Dreamer's Disease

Chapter Seven

Elliot didn't show up for classes the next day, the stroppy little bitch. He never missed classes, and if he did then it was always for a legitimate reason, like a doctor's appointment or funeral, or a family emergency. And anyway, he would have told Blake if anything had come up. Right?

Well, unless he was still being a stubborn, stroppy little son of a bitch, like he had been in the locker room the day before. So, maybe he was just being...difficult? He was forever being difficult, especially over the last week or so. He was one of those stereotypical gays, all right: bitchy as hell, grumpy, like a damn chick. Thing was, though, that at least girls were only like that once a month. Elliot was just like that all the time. Yeesh...

Blake quickly changed into his soccer kit, only half-listening to the noise of the soccer team in the boys' locker room. This was where he felt at home - where Elliot should have felt at home. Who in their right mind would skip out on this? The guy had better have prepared a damn good excuse for skipping practise compared to the one he'd used the day before. "I feel sick" was all fine and dandy for a middle-school gym class, but it just wouldn't sit well with the soccer team if their captain was playing truant from practice at all, let alone without even a decent, believable excuse.

But maybe he did have a legitimate reason?

Maybe...maybe something was wrong? Maybe someone had found out about this stupid phase of his, and tried to shut him up, tried to teach him a lesson? Maybe he was hurt?

Okay. So maybe Blake was a little worried, he admitted to himself grudgingly.

He decided, after getting changed, to try calling Elliot, to see where he'd gotten to. He'd tried calling two times before, at break and then just before fourth-period chemistry, but he hadn't gotten any answer. He'd tried to kid himself that there was nothing wrong, that Elliot was just being a little bitch again, but when he thought about it, it wasn't like Elliot to ignore his phone. He knew fine well that Elliot would assume, if someone called more than once in a day without gaining an answer, that something was wrong. He worried too much to not pick up the phone. So why wasn't he answering?

Upon calling, Elliot's cellphone and landline rang out, and Blake shook his head, sighing.

"Well, shit." He dropped his phone into his bag, pulling a hand through his hair and frowning. Dammit, why was he friends with such a stubborn bitch?

"Jesus Christ, Blake, still worrying about your girlfriend?" Hunter laughed, smirking in Blake's direction.

"Girlfriend?" Someone piped up. "I thought he was getting off with Elliot, though?"

Hunter rolled his eyes. "It was a joke, moron. Elliot might as well be a fucking chick."

Blake gritted his teeth. 'Getting off with Elliot'? Hunter was really filling peoples' heads with that bullshit? And they were fucking believing it?

Well, of course they believed it. They were all high schoolers. Blake didn't want to admit it, but he knew that, if he'd been any of the others, he'd have believed all the lies Hunter was spouting, too.

"Funny, man." Blake pasted a grin onto his face, one he didn't think Hunter even deserved to have directed at him, the dickhead. "No, I just... It's not like El to bunk off class. You know?"

"I know that you're acting like a fucking faggot, man. Jeez, I though Stevenson was the faggot." He laughed, then, as did the others, and Blake scowled. Great, now the entire soccer team thought he was a faggot, just like Elliot. Fucking fantastic.

"Fuck you, man."

Blake was silent after that, if only for a short while. Inside, he was fuming. That utter dickhead, he'd told everyone about that? Nothing had even happened - at least, not like that. Yeesh. Just the thought made Blake feel sick to his stomach, the thought of Elliot and he... Eugh. He shuddered as he followed the rest of his team outside.