The days after John’s final exam felt strangely weightless. Without the structure of school, he drifted aimlessly, caught between the relief of being free and the uncertainty of what to do with that freedom. University wouldn’t start until March, and though he hadn’t received his ENTER score yet, he already pictured himself at the University of Melbourne. 

Since Year 10, John had been drawn to the campus—not for academic reasons, but for its beauty and quiet allure. The sprawling South Lawn, the gothic charm of the Old Arts Building, and the shadowy carpark that had apparently featured in Mad Max all carried an air of mystery. 

He’d wandered the grounds so many times, imagining himself as a student instead of an outsider. Sometimes, his older brother Theo invited him along on curriculum days. John would sit in on lectures, feeling both exhilarated and out of place, or hide in the Union House library, marvelling at its collection of manga. 

Theo had even encouraged him to visit the Queer Community club on campus. “Go in,” Theo had urged. “They’d love you there.” But John couldn’t summon the courage. The thought of walking in and declaring himself gay felt daunting—what if they told him he didn’t belong? 

Theo was John’s fiercest supporter, especially after he came out earlier that year. Their parents had struggled to accept it at first. John’s father avoided the topic entirely, while his mother’s disapproval came in sighs and sharp remarks about shame and appearances. 

“You don’t need to tell people that,” she’d said once, as though it was something John could file away, hidden and forgotten. 

John often felt like he lived under a microscope, every solitary walk or outing scrutinized with veiled questions. “Are you meeting someone?” his mother would ask, her voice tight with suspicion. At first, he’d laughed it off, denying it. But over time, he began lying just to see her reaction, a strange, defiant game he didn’t fully understand. 

The strain grew until one evening, it spilled over. John couldn’t remember what triggered it, but he found himself crying in front of Theo, the words tumbling out like water from a broken dam. 

“No one in this family would love me if they really knew me,” he’d sobbed. 

Theo’s reaction was immediate and fierce. He defended John, calling out their parents’ behavior with a fire John had never seen before. Arguments followed, some loud and others simmering below the surface, until their parents began to retreat. Slowly, their resistance softened, though it was clear the road ahead would be long. 

John spent more time with Theo after that, tagging along with his brother’s friends and preparing for a world outside high school. It was Theo who encouraged him to embrace his newfound adulthood—18 years old, out of school, and ready for new experiences. 

Still, John’s dating life was barely a blip on the radar. Apart from a brief, awkward romance with a boy named Benny during a Year 11 summer school program, his love life was non-existent. Benny had kissed him once, only to disappear just as quickly as he’d arrived. 

John often wondered if he’d missed his chance at love—or if his shy, awkward years before Year 10 had set him too far back. Back then, he was the target of relentless bullying, a shadow that loomed over him even now. It wasn’t until a growth spurt and the end of his “ugly duckling” phase that people began noticing him. 

But their interest didn’t erase the self-doubt etched into him. Whenever someone smiled too warmly or paid him a compliment, he half-expected a cruel joke to follow. 

On a quiet Monday, John sat on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling as the itch in his chest grew. He needed to do something. Anything. 

On a whim, he messaged his friend ‘Dra: “I’m done with school. Finally.” 

‘Dra’s reply was instant: “Congratulations! Let’s go out this week and celebrate.” 

John’s heart leapt. For the first time, the possibility felt real. A wild night out—drinking, dancing, freedom. 

“Yes!” he typed back, barely containing his excitement. 

‘Dra sent the details: pre-drinks at 8:00, followed by QnA at 10:30. Bring your own drinks; mugs would be provided. 

Mugs? John frowned but shrugged it off. He was too excited to care about the specifics. Now he just had to convince his parents. 

John found his mother in the bedroom, sitting at the window seat, ironing shirts. The hiss of steam filled the air. 

“Mum,” he began, his voice cautious. 

She glanced up, her face drawn with exhaustion. “Mmmhmm?” 

“My friend asked me to go out with them on Thursday night,” John said. 

Her hands paused briefly, the iron hovering over a shirt. “Who is this friend? Where are you going?” 

“You know ‘Dra—the friend in the city. They want to take me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

“A club? On a Thursday?” Her tone was sharp, skeptical. “Your father has work the next day, and I’m not going to sleep. Do you think that’s fair on us?” 

It always came back to this—how his choices affected the family. Frustration flared in John’s chest. 

“I’m not going to Schoolies, Mum. This is my way of celebrating. I’ll be quiet coming back,” he said firmly. 

“What time will you be back? And what kind of club is this?” 

“I don’t know yet,” John admitted. “But we’re going out at 10:30.” 

Her eyes widened. “10:30? Jesus Christ!” She tugged at the shirt in her hands, as if wringing out her disapproval. 

“I can’t think about this right now,” she said finally. “I’ll talk to your father later.” 

John walked out, his chest tight with an all-too-familiar itch. Back in his room, he buried his face in a pillow, muffling a frustrated scream. He pressed his face down until the darkness bloomed with red spots. 

At dinner that night, Theo dominated the conversation, recounting stories from one of his tutorials. John seized the opportunity to bring up the club again. 

“Dad,” he said casually, “my friends invited me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

His father glanced up, amused. “Gonna have a few beers at the pub?” 

Before John could respond, his mother cut in. “It’s a club with those uni students he hangs out with. They’re going out at 11:00 on a Thursday.” 

His father chuckled. “That’s pretty late. Is that how they do it these days?” 

“It’s normal,” Theo chimed in. “Remember when I used to go to Goo? Same thing.” 

Their mother frowned. “Did he mention it’s a gay club?” 

The room fell silent. 

His father cleared his throat. “Can’t you just go somewhere normal?” 

John bristled. “You don’t even know gay people. How would you know what’s normal?” 

“I’ve worked with gay people before!” his father snapped. “The world hasn’t changed that much.” 

Theo set his fork down. “You know, I’ve been to a gay club. A friend of mine took me, and it was fine.” 

His mother’s eyes widened. “You went? But you’re not gay!” 

Theo shrugged. “You never ask where I go, so why do you grill John so much?” 

Silence fell over the table. Finally, their mother sighed. “Alright. If Theo says it’s fine, you can go. But be careful.” 

That night, John lay in bed, the excitement bubbling beneath his skin. For once, he felt a sense of calm—like the world might finally open its arms to him. 

The moonlight streamed through his blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance. John drifted to sleep, the promise of Thursday wrapping around him like a warm blanket.