{Unedited}

Religious societies tend not to mention mental health issues or LGBTQ status. Instead, they contribute to what the bible says is how to live life. They tell you that you are sick if you act outside of what the bible says for you to do.

When my parents and I saw a young man in his early twenties with makeup and nail polish while on a family vacation to South Carolina, I learned of such things. He seemed to be a college student visiting with his family or friends. My parents looked on with disgust as he proudly wore the makeup. I admired the young man for being brave in a cruel fated world.

"He looked pretty," I told my parents, happy as a child who didn't know to say what they really thought. I should have kept it to myself. After I said it, they seemed more embarrassed than anything that a child of theirs would say something so ridiculous.

Including expectations of society and what my father said about his statement of belief at the time. At the age of nine, and still trying to figure out what church had to offer besides candy during Sunday school, my father said, "The Lord frowns upon males who colour their faces." I could never tell my father how false that statement was at that age. This often led me to wonder if his parents were proud of him for being who he was meant to be, despite all the hatred and judgement faced by those around him.

****

"I see you're thinking about something," Christian says sarcastically as he leans on my locker beside me. "Me in bed, perhaps?" Christian adds with a smirk as I slam my locker shut louder than I expected. In Christian's way, I was sure that was some way to get me to open up about what had been on my mind, however in bed with Christian had not been it.

Despite my inability to sound pleasant, I explain, "No, thanks" to students walking to class. "Are boys allowed to wear makeup?" I ask as I gaze up at his lavender blonde hair and the ocean of his eyes as I stare down at the floor.

"It's science and genetics, makeup can be made for anyone, and you'd look like a beautiful young man with a crown," Christian informs me as we start in the direction of our class, knowing it's almost time for the first big physics test of the semester. Was Christian right? Was that all makeup was beside the eyeliner and eyeshadow?

"I'm no young man with a crown, though", I replied as we walked into class. Granted, I had not followed their expectations on religious beliefs, but I knew where they stood on the idea of boys wearing makeup and that they wouldn't welcome me.

"I think you looked cute in your dance video," Christian tells me as he slides out his phone in an attempt to show me again what I had done last night. "I think you should just flaunt it more," he continued as he slid the phone back in his messenger bag.

Christian just said I looked cute? The butterflies in my stomach shot through my stomach, as I was sure he meant it in a way that a child would admire a puppy at Christmas. I hope no one else in class heard what Christian said as my cheeks began to turn red.

My response was simply, "I guess I do," but I wasn't sure which of my brain's associations was referring to. It could be "I'm cute" or "flaunt it more". As I was growing up, I wasn't told I was cute by any other boy, except my family. When the test got passed, I had second thoughts about being as prepared as I thought.

I mechanically headed towards my locker. Every step has me thinking of the unknown fate of the characters in Lord of the Flies, as you wonder who is going to survive and who won't. This also makes me think of that essay due for the next class.

As I stand there in a silhouette of confused confidence, I hear the ping of my phone going off. Without another thought, I opened the text message from Christian.

Christian:

You seemed spooked when I called you cute. 😔

The voice of Dryden approached my locker as he walked by, and his pigment red school vest made his athlete features stand out even more than what they usually do, as he was incredibly proud of whatever it was he was doing at the moment. Unlike Hollywood, I will not be overdramatic and say everyone wanted to experiment with their sexual compatibility with him, and Hollywood overwrites that too often.

As soon as the bell announced the end of the day, I automatically beeline for my locker, not dismissing the subjects I preferred not to dedicate my time to homework. Instead, I grab the doughnuts that Christian had given me yesterday, and I indulge in their sweet, the still crispy flavour on the trek towards the jeep.

"Finally eating my doughnuts?" Christian asks in a slightly offended tone. I wouldn't blame him; I had left them in my locker yesterday. I stand there feeling awkward as my curiosity rises again. "I appreciate it," he replied immediately.

"I'm not cute when I dance, and I don't wear makeup," I admit instead of what he wanted to hear. Why would he even think those things about me? "It's just not who I am," I explain as we sit in his jeep as teams continue to practice or leave to go elsewhere.

"Maybe not Hemsworth. What I saw in that video you sent me, you were having fun exploring another side of you," Christian tells me in a slight tone of merriment. "How do you know what you're interested in," he begins to say to me, as I start to wish I hadn't started this conversation.

"It's just that I remember once being told that boys shouldn't do ballet," I tell him. As a mere child, I wanted to do ballet, and instead of defending my idea, my parents applied a stereotype attached to that jurisdiction. "So I gave up the idea," I added, as I didn't bother telling him the whole protegé.

"That explains the cuteness overload," Christian tells me as he feints a ballot pose. "I've always wanted to see a male Odette," he adds with a small smile as we're still in the parking lot of the school with no rush to leave.

I hadn't even told Dryden about the childhood dreams of long ago. Christian sat there without judgement amongst me as I had told him this. Still, I couldn't find the correct course of action to say to him two words.

"Well, I haven't danced in Swan Lake formation since then," I tell him as I lean against the window, as he places his hand on his knee. Silence goes over us both.

