Jeremy was halfway across the lot when a familiar hand firmly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "What do you want?", he replied brusquely, his glance tilted upward to meet his significantly taller assailant.
"We need to talk."
"Please just fucking go away," Jeremy gritted his teeth, the sleeve of his leather jacket whipping away Ryan’s arm before crossing his own, scanning the distant cliques of classmates they may have seen them together. He couldn't afford that right now.
"Denying it doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. When you kissed me that at prom, I…" Ryan pursed his lips as he struggled to get the words out. "I thought you were with Claire. I didn’t know that you felt that way."
Jeremy immediately became livid at the mere mention of the incident, instinctively balling his fits up in stymied anger in preparation for a punch as he emphasised, "Felt. Not anymore. I’m cured now....
He was halfway to the bus stop when a hand firmly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "What do you want?" Jeremy thrusted his chin out to meet his assailant.
"We need to talk."
"We don’t have anything to talk about. So fucking go away." Jeremy gritted his teeth, swiping away Ryan’s arm, before crossing his own, scanning the pathway for anyone that might have spotted them together.
"Not talking about it doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. When you kissed me that night, and I…" Ryan pursed his lips as he struggled to get words out. "I didn’t know that you liked me that way."
Jeremy's head shot up to glare at him, immediately livid at the mere mention of the incident, balling his fits in stymied anger as he spat out, "Past tense. Liked. Not anymore. I’m cured now. You somehow managed to infect me with gayness, and now it’s gone. Poof." Jeremy...
It all start off innocent. It always does.
Subtle stares, longing looks
that they have no need to hide,
as they vie for my disinterested attention.
As I brush back my hair, strap on my heels,
it's not to make myself look pretty,
look on the outside the way I feel on the inside,
It's not for you.
It never is. It always is.
And then it grows as I do.
The loud hoots and calls to resounding cheers.
The cloying touch that lingers for just a little too long.
The lewd comments accompanied by a wink,
that's supposed to be friendly but just comes off as terrifying.
That everywhere I go is just an ever-changing minefield,
A barrage from which I just can't tear myself away.
And so I quietly stew, silently accepting,
that somehow what was happening
was perfectly fine.
It slammed into me in the form of a lunge and a shove,
a strong grip wrestling me...
“Ian…” Mickey gently nuzzled his husband’s neck, disturbed by the sunlight streaming through the window, “Can you close the curtains? The light is so fucking bright,” he murmured, just barely coherent.
“No shit, there’s sunlight, it’s the fucking morning. Go do it yourself.” Ian muttered back, half-conscious himself.
“I don’t want to get out of bed,” Mickey let out a feeble whine in response. “It’s just so nice and comfortable here.” He leaned in closer to Ian, moving himself over to Ian’s pillow and tilted so that his face was buried in Ian’s hair. “And so is being with you.”
“Gross. Just like your morning breath.” Despite this, Ian pulled in Mickey’s arm across him and hugging it close against his chest. “Hug me, you bastard.”
“Fine. It's still fucking bright.” For a moment they just lay there, feeling the calming rhythm of the rise and fall of each other’s gentle breathing, their bodies pressed intimately against each other. “Didn’t...
We somehow performed a miracle and made everything go downhill simultaneously. An aberration behind a hastily thrown-up veil of hushed excuses, we were hot, fervent, intense, yearning for the sizzling rush that only the other could provide, lithe fingers exploring and clamouring with desperate passion, seeking the thrilling high from an electric touch snatched in a forbidden caress.
And then roared in the aftermath, the tremendous low that came with sharp pinpricks of regret, and the forlorn, hollow emptiness left in a soul that was once whole.
[DISCLAIMER: Fanfic character based off a real person]
Born in 1963, Jeremy Nicholas Dooley is a 16-year old star quarterback, former competitive gymnast, and black belt karate (1st dan), formerly living in Burlington, MA, but after his parents moved to avoid the growing liberal movement there, relocating to Austin, TX. Known for being simultaneously terrified and respected, Jeremy is as intimidating as can be despite his short stature, his angry scowl and crossed arms enough to deter even teachers from interfering in his fights, his prowess in hand-to-hand combat solidifying his position as someone not to be messed with. Ultimately, even though his social status is quite high owing to his positions in the school's sports teams, Jeremy wants nothing more to simply get to university, get a good job, and live a comfortable life to support his family, a simple goal not driven by zealous ambition. Despite his rather prickly exterior where he doesn't maintain much of a social...