xxx Coy’s POV xxx
It’s still not over. It’s been nearly a month and things are almost normal, but every time Lux shoves me out of the way to latch onto HIS arm, my hands twitch in anticipation of wringing her scrawny little neck until her eyes pop out of her greasy skull. Normally Lauren is there and she calms me down, but if she isn’t, I swear to god I get dangerously close to choking her. I wonder if he knows that he can do better. Does he actually think that she loves him? The only reasons that she’s with him at ALL is because he’s popular and she’s nothing. He’s her tool. I’ve seen the way she looks at other guys around Keith, and he doesn’t even mention it.
Come to think of it, he’s been getting a little depressed lately … just quiet and downcast, which is the opposite of what he normally is. I’m worried sick, what if it’s my fault?
xxxxxxxxxx
Right now I’m with Lauren in my room and she’s helping me plan everything out. Well, not so much as ‘plan’ as ‘stop me from killing myself’.
“Shut the fuck up!” she yells at me for the seventeenth time. I huff in an annoyed tone and bounce back down onto the bed, crossing my legs under me as I stare at her.
“What, you have better ideas?!! He could be so much happier with me, and he do --”
“YES, I have better ideas Mr. Crabbypants. All you’ve gotta do is get him jealous.” she states, tapping her bare toes against my nightstand, jangling her anklets. Her caramel eyes flick to me, an eyebrow raised, and gives me an appraising look. “It worked on you. He’s going out with Lux and you’re trying to hang yourself because of it.” she shakes my belt in her hand, reminding me of my previous attempt.
I sigh, hating it when she’s right. She really is pretty smart when it comes to toying with people like this. She has a boyfriend that I’ve only heard her mention a few times … she’ll talk for hours about other people’s relationships, but won’t mention hers. I’ve seen them at school a few times, he’s blonde and I’ve heard her call him Jay.
“I guess you’re right … and don’t call me Mr. Crabbypants!” I add the last part as a quick afterthought.
“Damn straight I’m right.” she leans back against the wall and hums to herself, visibly thinking. She snaps when she realizes it. “You, my friend, need a red herring.”
“Um … isn’t that a kind of fish?” I’m sceptical.
“Shut up. Red herring, this time, means a pawn. Someone you can use.”
“Isn’t that a bit … um … underhanded?” I fidget with my sock, mulling over the idea of going out with someone, and kissing someone. I don’t like it. She narrows her eyes and deadpans.
“You don’t get a say in this.”
“IT’S MY PROBLEM!”
“Hush, Coy. Anyways, our main issue now is picking someone to be your red herring.”
I glare and huff, dropping backwards against my bed, hanging my head over the side and getting an upside-down view of my room. I think about who we can get, going through all the people in my classes, but I’m distracted by Lauren’s incessant humming. If I tell her to stop, she’ll know that I’m not thinking hard enough, and pin me. She’s really not that much smaller than me, it might hurt.
“Kate Sparrow?” I finally try, Kate’s in my math class, she’s not too bad. Smart at least, I couldn’t handle a ditz.
She shakes her head, but since she’s leaning against the wall, I can hear her head clunk as she does it (speaking of ditz). “It should be a guy, becau--”
“WHAT!?” I cut her off, sitting up so fast I get a head rush. “No fucking way am I kissing a guy!” Keith is one thing, of course. I’d kiss him without a second thought, but I don’t really think I’m gay, I’ve never liked any other guys.
“You have to! Another guy will make him even more jealous,” she tells me. “AND it’ll show him that you swing that way. So start thinking of names again.” she finishes in a commanding tone.
“No!”
“Yes! Here, tell you what, we can ask this guy if he can fake it so no one gets hurt. Better?”
I fidget again and pick a dog hair off my quilt. “A little …” I mumble, but I still don’t like guys, just a certain one. This is different … and could turn out bad. Besides, there’s no gay guys in our school anyways.
“How about …” Lauren drums her fingers against her thigh. “Damian Beech! Ohmigod, he’s perfect!”
I have to rack my brain to remember who Damian is. He’s a year older than me and at least three inches taller. I haven’t seem him for a while, but I think he has short, kind of swoopy brown hair, and orangey eyes. The only thing I really know about him is that he paints, but other than that he’s a blank. I don’t even know where I’d go about finding him, he’s not in any of my classes.
“How is he perfect?” I ask dryly.
“Because! Remember last year, he was going out with James, wasn’t he? Everyone was talking about it, weren’t they?”
I nod, remembering something vague about Melissa mentioning it.
“Well that means he’s gay! And they just broke up a while ago, Hm? He’s open too!”
“… eeeyeaahhh …” I say warily, raising an eyebrow at her.
“He’s pretty hot though, right?”
The eyebrow lowers. “I’m not answering that.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes he is Lauren!’. Now all you have to do is talk to him about it.”
“Me?” I blush. “Why do I have to do this? It was your idea!”
“Because I said so.”
xxxxxxxxxx
I don’t think I’ve ever been this embarrassed in my life … well, except for when my mom made me sing the Oscar meyer wiener song in front of her friends at a barbeque when I was twelve. This is stupid, our school is gigantic! How am I supposed to find one stupid person during lunch hour, he’s probably gone across the street to get something to eat anyways, the food here blows. I’ll have to get him tomorrow, but that’s just one more day that Keith will spend with her, then --
My rambling train of thought crashes at a turn when I run into someone when I run into someone and almost fall backwards. A hand snags mine before I fall, and I brush my fringe out of my eyes so I can see.
