Short Stories (bxb)

Twenty-Four Hours Pt.5: Two Boys, Ten Thousand Flowers

It was one thing to know that you couldn't hide forever. Michael had long since come to terms with that, and he'd figured that if he couldn't leave Ethan—which he knew he couldn't—he would just have to tell him eventually and deal with the consequences.

     It was another thing altogether to realize that the whole reason you'd been hiding was a sham.

     When he got back to his room, he opened up his bag and did a bit of digging until he found his photo album. Michael was a sentimental guy, and it was small enough to not take up much space, so he brought it whenever he traveled.

     In it were pictures of his favorite memories. Picnics with his parents. The time they took him to Disneyland while they were in California, before the cancer had gotten too bad. The time he won a state-wide speech competition when he was sixteen. And a few pictures of him at the hospital, with Ethan there grinning at his side.

    He pulled out his favorite one. A polaroid taken when they were twelve. Michael was sticking out his tongue and holding up a peace sign, Ethan was making as many double-chins as he could.

     Michael needed to tell him the truth.

     It was scary, because he didn't know how Ethan would react. He should've told him before. But he hadn't, because he'd thought that it would ruin everything, and now he was facing the possibility of ruining everything for an entirely different reason.

     Still. It was only right. Ethan had poured his heart out tonight.

      The question was, when? Michael couldn't tell him now. It could go either really poorly or really well; if it didn't go well, and Ethan got mad, Michael would ruin his trip.

     So he would tell him as soon as they got back.

      With that terrifying thought in mind, Michael put the album back in his bag and set the polaroid down on the bedside table. He didn't sleep a wink that night, but he shut off the lights so the others would think he did, and instead spent the night staring at the walls, trying not to let his thoughts fuel his anxiety.

Everyone was gathered in the cabin's main room the next morning, eating cereal and chatting aimlessly.

Ethan came up behind Michael, who was sat on a stool by the counter. "Hey, what's up?"

Michael jumped, startled, and tried to force down the bile that rose in his throat at Ethan's voice. "I'm sorry about last night," he said.

"Don't be," Ethan smiled reassuringly. "I just hope you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Ethan struck up a conversation about something or another, and everything went sort of back to normal. Michael was still reeling, but he tried his best to hide it, and if Ethan noticed anything was off, he didn't point it out.

     The group headed to the pool out back after breakfast. Which led to a whole new kind of awkwardness, because it was the first time the boys had seen each other shirtless, and they were both too smitten to not get flustered.

     "You ever coming in?" Michael asked Ethan, who had chosen a lounge chair as soon as they got out onto the pool deck and hadn't stepped into the water since. He kept having to force his eyes to stay on Ethan's face, which was pretty damn difficult since his torso, seasoned from years of baseball, was right there. Ethan was just one of those guys who was physically perfect. And he was laying down on his chair, with the sun hitting him in all the right places, and Michael felt like a teenage boy watching a high school soccer game all over again.