Dreamer's Disease

Chapter Four

Blake sighed deeply as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head, a frown settling on his face. The sound of guys talking, yelling and clattering about filled the small room, and for once, Blake wished he were anywhere but here. And why?

Because Elliot was being an awkward, stroppy little piece of shit, that was why. For someone who claimed to be gay, he sure as hell didn't seem too happy to be in a room full of half-naked, hormonal teenage boys.

"Hey, Mr Grumpy Gills." Blake said in a sing-song voice, forcing a grin onto his face. Elliot was already huffy enough, Blake didn't want to add to that. Jeez, the guy's hormones were up and down more than a chick's... Ah, wait.

"I'm not grumpy." Elliot grumbled back. "And I don't have gills, either."

"Dude, cheer up. I was quoting a movie. Should I bother trying to make conversation with you or should I wait until you've changed your tampon first?" The dark-haired boy smirked at his own words, but Elliot just narrowed his eyes.

"You know that's not funny." He muttered. Blake sighed, studying his friend for a second. He hadn't gotten changed for gym class yet, which was unlike him. It was also unlike him, however, to wear long-sleeved zip-up hoodies over his shirt in this heat, and to not be over-enthusiastic for the class he was best at. Maybe he was just being weird today?

Right enough, he was Elliot. He was always being weird, especially over the last few days since he'd "come out" to Blake about being...well, that thing. And that other thing, too.

"Are you not gonna get changed, El? The coach'll go nuts if he sees you're still in your uniform." Blake frowned. Come on, the guy wasn't going to give up sports now because it was "too manly", was he?

"I... I don't feel very well today." Elliot frowned down at his feet, his floppy hair falling over his face and covering his downward-cast eyes. Something was always up with Elliot when he did that, stared at the floor. "I think I'll sit this one out."

"Bullshit, man. That's never stopped you before. Come on, you're soccer captain. Don't fail us!"

Just then, an arm flopped down across his shoulders, and Blake jumped, looking to his left to see another of his friends, Hunter, grinning from ear-to-ear. The guy turned his dark-brown eyes on Elliot, smiling his usual smile, the one that never quite reached his eyes. It made Blake feel a little nervous, but Hunter was a friend, he was cool.

"What's this, you're skipping gym class? We need you out there, bro." Hunter spoke in his usual monotone as he addressed Elliot. Elliot just shook his head.

"I don't feel very well." Obviously a lie. Blake knew his best friend well enough to know when he was lying; he had never been a very good liar.

It just so happened, however, that Hunter was an absolute dipshit.

"Aw, come on, man. Don't be a faggot, bro." Elliot's eyes shot right up to meet Hunter's, then, and he glared at the taller boy for a moment. "What? Only faggots would skip gym class because they 'don't feel very well'. Don't be a pussy, Stevenson."

"I'm not being a...a faggot." Elliot forced out the word, screwing up his face in disgust. "Or a pussy. I just don't feel great today, that's all."

Hunter's expression seemed to call bullshit, Blake realised. Before the older boy could corner Elliot any more, Blake jumped in.

"And hey, you don't want him blowing chunks out all over your nice new Nikes, do you?" He joked. Hunter turned his attention onto Blake, then, and laughed, sharp and loud.

"True, true. Well, I'll see you out there, man." Hunter roughly nudged Blake, grinning, before leaving the changing room. The open door let in the noises of their class going outside, all chattering between themselves, and when it swung shut, silence breached the room.