Okay, this is not a story with a whole lot of sex. Some will come in here and there, but it is not the central theme. It's a story about love between men and self-acceptance, kinda like all of my stories are.
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Part Fourteen
Eric's POV:
Skit had this look on his face, the same one he'd been wearing for like the last week or so. After spending just about every day of the entire summer with him, I knew what it meant. It meant that he was nervous or anxious or both.
Normally, he only got the look when he showed me any of his new artwork, but sometimes when we would hole up at my house in my room, lying on my bed kissing, he would get the same look on his face...like he wanted something but was afraid of wanting it.
I could pretty much figure out that he had the look this time because school was about to start in three days time and he was nervous as hell about it even though he wouldn't admit it.
It was completely understandable since the last time we'd been in school, I had been treating him like shit...and as much as I talked and worked to reassure him that things wouldn't be that way anymore, I couldn't blame him for not being fully convinced.
I mean, the only thing I could really do was show him that things would be different and that wasn't gonna happen until we actually walked through the double doors in front of West Central High. So, I tried to distract him instead.
"What do you think of purple?" I asked him, holding up a dark-colored bottle of hair dye for him to see. He looked up at me and squinted, then shook his head.
"Not on day one, you want me to scare all the freshmen?" he shot back at me and went back to sketching in his pad. "And stop moving around so much, I can't get it right if you keep moving."
I tossed the bottle aside and reached for another one. "White blonde?" I asked and he couldn't stop the small smile that stretched his lips.
"Your favorite," he reminded me and I shrugged.
"Thought I'd give it a shot," I said, then lay back on his bed, crossing my palms behind my head and staring at the ceiling. In the silence, I listened to the stroke of his pencil on the starchy paper, fast and slow, pouring out his vision of me. After a moment, the sound slowed completely and we sat in silence for a long time.
"Everything's gonna be okay, Skit," I told him in a bare whisper and when I cast my eyes in his direction, he was nodding slowly. He was still worried.
"What are you scared of?" I asked him. "Everybody knows about us. And it's not like you're just coming out or something, you've been out since you were in junior high."
"I know," he said, then lifted his head and eyed me defiantly. "What if guys attack you? You don't know what it's like to be out. They accept me because I'm not much of a threat, but you, Mr. Golden Boy Football Captain? Do you think they're gonna take it well that you're batting for the other team now?"
"If somebody doesn't like it, I don't care," I protested. "And who in that entire school can kick my ass. Name one person."
"It doesn't have to be one person, it could be a group of people," he reminded me. I sat up and shrugged.
"Then I fight as hard as I can and hope I make it out okay, its not like I've never got my ass kicked before," I told him. "There are no guarantees that I'm not gonna get my ass kicked, but that doesn't matter."
"What about football?" he prodded. "What if the team turns against you and they decide that they don't want a fag as captain or they want you off the team? What then?"
"Then, I'll fight it," I said simply. "And if I can't fight it, I won't play."
"You've worked so hard for that," he protested vehemently. "You should get to play."
I laughed. "Skit, I want to play," I assured him, then got off the bed and onto my knees on the floor in front of him. I took his face in my hands.
"You're making more trouble out of this than there needs to be," I informed him. "Whatever bad happens, we cross that bridge when we get there, not before. Right now, we enjoy being us. We just have fun."
"I'm afraid to lose you," he admitted and I could see how hard it was for him to admit that. I brushed my lips against his, the soft slash of pink that always drew me.
"I know you are," I told him and crawled back onto the bed, posing for him. I gave him a firm look. "But you aren't going to."
Skit's POV:
"Dad, can you turn that music off," I yelled down the stairs on my way to the bathroom to take one final look at myself in the mirror. The music downstairs snapped off and I heaved a sigh.
I knew that I was being an asshole, but I couldn't help it. Mike was gonna be outside honking his horn any minute and we would be on our way the eight-minute drive to West Central.
I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. At least, I looked decent. I had given in to the urge to go with the white blonde hair dye since it was Eric's favorite and I looked the school boy part in shirt and tie, sweater vest and baggy chinos, although I had decided to spice it up with a pink patent leather studded belt and matching pink Converse sneakers. I couldn't look too boring.
Eric had spent two whole hours painting my fingernails green the night before and putting up with my stiff silences and pouting without complaining. I wanted to make him happy, but I couldn't help feeling like the entire summer had been a dream and that dream was coming to an end.
I turned away from the mirror, went back to my room to grab the backpack off of my bed and hurried downstairs.
My dad was in the kitchen, sipping coffee, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He's a morning person, go figure. I grabbed a thermos and poured what was left of the coffee into it. Once it was liberally laced with cream and sugar, I took a long sip and peeked at my dad.
