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Brotherhood
Sep. 21st, 2016 10:40 pmWhen the school year started, signs had started to appear. Flyers asking about interest in a new fraternity on campus. They didn't say much, really. The name, a website for more information, and that it was meant to be a society specifically for gay men. They lasted for a few weeks, but the term got rolling and they vanished. Little was heard beyond that. It's the way things went. Guys thinking they can get something started, they get in over their head, and it fades away. Barely anyone even knew who was running the thing it seemed.
Another term rolled around. There was chatter in certain circles about the new guys. A dozen or so of them were petitioning to become official. Most thought it wouldn't happen. They were certain of it. Who the hell wants a gay frat house? That's not at all the sort of "brotherhood" they were after, right? Some nervous laughter, followed by crass jokes about what their initiations would be like. But still, not much seemed to happen.
Winter rolled on, putting a dampener on most obvious activities. There were a few announcements with the letters the new guys were using, small things. Holiday parties, clothing drives, things like that. More jokes. What sort of lame parties would a bunch of gay guys throw? There were what, five of them?
Then spring spread across the campus. Everyone itching to get out. There were rumblings from the new house. Yes, House. Not only had they received official status, but the school gave them a house. Within walking distance of Teddy's domain, in fact. With weather improving, they were organizing a party. Not just any party, a block party. To anyone who didn't know what they were about, it sounded like the standard sort of affair.
Billy, their newly minted president and one of the men who was part of the very initial few, wanted to extend an olive branch to their near neighbors. To prove there should be no hard feelings between new and old houses. He'd already invited every other frat formally, but this one had been a little intimidating. And that was saying something from a guy who spent his life in Scotland, where brash and rude lived in that part of the world. Dressed in an old tshirt advertising a fictional beer, and a pair of ratty jeans torn at the knee, he knocked firmly on the door of Delta Psi Beta. He stood back, gripping a handful of flyers. It wouldn't be as bad as he'd heard. Would it?
Another term rolled around. There was chatter in certain circles about the new guys. A dozen or so of them were petitioning to become official. Most thought it wouldn't happen. They were certain of it. Who the hell wants a gay frat house? That's not at all the sort of "brotherhood" they were after, right? Some nervous laughter, followed by crass jokes about what their initiations would be like. But still, not much seemed to happen.
Winter rolled on, putting a dampener on most obvious activities. There were a few announcements with the letters the new guys were using, small things. Holiday parties, clothing drives, things like that. More jokes. What sort of lame parties would a bunch of gay guys throw? There were what, five of them?
Then spring spread across the campus. Everyone itching to get out. There were rumblings from the new house. Yes, House. Not only had they received official status, but the school gave them a house. Within walking distance of Teddy's domain, in fact. With weather improving, they were organizing a party. Not just any party, a block party. To anyone who didn't know what they were about, it sounded like the standard sort of affair.
Billy, their newly minted president and one of the men who was part of the very initial few, wanted to extend an olive branch to their near neighbors. To prove there should be no hard feelings between new and old houses. He'd already invited every other frat formally, but this one had been a little intimidating. And that was saying something from a guy who spent his life in Scotland, where brash and rude lived in that part of the world. Dressed in an old tshirt advertising a fictional beer, and a pair of ratty jeans torn at the knee, he knocked firmly on the door of Delta Psi Beta. He stood back, gripping a handful of flyers. It wouldn't be as bad as he'd heard. Would it?
