Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter twenty-nine - i know

chapter twenty-nine — i know

<Lukas' POV>

SOMETIMES, I WONDERED IF I WAS EVEN GAY. I knew well enough by now that being gay didn't mandate anything, but sometimes it would creep up on me— the weird feeling that I was lying. Sometimes it seeped in with my morning cereal, other times late at night when the whole house was quiet and it felt like time had frozen over. Marco insisted it was imposter syndrome, but Marco liked throwing around his new vocabulary without knowing shit. Why would I feel like an imposter?

I was gay and I knew it, but I'd never felt gay. Is that imposter syndrome?

Back when I'd figured it all out, around the summer going into freshman year of high school, I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do with myself. All the movies made coming out seem like a huge ordeal— some kind of rite of passage that was needed to become a functioning member of gay society.

But I never wanted to be the gay kid, Lukas.

I wanted to be Lukas. And oh, are you free tonight?

I knew Michael didn't understand it, he didn't want to. He had pins and stickers and markers and this burning need to make sure everyone knew that he'd finally done it— he'd finally figured himself out. Even with the realization that I liked dudes, I'd never for a second thought I knew myself. Deep down, I think Michael knew it too. He knew that he'd only cleared the first hurdle of adolescence and that there were more identity crises to follow, less about sexuality and more about everything else.

It was overwhelming but relieving in the strangest of ways. Kind of like Kieran.

"Times up, please bring your tests to the front."

I stretched, twisting my back until I heard a soft pop. I was always a straggler, always the last person to finish the test, but today I'd finally gone over every question and finished just in time. Roger beamed at me from across the room, a small thumbs up tossed at me because he'd handed his test in a good fifteen minutes before but was just as nervous.

I smiled, nodding back at him so we'd both relax a little, comforted by the idea that the test hadn't completely bulldozed either of us. Calculus had a way of murdering happiness, but the satisfaction of solving a problem smoothly was better than most other feelings.

"You can get your bags from the front now," The teacher motioned with one hand, stacking the papers in a thick pile before looking at it with disgust.

Soft conversations broke out the second the last paper slid into the teacher's hands, the volume swelling as friends formed swarms and compared brains like they were artisanal vases.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Roger exhaled, heaving his backpack onto his shoulder and passing mine to me with a small smile. I smiled back.

"Yeah, I think—"

"—Of course it wasn't hard for you, Roger."

I whipped around, unsure of who'd casually butted into our conversation. A random head ducked by, leaving as quickly as they'd interrupted.

Roger laughed, his only acknowledgment of the stranger, before nudging me out of the classroom.

"You were saying?"

"Oh, yeah," I shrugged loose, sweatshirt string stuck under the strap of my bag, "I think we definitely over-thought the study guide."

Roger hummed in agreement. We'd spent the last few nights studying for the test, binging videos and practicing examples until calluses wore into the one finger that pressed against our pencils. I'd put a bandage over mine, flimsy stick already peeling loose since bandages never stuck that well on fingers to begin with.