Chapter Text
Boys ran around with their duffel bags and suitcases, some trying to find their cabins and some getting their bags and belongings checked from the camp administrators. Remus meanwhile, struggled to pull his duffel bag from the mountain luggage in the middle of the pickup area, that grew in front of his eyes as the administrators dumped more bags.
“Oh, that’s it!” Remus exclaimed before diving nose first into the pile, aiming the bright green strap peeking out. He stuffed his face and shoulders between what felt like at least four different bags, and the weight above him just kept adding up.
Before he could yell for help, however, he felt a pair of hands grab his ankles and before he knew it, he was free from the dark abyss of luggage and standing straight under the afternoon sun. In front of him stood one of the camp administrators, looking both friendly and shocked.
“Did someone push you in there?” he asked worriedly.
“No, I jumped in!” Remus replied, giving his best toothy smile.
“Why?!” the man said, and Remus knew that tone.
He heard it every time he would try something he thought was interesting, before being disappointed when his teachers or friends didn’t understand. It's not his fault he’s curious about what would happen if he swallowed a glow-stick, he just wants to know.
Hearing the same tone from someone who looked so friendly made his smile disappear, “I just wanted my green bag, sir. It has my action figures in it.”
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry I snapped. Here let me help you,” the man said, and Remus smiled again. Maybe camp won’t be like school.
“The green one, you say?” he said before he firmly grabbed the strap and yanked the duffel bag in one swift motion.
“Thanks, sir,” Remus said as he opened the bag to check his action figures. One scratch and he would burn every bag that was ever put on top of his.
“Oh, please, call me Thomas. All the kids do,” he smiled kindly again, “Any of your figures broken?”
“Oh boy, no. I would’ve screamed,” Remus zipped his bag and shouldered it.
“You know, I’ve got a pretty neat collection of action figures myself,” Thomas said, making Remus’ eyes wide and shine.
“Really? Can I see?” he asked hopefully.
“Sure thing! Let’s get you settled first,” Thomas said as he led Remus towards the cabins, “Now, I can tell you’re new here, so I don’t think you have many friends, is that right?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Remus said, trying to keep up.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll help you get settled. What’s your name?” Thomas asked and looked at his checklist in his right hand.
“Remus Warren.”
“Warren, Remus- Ah! You’re in the Navajos Cabin, nice place.”
As they neared the cabins with Remus trying to haul his duffel and suitcases, a long and sleek black car pulled up next to them, parking near the Head Cabin.
“Whoa! Who’s that?” Remus asked, knowing whoever was in it was either important or rich. Or both.
“Oh, some parents prefer to drop their kids directly to the camp instead of the bus that brings most of the children,” Thomas explained, “C’mon, your cabin’s right this way.”
* * *
As the driver parked the car next to the Head Cabin, Remy got out and took a deep breath, oddly smelling oranges.
“I smell oranges,” he said as he pulled out the small carry bag from the back seat.
“It’s probably from the orange juice cart we saw a second ago, Remy,” Roman said as he got out of the back seat himself and stretched his legs.
“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Remy asked as he hung the carry bag on Roman’s shoulder and asked the driver to open the trunk.
“Yes! It looks so scenic and charming!” Roman swung his arms excitedly and looked at the trees above him.
“Mmhmm, sure,” Remy mumbled as he took out Roman’s suitcase from the trunk and put it next to the boy who wouldn’t stop spinning around and looking at everything in a wide wonder.
“Now,” he said in a desperate attempt to get Roman’s attention, “Do you have everything? I don’t want to come back all the way from England just because you forgot your curling iron or hairbrush.”
“Don’t worry, Remy, I’ve got everything. Checked and double-checked,” Roman giggled.
“Seriously, though,” Remy said as he knelt down to get to Roman’s eye level, “If you want me to come back and fetch you and bring you home, you tell me, yes? I’m only a phone call away.”
Roman smiled, “I will, don’t worry.”
“Have fun, my little prince.”
“I will,” Roman repeated and laughed.
“Oh! Almost forgot,” Remy said as he reached into his coat pocket, “I got you this,” he said and handed Roman a deck of playing cards.
“Brand new. Maybe you’ll find someone on this continent who can whip your bum at poker,” he smirked.
“Oh, I highly doubt that!” Roman said proudly, “Thank you so much, Remy”
Remy stood up, “Give me five, honey.”
Roman smiled as he shook Remy’s hand before piling his small hands on top his adult ones, sideways high-fiving him over his head and slapping their way down to near his torso, jumping twice on either side to give ‘tushy bumps’ and ending their special act with a conclusive handshake.
