#mormonism

The Mormon experience of sexual education varies from member to member but I essentially did not know what a p*n*s looked like or what penetration was or how babies were made until I was in college bc I was never interested in it enough to risk sin by googling or asking questions.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm writing this in my free time, purely as a labor of love, so if you have a moment, please consider leaving a like and a comment — it genuinely makes my day and keeps me motivated to keep going. Thank you so much for reading! 💛

---

The three of them left the apartment together.

Winter had settled over the city properly now.

The pavements were cold and grey, and Damian immediately pulled his coat tighter around himself.

Underneath it he was still wearing the white long-sleeved dress shirt, dark trousers, brown belt and green bow tie.

But Krystof had added one more layer before they left.

A dark, old-fashioned V-neck sweater.

"Put this on."

Damian had stared at it.

"Why?"

"It's freezing."

"I've got a jacket."

"Your father gave you this sweater."

Damian had sighed.

"...Fine."

Now the shirt collar and green bow tie appeared neatly above the sweater.

And over that came an old-fashioned wool jacket that had apparently belonged to Krystof.

Damian looked down at himself.

"I look like someone's retired history teacher."

Artur laughed.

"You're warm."

I'M A NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD SKATER DRESSED LIKE A 1950s SCHOOLTEACHER. THIS IS HORRIBLE.

Krystof adjusted the front of the jacket.

"And remember."

"What?"

"Respect your elders."

Damian rolled his eyes.

"...Yes, sir." 

The barber shop wasn't far away.

They walked through the cold streets, Damian trying not to think about how conspicuous he felt.

The bow tie was bad enough.

The sweater made it worse.

The old-fashioned jacket somehow completed the transformation.

He caught his reflection in a shop window.

He immediately looked away.

NOPE. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

They entered the barber shop.

A few people were already waiting.

The barber looked up.

"Good morning."

Damian automatically answered in his usual tone.

"Hey."

Artur immediately looked at him.

"Damian."

Damian sighed.

"...Yes, sir."

Krystof smiled politely toward the barber.

"Good morning."

Damian looked at the barber again.

"Sorry."

"Good morning."

The barber smiled.

"Good morning."

He looked at Damian's outfit.

"That's quite a smart outfit."

Damian shrugged.

"Yeah, my—"

He stopped.

Artur raised an eyebrow.

Damian corrected himself.

"Yes, sir."

The barber looked slightly confused.

Artur explained casually,

"We're working on his manners."

The barber laughed.

"Ah."

Damian wanted to disappear.

I'M GOING TO KILL ARTUR.

After a few minutes the barber called him over.

"Have a seat."

Damian sat down.

The barber looked at his hair.

"So, what are we doing today?"

Damian answered immediately.

"I don't know, just make it shorter."

The barber looked at him.

"How much shorter?"

Damian shrugged.

"Whatever."

Artur stepped closer.

"Short and neat."

Krystof nodded.

"Quite a bit shorter."

Damian turned around.

"Wait."

The barber looked at him.

"How short?"

Krystof smiled.

"Above the ears."

Artur added,

"Very neat around the sides."

Damian stared at them.

"Very short?"

"Yes."

Damian sighed.

"...Yes, sir."

I'M GOING TO LOOK LIKE A COMPLETE NERD.

The barber put the cape around him.

"Don't worry."

"I'll make it suit you."

Damian looked into the mirror. 

"Okay."

Artur immediately corrected him.

"Yes, sir."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"...Yes, sir."

The barber tried not to laugh.

The clippers started.

Damian's expression changed immediately.

The buzzing moved up the sides of his head.

Hair began falling onto the cape.

Shorter.

Shorter.

Shorter.

He watched the reflection change.

His long, messy sides disappeared.

The hair around his ears was cut extremely short.

The back was cleaned up.

The top was cut down considerably too.

No long fringe.

No messy volume.

Just a very short, neat haircut.

Damian stared at himself.

WHAT THE HELL.

The barber continued.

He checked both sides carefully.