Oh.
Well that was easy.
“Hi Damian …” I say shakily, keeping his hand in mine for a moment before I drop it and adjust my backpack strap.
“Hey Coy. Sorry for … um, running into you. It was an accident, I swear.” he laughs. His voice is a bit deeper than mine, I watch him as he tells me he was going to the art room. His eyes are the same orange I remember them as, and his hair is a bit longer than last time I saw him. He’s got a flick of blue paint under his eye, and a smudge of green across his nose. I quickly drop my gaze to my feet as I talk.
“I need your help with something …” I mutter.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I’ll do what I can … what do you need?”
After mumbling and fidgeting, I finally look up at him, but just as I take a deep breath, the bell sounds. “Can you meet me at Starbucks after school?”
“That’s your problem?” he smiles. “You want coffee?”
“No no no,” I blush. “I just need to talk to you. So will you come? Just the one down the street next to the eyeglasses place.”
He replies with a happy ‘sure’ and ruffles my hair before spinning on his heel and walking a few feet down the hallway, opening a brightly painted door and stepping inside.
xxxxxxxxxx
“Coy, wait up!” I hear a voice behind me, and I stop. I’m outside the school doors, but just barely.
“Keith?” I reply, sounding a little stunned. I look around, but he’s lost in a sea of people stampeding to the bus stop. I don’t know where he is until he shouts a string of curse words and people move out of his way. He suddenly appears in front of me, and I jump.
“Hi.” he says breathlessly. “You walking home?” he asks, and I begin to fidget, but stop. No, I can’t be shy or nervous, I have to seem like I’m looking forward to this.
“Sorry, can’t! I’m meeting Damian at Starbucks.”
His face changes, but I can’t exactly pinpoint how. He has this way of doing it; without moving his mouth he can still look sad. “Damian Beech?” he asks.
“Yup!”
“So … is this a date?” he deadpans, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he looked depressed.
“I guess so.” I smile at him, watching shock spread over his face as I turn to leave. “See you later!”
I feel sick.
xxxxxxxxxx
I’m wringing my hand now, and I’ve bitten every single one of my nails down to stubs, polish and all. He isn’t here yet. I’m sitting in one of the armchairs in the back of Starbucks, and he isn’t here yet. My now jagged nails have made half-moon marks in my mocha frappuchino. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it just feels like I’m cheating on Keith or something. What if Damian hits me and calls me a horrible person?
I hear the door open and I instantly look up: it’s him. The boy I am about to use in a plan has just walked into Starbucks. He meets my gaze and smiles, motioning wordlessly that he’s going to get something to drink first, I nod wordlessly and try to smile. I watch him for a moment, but still decide that this is like betraying Keith, so I look back down. I have to admit, Damian is a little pretty. He’s got muscle (unlike Keith and I), passable complexion, and nice hair. This could work.
He walks over and sits in the chair opposite mine and watches me intently for a moment, taking a sip of his … well, it looks like a vanilla latte.
“So what do you want?” he asks, managing not to sound hostile.
I go back to wringing my hands and staring at my knees as I explain everything about Keith and the red herring plan (mentioning, of course, that it wasn’t my idea). I can’t bare to look at his face as I’m doing this, because even though he’s a stranger, I hope he doesn’t think I’m horrible. I finish my whole speech and after the several seconds of the silence following it, I look up at him. He’s looking right back at me with a curious, but shocked expression. He scratches the back of his head and sits up.
“Hm. Interesting predicament.” he mumbles and takes his drink in his hand. “I’ll help you.”
“You will?” I beam hopefully. “You don’t think I’m horrible?”
“Not at all, I think you’re cute.” he laughs when I blush. “I’m just glad you told me about this whole thing instead of just using me.”
I nod. “Yeah, I didn’t want to be that cruel.”
“So, lemme get this straight: when Keith’s around, we have to act like we’re going out, and if anyone asks, we are?”
“Exactly.”
“So I’ll have to kiss you?” he asks with, fortunately, no hint of reluctance or disgust.
“Um, well only if you … want to.” I mumble, then quickly add: “But no further than that.”
He grins. “Sounds good.” he inches a little closer in his seat. “And we’ve gotta make it look convincing, right?” I nod.
“Wanna practice?” he laughs, clearly at ease, and I take a deep breath and nod again.
He leans forward in his armchair, considerate enough to move slowly, and places his lips softly on mine, resting his hands gently on my knees. I don’t feel a whoosh of heat and no tingle, which is a relief. His lips are full and soft, he carefully nips at me for a moment before pulling back. He’s not a bad kisser, but it wasn’t amazing.
He smiles at me, I smile too, until I look over his shoulder and see someone at a window near the door. Someone staring at us. Our eyes meet. Their eyes are green, they have inky hair and they look completely broken
xxxxx Keith’s POV xxxxx
“Keith hun, what’s wrong?” Lux asks as she trails behind me, I can barely hear myself mutter something back to her, all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears … what’s wrong with me? I feel like screaming, crying and throwing up all at the same time, but I settle for spitting.
