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“Let me go!”
Duncan sobs his heart out as his father holds his neck and back, forcing him into a hug. The chicken lays dead—headless and bloody— on Duncan’s clammy arms. It was a surprise, neither of them didn’t know they needed that comfort after losing the love of their lives— Mrs. Mudge. Despite Duncan trying to run away from those cradling hands to run to his mother’s chicken cemetery, his body seemed to melt and forge into his father’s comfort—a fact he can’t seem to wrap his head around. He never hugged his dad like this for years, reminiscing the times he felt safe propped up on his mother and father’s arms. Now it’s only the two of them— Duncan and Edgard— to fight the sadness and grief that threatens to eat them whole, yet that tight embrace starts to take over the negative and replace it with unmistaken relief instead.
“Let me… go…”
Duncan says his one last attempt of the phrase that didn’t really sound so sincere in his mouth, and completely lets the tears flow like a river. All those months of holding and repressing, it finally came down. Surging grief that he had restrained by wearing his mother’s furry, black coat and taking care of all her chickens, flows all around his body as he clings onto his dad. His father caresses his soft chestnut hair as his other hand taps comforting, gentle slaps on his middle back. It went on for minutes, but felt so slow to Duncan. Mr. Mudge breaks the hug first after Duncan had stopped crying, his grey button-up dampened with salty water and his face openly showing his love for his son— an emotion he never really shows. He brings his calloused palm over Duncan’s face and wipes a bead of glistening tears with his thumbs on his son’s cheeks.
“Go take a bath, son.”
Duncan nods while looking at his beloved chicken. His father goes inside the shabby yet comfortable house and leaves Duncan with his bloody hands. The tattered boy walks slowly to his and his mother’s spot, the Chicken cemetery, where they had buried their chickens— all named— as his mother believed that Chickens deserved a proper burial. Duncan followed his late mother’s steps, grabbing the metal shovel and dug a small hole in the ground for his best friend to lay in. “I’m sorry, Chicken,” Duncan says apologetically, regretting every moment he’d been pressurized by those suck-up bullies to the point that he had bitten off his Chicken’s head. He was supposed to calm it, but those teasing remarks and… Perry. His mind acted on its own. He backfills the small trench, not after scratching the Chicken’s body one last time, and leaves the place. He goes back to his house, seeing his father asleep on his mother’s pink sofa, he rushes upstairs to take a warm bath.
Duncan sinks into the lukewarm water, sighing as a response as the blood and grime mixes with the bath water. He holds on to his shins, folding his body until his chin reaches the bumps of his knees.
Duncan closes his eyes, thinking and thinking about that event. How he just wanted to fit in but the way that Perry’s scumbag friends had teased him into making him put the Chicken’s head into his mouth, “It was to calm it” he told himself, yet the ever growing guilt washes over Duncan as he realized again that he had held the Chicken there on his final heaps of life and bitten right through its neck with a crunch, leaving a trail of blood oozing out of his mouth. “I-I’m sorry.” He slaps himself, the harsh touch reminding him of his father. Perry had reminded him that he acted like a little girl because of apologizing too many times to count, he couldn’t help himself let the gloomy phrase roll out of his tongue.
“Perry…” He could still remember Perry’s eyes, the way they scrunched up when Duncan had tried to kiss him, or that bruising touch on his hips when he had worn his mother’s wedding gown for Perry to joke around. Duncan held himself tighter as he remembered Perry’s hands as it came in contact with places he’d never think of reaching. It felt weird, but it was Perry.
Duncan’s hand slowly moves up his stomach, trailing his fingertips up to his chest. He remembers Perry’s description of touching women and how to make them feel good. It wasn’t the ideal conversation with Duncan but he found Perry’s words so hypnotizing. “You touch them in the chest and they scream for more.” A cloudy voice appears in Duncan’s mind, it’s Perry’s, that blonde lad always finding his way into Duncan’s head. He runs his fingers in a circular motion on his chest, remembering Perry’s words as he closes his eyes but jumps out of the bathtub and drains the water, quickly covering himself with a white towel and going back to his room.
This time, there’s no chicken standing on the frame of his bed and he isn’t wearing his mother’s fur coat, just him as he breathes deeply and finally drifts off to sleep.
“Told ya’ we didn’t need Juster anymore, I’ve got a strong boy here to help me!” Duncan’s father exclaimed down the barn to his busy son. Duncan carries rectangular hay and stacks them on top of one another, brushing away the dust and stripes of grass left on his palms. Duncan goes down the ladder and meets his father outside the barn. “Why don’t you help me with cleaning up, huh? What do you say?” Mr. Mudge swings his arms and pulls Duncan into a friendly side hug. “Okay, dad.” For the first time in a while, Duncan sees his father’s lips quirk up with a small smile.