Then trimmed around the ears again.

"How's that?"

Damian looked at himself.

His hair was dramatically shorter than it had been that morning.

He instinctively touched the side.

"...Wow."

Krystof smiled.

"Much better."

Damian looked at him.

"Yeah."

Artur immediately corrected him.

Damian closed his eyes.

"...Yes, sir."

The barber laughed.

"You're making him work today."

Krystof smiled.

"He'll get used to it."

Damian stared at the mirror.

I'M NOT GETTING USED TO ANYTHING.

When the barber finished, he removed the cape.

Damian stood.

His outfit suddenly looked even more deliberate.

The extremely short haircut.

White shirt.

Green bow tie.

Dark sweater.

Old-fashioned jacket.

He looked...

Different.

Very different.

The barber smiled.

"That's a big change."

Damian nodded.

"Yeah."

He caught himself.

"...Yes, sir."

The barber laughed.

"You don't have to call me sir."

Damian looked relieved.

"Thank—"

He stopped.

"Thank you."

The barber smiled.

"You're welcome."

Outside, the cold air hit Damian's freshly cut head.

He immediately pulled his jacket tighter.

Krystof looked at him.

"How do you feel?"

Damian touched his hair.

"It feels weird."

"That's normal."

Damian looked at the reflection in a parked car window.

The haircut was undeniably neat.

It also made him look younger.

More formal.

More...

Dorky.

He hated that.

I LOOK LIKE I SHOULD BE CARRYING A STACK OF TEXTBOOKS.

Artur smiled.

"Your father will love it."

Damian's expression softened despite himself.

"...Probably."

He looked down.

Then corrected himself automatically.

"...Yes, sir."

Krystof laughed.

"See?"

Damian looked at him suspiciously.

"See what?"

"You're already learning."

Damian rolled his eyes.

I'M LEARNING HOW TO SURVIVE. THAT'S ALL.

They continued walking through the winter afternoon.

Damian kept one hand in his pocket.

The other occasionally touched the very short hair above his ears.

He still hated the bow tie.

He still hated the rules.

He still hated having to watch every word that came out of his mouth.

But underneath all that anger was the uncomfortable knowledge that when his father saw him later...

He was probably going to smile.

And Damian knew, despite everything...

That he would care.

----

Damian thought the barber had been the end of the day's humiliation.

He was wrong.

They had barely walked two streets before Artur turned toward him.

"Where are we going now?"

Damian looked suspiciously at him.

"Home?"

"No."

"Coffee?"

"No."

"Then where?"

Krystof smiled.

"You'll see."

Damian stopped walking.

"No."

Artur turned around.

"What?"

"I know that smile."

"What smile?"

"That smile means you've planned something."

Krystof laughed.

"We have."

Damian looked between them.

"What?"

Artur finally said it.

"Chess club."

Damian stared.

"...What?"

"The chess club."

"You've got to be joking."

"No."

Damian looked at the two of them.

Then at the street behind them.

Then back again.

"I don't play chess."

"You can learn."

"I don't want to."

"It's one of the things on your list."

"I know what the list says."

"Then you know."

Damian shook his head.

"No."

Artur's expression remained calm.

Damian's eyes immediately went toward his phone.

Artur noticed.

"You don't need to worry about that."

Damian looked away.

I'M NOT PLAYING CHESS. I'M NOT BECOMING A NERD. I'M NOT JOINING A CHESS CLUB IN A BOW TIE AFTER GETTING A GRANDPA HAIRCUT.

Krystof waited.

Finally Damian sighed.

"...Fine."

He started walking again.

"Yes, sir."

Artur smiled.

The chess club met inside a community centre a few streets away.

The building was older than Damian expected.

A small sign near the entrance announced the weekly chess group.

Damian stared at it.

"People actually come here voluntarily?"

Krystof smiled.

"Apparently."

"That's depressing."

Artur gave him a look.

Damian sighed.

"...Sorry."

"Better."

They went inside.

The room was warm.