“I’ve gotta go home.” I mumble to her, she replies with something giggly and tries to kiss me; I brush her off as I always have and begin running home. I can’t get that out of my head … Coy kissed Damian Beech. I didn’t even know they liked each other like that! And enough to kiss in public too! How long as this been going on and he hasn’t told me?! He’s fucking GAY, and he didn’t even bother telling me, I can’t believe it.
I can still see it in my eyes, open or closed, it’s still there … the blissful look on his face, his blush, that idiot’s hands on his legs … fuck, I still can’t believe it. Damian. Coy’s never talked about him before, he’s never hung out with him, why the fuck is he doing it now? Maybe they have been going out for a while, Coy just didn’t tell me … oh god, maybe they’ve had sex already.
A mental image floods into my mind, and I try to push it out or replace it, but it’s not going anywhere. It’s … you get it. I want to bash his fucking head in with a rusty garden trowel. What right does Damian have to be kissing my Coy? And what right does Coy have to let him? I’ve known him longer than -
Oh shit.
No WAY did I just think that. Coy isn’t mine! Damian can have him, see if I care, I’m not jealous, I’m just … interested in the well-being of my closest friend. Yeah. And I’m just pissed because he didn’t tell me he was gay.
I’m finally home and short of breath. It’s a little after four and mom’s out somewhere, the car isn’t out front, but Brandon’s truck is. I run up the front walk and throw the door open so harshly I hear the wall crack as I stampede to Brandon’s room, flinging his door open as well, clutching the stitch of pain in my side from running; I’m not exactly in the best shape.
His room’s dark and messy as always, curtains drawn, blue computer screen illuminating his silhouette, casting long shadows over everything.
“You …” I pant. “… get … off … computer. Must … msn …” I fall onto the ground, he looks at me.
“Who do you need to talk to? Use the phone, I’m busy.”
I trust him, so I tell the truth. “Coy … Starbucks, he kissed … Damian Beech.”
“He kissed someone? Kick his ass!” he retorts in his over-protective brotherly way and I watch as he begins closing his open internet windows and typing last comments to people. When he opens up a certain convo, I see a plethora of little hearts in the message box.
“Girlfriend?” I question, raising a hand to point at the window. He doesn’t answer me, but closes it quickly. He stands up from his chair and nudges me in the side with his socked foot. “It’s all yours, good luck.”
I manage to grow breathlessly before I crawl to his chair and haul myself up. Before I can ever get on instant messaging, I sprint into the kitchen and grab the phone off the table, then run back. Lauren’s number is on speed dial, her dad picks up. “Hello Mr. Fath, is Lauren there please?” I ask in my sickeningly sweet phone voice.
“Ah Keith,” he recognizes me. “Yes she is, just one moment.” I hear him turn away and yell her name.
A second later, Lauren picks up and tells her dad to hang up before greeting me cheerfully. “Helloo?”
I begin screeching like a howler monkey. “LAURENGETYOURFUCKINGASSOVERHERERIGHTNOWGODDAMNIT!”
“Christ, only dogs can hear you now, tone it down." she groans.
I try to calm down. "He ... I ... they were ..."
“Hey guess what, we're playing Final Fant-”
“I don’t friggin care! You’ve got to get over here right now, you can bring your boyfriend if you want!” I tell her, getting desperate. If I don’t talk to someone about this, I’m going to end up killing babies.
“… In three years you’ve never invited me to your house. Coy neither.”
“COY KISSED A MAN.”
There’s a short silence on the other end before she turns away from the phone and yells something in her weird little language. “Okay, we’ll be right over.” she says to me, then hangs up.
I hang up the phone as well and sign onto msn, scanning my list frantically. His name is in a dully grey, outlined with various symbols, he’s offline. Argh … it’s still in my head, every time I see his name, that horrible display of affection projects itself onto the computer screen and catapults off the walls, glowing brightly, zooming in and mocking me. I quickly open Winamp and put on a song I’ve been obsessing over lately.
I sink into the wall … and staring up I saaaw … I‘m alone in all my thoughts … too afraid, to be crazy I run …*
The song’s peaceful tone calms me a bit, my headache fades at Arthur Enders’ soft, bouncy voice fills Brandon’s dingy room. I lean back in the office chair, barely feeling the dull clunk of plastic on my skull, followed by a throb of pain because of my thoughts swirling around I Can Make a Mess and Coy’s newly discovered sexuality.
… So tonight, when I left here, all I said, was goodbye and that‘s alright, no ‘I‘ll see you later‘ …
The song’s barely over by the time three sharp knocks sound at the front door. I stumble up from the comfort of my chair and race to the front door, caught off guard at how quickly they’ve gotten here. My striped socks slip when I hit the linoleum, terrified to see Brandon at the door ahead of me. When I see a blonde head over his shoulder, I realize that I’ve never seen Lauren’s alleged boyfriend because Lauren has never let us meet him.
“Aaaaand who are you now?” Brandon asks them, and I skid up behind him and push him out of the way. He doesn’t care about them or me, so he just sulks off back to the kitchen where he was eating a bowl of Fruit Loops for dinner.
