no homo // larry stylinson ⚣

Act II: Scene Six

ACT II
— Scene 6 —
P O V :  H A R R Y

I walked into the room, immediately welcomed with the scent of acrylic paint. I looked around, seeing a dozen artists fussing around for supplies. My hands started to shake, nervous to be around so many new people.

My eyes met those of tall smiling woman at the front of the class, and I assumed she was the teacher.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked me. I nodded, linking my hands behind my back. She then asked me what my name was, and after I responded, she grinned and clasped her hands together, turning to face the class.

"Class, please welcome Harry; he's new," she beamed, and everyone turned to me with warm expressions. I made eye contact with a particular boy in the room, who gave me a welcoming smile.

The students stood by their easels, so I did the same, finding an empty one near the back of the room.

I quickly spotted the canvases, and grabbed one, along with some paint and brushes.

"Harry, the prompt this week is to paint someone, or something that is meaningful to you," the teacher informed me, walking over to where I stood.

I nodded, and began to wonder what I would paint. Luckily, the class focused on acrylic paintings, which was the medium I was most comfortable with.

"Hey, you're Harry, right?" A voice said. I turned to see the same boy smiling at me.

I nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Sean," he started. "You have really beautiful eyes," he said, whirling his paintbrush in the air casually.

"Oh, uh, thank you?" I said, caught off guard by the compliment. He smiled again, returning to his work. He's an artist, I thought, he must say things like that all the time.

My eyes trailed to his canvas. The background of the painting was a soft rainbow gradient. In the centre, there were two stone statues, both male, huddled in an intimate embrace.

Something inside of me felt connected to the piece. I felt like I was back in secondary school, when little-me noticed things I hadn't before.

After pondering for awhile, I decided to paint the scene in front of me: students at their canvases, paint splattered all over their smocks, deep in concentration. Art was something meaningful to me, so I knew that this would be a good idea.

I got started with the piece, and soon I was completely focused. This was what I truly loved to do; it was my passion. My mind wandered, and I began to think about Sean's painting.

"Who inspired your painting?" I asked him, my eyes glancing over his piece. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Sean turned to me, "Well, it's not about someone; it's about something."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "And what's that?"

"I'm... gay. My sexuality just means a lot to me." he said proudly.

I was about to say something along the lines of "My flatmate is gay, too", but I knew that would sound stupid.

"Oh," I started, "That's... cool."

We were silent again, both focusing on our artwork. My mind started drifting as I painted, my thoughts wandering towards things I barely even thought about for almost a year. I thought about my past relationships, which all happened be with girls. All my firsts were with girls: first kisses, first touches, and first loves.

In the end, I couldn't pretend I didn't notice boys, too. There were some things I couldn't ignore, like the flutters in my chest when my best mates would touch my hand, or getting way too nervous around some guys.