Several tables had already been arranged.

Chessboards sat on them.

There were perhaps a dozen people inside.

Mostly adults.

A few older men.

A woman reading a chess magazine.

A middle-aged couple playing quietly at one table.

Damian immediately felt completely out of place.

His green bow tie seemed to become ten times more visible.

One elderly man looked up.

His eyes went immediately to Damian's haircut.

Then the bow tie.

He smiled.

"New member?"

Damian hesitated.

Artur answered.

"He's considering joining."

The man smiled.

"Excellent."

Damian muttered,

"Yeah."

Artur immediately looked at him.

Damian corrected himself.

"...Yes, sir."

The elderly man laughed.

"You've got manners."

Damian wanted the floor to open.

I'M ONLY SAYING IT BECAUSE I'M BEING FORCED TO. 

A woman approached them.

"First time here?"

Damian nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled.

"Wonderful."

"We welcome beginners."

Damian glanced at Artur.

Artur gave him a small approving nod.

The woman handed him a form.

"Just fill this out."

Damian looked down.

Name.

Age.

Contact information.

Previous chess experience.

He wrote:

None.

The woman smiled.

"That's perfectly fine."

"I barely know the rules."

"Even better."

Damian looked at her.

"How is that better?"

She laughed.

"Because we can teach you properly."

Damian muttered,

"Great."

Artur cleared his throat.

Damian immediately corrected himself.

"...Thank you."

The woman smiled.

"You're welcome."

They sat at a small table.

Damian filled out the registration form.

When he finished, the woman checked it.

"Everything looks good."

She handed him a small card.

"This is your membership information."

Damian stared at it.

"I'm actually a member now?"

"Unless you change your mind."

Damian looked at Artur.

Then Krystof.

Then the card.

He knew exactly what they expected.

He sighed.

"...I'll give it a try."

Krystof smiled.

"Good."

Damian immediately looked at him.

"I said I'll try."

"That's enough."

One of the older men approached.

"I'm Marek."

Damian stood automatically.

"Damian."

The man smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

Damian shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you too."

Marek glanced at the bow tie.

"Very traditional."

Damian looked down.

"Apparently."

Marek laughed.

"Nothing wrong with that."

He gestured toward the chessboard.

"Do you know how the pieces move?"

Damian shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Then we'll start there."

Damian sat down.

Marek placed the pieces carefully.

"The king."

"The queen."

"The rooks."

"The bishops."

"The knights."

"The pawns."

Damian listened.

At first he looked completely bored.

Then...

He started asking questions.

"Why can the knight move like that?"

Marek smiled.

"Because that's simply how the knight moves."

"But why?"

"That's the rule."

Damian frowned.

"That's weird."

Marek laughed. 

"Chess is full of weird things."

Damian picked up the knight.

Moved it experimentally.

Then looked at the board.

"Huh."

Artur watched from a few feet away.

Krystof noticed Damian's expression.

He was still annoyed.

Still uncomfortable.

Still very obviously there against his will.

But he was paying attention.

That mattered.

After twenty minutes, Damian finally stood.

"That's enough for today."

Marek nodded.

"Fair."

He smiled.

"Come next week."

Damian hesitated.

Then remembered the list.

He sighed.

"...Yes, sir."

Marek laughed.

"You're very formal."

Damian touched his bow tie.

"You have no idea."

Marek smiled.

"Well..."

"...you'll fit in."

Damian wasn't sure whether that was reassuring.

Outside, the winter air felt cold again.

He looked down at his membership card.

Then at Artur.

"Happy?"

Artur smiled.

"Very."

Krystof looked at Damian's short haircut and bow tie.

"You survived."

Damian sighed.

"Unfortunately."

Then, almost reluctantly, he smiled.

"At least I know what a knight does now."

Artur laughed.

"That's progress."

Damian shoved the membership card into his pocket.

I AM STILL NOT A NERD.

He started walking home with them.

Then glanced once more at the card.

He didn't throw it away.

---

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