As Remy bid goodbye and sat back inside the black Mercedes, Roman knew how much he would miss his butler. Still, he was beyond excited to be spending eight weeks in a camp in America, and he couldn’t wait to get started.
* * *
The mess hall was bustling with boys dashing around the tables and talking to friends, old and new. Remus busied himself by scooping mashed potatoes on his already full plate and doused it mustard.
“Mustard on potatoes, Rem?!” Adrian, his cabin mate questioned bewildered.
“Trust me, it adds a wacky tang to it!” Remus said as he put the mustard aside and reached for the peaches.
“I see you’re getting settled in, Remus,” he heard Thomas’ voice behind him, who approached the lunch table and reached for the sandwiches on Remus’ left.
“Yeah! This is Adrian, we’re roomies!” Remus said excitedly, before following Adrian to their table.
“That’s great, kid,” Thomas continued, not noticing Remus walking away, “You’ll make some great friends this year.”
“I’m sorry?” Roman asked politely, who had just come in front of the line for some punch and heard the administrator talk.
“Oh! You’re here!,” Thomas said looking to his right, “I said you’re gonna make some great friends at camp. Nice hair clip,” he pointed to the butterfly pin in his hair.
“Oh-,” Roman said, still confused, “Thank you,” he smiled and walked away slowly.
“Strange kid,” Thomas mumbled lightheartedly and poured some punch for himself as well.
* * *
“Any more volunteers? Boys?” Joan, one of the administers asked, but got no response from the few boys standing in front of them in full gear.
“Alright then,” they announced, “The winner and still undefeated fencing champion, Mr. Remus Warren from Napa, California.”
The boys hooted and clapped as Remus held his sabre in the air triumphantly.
“Fencing?” he heard a voice, presumably British, behind him, “I’ll take a wack at it!”
“Ok, we have ourselves a volunteer,” Joan said as they noted their name down on their clipboard.
Remus' opponent approached him in full gear, small tufts of hair peeking out from under his masks.
“Fencer’s ready?”
“Ready,” both boys said, getting into stance, their swords touching.
“En garde! Fence!”
Immediately, Remus had to start backing up as the opponent kept advancing at him at lightning speed. He tried to shake him off by cornering him in front of a tree, but the other boy leaped into the air and took support of the tree, pushing himself off and standing in front of Remus, already defending himself and running towards the haystack to their left, in front of a cabin
Thinking he’s had him cornered again, and this time for good, Remus leaped forward and tried to aim for the other boy’s chest, “Touche!”
“Haha you wish, peasant!” the other boy said.
Remus advanced faster, and the boys ended up fencing on the entrance of the cabin. The other boy was relentless, and Remus ended up with his back to the cabin’s border railing, his guard down.
“Touche!” the other boy exclaimed and hit Remus with his sword. The impact made Remus lose his balance and he fell behind in a water trough, his trousers and shirt all wet.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the other boy said, his accent thick and pretentious, “Let me help you,” he offered, his hand outstretched.
“No! Let me help you instead!” Remus said and pulled the other boy with him, and the two began splashing each other and screaming.
“Whoa, whoa! Break it up, people,” Joan came running towards them and helped them step out, both boys refusing to look at each other as they removed their masks.
“It seems we have a new champion, all the way from London, England, Mr. Roman Cicero,” Joan announced, “C’mon, boys shake hands.”
Reluctantly, the two turned to face each other, and then couldn’t stop looking.
Everyone around them gasped, but none were as loud as the ones Roman and Remus let out themselves.
Everyone could see it, and so could they.
Well, one of them could.
“What’re they all staring at?” Remus asked cockily, pretending to not feel the jolt he felt when he shook the boy’s - Roman’s - hand.
“Don’t you see it? The resemblance between us?”
“The resemblance?” Remus laughed, “You wish you looked as good as me!”
“Oh believe me when I say, I don’t,” Roman scoffed, “With that ridiculous stubble? What fourteen year old has a stubble?”
“I’m fifteen, which would be about as high as your IQ, I bet?”
“Look here, you prepubescent Freddie Mercury wanna-be-,”
“Ok, boys, break it up,” Joan got between Roman and Remus, trying their best to seperate the boys who looked like they would draw their swords again.
“You wanna know the real difference between us?” Remus sneered.
“Let me guess,” Roman played along, “I know how to fence and you don’t? Or I have class and you don’t? Take your pick.”
Just as Roman smirked, Remus jumped at him and began wrestling him to the ground, both their uniforms brown with dirt.
Joan called Thomas to help them get the boys up and away from each other. Thomas grabbed Remus and pulled him off of Roman’s leg, meanwhile Joan lifted Roman and helped him to brush the mud off.
