I heard the whispers everywhere. Felt the glares into my back. Why did Christian come out today? Why did he pull me out alongside him? My locker had sharpie all over it. Faggot. Abomination. Mistake. Some little hearts and smiley faces, rainbows, but how could I notice that with all the sharp daggers sent into my back coming with every letter written? I felt tears brim my eyes as I shoved my books into the compartment and slammed it shut. What did I do wrong? I wish I was straight. For sixteen years of my life I tried.
"Hi." I was pulled out of my thoughts by charcoal hair and skin like the sun. I just wanted to graze my fingers over Christian's skin, but I was mad at him, wasn't I?
"Christian." I said bluntly, putting my earbuds in, waiting for the growling voices to play. I acted as if I turned them on, but I didn't and I'm not sure why. I wanted to hear Christian. He sighed, letting me sulk in my despair? Anger? I really don't know. The farther we walked into the crowded halls, the more people moved away from us, parting into an aisle. Christian intertwined our fingers and kept his chin up, smiling at everyone. How he did that, I'll never know. I felt myself cower into him, shrinking down to his height like I had to do daily. A few 'awh's'. A few growls. More than enough eyes. I adjusted my earbuds and pressed play for real this time, I was tired of judgement. Closing my eyes, letting the warmth of Christian's hand pull me along. His cologne smelled like a forest I was willing to get lost in. His leather band slipping far down onto his hand, brushing against my own reminded me that this was real, a small anchor to keep me from floating away. I opened my eyes in time to see the crowds thin. He kept pulling me along, his little balloon, into the parking lot and to his car that I really didn't care about, seemingly from the 70's. I opened the door and got in, trying to swallow the lump in my throat until we left campus.
As soon as we got to his house, I got out of the car and went into his house, not even glancing at him.
"Jacob? I know that you're upset. I saw the locker and-" he stopped when he saw me on the couch, tears spilling now.
"Hey... C'mere." He said softly, and I fell into his arms. He sat down on the couch, still holding me, and sat me next to him. I sniffed and looked down, fidgeting with my hands.
"Jacob, I'm sorry. It kinda slipped out."
I looked up sharply, glaring at him. "Kinda?" I stood up now, and so did he. "Hey, world. I'm gay! I have a boyfriend named Jacob! Oh," I faked innocence. "Whoops, that was a secret!" He just looked at me.
"You don't even care, do you? You don't even fucking care!" I screamed. "You win the Oscar, sir, because I actually believed you!" I was crying too, and I wish I wasn't acting so weak.
"You're just like my father." I spat. Hurt etched itself in his face, and a pang of guilt pierced my heart.
"I am nowhere near your father. I am not faking it. I..." he looked down for a second and then met my gaze, biting his lip.
"I actually love you. I thought I was helping and I wasn't." My eyes widened. Loved me? Someone... Someone loved me? He kissed me then, gently, but I could feel the love being pushed down into me, from the soles of my feet to the ends of my hair. I tried to say it back with the movements of my lips, as if the two of us were communicating. In a way we were. I spent sixteen years of my life thinking I would never speak this language, and I'm spending two minutes regretting it. All I needed was a teacher, and he was standing here with his body pressed against me and his hand tangled in my hair. How oblivious I was to think it would be anyone else but Christian.