Once he’s gone, only Lauren, Jason and I are left standing on the stoop. They’re both wearing heavy coats and it looks pretty cold out, so I let them in.
“Thanks.” “Thanks.”
The second thanks is in a deeper tone, and I look up, momentarily forgetting the new acquaintance. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lauren is a boy who’s a little shorter than her, but not as short as me. His golden blonde hair falls in waves just below his shoulders, two toned between dark and light, glowing with a sun-kissed kind of look. He turns to me as he takes Lauren’s coat and puts it over his arm.
“Where can I put this?” he asks. His voice is undeniably masculine, betraying his lanky, girlish figure. I nod dumbly and blush, taking Lauren’s coat from him and hanging it up on a rack behind me; with his hands free, he takes off his own. His arms are pale and thin, with bony elbows and long fingers. He hands me his hoodie, and I look up at his face. He’s got a long nose, dusted with more freckles that cover his forehead as well, followed by surreally bright green-steel eyes. He blinks a few times, and wrinkles his nose at me. “Are you gonna take it?”
I blush once more, and can’t find strength to do anything other than nod as I grab his hoodie and hang it up next to Lauren’s. I silently usher them down the hallway, watching Lauren inspect my house with curiosity, and Jason whispers something in that weird language of theirs, Al Bhed or something, so I assume it’s something that isn’t for my ears.
“Ra fyc muugehk yd cu faent ... yna oui cina ra'c … cyva?” Jason whispers.
Lauren mumbles something back, but I hope she’s not mentioning the chipping drywall, the musty carpet or the mold smell, and I’d appreciate it if she doesn’t, because I don’t want her rubbing it in. I step into Brandon’s room, keeping the door open behind me so they can follow. I sit down on the computer chair and swivel around, watching them look around again before taking a tentative seat on the bed.
“So, what’s this about Coy?” Lauren asks quietly, shifting her legs to sit cross-legged as Jason moves Brandon’s plaid quilt out of the way.
“He kissed Damian Beech.” I reply moodily, giving a nervous glance to Jason, who doesn’t appear to care, but he’s holding Lauren’s hand and appears pretty focused on that.
“… Wha? Really?” her eyes widen and she stares at me, but there’s something questionable in her tone.
“YES REALLY.” I huff. “How could he do this?!!” I say angrily, spinning around once in the chair and stopping with my feet.
“Do what?” she asks, and I watch Jason nudge a McDonalds cup on the ground with his socked foot.
“Be … THAT!!” I yell exasperatedly, not sure of how to word it, but just wanting to tell someone.
“You couldn’t tell he was gay?” she tilts her head. “I thought you of all people could tell, I mean he is a little … feminine.” she soon turns to Jason with a curious look. “You could tell, right?”
“Of course.” he replies. “I barely know him and I knew he was gay.”
I take note of the tone in his voice, thankfully not judgemental. I’d get mad if he was mean to Coy. He may be GAY, but he’s still my best friend.
“That’s shit, I had no fucking idea. This is stupid …” I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“Why are you so mad?” Lauren suddenly retorts, tawny eyes blazing as she looks up at me. “It’s his decision, isn’t it?”
I’m a little taken aback. “Of course it is but don’t you think he could have TOLD us? I mean, he’s never even mentioned him before, and now all of a sudden they --”
“Isn’t that exactly what you did with Lux?” she narrows her eyes.
“… is it?”
“YES! You’re being a complete hypocrite, saying that he never told us, when just one day out of the blue you go out with Lux Lockwood! And I’m sorry for saying this, but we all hate her. So how is THIS different?”
“… this is him.” I say quietly, and she stands up off the bed with an angry growl, taking Jason with her.
“You are so fucking thick skulled! I’m leaving. You can figure this out on your own.” she kicks the McDonald’s cup and walks to the door. “Your house smells like mold anyway.”
She spins on her heel and walks out, dragging Jason with her. I hear her say goodbye to Brandon before she slams the door.
I think it’s safe to say that I am totally and utterly screwed.
*bing bong*
Someone signs online. It’s him. My heart’s beating so hard it hurts as I click on his name and a conversation window opens.
hello … I say tentatively. He can’t know I care.
hi … um … sorry.
sorry for what?
damian. and … stuff.
Ooh ‘and stuff, isn’t he a genius.
it’s fine.
really?
YES.
because you looked pretty … mad.
well … i was, sort of. why didn’t you tell us?
i knew you wouldn’t understand.
understand what? that you’re gay? that you have the hots for damian beech?
see? just like this.
you’re being like a difficult wife.
I. LIKE. HIM. okay?
no, NOT okay, don’t you fucking get it? why didn’t you tell us? how
long have you been …
five weeks.
My heart whirrs and clunks in my chest … five weeks … that was around
when I got ‘attacked’.
why?
because i didn’t have the guts to tell him i liked him before this.
no no, why HIM?
he’s gorgeous, and he really likes me.
so? do you like him?
YES. don’t make me choose between you or anything, it’s not like i hate
you now.
fine.
fine.