“That’s enough, you two. Now run along. And don't bother each other.”
Roman gave Remus the ‘I’m watching you’ hand gesture, to which came a much more aggressive hand gesture, the kind that Roman knew would make his father ‘lose his marbles’.
* * *
Roman picked up his shuffled cards in one hand and his winnings with the other, smirking at the weight in the latter hand.
“So, that’s all?” he asked looking around, and then laughed, “Well, these must be the easiest fifty pounds I’ve earned, I must say.”
“I’ll take a wack at it,” came a voice from the small crowd of boys frowning at their allowances in Roman’s hand.
Roman looked up to see Remus, jiggling a bag which sounded like coins, and wearing the most ridiculous t-shirt Roman had ever seen.
“Are those eyeballs?” Roman asked, pointing at Remus’ shirt.
“Yep. Custom-made. Not the kind of balls I wanted, but oh well,” he replied and sat down on the bed in front of Roman, who couldn’t stop grimacing.
Roman shuffled and distributed the cards amongst the two, and the crowd around them looked at the two identical boys, both their faces and fury indistinguishable.
Soon, the money between grew, dollars and pounds were replaced by things like Roman’s hair clips and Remus’ keychains with offensive words.
“Let’s make this interesting,” Remus sniggered from behind his cards, his supporters behind him looking extremely glad at his cards.
Roman looked from behind his cards and raised his eyebrows.
“Loser gets to jump in the lake,” Remus continued.
Roman smirked, “Excellent”.
“Butt. Naked.”
‘This was too easy,’ Roman thought and replied, “Even more excellent! Start unzipping, Warren.”
He put his cards in front of everyone on the mattress, “Straight. In diamonds.”
Roman put his hands on his thighs, satisfied to his core.
“You’re good, Cicero,” Remus said, sarcasm dripping with every word, which made Roman panic, “But you’re just not good enough.”
Roman’s heart sank.
“In your honour, your highness, a royal flush,” Remus put his cards next to Roman’s, only his ranged from the King and Ace of spades.
The July night air was surprisingly cold as Roman walked on the small dock that led to the late, goosebumps forming on his bare body. He could hear boys behind him laugh, the noise sounded distant as he neared the edge of the dock. He took a deep breath and turned around to give Remus a small salute, who was holding a lantern that illuminated his smug looking face from below.
Another deep breath and Roman jumped in, the water much more colder than the air. Ten seconds later, he got back up from the lake and saw everyone scurrying away. He got out of the water, violently shivering as he neared the log where he had neatly folded his night clothes.
“Oh! That stinky, slimy bastard!” he cursed when he saw Remus cackling and waving clothes in the air as he ran to his cabin. Revenge became imminent as Roman already began thinking of ways to make his now mortal enemy pay.
* * *
“I swear I saw your goody-goody clone painting his nails on the lunch table. Bright red!” Adrian laughed as the boys headed towards their cabin after a swim.
“Oh dear, I hate nail polish. You can’t chew on them if they’re painted,” Remus shuddered, thinking about it. He tried to paint his nails last year, and they looked nice and green. But he can never forget the bitter, stinging taste the product left in his mouth.
He was almost craving it now.
“I’ll take your word for it, man,” Adrian said before he stopped in his tracks, “Oh. My. God.”
Remus looked in the direction his friend was gawking at, and said the same thing. Well, not the same. He may have slipped some words his housekeeper would’ve scolded him for using.
But they fit the situation, because all his clothes and shoes were hung from the front of their cabins with the Union Flag pinned to the door.
“That Disney-singing ballerina did this! What the actual fu-”
“Whoa, Rem, cool it,” Adrian said, clearly out of his initial shock, “This is the perfect excuse to get back at him.”
Remus liked that idea.
“Didn’t you mention some stink bombs when we first unpacked?”
Remus loved that idea.
* * *
“Carlos, would you be a dear and hand me my hairbrush?” Roman said, pinning his hair to the side, wanting to go for a side swept look for archery. He already could imagine the wind blowing in his face and making his hair flow and dance with the breeze.
“Which one?!” Carlos said, bewildered at the three different hair brushes on Roman’s bed.
“The blue one, with the-”
“BOMBS AWAY, LOSERS!”
Roman barely had time to turn around to look at his doppelganger before the entire cabin was full of grey and brown smoke before the smell settled it. Roman had never hated his nostrils before, in fact, he has quite lovely nostrils. But the smoke made him want to stitch them up and not smell another thing for the next fifty years.
He blindly ran across the cabin, his arms outstretched looking for the doorknob. His eyes, still burning and itching from the stink bomb smoke, welcome the afternoon sun.
