Enigmatic Emotions

(vii) Treacherous Trinity

"Love does not begin and end the
way we seem to think it does.
Love is a battle, love is a war;
love is growing up."

-James Baldwin

Grand empty halls, countless similar corridors and a lack of a map, the perfect combination for getting lost.

It was no wonder Alan and Chris could not find their way to the dining hall. Every time they stepped into the wrong room, they were overcome by a new form of amazement.

The laboratories, which they had seen twice by now, were much more modern than Sherborne's.

"Are we walking in circles?" Alan found himself in a lab again. A few students stood bent around tables, their attention focused on petri dishes containing what might be red-coloured bacteria.

Chris shook his head cheerfully. "There are countless labs here." The enthusiasm dripped off his face.

Alan knew they were secretly not lost, just walking like unguided projectiles from one room to another, hoping the dining hall would never come, even though his stomach was rumbling.

"I told you Trinity is the best university." Chris tugged on his sleeve and led him into a new room. "Rupert studies here too. The maths department is the best in all of England," he inhaled deeply, "and the air is extremely refreshing."

Alan shook his head smiling, glad to see his friend so happy. He had to agree with him though, the atmosphere in this building was very different from his boarding school. Much freer. He almost didn't feel like going back to Sherborne in a few days. Here he could make himself at home, he told himself. Wherever Chris was, he could.

They entered the library. Busts of elderly rectors stared at them. Alan took a moment to admire the great ionic columns before he allowed himself to be drawn out by the other boy.

Alan pricked up his ears, he heard murmurs further down the corridor; that had to be where the dining hall was.

Indeed, they were welcomed by the warm candlelight and the smell of baked buns. He was aware that everyone was staring at the two latecomers.

Quickly they took seats at the back of the hall, at one of the long wooden tables. Shoulder to shoulder on the cramped bench. The boy next to the duo nodded politely, his black hair hanging in a comical curl on his forehead, he was dressed in evening clothes like everyone else.

Although Alan was not a fan of formalities like dress codes, he had to admit that Chris looked extremely good in his brown blazer.

As had often happened in recent weeks, he found himself staring. Though Chris never seemed to notice it.

The boy's blue eyes were focused on the professors' front table. Apparently, it was time for the rector's welcome speech.

A man in a red robe stood right under the portrait of King Henry VIII. "Benedic, Domine, nos et dona tua."

The Latin prayer passed Alan by, he turned to Chris. "I can't hear that language anymore, Mr Thomas is resolutely going to make me fail," he whispered under his breath.

Chris chuckled. "Is that because of what you did with the report on Nero? I saw him turn furiously red when he read it."

The corner of Alan's mouth crept up. "That's right." He played with his napkin, much to the boys' frustration on the other side of the table. "I probably should have chosen the subject differently. Thomas did not find the fact that Nero publicly married Sporus, a young man whom he put on a wedding dress, as entertaining as I did."