(signs off at 6:21:43)
* - This song's Timshel by I Can Make A Mess Like Nobody's Business, and it's the best thing since DRUGS : D
Sorry for adding the Al Bhed. I had to, FFX owns <3
next ~ <3
previous ~ <3
back to archive ~ <3
It’s still not over. It’s been nearly a month and things are almost normal, but every time Lux shoves me out of the way to latch onto HIS arm, my hands twitch in anticipation of wringing her scrawny little neck until her eyes pop out of her greasy skull. Normally Lauren is there and she calms me down, but if she isn’t, I swear to god I get dangerously close to choking her. I wonder if he knows that he can do better. Does he actually think that she loves him? The only reasons that she’s with him at ALL is because he’s popular and she’s nothing. He’s her tool. I’ve seen the way she looks at other guys around Keith, and he doesn’t even mention it.
Come to think of it, he’s been getting a little depressed lately … just quiet and downcast, which is the opposite of what he normally is. I’m worried sick, what if it’s my fault?
xxxxxxxxxx
Right now I’m with Lauren in my room and she’s helping me plan everything out. Well, not so much as ‘plan’ as ‘stop me from killing myself’.
“Shut the fuck up!” she yells at me for the seventeenth time. I huff in an annoyed tone and bounce back down onto the bed, crossing my legs under me as I stare at her.
“What, you have better ideas?!! He could be so much happier with me, and he do --”
“YES, I have better ideas Mr. Crabbypants. All you’ve gotta do is get him jealous.” she states, tapping her bare toes against my nightstand, jangling her anklets. Her caramel eyes flick to me, an eyebrow raised, and gives me an appraising look. “It worked on you. He’s going out with Lux and you’re trying to hang yourself because of it.” she shakes my belt in her hand, reminding me of my previous attempt.
I sigh, hating it when she’s right. She really is pretty smart when it comes to toying with people like this. She has a boyfriend that I’ve only heard her mention a few times … she’ll talk for hours about other people’s relationships, but won’t mention hers. I’ve seen them at school a few times, he’s blonde and I’ve heard her call him Jay.
“I guess you’re right … and don’t call me Mr. Crabbypants!” I add the last part as a quick afterthought.
“Damn straight I’m right.” she leans back against the wall and hums to herself, visibly thinking. She snaps when she realizes it. “You, my friend, need a red herring.”
“Um … isn’t that a kind of fish?” I’m sceptical.
“Shut up. Red herring, this time, means a pawn. Someone you can use.”
“Isn’t that a bit … um … underhanded?” I fidget with my sock, mulling over the idea of going out with someone, and kissing someone. I don’t like it. She narrows her eyes and deadpans.
“You don’t get a say in this.”
“IT’S MY PROBLEM!”
“Hush, Coy. Anyways, our main issue now is picking someone to be your red herring.”
I glare and huff, dropping backwards against my bed, hanging my head over the side and getting an upside-down view of my room. I think about who we can get, going through all the people in my classes, but I’m distracted by Lauren’s incessant humming. If I tell her to stop, she’ll know that I’m not thinking hard enough, and pin me. She’s really not that much smaller than me, it might hurt.
“Kate Sparrow?” I finally try, Kate’s in my math class, she’s not too bad. Smart at least, I couldn’t handle a ditz.
She shakes her head, but since she’s leaning against the wall, I can hear her head clunk as she does it (speaking of ditz). “It should be a guy, becau--”
“WHAT!?” I cut her off, sitting up so fast I get a head rush. “No fucking way am I kissing a guy!” Keith is one thing, of course. I’d kiss him without a second thought, but I don’t really think I’m gay, I’ve never liked any other guys.
“You have to! Another guy will make him even more jealous,” she tells me. “AND it’ll show him that you swing that way. So start thinking of names again.” she finishes in a commanding tone.
“No!”
“Yes! Here, tell you what, we can ask this guy if he can fake it so no one gets hurt. Better?”
I fidget again and pick a dog hair off my quilt. “A little …” I mumble, but I still don’t like guys, just a certain one. This is different … and could turn out bad. Besides, there’s no gay guys in our school anyways.
“How about …” Lauren drums her fingers against her thigh. “Damian Beech! Ohmigod, he’s perfect!”
I have to rack my brain to remember who Damian is. He’s a year older than me and at least three inches taller. I haven’t seem him for a while, but I think he has short, kind of swoopy brown hair, and orangey eyes. The only thing I really know about him is that he paints, but other than that he’s a blank. I don’t even know where I’d go about finding him, he’s not in any of my classes.
“How is he perfect?” I ask dryly.
“Because! Remember last year, he was going out with James, wasn’t he? Everyone was talking about it, weren’t they?”
I nod, remembering something vague about Melissa mentioning it.
“Well that means he’s gay! And they just broke up a while ago, Hm? He’s open too!”
“… eeeyeaahhh …” I say warily, raising an eyebrow at her.
“He’s pretty hot though, right?”
The eyebrow lowers. “I’m not answering that.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes he is Lauren!’. Now all you have to do is talk to him about it.”
“Me?” I blush. “Why do I have to do this? It was your idea!”
“Because I said so.”
xxxxxxxxxx
I don’t think I’ve ever been this embarrassed in my life … well, except for when my mom made me sing the Oscar meyer wiener song in front of her friends at a barbeque when I was twelve. This is stupid, our school is gigantic! How am I supposed to find one stupid person during lunch hour, he’s probably gone across the street to get something to eat anyways, the food here blows. I’ll have to get him tomorrow, but that’s just one more day that Keith will spend with her, then --
My rambling train of thought crashes at a turn when I run into someone when I run into someone and almost fall backwards. A hand snags mine before I fall, and I brush my fringe out of my eyes so I can see.