They first started on sweeping the whole house, Duncan had realized actually how old their home really is, then, they put Duncan and his mother’s unused stuff for safe-keeping. While Mr. Mudge busies himself with organizing his and his late wife’s bedroom, Duncan heads on to the attic that probably hasn’t been touched for years. He grabs both sides of the ladder, climbing carefully until he reaches the creaky plank floor of the attic. The place had already accumulated age-old dust and is beginning to look foggy because of it. Duncan looks around in awe, savouring the moment of exploring the small attic for the first time. He walks slowly, taking in the surroundings when he sees a medium-sized wooden box with fading embellishments that he can’t help but ponder about opening to see what’s inside. His parents never allowed him there, always locking the small curve on the hinge of the opening with a rusty padlock. So he touches the box, blowing away the dust as he gently flicks the lock open.
There he sees polaroid photos; antique illustrations engraved in the glossy paper. There are a few of them, scattered inside the hollow box. Duncan grabs a photo between his two fingers, a photo of what seemed to be a scenery with flowers scattered along the dark red carpet and an arch that overflowed with white flowers, petals slowly withering away; going down like the season of fall.
Duncan puts the photo back into the box and grabs another one, in this photo, he sees his father smiling in a way he’d never ever seen him do. His lips were curved into a half moon, eyes sparkling as he looked at his beautiful bride. Duncan’s mother wore the long wedding gown, fitted with intricate designs of laces— the gown he wore that Perry took his first. The memories came rushing in, making him throw back the picture inside the box, locking it and putting where it was before.
“Duncan! Come here, help me polish the floor!” And so Duncan quickly goes back down the ladder and rubs his dusty palms on his plaid, short-sleeved shirt. Running in a swift manner to reach his father faster.
“Ya’ want some?” Mr. Mudge hands out a plastic bag of crackers he always eats to Duncan—who usually refuses— but surprisingly dips his hand inside the bag to grab a piece of the salted crackers. They laze outside the green-yellowish grass, leaning on a wooden folding table while sharing the pack of crackers silently. Duncan breaks the silence by asking his father a favour. “Dad, if any of my… friends come looking for me, tell them I'm not here, alright?” Duncan’s father’s eyebrows flexed up, curious to what made Duncan’s “going-out” with friends change courses and go in the opposite direction. He was finally getting out of the forsaken barn when meeting up with his friends but he wants to go back to take care of his chickens now.
“Why? You were having fun with them, right?” Duncan’s eyes fixate on the untrimmed grass, shrugging without looking back up to his father. “Okay, son. I’ll remember that.” Duncan smiles, his lips slowly filling with joy as he looks at his father with those big brown eyes. “Thank you, dad.” Mr. Mudge looks at his son intently, eyebrows furrowing as he bites back a muffled sob. “Gosh, how much you look like your mother.” That was enough for Duncan to give his father a warm hug, resting his head on the crook of his father’s neck. Mr. Mudge huffs out a breath and gently caresses his only child’s hair.
“I love you, son.”
One single phrase yet so full of fondness and sorrow. This caused Duncan to hug his father tighter, his tears beginning to well in his eyes. He pulls away fast before he actually pules and rubs his eyes in a circular motion— to get rid of those tiny droplets of tears. Mr. Mudge holds Duncan’s pink cheeks in his curved palm, imitating the way his late wife used to hold their son in the same way. Looking how his son had grown into a timid yet strong boy. He uncups his hand and brings it to the pack of crackers, digging in to grab those salty treats again. Duncan sits on the seat of the wooden table set, holding out his palm to ask for a piece of cracker. They sit there silently, finding solace in each other’s presence, when suddenly a brown small truck stops far away. Duncan and Mr. Mudge stare at the truck, confused as to whom it may be.
The truck door opens, revealing a lean but tough man with dark—somewhat blonde— very short hair, a set of blue eyes, and a furrowed expression.
Duncan’s eyes widened in shock, mouth agape after his eyes had actually focused on the man far away. “Who’s that-” Mr. Mudge suddenly stops as he sees his poor son run quickly without stopping, hiding at the back of the shed as he ducks and looks at his father with glossy eyes. The man walks towards him, his eyebrows arching slowly. “Hey, kid! What’re you doin’ here?” Mr. Mudge stands up, putting the crackers away. He observes the man in front of him and realizes that he is, indeed, a friend of his son. “Uh, I’m looking for Duncan. Is he here?” The boy suddenly grows quieter, softly asking the elder for his son. Edgar scratches his balding pate, discreetly looking at the shed and sighs. “My boy’s not here. You better come back another day,” he speaks with a bit of venom.
