Closets

Eric Bittle tolerated closets. They were certainly better than toilets, at least when it came to bring shoved into one or the other. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than the alternative. But it was more than that. His skull had become a closet. To thoughts and words that piled and screamed and begged. Eric Bittle was a closet, and he hurt.

Jack Zimmermann liked closets. They were a haven, just for him and his thoughts. When everyone grew to loud and his mind screamed, it was a closet he would wait in. But it was more than that. His fears had become a closet. Pushing down words and smiles that danced across his mouth. Jack Zimmermann had become a closet, and he feared.

Eric was 13 the first time anyone called him gay. He remembered it clearly. It was a kick to the ribs to which he replied 'you wish'. Even as he said it he could feel his stomach flip. And that was just the start. 'Gay' turned to 'fairy' turned to 'fag' turned to violence. And now, 2 and a half years later, he was feeling fists in his face yet again. And yet again, he stood there and endured the pain. Next, they would either shove his head into a toilet or throw him in a trash can or lock him in a closet. Eric knew this. It was their little routine.

It was going to be the closet. There were no custodians around and the closest bathroom was on the other side of the school. Trash can could easily be ruled out, being that there were none anywhere nearby. And so Eric was thrown into the janitor's closet next to the band room as the boys let out one last "Fag!" at him.

Jack Zimmermann was tired of school. He was supposed to be in a class in which he knew no one except his ex, if you could even call what they had a relationship, and so instead he was hiding in the janitor's closet next to the band room. It was comfortable. He spent a lot of time in this closet. And he was fine with that; it gave him time to read his WWII books without annoyed teachers calling him out. That's what he was doing again on this particular day, at the same time a particular sophomore was being hurled into the closet.

Jack remembered hearing footsteps and turning off his flashlight, then a blast of light as the door was opened, which was followed by a loud THUD and-

nothing.

But there was someone there.

They sat very still for what seemed like forever, until the footsteps outside faded away. And then they started sobbing. It was quiet, like they had tucked their head into their knees. Jack still sat, not over the fact that his peaceful times had been interrupted. But.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally. The kid looked up as Jack flipped the flashlight on his phone back on. He (they? he? Jack decided on he.) sniffed through his blood-crusted nose.

"Sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here," he replied, his voice thick with tears.

"...Are you alright?" Jack didn't know what else to say.

The boy smiled. "I'm just dandy." Jack noticed now that he had a split lip and what seemed to be the start of a bruise spreading across his left cheekbone and eye.

"What happened?" He asked, finally regaining his senses. The boy snorted

"That's a long story that starts with 'sissy' and leads to this, ten years later."

"Oh."

"I'm Eric, by the way," he said. "Eric Bittle."

"I'm Jack Zimmermann," Jack responded. For some reason this made the boy laugh.

"Yeah, I know. You're the hockey kid. Could be popular with your famous dad and outstanding athletic abilities, but you don't talk to anyone."

Jack stopped. "People see me like that?"

Eric blushed. "Well, yeah. Didn't you know?"

Jack shook his head. "I- No. I didn't."

"Oh."

"Well, since you know about me I guess, what about you?"

Eric shrugged. "Not much to tell. I play hockey too, but I'm a lower division than you. I kind of bake some, too. And I have no friends. My age, at least. I have freshmen and upperclassmen friends, but not really any sophomores." He found himself tripping over his tongue and made a mental note to whack himself for it. "But what about you? I mean I'm sure that there's more to you than what people say." He blushed. "Like, why you're here?"

"Oh." Jack looked down into his lap. "I-um-it's complicated."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Fair enough." Jack sighed. "I have anxiety. And, well, it can get pretty bad in certain classes. So here I am."

"Oh, Jack, that's nothing to be ashamed of!" Bitty said softly, resting a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I mean, it's better than being locked in here without wanting to just because some douchebags don't think you're masculine enough," he laughed bitterly, quickly taking his hand off Jack.

"Eric... That's nothing to be ashamed of either," Jack replied, scooting just a bit closer to the other boy. Eric turned his head and shrugged, hiding the tears that were coming back. "I'm serious. You don't have to be 'manly' or whatever."

Eric shook his head. "It's more than that," he replied hoarsely. He began to busy himself by poking the new bruises on his legs.

"Eric, look at me. There's nothing wrong with you." he pulled the other boy's hand away from the bruises. "I mean, people shouldn't care. You are who you are." Eric looked up towards Jack.

"Bitty."

"What?"

"Bitty. It's what my friends call me. My hockey nickname."

Jack chuckled. "I never had one that stuck. But Bitty. I like it on you."

Bitty smiled. "I've been told it suits me."

"Yeah..."

"So, sorry, but I was just wondering, what's so bad about the class you're supposed to be in?" Bitty asked, looking down.

"Oh," Jack started, unsure of how to explain. "Um. It's kind of complicated."

"I'm literally locked in a closet with you for god knows how long," Bitty shot back, exasperated.

Jack let out a small laugh. "Okay, okay. Fine. Well, it's a math class, for starters, so that sucks. But the thing is, I only know one person in the class, and well, we have kind of a history I guess. Anyway, it didn't end well, so... Yeah."

Bitty stared at Jack for a second, unsure of what to say. "Oh. That sucks." Smooth.

"Yeah well, things with him- us, nothing was very stable or serious." Jack wanted to smack himself.

"Him?" Bitty raised an eyebrow. "You're into boys?"

Jack blushed. "And you're not?"

Bitty raised his hands. "Fair enough, I just really didn't expect you to."

"Oh? Why's that, Bittle?" Jack shoved his arm playfully.

"Mm, Not sure. Maybe because you're so attractive and I've always had bad luck with guys."

Jack laughed. "You find me attractive?"

"Well." Bitty leaned toward him, raising his eyebrow again. "Who wouldn't?"

Jack was so tempted to lean in and kiss this boy he had just met, but instead he just sat there and blushed like an idiot. Finally, he managed to squeak out, "Would you wanna maybe get coffee after school?"

With that, the door swung open. A teacher stood confused as the boys got up.

"Thanks, bye!" Bitty said to the teacher. Before he walked off, however, he put his hand on Jack's arm. "I would love to."

Jack knew he was gone.