"I wasn't planning on saying that you should. That's totally up to you," he finally tells me as he starts the jeep up, then turns the music on again, leaving me to wonder where he'd be headed today. I wouldn't have minded if we just sat there in silence longer as I pulled my phone out only to check the time. "How do you think you did on the test today?" he asked as he changed the subject.

My mind was racing. Even though I had studied until midnight just getting ready for a test, I knew I shouldn't be worrying about it. It was a simple answer, but I had no idea what to say to him. It was like when he had called me cute.

"I think I did alright. We'll have to see, I guess," I answered his question vividly and weakly smiled.

"That's the thing, I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do. Society tells us that enough as it is," he tells me as I find that we're now sitting outside a place I never thought that I'd be in, and I had no comfort in wanting to know what was inside. As the century passed, the building appeared to have been built when the military needed supplies. The small milkweed-coloured frame wore age, and old-style windows adorned the exterior frame as if it was not originally there.

"Are you sure that you're not a serial killer?" I find myself asking him, as I had once before, as I think back to where I remember that I had mentioned that he was Ted Bundy.

"Student by day, serial killer by night," Christian tells me as he opens the door and steps inside. I notice a faint smell of cinnamon incense and follow him into the next room, and I hear a female voice speaking in another room. Instead of finding out who she was, Christian told me to follow him upstairs.

He had a New Zealand flag proudly adorning his room and various photographs with family and friends from where he originally came from. He appeared happy and having fun in the photos. His desk displayed books on the bookshelf, and his makeup stood out against my naked room. The vintage-themed wallpaper seemed to have been a part of the house when it was built, and it had given the room more pop next to his out of place checked themed twin size bed.

"This is exactly the vibes that a serial killer would throw off," I tell Christian with a slight chuckle as we step further into his room as he plops his messenger bag onto the floor beside the wooden farmhouse chair in the corner of his room.

"My innocent Hemsworth. You're obsessed with this killer idea," Christian tells me. Honestly, I'm not sure if he's annoyed or just wished that I would end the idea of serial killers already as he sits on his bed, and I stand feeling awkward, leaving me not knowing what to say next.

"Maybe so. It's just that, well aside, Dryden, I've never had the social experience," I tell him as I finally find words to say. I wasn't sure how he'd handle what I had just revealed to him. Should I explain to him how platonic my life seemed to be because of my parents?

"That's one of the walls that Hemsworth has been hiding," Christian observes as he gets up from his chair. "The funny thing is, I already feel like I've broken the first wall," he adds as he starts to pace his room. It was a pleasure seeing him. The hidden Christian that no one gets to see at school. The mellow side of him. The one with the vintage horror posters of the original monsters of Hollywood in his room.

"You think you have?" I question him curiously. Had he broken the wall that he thought he had? What happens when he finds out that I'm gay, or every time I see him, my heart races ten times more than it should? There are many things he doesn't know. For now, I'd rather keep it that way. "When do I get to break down the walls of Christian Day?" I ask as he walks back towards the bed.

"Us, we're mixed laundry, we shouldn't mix, but we do," he adds in his metaphorical speech, with each metaphor exemplifying his thought process. His metaphors are his language, adding up evenly each time he speaks. He stands on the side of the bed as I stand up, nearly crashing into his solid sculpted body.

"Sorry," I told him, even though I was sure that there was no reason to be. Neither one of us moves from the position we're in. "Kiwi boys are rather pretty," I tell him as I once again glance over to the New Zealand flag.

"I was born in Auckland, and I'd love to see it eighteen years later," Christian tells something about him that I never knew. With that, I feel a small crack in the concrete of knowing him-a small step of progress. "Anyways, it's getting late," he adds as he grabs his jeep keys from the stand beside his bed and we both head downstairs in the direction of the jeep.

"Would you be able to pick me up tomorrow?" I ask as we pull up in the driveway of my house. My tradition of just jumping out of his jeep when he dropped me off seems to have ended the moment I find the courage to ask him for a ride to school tomorrow.

"I'd certainly be happy to do that," Christian tells me as I sit there a moment longer than I had anticipated before I recreate the annual tradition of me standing outside the jeep and waiting until his tail lights disperse into the darkness. When he's gone, I turn off my phone, leaving no evidence of Christian and me texting.

When I got in the house, I immediately ran up to my room, as there had been no sign of my parents being home until church tonight. In the meantime, I'd do homework and look at college deadlines. He led me to question if I was sure that I had wanted to attend MIT as much as I first thought.

As I turn my phone back on, I'm instantly notified of a text message from Christian.

Christian:

Remember that physics book I said was yours??

It was mine. Now that makes me seem like a creeper.

🧐🧐

He was now confirming what I had thought all along. Why had he thought of giving me his book in the first place? That kind of stuff only happens in the movies, yet, here; it has happened in my world. Christian was something else.

Me:

So Kiwi boy has moves?

Hollywood may sue you for that!! 😁😁😏😏

As we continued texting throughout the night, The more I talked to him in person or by text, the more I wish I knew exactly where we stood on being friends, and the more I realized that if we had been in a teenage crush situation, I would have wanted to kiss him, but not in this context.