But he couldn’t appreciate it any longer, because he saw Remus spray painting his windows, cackling and screaming, “VENGEANCE, BITCHES”.
“You demented bastard! What is wrong with you?!” he screamed, and the moment he saw the green penises spray painted on the glass, he shouted louder, “ARE YOU CRAZY?”
“What is going on here?!”
Both boys were startled as they saw Thomas walking towards them, trying to gauge the scene in front of him. Remus hid a spray can behind his back and pointed at Roman, “He started it! He hung all my clothes outside and then-”
“You took away MY clothes when I jumped in the lake!”
“The what?” Thomas said before his attention shifted to the windows behind Remus, “Are those what I think they are?”
“Dicks. To better match the people inside the cabin.”
“You crooked nosed knave!” Roman said and jumped at Remus, wrestling him for the second time in two weeks.
“Oh god, JOAN! I NEED YOU HERE!” Thomas shouted as he tried to separate the boys, all the while trying to not breathe the rancid smell that was not escaping the cabins.
Joan came running to help Thomas, each administrator gripping one hyper-active teenager, and both of them thought the same thing.
The Isolation Cabin.
* * *
“I am not spending the remaining six weeks of camp trapped with this gargoyle inside that rickety grandma cottage,” Roman shrieked.
“It’ll be better than your past thirteen years, trust me,” Remus said as he chewed his gum loudly and pushed his sunglasses up his nose, “And it looks cozy. Like Cabin in the Woods.”
“I’m fifteen,” Roman corrected annoyingly and turned to Thomas and Joan behind him, “This psycho will kill me and feed my remains to the wolves and not even my memory would last.”
“Relax,” Thomas said, “This is for character building. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find something in common.”
“You mean other than our mutual disdain of each other’s faces?” Remus chuckled.
“You literally have the same faces,” Joan sighed, “Now go on, get settled.”
* * *
As it turns out, sharing a cabin with Remus wasn’t as bad as Roman thought it would be.
It was worse.
He had insisted that they divide the cabin in two, and that they keep to their sides, to which Remus gratefully agreed.
After three days, Roman learnt that Remus, however, would frequently cross the line. Both literally and figuratively.
“Can you please, just please, pick up your socks from my side of the room? I’m pretty sure that at this point, my grandchildren can smell them,” Roman begged as he straightened his bed sheet neatly.
“Any girl pregnant with your grandchildren has my sympathies,” Remus commented as he picked up his cursed footwear and carelessly tossed it to his trunk in the opposite corner.
That genuinely made Roman laugh, “Mine as well,” He giggled, “I’m gay, Remus.”
“Oh,” Remus said, looking behind Roman to the droplets of rain hitting the glass window.
“Is that a problem?” Roman asked, getting defensive.
“Oh no! Not at all,” he said looking back at Roman, sounded sincere, and put a hand on his chest, “I’m bi myself. I’ve also been told I have a small attention span and got distracted.”
Roman nodded and smiled, not at all surprised by the last sentence.
“Whatcha doin’?” Remus asked, peeking over Roman’s shoulder to see him sorting a few pictures of his family.
“Just organizing some belongings,” Roman replied, to which Remus hummed as an acknowledgment.
A branch suddenly hit the window next to Roman’s bed, which made both startle in surprise. But the change in weather seemed to excite Remus who exclaimed that he wanted to open the window next to his bed.
“Oh ok, let me just put these away,” Roman said and he tucked the pictures in a small box and put the box in the drawer of his nightstand.
Remus waited until Roman shut the drawer, and immediately rushed to his bed and hopped up with his shoes on to open the window. The breeze, however, was a gust and the strong, wet wind filled the small cabin and made everything that was paper or cloth move with the air pressure.
Remus used both his hands to try and shut the window, and tried harder when his action figures fell to the wooden floor because the wind grew stronger. Roman too rushed to help him because he could see Remus couldn’t shut the window by himself.
He got next to Remus and both boys grunted as they pulled the glass pane shut, taking a breath of relief when everything in the cabin stopped flying.
Remus quickly hopped off the bed and rushed to his action figures scattered on the floor.
“This camp is an unlucky place for my babies,” he said as he brushed the head of one of his figures.
“Any of them damaged?” Roman asked.
“Only the gorgeous Kakashi,” Remus said solemnly as he held up a figure with spiky, white hair, a mask covering the bottom half of his face and a fresh scratch across his jacket.
Roman didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Who?”
“Kakashi?” Remus repeated, “From Naruto?”
Roman shook his head and joined Remus on the floor and crossed his legs.