Oh.
Well that was easy.
“Hi Damian …” I say shakily, keeping his hand in mine for a moment before I drop it and adjust my backpack strap.
“Hey Coy. Sorry for … um, running into you. It was an accident, I swear.” he laughs. His voice is a bit deeper than mine, I watch him as he tells me he was going to the art room. His eyes are the same orange I remember them as, and his hair is a bit longer than last time I saw him. He’s got a flick of blue paint under his eye, and a smudge of green across his nose. I quickly drop my gaze to my feet as I talk.
“I need your help with something …” I mutter.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I’ll do what I can … what do you need?”
After mumbling and fidgeting, I finally look up at him, but just as I take a deep breath, the bell sounds. “Can you meet me at Starbucks after school?”
“That’s your problem?” he smiles. “You want coffee?”
“No no no,” I blush. “I just need to talk to you. So will you come? Just the one down the street next to the eyeglasses place.”
He replies with a happy ‘sure’ and ruffles my hair before spinning on his heel and walking a few feet down the hallway, opening a brightly painted door and stepping inside.
xxxxxxxxxx
“Coy, wait up!” I hear a voice behind me, and I stop. I’m outside the school doors, but just barely.
“Keith?” I reply, sounding a little stunned. I look around, but he’s lost in a sea of people stampeding to the bus stop. I don’t know where he is until he shouts a string of curse words and people move out of his way. He suddenly appears in front of me, and I jump.
“Hi.” he says breathlessly. “You walking home?” he asks, and I begin to fidget, but stop. No, I can’t be shy or nervous, I have to seem like I’m looking forward to this.
“Sorry, can’t! I’m meeting Damian at Starbucks.”
His face changes, but I can’t exactly pinpoint how. He has this way of doing it; without moving his mouth he can still look sad. “Damian Beech?” he asks.
“Yup!”
“So … is this a date?” he deadpans, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he looked depressed.
“I guess so.” I smile at him, watching shock spread over his face as I turn to leave. “See you later!”
I feel sick.
xxxxxxxxxx
I’m wringing my hand now, and I’ve bitten every single one of my nails down to stubs, polish and all. He isn’t here yet. I’m sitting in one of the armchairs in the back of Starbucks, and he isn’t here yet. My now jagged nails have made half-moon marks in my mocha frappuchino. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it just feels like I’m cheating on Keith or something. What if Damian hits me and calls me a horrible person?
I hear the door open and I instantly look up: it’s him. The boy I am about to use in a plan has just walked into Starbucks. He meets my gaze and smiles, motioning wordlessly that he’s going to get something to drink first, I nod wordlessly and try to smile. I watch him for a moment, but still decide that this is like betraying Keith, so I look back down. I have to admit, Damian is a little pretty. He’s got muscle (unlike Keith and I), passable complexion, and nice hair. This could work.
He walks over and sits in the chair opposite mine and watches me intently for a moment, taking a sip of his … well, it looks like a vanilla latte.
“So what do you want?” he asks, managing not to sound hostile.
I go back to wringing my hands and staring at my knees as I explain everything about Keith and the red herring plan (mentioning, of course, that it wasn’t my idea). I can’t bare to look at his face as I’m doing this, because even though he’s a stranger, I hope he doesn’t think I’m horrible. I finish my whole speech and after the several seconds of the silence following it, I look up at him. He’s looking right back at me with a curious, but shocked expression. He scratches the back of his head and sits up.
“Hm. Interesting predicament.” he mumbles and takes his drink in his hand. “I’ll help you.”
“You will?” I beam hopefully. “You don’t think I’m horrible?”
“Not at all, I think you’re cute.” he laughs when I blush. “I’m just glad you told me about this whole thing instead of just using me.”
I nod. “Yeah, I didn’t want to be that cruel.”
“So, lemme get this straight: when Keith’s around, we have to act like we’re going out, and if anyone asks, we are?”
“Exactly.”
“So I’ll have to kiss you?” he asks with, fortunately, no hint of reluctance or disgust.
“Um, well only if you … want to.” I mumble, then quickly add: “But no further than that.”
He grins. “Sounds good.” he inches a little closer in his seat. “And we’ve gotta make it look convincing, right?” I nod.
“Wanna practice?” he laughs, clearly at ease, and I take a deep breath and nod again.
He leans forward in his armchair, considerate enough to move slowly, and places his lips softly on mine, resting his hands gently on my knees. I don’t feel a whoosh of heat and no tingle, which is a relief. His lips are full and soft, he carefully nips at me for a moment before pulling back. He’s not a bad kisser, but it wasn’t amazing.
He smiles at me, I smile too, until I look over his shoulder and see someone at a window near the door. Someone staring at us. Our eyes meet. Their eyes are green, they have inky hair and they look completely broken
xxxxx Keith’s POV xxxxx
“Keith hun, what’s wrong?” Lux asks as she trails behind me, I can barely hear myself mutter something back to her, all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears … what’s wrong with me? I feel like screaming, crying and throwing up all at the same time, but I settle for spitting.
