So Where Does that Put Us (boy x boy)

Chapter Three - Justin

My heart needs to shut up. Physically and emotionally. I run past a long line of cars, the darkness only interrupted by the street lamps and the occasional lights flickering from a window. My heart keeps pounding, pounding, pounding. He saw. Ben saw. It's just my luck. Because why would Ben even be at a party like this if it wasn't the universe screwing with me. He should be busy praying or something, being the perfect picture of a Christian Golden Child that he is. He should be busy being the kind of person I'll never live up to.

    He's going to tell.
   
    I don't know if that's my heart, head, or something else entirely but I don't want to hear it. But like so many things, it demands to be heard. The words ring through my head as I keep running down the street. My lungs burn and I wheeze, stomach groaning as I keep charging passed house after house. Gasping, I double over, tripping and almost tumbling to the ground. I grab hold of a street lamp to steady myself, huffing and puffing, tears blurring the quiet street. Quiet. I've finally escaped the blaring music.

    After catching my breath, I trudge to the bench underneath the lamp. Rodrick's house isn't too far from mine, maybe I can walk home once my lungs stop burning and I can slow my breathing. I curl up on the bench, peeking out at the sky, looking right into the starry face of a God I want to scream at. Can He see me all the way down here? I hope so. Then He can see the monster He's created.

    If my heart would only shut up it's beating I could start walking home and maybe my parents wouldn't notice I was gone so long. I try to get up but my legs refuse to move. My brain refuses to work. The stars swirl around into a kaleidoscope of colors and my stomach churns. I shouldn't have had anything to drink. Gagging, I heave onto the sidewalk only for nothing to come out. There's nothing to come out. I heave again, clinging onto the arm rest for dear life. Where am I again?

My hands shake and I slowly lift them from the iron of the bench and look at them quiver in the lamp light, trying to keep them still. Eyes squeezed shut, I try to make the whole world sit still. Even if it's just for a moment. The quiet night helps me slow my breathing and I focus on the sound, inhaling and exhaling, breathing like all the therapists and grief counselors told me to do.

The sound of approaching footsteps ruins the growing calm. I open my eyes, seeing a blurry shadow coming steadily closer.

Run, heart, head, or something else whispers into my mind.

I try to move again but I'm frozen.

Justin. Is that heart, head, or something else?

"Justin."

I open my eyes, not realizing I'd even closed them again to see that it isn't any of those things, but rather someone standing in front of me. Ben looks almost angelic under the light of the street lamp. His face shines as he slowly leans down until his almond shaped eyes are level with mine. "Justin."

I open my mouth to speak but no words come out, so instead I just stare at him, looking like an idiot. He's come to yell at me. He's come to point at the starry face in the sky and say how disgusting I am. How unnatural I am. Stomach churning like a roaring ocean, I close my eyes again and wait for the onslaught of anger. It never comes.

"Justin." Is that all he knows how to say?

I sniff, wiping my nose and looking up at him.

"You're crying," he says, tilting his head slightly.

Thank you, Captain Obvious. I wipe at my eyes, probably looking like a complete mess. "Why are you here?" I finally say.

"You're my best buddy, I'm here whether you like it or not. And there's something I want you to explain," he speaks so smoothly and cheerily, sitting down next to me and wrapping an arm around my torso. He probably feels every rib and all my bones jutting out from my papery skin. He probably thinks I'm ugly.

He doesn't elaborate on what he wants me to explain and we sit in silence. I turn my head and watch him stare out into the darkness, up at the sky, probably seeing something I can't. He looks so composed. He's always so composed. Stupid robot. I just want to get away from this place. From every place. I just...I need to get away.

He looks so put together. Black hair slicked back and neatly trimmed, eyes so focused straight ahead, even his life is put together. Unlike mine. My hair is a mess, my life is a mess, everything that I touch is a mess. "You know," he says slowly and calmly, "you know you can talk to me, right?"

I sniff, eyes stinging. "Go away," is all I manage to say.

"Nope," why does nothing ever bother him!

I shove him but he doesn't budge, "I said go away!"

He's going to tell, heart, head, or something else whispers again.

"You know," Ben says, "I came to this party as a driver and I sat alone watching people be stupid and do stupid things until this girl showed up and wanted a soda," he looks at me through the corner of his eye, "and when I got back I went upstairs and saw something very...interesting with you and Griffin. You want to explain that to me?"

"No," I mumble, staring down at my hands.

"Justin," here it comes. "I'm not going to judge you, okay? Really. I just want you to be honest with me."

"Can I have a ride home? I think I ruined my date." Why am I even asking that?

"Sure, I gotta take some really drunk people home though. You know, the ones from soccer?"

"The ones that call me a faggot?"

"No," Ben winces, "the nicer ones who call girls 'babes' all the time."

"On second thought, I'll walk."

Ben stands, extending an arm to me. I grab hold of it and he lifts me up, world spinning even worse now. I groan, leaning against the bench because I sure as hell won't lean against him. "Sorry, I drank a little..." I feel the bile burn up my throat but keep myself from heaving again. Not in front of Ben.

"Did you mean what you said?" I ask when I've collected myself again, "that you won't judge me?"

Ben nods, helping me walk back towards the house. "Of course I did. You're my best friend, dude, I'll always be there for you."

Something stirs inside me, something that I know isn't my heart or my head. I look up at him for a moment, "Thank you," is all I can say.

"Don't thank me for just showing you basic human decency, dude. You want to come over and spend the night? I got a second controller for my N64. We can play Golden Eye together."

"You, you still want me over? Even though I'm...I'm..." gay.

He shrugs, "Why wouldn't I?"

"You don't think I'm gross or it's gross or I'll infect you or...or anything?" We're almost at Rodrick's house where the pounding music still throbs.

Ben laughs, actually laughs at that as we stop at his car. "No, that'd be dumb. C'mon, wait here while I extract my friends. It might take a minute, they're really wasted."

"Thank you," I say.

"It'll be a little squished so don't thank me yet. I'll give you shot gun though so no one will bother you, I know you don't like being touched."

How is he just...so perfect?

I get into car and he gives me a small wave and smile as he walks back to the raging party. How can one human be so perfect all the time? Even the way he walks away is perfect, his strides long and graceful.

I rest my head back, running a hand along his smooth dashboard. Heart, head, or something else tries to whisper into my head, showing me visions of Griffin and Ben sneering at me but for once I can shake away the thoughts and picture Ben and me sitting in his living room playing video games all night.

Maybe some of his perfection could rub off on me a little.