entered the house.

"Father, who are they?" Gaston asked.

"Your reward. They're here for you." His father had replied in what looked like a smirk.

"I…don't understand." He stammered. These guys looked pretty scary. Yes, he was currently scared. Again. Even if he was a man.

"They're from the Maison des Lunes, boy." His father explained before taking a sip in his beer mug.

"The… asylum?" Gaston realized as fear engulfed his heart.

"Correct." One of the weird men answered. "Your son may be crazy, Monsieur Duhamel, but he's quite clever."

"Crazy? I- I'm not crazy!" Gaston protested. "What does that mean, father?" He panicked.

Then he heard a loud bang that made him shudder against his will. His father had almost smashed his mug against the table.

"You see that? My poor boy isn't even aware! Such a terrible disease, isn't it?" His father faked being upset.

"We understand, Monsieur Duhamel. The Maison counts many of these cases." The other weird man said.

"W- what cases?" Gaston dared ask.

"Inverts. Sodomites."

The world just crashed around the dark-haired boy. Sodomy was a horrible sin, a crime! It was punished by death on a pyre! Why would his father charge him with such monstrous accusations? He didn't belong in an asylum! He suddenly lost all control.

"I'M NOT A SODOMITE!" He yelled out of anger and fear. "Father…!" He tried to talk.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU DISGUSTING FAGGOT!" Monsieur Duhamel roared then tried to bring his senses together. He had to appear like a concerned father for his precious only son. "Ah, forgive me, sirs. But I'm so shattered…" He almost wept, covering his eyes with his left hand.

"We're deeply sorry for you, Monsieur. We'll take good care of your son."

"We promise you he'll be cured when he comes back."

"If he ever comes back." His colleague whispered in his left ear before giggling.

Both came dangerously close to Gaston.

"B- Back off! D-Don't come any closer!" He stuttered as he tried to look for a way out. He found the stairs and quickly rushed up to his bedroom.

God, pull yourself together, you're a man! Why are you so scared?

Back at his grandmother's farm, Jacques rushed into her petticoats and let out muffled sobs.

"Jacquot, why is it my little egg?" She asked in concern.

"Gaston… he hates me!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I…" Petite Crêpe realized the appalling truth. "I kissed him… and now he don't wanna see me anymore!"
The little trembling ball in ribbons remembered what Gaston's classmates told him. That he was 'disgusting', a 'faggot', a 'sodomite', that he wanted 'cock in his ass', that Gaston wasn't really his friend and actually made fun of him during class…
"He thinks I'm disgusting!" Petite Crêpe wailed out.
It was his fault. It was entirely his fault. He shouldn't have kissed him. He shouldn't have said and let alone yelled he loved him. Now his beloved idol wouldn't see him again! This idea destroyed all happiness in Jacques' mellow heart.