“I’ve gotta go home.” I mumble to her, she replies with something giggly and tries to kiss me; I brush her off as I always have and begin running home. I can’t get that out of my head … Coy kissed Damian Beech. I didn’t even know they liked each other like that! And enough to kiss in public too! How long as this been going on and he hasn’t told me?! He’s fucking GAY, and he didn’t even bother telling me, I can’t believe it.
I can still see it in my eyes, open or closed, it’s still there … the blissful look on his face, his blush, that idiot’s hands on his legs … fuck, I still can’t believe it. Damian. Coy’s never talked about him before, he’s never hung out with him, why the fuck is he doing it now? Maybe they have been going out for a while, Coy just didn’t tell me … oh god, maybe they’ve had sex already.
A mental image floods into my mind, and I try to push it out or replace it, but it’s not going anywhere. It’s … you get it. I want to bash his fucking head in with a rusty garden trowel. What right does Damian have to be kissing my Coy? And what right does Coy have to let him? I’ve known him longer than -
Oh shit.
No WAY did I just think that. Coy isn’t mine! Damian can have him, see if I care, I’m not jealous, I’m just … interested in the well-being of my closest friend. Yeah. And I’m just pissed because he didn’t tell me he was gay.
I’m finally home and short of breath. It’s a little after four and mom’s out somewhere, the car isn’t out front, but Brandon’s truck is. I run up the front walk and throw the door open so harshly I hear the wall crack as I stampede to Brandon’s room, flinging his door open as well, clutching the stitch of pain in my side from running; I’m not exactly in the best shape.
His room’s dark and messy as always, curtains drawn, blue computer screen illuminating his silhouette, casting long shadows over everything.
“You …” I pant. “… get … off … computer. Must … msn …” I fall onto the ground, he looks at me.
“Who do you need to talk to? Use the phone, I’m busy.”
I trust him, so I tell the truth. “Coy … Starbucks, he kissed … Damian Beech.”
“He kissed someone? Kick his ass!” he retorts in his over-protective brotherly way and I watch as he begins closing his open internet windows and typing last comments to people. When he opens up a certain convo, I see a plethora of little hearts in the message box.
“Girlfriend?” I question, raising a hand to point at the window. He doesn’t answer me, but closes it quickly. He stands up from his chair and nudges me in the side with his socked foot. “It’s all yours, good luck.”
I manage to grow breathlessly before I crawl to his chair and haul myself up. Before I can ever get on instant messaging, I sprint into the kitchen and grab the phone off the table, then run back. Lauren’s number is on speed dial, her dad picks up. “Hello Mr. Fath, is Lauren there please?” I ask in my sickeningly sweet phone voice.
“Ah Keith,” he recognizes me. “Yes she is, just one moment.” I hear him turn away and yell her name.
A second later, Lauren picks up and tells her dad to hang up before greeting me cheerfully. “Helloo?”
I begin screeching like a howler monkey. “LAURENGETYOURFUCKINGASSOVERHERERIGHTNOWGODDAMNIT!”
“Christ, only dogs can hear you now, tone it down." she groans.
I try to calm down. "He ... I ... they were ..."
“Hey guess what, we're playing Final Fant-”
“I don’t friggin care! You’ve got to get over here right now, you can bring your boyfriend if you want!” I tell her, getting desperate. If I don’t talk to someone about this, I’m going to end up killing babies.
“… In three years you’ve never invited me to your house. Coy neither.”
“COY KISSED A MAN.”
There’s a short silence on the other end before she turns away from the phone and yells something in her weird little language. “Okay, we’ll be right over.” she says to me, then hangs up.
I hang up the phone as well and sign onto msn, scanning my list frantically. His name is in a dully grey, outlined with various symbols, he’s offline. Argh … it’s still in my head, every time I see his name, that horrible display of affection projects itself onto the computer screen and catapults off the walls, glowing brightly, zooming in and mocking me. I quickly open Winamp and put on a song I’ve been obsessing over lately.
I sink into the wall … and staring up I saaaw … I‘m alone in all my thoughts … too afraid, to be crazy I run …*
The song’s peaceful tone calms me a bit, my headache fades at Arthur Enders’ soft, bouncy voice fills Brandon’s dingy room. I lean back in the office chair, barely feeling the dull clunk of plastic on my skull, followed by a throb of pain because of my thoughts swirling around I Can Make a Mess and Coy’s newly discovered sexuality.
… So tonight, when I left here, all I said, was goodbye and that‘s alright, no ‘I‘ll see you later‘ …
The song’s barely over by the time three sharp knocks sound at the front door. I stumble up from the comfort of my chair and race to the front door, caught off guard at how quickly they’ve gotten here. My striped socks slip when I hit the linoleum, terrified to see Brandon at the door ahead of me. When I see a blonde head over his shoulder, I realize that I’ve never seen Lauren’s alleged boyfriend because Lauren has never let us meet him.
“Aaaaand who are you now?” Brandon asks them, and I skid up behind him and push him out of the way. He doesn’t care about them or me, so he just sulks off back to the kitchen where he was eating a bowl of Fruit Loops for dinner.