"You look good," he told me with a smile and I smiled back at him. My dad had been completely tolerant of me wearing anything I felt like wearing and for that I was eternally grateful to him.
"Thanks," I said and a car horn blared outside.
My dad led the way to the living room where he peeked out of the curtain suspiciously at Mike's truck. Mike saw us and waved, smiling.
"You sure this guy is cool?" my dad asked as I opened the front door.
"He's Eric's best friend and he wouldn't hurt a fly," I told him. "Literally." Mike was the gentle giant in classic form. Too bad he wasn't gay. He and Drew would have been really good together. I kissed my dad on the cheek and headed down the steps to Mike's truck.
I had been perfectly content to take the bus, but he and Eric wouldn't have it, saying I didn't live that far away. Eric had to be at school for football practice at six in the morning, for some insane reason.
I climbed into Mike's truck.
"Lookin' good, Skit," he said, grinning as I snapped my seatbelt on.
"You too," I told him and it was true. He had that fresh-scrubbed, corn-fed American boy look down pat.
"You nervous?" he asked and I nodded. No use in pretending that I wasn't. My hands were cold and shaking.
"Don't worry about it," Mike said, pulling away from the curb. "Nobody's crazy enough to fuck with Eric, just because he's gay. And if anybody so much as breathes wrong in your direction, they've gotta answer to me and him."
I gave Mike a shaky smile.
"I don't think I'm worth all this trouble," I mumbled quietly. Mike braked smoothly at a red light and looked over at me.
"Eric thinks your worth more than a little trouble," he told me firmly. "And I think he's right. Nobody's ever made him as happy as you do."
I took his words to heart and we drove on in silence until we reached the school parking lot. Mike found a space and turned to face me.
"Eric said he'd meet us over by the gym, right?" he said, grabbing his stuff off of the seat between us and climbing out of the truck. I followed him reluctantly, trodding slowly behind.
School was the same as it had been last year, except there were a few new faces. The same buzz of sound hovered over everything, loud conversations mingling with quiet ones to create an almost deafening drone. It almost drowned out the sound of my heart pounding against my ribcage. I let Mike lead me over near the locker room.
"Hey, man," Mike called out and gave the standard jock, half-handshake, half-hug to a guy with multi-colored/rock star hair. For a long moment, I didn't recognize him and if I hadn't spent hours up close and personal with him, I probably wouldn't have. My jaw dropped.
Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood in front of me, beaming. I stepped closer, peering at his hair. He's gotten different colored highlights, a dark burgundy, a white blond, a purple, a yellowish blond. It looked awesome.
When I stopped looking at his hair and into his beautiful, shining brown eyes, I noticed his t-shirt for the first time. It was something I'd painted, a distorted rainbow that I'd given to the MP over the summer. He'd had it printed onto a black t-shirt, proclaiming his sexuality loud and strong for everyone to see.
I gulped back a fresh wave of tears.
"What do you think?" he asked and I smiled, letting the tears fall.
"You look great," I said, choking a little. He grinned.
"Sexy?" he asked with a lifted brow and I nodded. He took his hands out of his pockets and reached for one of mine. He wrapped his fingers in mine and leaned down to kiss me on one tear-wet cheek, then wiped away the tears on my cheeks gently with the pad of his thumb.
"I love you," he told me quietly. "I put you above any and everything else. You mean everything to me. You're not gonna lose me, you're stuck with me." I nodded, smiling, trying valiantly not to cry.
"Alright, lovebirds, time to go to class," Mike said sternly from behind Eric and the three of us started walking down the hall. Mike and Eric were going back and forth, teasing each other, poking each other in the side or stepping on each other's heels like big kindergarteners. All the while, Eric's fingers were wrapped around mine for everyone to see and he didn't even seem to care that we got a couple of funny looks. For the most part, though, people glanced or looked and then moved on.
When I felt something scuff the back of my heel, I jumped out of the way. Mike was behind me, grinning from cheek to cheek. Eric pulled me closer protectively.
"Leave my boyfriend alone," Eric said playfully. "Don't bring him into this."
"What?" Mike asked innocently. "He's here, ain't he? That means he's included and he's on your side, so, technically, if I get him, isn't that like getting you-"
I poked Mike in the side hard, making him double over and Eric laughed long and loud at him. When he bounced back, ranting about double-teams and the fairness of it all, I finally felt the rest of my tension fall away.
Over the summer, Eric had changed and, honestly, so had I.
We were in love and that's really all there was to it. It might not be an easy road, but Eric and I were going to travel it together. ********************************************************** The End
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