Duncan pants; running so fast really isn’t a good idea. Hiding away at the back wall of the shed, he can only hear faint sounds of his father and Perry. He watches them with hoping eyes, gulping every now and then while he clutches his pants. He hears words like “Looking for” and “Another day” and exhales a breath he’d been holding when he sees Perry rub his palms together and walks away, driving his car after bidding his goodbyes to Mr. Mudge.
As soon as the truck is nowhere in sight, Duncan runs back to his father. “Thanks, dad.” Mr. Mudge pats his shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong?” Duncan looks down at the ground, seemingly calculating the words he will say. “I just… Wanted some time with the chickens.” It was a lame excuse, but his father had understood. “Very well. You look mighty exhausted, son.” Duncan nods, not being comfortable with the conversation anymore, he quickly says, “I’ll go prepare dinner, I’ll call you when it’s done, dad.” So he rushes inside the house—still dirty and wearing mucky clothes— he washes his hands very well to not contaminate any of the food and ingredients.
Mr. Mudge walks inside the small kitchen, cleaning his hands on a stringy small towel, he towers over his son. “Smelling good, you’ve got your mother’s cooking skills.” They both share a laugh.
After the filling dinner, Mr. Mudge leaves Duncan alone for his nightly bath. Duncan opens the faucet of the bathtub, letting the water flow as he rushes out of the tiled bathroom to get his necessities— his pyjamas and towel. At last, the water fills a little bit more from half of the tub, so Duncan dips in. The knots in his body release as he sighs in relief. Today had been nice, he thought. His father and him had been on good terms ever since that day he had bitten his Chicken’s head off. It feels like a blessing, like a long-term problem between them has been solved. At least his Chicken did not die without purpose.
After his warm bath, he towels his hair and body dry and wears his pyjamas. He sits on his bed, looking out the glass-paned window. Duncan tucks himself to bed, wrapping the weighted blanket over his body. He sighs and turns on his side, looking at the Chicken sculpted on the bottom of the lamp his father had given him from his mother. He looks at it closely, observing the bits and pieces of the lamp. He brings out his arm from underneath the blanket and closes the lamp, leaving the room quiet and dark. He only hears his own breaths, in and out. The sound of this, in time, lulls him into closing his eyes— ready to fall asleep.
Suddenly, a mild bang from the window startles Duncan awake. He rubs his eyes from tiredness as he moves out of the bed. The wood-stripped floor creaks beneath his bare feet as he steadily walks towards the window.
“Perry?”
A confused Duncan stares at the blue-eyed boy. “You weren’t here earlier so I figured, why not stop by at night?” The boy stares back but with keyed up movements. Duncan blinks fast and sits down on the floor, trying to hide himself as he remembers the feeling of anxiety upon seeing the boy. “Duncan, I know you’re there. I just… Want to fuckin’ talk, can you… come down here?” The boy’s words had a slight edge to it, making Duncan’s trust for him fall shorter. “I just want to… You know. Can you come down here, please?” He seems desperate. Something Duncan had never seen or even thought Perry is capable of feeling. It’s a hard decision, but Duncan had always picked his heart over his brain.
So, he tip-toed downstairs, careful not to wake his father up. “I-It’s late…” Duncan doesn’t know what to say. After those events, he still feels odd seeing Perry. “I know, I just wanted to talk to ya’.” Perry talks fast, like his mouth is going on a marathon. “What do you want to talk about anyway?” Duncan asks. “Can we… Go somewhere else? We might wake Mr. Mudge up.” Duncan heaves a sigh. “Go faster then. I have to go to sleep now!” Perry looks like he is trying to find his words—eyes serious but full of emotions Duncan still can’t understand while the moonlight illuminates his rough, scarred face.
“The Chicken shed, i-is that fine?” Both of them look at the ground, a sign of sheer discomfort. The den is now filled with old— but valuable— stuff, acting as a storage room for them. Though so many things happened there, Duncan considers that a yes would be better. “Sure.” Duncan says with fidgeting hands. “But we’ve gotta finish fast.” Perry nods and leads the way, walking like never before towards the small space. Duncan slides the door open and all of the events that happened makes him breathe deeper. Perry walks to the wooden boards—where they had done it— and sits there without looking back. Duncan reluctantly sits down beside him, scratching his head as if the scratches will help him lose some uneasiness. “So uhhh… I just wanted to talk about some stuff.” Duncan can’t look at the boy, not even direct his eyes on his forehead. “What is it?” The question left them both in silence. Sitting together quietly as the air provides a discomfited feeling.
