No Such Thing as Too Young

"No, at the top of our lungs,
There's no, no such thing as too young.
When second chances won't leave you alone,
Then there's faith in love."
"Kissing in Cars" – Pierce the Veil

The next day I got a text from Vic – "Spoke to my parents. Do you think you and your mum can come over this afternoon?"

"Mum," I called, heading downstairs to where she was reading in the lounge room.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" she said, looking up from her book.

"Vic said we can go to his house this afternoon to talk to his parents, if you aren't busy."

"Sure, the sooner the better. What time?"

I sent Vic a quick text asking for a time. "He says whenever we want," I said once I'd received a reply.

"Alright, how about after lunch?" Mum asked. I nodded and headed back upstairs to wait. I was nervous. I'd never met Vic's parents but they didn't sound like the best people. I didn't know if they knew about me, or if they even knew that Vic was gay. God, I hope they aren't homophobic. That would just make things a thousand times worse. I didn't want to be rejected by Vic's parents and I didn't want to make things worse for him at home.

I spent the rest of the morning lying on my bed, listening to music and worrying about this afternoon. I wished we could just get this over and done with so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

At about one o' clock there was a gentle knock on my bedroom door. "Hey, Kellin," my mum said, opening the door and poking her head in. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?" she asked concernedly. I nodded. "Alright, well I've finished my lunch and I'm ready to go if you like."

"Yep, I'm ready," I said, swinging my legs off the bed.

"Okay, I'll meet you down at the car in a few minutes?"

I nodded and she shut the door again, heading downstairs. I grabbed my phone and sent Vic a quick text to say that we were coming now. I grabbed my shoes and pulled them on before racing downstairs, throwing on my coat and heading out to the car where Mum was waiting in the driver's seat. I jumped in the passenger's seat and Mum started the car, heading to Vic's house.

"When are you gonna learn to drive, Kellin?" she asked. "You're almost seventeen." I just shrugged. "You okay, honey?" I nodded. We didn't say anything else for the rest of the car ride, since I think Mum could tell I was too nervous to talk.

I was a bit shaky by the time we arrived. We headed up to the front of the decrepit house that was so familiar to me by now, and Mum knocked on the peeling front door. My stomach tightened as I heard footsteps inside the house, and Mum gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The door swung open to reveal a woman with bleach blond hair and wrinkled skin wearing a crop top and a short skirt, a cigarette in her fingers. I guess this must be Vic's mother.

"So you're him, are you?" she said in a croaky voice, looking me up and down. "Come in." She turned and walked into the house, gesturing for us to follow with her cigarette. We both cautiously headed inside, me trying not to cough as I breathed in the smell of cigarette smoke.

We took off our coats and hung them on the coat stand next to the door. I noticed Vic sitting on the armchair in the lounge room, and he gave me a small smile and a wave. His mother went and sat down on the sofa next to a man who I assumed was Vic's father. He was short and pudgy with dark hair, a moustache and what looked like a perpetual frown.

"Here, Ms Bostwick, you take this chair," said Vic, getting up off his armchair. "Kellin and I can sit on the floor. Would anyone like tea or coffee?"

"Oh, a cup of tea would be lovely, thanks Vic," smiled Mum. Vic nodded and smiled back, heading into the kitchen to make the tea.

"Hi, I'm Lisa," said Mum, shaking Vic's parents' hands before sitting down on the chair that Vic offered. "And this is Kellin."

"N-nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs F-Fuentes," I stuttered, sitting down cross-legged on the carpet. Mr and Mrs Fuentes nodded and introduced themselves to my mother as Vivian and Victor.

"Oh, so is Vic named after you, Victor?" Mum asked.

"Yes," he said gruffly. Vic came in at that moment with Mum's tea, handing the cup to her and settling himself down on the floor next to me.

"So," began my mum. "Has Vic told you anything about why we're here?"

"Yes. He says he wants to go to rehab," said Vic's mum, glaring at Vic. "Which wouldn't be necessary if he hadn't just stopped doing drugs after we told him to. He knows we don't have the money to send him to rehab." Vic bowed his head, biting his lip.

"Well, that's why Kellin and I are offering to pay for him. It's difficult to break an addiction, and it sounds like he needs a little extra help. We just came here to inform you of the idea and ask if you were both okay with it."

"Look, I don't think Vic needs rehab," replied Vic's mum. "It can't be that big of a deal. We couldn't ask you to pay for something like that, and I think he can deal with it himself. It's his own fault for getting himself into this mess." Vic looked like he was about to cry.

"Mrs Fuentes, please," I protested. "It's not his fault, and we're happy to pay for him to go to rehab. I don't know if he can do this on his own; he needs the help."

"No, she's right," Vic said softly. "It's my fault and I should deal with it myself."

"Vic, no-"

"Kid, this doesn't concern you," growled Vic's dad. "Stay out of it."

"Excuse me, but I will not have you speak to my son like that," my mother replied angrily. "He cares about Vic a lot and this concerns him just as much as the rest of us. It was his idea."

"Look, we don't want Vic going to rehab," said Vic's dad. "It doesn't matter to us how much his boyfriend wants him to, we don't want the pressure of having someone else pay that much money for our son when we are unable to repay them. If Vic really wants to quit, he can deal with it himself."

"Look, sir," I said, standing up. "An addiction like this is not something Vic can simply 'deal with himself.' He needs the extra help, and we are offering to pay for his rehab without you having to pay us back. I cannot believe that you would deny your son the help he needs simply because you can't stand the pressure. How can you call yourselves parents when this is how you treat your kid?!" I was shouting by the end of it, and my mum was out of her own seat and gripping my arm.

"Kellin," she said warningly.

"Listen, we're going to get Vic the help he needs!" I continued. "I love him, and I don't care if you don't care enough to help him, because I do!"

"How dare you?" said Vic's mum softly. "This is not your decision! This has nothing to do with you, you little brat! And you're too young to even understand love. None of this is going to matter to you in the future!"

"No, you're wrong! There's no such thing as too young!" I yelled.

"Don't let me ever hear you call my son a brat again," my mum warned menacingly. "In fact, I agree with him. How can you call yourselves parents when you are denying your son the care he needs because of your own selfish reasons? You know what? Vic, pack your things. You're coming to live with us."