“Do you not have anime in London?” Remus asked, horrified.
“I don’t really watch it,” Roman said, giving his ‘oh-well’ face.
Remus got up and put the figures on his bed and took out a packet of biscuits from the trunk on the bottom end of the bed.
“You hungry?” he offered.
“Oh, I’d love to, thanks,” Roman said and settled on the edge of the bed as Remus sat on the floor.
Roman took a biscuit and started to nibble on it and Remus put one in his mouth, whole, and stretched across the floor to reach his trunk.
“By any chance, you wouldn’t have any-”
“You want jam?” Remus asked, clearly not knowing that Roman was about to ask for the same thing.
“You have Crofter’s in America?” Roman asked excitedly and dipped his biscuit in the jam.
“I should hope so, otherwise my dad would force us to leave the country,” Remus chuckled, jam lining his lips.
At this point, Remus’ antics wouldn’t bother Roman. Now he either grew accustomed to the boy’s wacky comments and actions, or realised that he doesn’t mean any harm when he talks about what the word ‘dork’ means. Maybe it was both.
“Your father loves Crofter’s?” he asked, wanting to carry the conversation.
“He would invent a new word to define his feelings towards this jam, because ‘love’ isn’t enough,” he said with his mouth full and both laughed, “What’s your dad like?” he asked.
Roman smiled, missing his father, “Papa owns a bakery. One of the best, and most popular in the city,” he said proudly, “He mainly bakes wedding cakes. Loves to design and bake them.”
“Oh, that’s cool!” Remus exclaimed, “And your mom?”
“Oh, I don’t have a mother. My father adopted me,” Roman explained, “Also, he’s gay.”
“Hey same!” Remus shouted.
“I thought you said you’re bisexual.”
“I am! I’m also adopted!” Remus clarified, and Roman’s world started to spin as the wheels in his head started to turn, “Dad was married before they adopted me, but they divorced when I was a baby. He doesn’t really like talking about him. He was just as nerdy as Dad, though” he laughed.
“How do you know that?” Roman asked.
“Oh, I stole a picture of him from Dad’s bookshelf. He found out, but he let me keep it. More cookies?”
Roman brushed off his offer “Remus,” Roman said, slowly, “When is your birthday?”
“I’ll be sixteen on October 19th,” he replied, to which Roman could only say one thing:
“Sweet Odin’s saggy testicles”
“What’s wrong?” Remus said, still stuffing his face with jam and biscuits.
“My birthday is on the same day…” Roman said, more to himself than his company.
“Do you have any soda?” said company asked, clearly unaware of the kind of stress Roman was under.
Which is why he snapped.
“Oh god, how can you think of your stomach at a time like this? Don’t you realize what is happening?!” he shouted and got up to pace the cabin. He always thinks better when he’s pacing.
“Think about it! Both our fathers are gay. Both of them were married before either of us were adopted. Divorced when we were still infants. Neither of us have met their ex-husbands, only have a picture. Well, you have a ‘picture’. I just have part of a photograph, ripped right down the middle and crinkled and-”
He turned to see Remus kneeling in front of his trunk.
“If i see one more packet of biscuits, I will lose it,” Roman warned, but shut his mouth when Remus turned around, clutching a ripped photograph, its blank, white back facing Roman, who could only gawk.
“Is that ripped?” he asked.
“Right down the middle,” Remus said, his voice shaky.
Roman wasted no time to go to his nightstand and take out the box he was organizing earlier. Ten minutes ago, when times were simpler.
“Come here, please,” he said, and Remus walked to Roman’s bed.
“This is fucking freaky,” was all Remus could say as Roman took out a photograph, similarly ripped as the one Remus was holding.
“On the count of three, ok?” Roman said.
Remus nodded.
“1”
They put the pictures on the bed, upside down.
“2”
They held a wrinkled corner of their respective pictures.
“3”
Each boy saw their father, and a man next to him, both men looking at each other, undoubtedly in love.
“That’s my Dad!”
“That’s Papa…”
Remus pointed to Roman’s father, “That’s the nerd I was talking about,” he laughed and wiped a tear.
“They’re both nerds, Remus,” Roman laughed wetly as well.
“So like, we’re brothers. We’re brothers, Roman,” Remus cackled and raised his arms, “I have a brother!”
“I have a twin!” Roman shouted back and raised his own arms, fist pumping the air.
Remus laughed louder and shouted, “We’re twins!” as if he just realised it.
Both boys tackled each other to the ground for the third time since camp started, but this time they laughed and hugged and whooped louder in their empty, isolated little cabin, finally relieved of the fact that they weren't alone anymore.