“You were going to sleep, huh?” Perry breaks the ice, into which Duncan’s eyebrow raises. “The lights were off, but you woke me up.” There was a hint of antagonizing tone in Duncan’s voice, something he’d never talked in a way before—especially to Perry. “Right. I just want’a ask how you’re doing. Did you, uh, bury it?” A bit of pique arose in Duncan’s chest. “Chicken? Yeah. Is that all?” He wants to get up and storm towards his room, sleep and leave Perry where he’s sitting although a small part of him seeps into his mind to stay and talk with the boy. “Uh. I wanted to show you this.” Perry shuffles, having a hard time to bring out something from his leather sling bag.
“I… I got…” There is a cloth covering Perry’s balled fists that’s clinging onto the middle part of some fabric. His eyes slowly fixate on Duncan’s troubled face; Duncan is still looking at the ground.
“My dad, he saw me tryna pick up this shit from a box. I-it’s my mom’s. He probably thought that I wanted to dress up and fuck knows what.” The curses irk Duncan but he still looks at the thing Perry’s talking about nonetheless.
A white short dress, littered with yellow illustrated flowers. The cloth is dainty, a dress only girls and women wear— the femininity sparks along the linen. “What’s this for?” Genuine confusion flows through Duncan. “Will… W-will you wear it?” His blue eyes observe in a careful way, seemingly conscious of Duncan’s response. “For what? Perry, I-I don’t think it’s funny.” Bold and strong, the refusal rolls out of Duncan’s mouth. At first, he had obeyed Perry, thinking that wearing the wedding gown was actually funny, but after the events and a huge pile of confusion, he concluded that it was not funny to him. So, why should he do it again? For Perry’s entertainment?
“I just-” Duncan interrupts Perry’s explanation. “Perry, you can take your dress. I have to go to sleep.” Perry suddenly feels like his world momentarily fell apart. He found it devastating that Duncan is changing into someone else— a person who hates him. Guilt pooled in his gut, as if he’d lost something so valuable. He has to face it, even if he’s filled with fear, he’ll follow his heart now, not the terror that forces him to keep everything inside.
“C-can you wear it? It’s not for… Whatever the fuck you think it is. It’s not because I find it funny anymore, Duncan.” Now, the confusion is evident in Duncan’s face. “It’s for what then?” Duncan looks at Perry, his eyes slanted in flames. “I just wanted to see you in it. Nothing else. Nothing from before.” Perry notices the way Duncan’s eyebrows soften, seemingly affected by the previous events with the same format— wearing a woman’s clothing.
Duncan takes the dress from Perry’s hands, contemplating on whether he’ll refuse and never talk to Perry again or wear the dress—a small part of his heart still aches to impress this boy. They sit in silence once more, letting the choices be understood first.
Then, Duncan stands up and Perry looks at him bewildered. He unbuttons his sky blue pyjamas quickly and takes them off. Perry can’t seem to take his eyes off the younger boy anymore. Duncan holds the dress, contemplating again but ultimately brings it over his head as it falls flowy over his frail but somewhat taken-care-of body. He stays still, unmoving except for the simultaneous back and forth of his chest from breathing.
Perry stands to his feet, inching closely to Duncan. “C-can I take it off now?” Perry shakes his head and slowly brings his palms over Duncan’s exposed bicep. Duncan visibly tenses, his shoulders shake a bit and his lips twitch downward.
“I-I… I think… You look better than all those other girls,” Perry stutters, struggling with his words. Duncan stays silent.
“I wished you were a girl, many times.”
Perry doesn’t look at the boy in the dress, his nervousness and fear painfully scratching at his heart. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Duncan.” Referring to the teasing incident, Duncan just swallows the lump on his throat. “I-I can’t… I’m scared to get beaten the fuck out again. Every bruise and cut hurts, Duncan. But you’re always there with me. Making me feel… nice.” Duncan’s soft eyes land together with Perry’s blues. Perry’s throat bobs, the taste of harrowing nerves attempting to crawl out of his mouth. His chest feels like it’s gnawing itself. Perry moves his palm along Duncan’s bicep, huffing out with maelstrom. At last, he closes his eyes and moves closer to Duncan’s face.
