Smothered (bxb)

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Weeks had passed after Gus told me about his abusive foster home and some days he still came to school with a black eye or a sore jaw. Once he came to school an told me that his foster father smashed his phone with a hammer and tore up a few of his sketch books. That day Gus's face was polka dotted with bruises. He would always say that It didn't matter because he just had to lay low until he was 18. And in five months he would be able to live on his own and escape from the Hell he was living in. But somehow that made the situation even more sad because it meant that he wouldn't do anything to help himself get away from the abuse.

At school Gus and I hung out every day under the elm tree at lunch talking, sharing stories and memories and getting to know each other. Most days after school we would either hangout at Gus's cove, my house or just end up walking around the city, mostly on the main shopping streets. We became close friends very quickly and even though I knew I liked him much more than just a friend I was very hesitant to do anything about it. What If he was homophobic... what if he hated me when I told him how I felt... what would happen? These thoughts kept pestering my mind in a continuous loop, never resting. Every time I looked at how Gus's hair blew gently in the breeze, or remembered the feeling of his smooth hand in mine, or the look in his eyes when he gave me those drawings, my heart started to pound in my chest and my knees went weak. I couldn't explain why Gus effected me this much, but I knew I wouldn't be able to hide these feelings forever.

"Hey," I said as I walked up to Gus sitting under the elm. He looked up at me with his beautiful hazel eyes and scooted over so I had more room to lean up against the trunk with him.

"Hey Rain." He said in his husky voice with a goofy smile. "You want to go to the cove after school?" He asked me looking down at his hand that was holding a lit cigarette.

"Okay, sounds fun." I replied with a wide smile evident on my face.

"I have a surprise..." He said shyly as he reached into his worn, red backpack to get whatever it was.

"A surprise?" I said curious, I always loved surprises.

"Yeah, here!" He said as he turned around and held out a sheet of canvas paper wrapped in a tube and held together with a hair tie. my eyebrows furrowed in interest as he handed me the tube. I pulled the hair tie slowly releasing the canvas to its full size and saw a very colorful, oil painting. It was a portrait of me... an abstract painting using florescent pinks and deep blues, hues from all colors in a very obvious, and beautifully original head portrait of myself. I was stunned... amazed by the dazzling painting that was in my hands. I tore my gaze from the artwork and focused on the artist. He was looking at me expectantly and his big eyes filled with joy. he was biting his bottom lip slightly and I so badly wanted to kiss his perfect lips, it took every shred of self control not to. So I settled for a hug. I broke out in a huge grin as I set the magnificent portrait down on the grass and wrapped my toned arms around Gus's smaller frame. Butterflies infested my stomach and I felt like a million fireworks were going off inside of me. I whispered in his ear a thanks and regrettably started to pull away but was stopped by a pair of soft, lanky arms wrapping around my lower back and slide up higher to my shoulders. My breath was hitched in my throat and my heart started to pound a million times harder in my chest. We sat like that for too long... It was much too long for it to be a normal hug... as I was thinking this I heard someone call from across the grass at us.

"Fucking gays! Get a God damn room!" I was startled by the remark and quickly let go of Gus's perfect body. I looked away not meeting his eyes, nervous that he would get angry at me for hugging him too long. But in the middle of these thoughts I heard Gus's beautiful, raspy laugh from beside me and I hesitantly looked up towards his face. He was looking at me and laughing, slightly wheezing for air.

"Jesus, don't let those assholes get to you man." He said still laughing, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "They've always been like that." He smiled and softly nudged my arm with his elbow reassuringly.

"What do you mean?" I asked slightly confused.

"What do I mean?" He thought for a second, "Well...I mean that they always shout shit at me like that, It's just how they keep their fragile masculinity in tact." He said a laugh escaping his beautiful lips once again. I thought about it for a second and realized this might be a blessing in disguise. It was the perfect excuse to talk about sexuality with him... If he ended up being open about that sort of stuff... but I gave it a shot anyways.

"Do you mind that they do that?.. I mean, like..." I tried, but I was cut off by Gus.

"You mean, do I mind that they call me gay?" He asked for conformation. I nodded and waited for his response. He looked at me for a second as if contemplating something and then spoke.

"No, I don't mind that they call me gay, Rain. I just hate how it's used as a derogatory term when it shouldn't be." He stated as he looked me in the eye seriously. Something about his look made me nervous, like he knew something... or suspected it. My palms grew sweaty and I couldn't hold his gaze, I suddenly felt shy and and like I wanted to move out of the way of his gaze. I didn't want him to know how I felt about him, not yet at least.

"Yeah..." I whispered, deep in thought. My mind was racing and I didn't want him to know, I didn't want to lose him.

"Hey?..." Gus said as he put a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I said quickly as I gathered myself together and looked him in the eyes.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" He asked me quietly... Crap. He probably had guessed it... He probably knew how I felt about him. I wasn't ready to give up my only friend, I wasn't ready! My heart pounded in my chest as I shook my head forcing a face smile across my face nervously. He looked into my eyes and nodded as he took back the hand that was rested upon my shoulder. He leaned against the tree picking up his sketch book, pencil, and lit another cigarette; the conversation was over.