Once he’s gone, only Lauren, Jason and I are left standing on the stoop. They’re both wearing heavy coats and it looks pretty cold out, so I let them in.
“Thanks.” “Thanks.”
The second thanks is in a deeper tone, and I look up, momentarily forgetting the new acquaintance. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lauren is a boy who’s a little shorter than her, but not as short as me. His golden blonde hair falls in waves just below his shoulders, two toned between dark and light, glowing with a sun-kissed kind of look. He turns to me as he takes Lauren’s coat and puts it over his arm.
“Where can I put this?” he asks. His voice is undeniably masculine, betraying his lanky, girlish figure. I nod dumbly and blush, taking Lauren’s coat from him and hanging it up on a rack behind me; with his hands free, he takes off his own. His arms are pale and thin, with bony elbows and long fingers. He hands me his hoodie, and I look up at his face. He’s got a long nose, dusted with more freckles that cover his forehead as well, followed by surreally bright green-steel eyes. He blinks a few times, and wrinkles his nose at me. “Are you gonna take it?”
I blush once more, and can’t find strength to do anything other than nod as I grab his hoodie and hang it up next to Lauren’s. I silently usher them down the hallway, watching Lauren inspect my house with curiosity, and Jason whispers something in that weird language of theirs, Al Bhed or something, so I assume it’s something that isn’t for my ears.
“Ra fyc muugehk yd cu faent ... yna oui cina ra'c … cyva?” Jason whispers.
Lauren mumbles something back, but I hope she’s not mentioning the chipping drywall, the musty carpet or the mold smell, and I’d appreciate it if she doesn’t, because I don’t want her rubbing it in. I step into Brandon’s room, keeping the door open behind me so they can follow. I sit down on the computer chair and swivel around, watching them look around again before taking a tentative seat on the bed.
“So, what’s this about Coy?” Lauren asks quietly, shifting her legs to sit cross-legged as Jason moves Brandon’s plaid quilt out of the way.
“He kissed Damian Beech.” I reply moodily, giving a nervous glance to Jason, who doesn’t appear to care, but he’s holding Lauren’s hand and appears pretty focused on that.
“… Wha? Really?” her eyes widen and she stares at me, but there’s something questionable in her tone.
“YES REALLY.” I huff. “How could he do this?!!” I say angrily, spinning around once in the chair and stopping with my feet.
“Do what?” she asks, and I watch Jason nudge a McDonalds cup on the ground with his socked foot.
“Be … THAT!!” I yell exasperatedly, not sure of how to word it, but just wanting to tell someone.
“You couldn’t tell he was gay?” she tilts her head. “I thought you of all people could tell, I mean he is a little … feminine.” she soon turns to Jason with a curious look. “You could tell, right?”
“Of course.” he replies. “I barely know him and I knew he was gay.”
I take note of the tone in his voice, thankfully not judgemental. I’d get mad if he was mean to Coy. He may be GAY, but he’s still my best friend.
“That’s shit, I had no fucking idea. This is stupid …” I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“Why are you so mad?” Lauren suddenly retorts, tawny eyes blazing as she looks up at me. “It’s his decision, isn’t it?”
I’m a little taken aback. “Of course it is but don’t you think he could have TOLD us? I mean, he’s never even mentioned him before, and now all of a sudden they --”
“Isn’t that exactly what you did with Lux?” she narrows her eyes.
“… is it?”
“YES! You’re being a complete hypocrite, saying that he never told us, when just one day out of the blue you go out with Lux Lockwood! And I’m sorry for saying this, but we all hate her. So how is THIS different?”
“… this is him.” I say quietly, and she stands up off the bed with an angry growl, taking Jason with her.
“You are so fucking thick skulled! I’m leaving. You can figure this out on your own.” she kicks the McDonald’s cup and walks to the door. “Your house smells like mold anyway.”
She spins on her heel and walks out, dragging Jason with her. I hear her say goodbye to Brandon before she slams the door.
I think it’s safe to say that I am totally and utterly screwed.
*bing bong*
Someone signs online. It’s him. My heart’s beating so hard it hurts as I click on his name and a conversation window opens.
hello … I say tentatively. He can’t know I care.
hi … um … sorry.
sorry for what?
damian. and … stuff.
Ooh ‘and stuff, isn’t he a genius.
it’s fine.
really?
YES.
because you looked pretty … mad.
well … i was, sort of. why didn’t you tell us?
i knew you wouldn’t understand.
understand what? that you’re gay? that you have the hots for damian beech?
see? just like this.
you’re being like a difficult wife.
I. LIKE. HIM. okay?
no, NOT okay, don’t you fucking get it? why didn’t you tell us? how
long have you been …
five weeks.
My heart whirrs and clunks in my chest … five weeks … that was around
when I got ‘attacked’.
why?
because i didn’t have the guts to tell him i liked him before this.
no no, why HIM?
he’s gorgeous, and he really likes me.
so? do you like him?
YES. don’t make me choose between you or anything, it’s not like i hate
you now.
fine.
fine.
(signs off at 6:21:43)
* - This song's Timshel by I Can Make A Mess Like Nobody's Business, and it's the best thing since DRUGS : D
Sorry for adding the Al Bhed. I had to, FFX owns <3
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