He kisses the corner of Duncan’s lips, the boy shocked and dazed. Perry pulls back, heat covering his whole body— Duncan seems to feel hot too, with the way his cheeks glow with red. “I have… I-I have thought of kissing you, Duncan. What I said in the car, I was just… afraid,” Perry talks genuinely. He feels the worry come off his shoulder when Duncan just stays still, thinking that he finally understood. But Duncan finally speaks. “You’re not queer, aren’t you? Do you find this funny?”
Perry is suddenly hit with disbelief as he violently shakes his head. “No. No! It’s real, Duncan! I-I can kiss you so many times just to fucking convince that pretty head of yours!” He’s shouting now, but he doesn’t care.
Duncan looks so confused, wearing a furrowed expression that’s analysing what Perry’s saying. “But you’re not queer-” Perry stops him. “I’m not, but you like me, don’t you?” Duncan looks pressured. “I-I’m not queer-” Perry stops him again. “But I like you too, Duncan! I was just so scared of my friends and my dad, I felt angry when I saw you because I couldn’t… I-...” Duncan waits for Perry to finish his sentence.
“I-... I couldn’t love you like I do with girls.” Duncan chews the side of his mouth, a thing he does when he’s nervous.
Then, a sharp smack causes Perry’s neck to twist sideways. The stinging pain brings a welling tear from his eyes, rolling down as he holds the reddened cheek Duncan just slapped. The slap felt like he had been whipped; Duncan’s hands heavy like a strong man filled with rage, releasing his fury. Perry touches his cheek as he burns in the lingering harsh feeling from the palms of the boy he loves.
“You’re the only person I have felt like this for.” Duncan speaks lightly, almost inaudible but Perry hears every word. “That night, I thought you were joking. All of it was part of the joke. But you were really just an… Asshole.” Duncan seemed to have a hard time talking about that particular event, and who wouldn’t be? Perry came to his senses and realized that he was blind with repressed feelings. At that time, he thought he was showing his desire with all those rough touches on Duncan’s body, but it was fueled with booze and anger with the thought of not actually being able to do any of that. "I want to hurt you, Perry. Because you hurt me too," Duncan says as he holds his fists tighter.
Because Duncan let it all happen, wanting to impress and follow Perry’s every move; the part where Perry found “fun” really only gave Duncan pain, but he didn’t dare tell Perry.
Now, everything can be said. Those feelings hidden and shoved so deep inside the closet, the fear of what may happen next, the misinterpretations, the pain, and the love. The love that was always there, but carefully stored in an empty place inside their hearts. It can finally flutter, reveal itself without holding back anymore.
“I’m sorry, Duncan. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I don’t care if you hit me again, I deserve it. I really do. I was drunk but that doesn’t excuse it.” Perry’s eyebrows knit together, his lips are quivering and he can’t deny the guilt that has taken over him. He shuts his eyes, not daring to move any muscle; he fully accepts Duncan’s next strike.
But Duncan moves closer to him, his eyes set low on his face. A feathery touch smooths across Perry’s cheek, Duncan’s fingers dragging so gently. “Did it hurt?” With the broaching of the discoloured shapes on his cheekbones, Perry bites even harder. “Yeah, I guess.”
Duncan leans in and pecks Perry’s cheek swiftly, as his mother used to say, “kiss the booboo away”. He still believes that it relieves even a tiny amount of pain. Perry flushes, a deep set of red replacing his face. He picks up the sky blue pyjamas and hovers over for Duncan to take off the dress. Then, Perry helps Duncan button up the top— Perry swallows out of breath with the affectionate scene.
“All of the shit from before, throw it in the trash. Let’s deal with this like a… fresh new fucking start, huh?” Perry breathes deeply. If Duncan disagrees, he’ll ask for forgiveness and leave the town immediately if Duncan wants him to. Except Duncan had slowly accepted him, even with the painful past.
“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Perry quickly says but Duncan nods, understanding the situation. Again, quietness surrounds them until Perry takes a hold of the younger boy’s hands and kisses him anew—more passionately this time— as he says, “Let’s go back to that bridge sometimes, hide below the metal frames and do whatever we want.” Perry smiles, and warmth explodes in Duncan. Perry will not easily be forgiven, but he will do everything he can to be who Duncan wants him to be. There would still be fear, shame, and guilt; but Perry wouldn’t refuse the love and care Duncan deserves.
As the two boys have their moment of realizations and confessions, Mr. Mudge watches as he peeks at the side of the shed opening.
Acceptance might be hard to concur but he knows—and stands— that his child is deserving of this. The love he once felt with his late wife, he cannot deny that to Duncan, for his child is worth it and more than just a bullied boy.