The Boy I Love

Top of the Card

My eyes narrow as I walk in, letting the door close behind me. I can't believe this. This is- really?

The other wrestler is sitting on one of the two beds in the room, which are separated by a bedside table. The light from a half-shuttered window on the other side of the room shines onto the book he's holding in his lap. His head is bent over it, but when I come in, he looks up.

He's wearing a mask.

Like, not a little bandit mask that just covers the eyes. Like, an actual, full mask. Covering his entire head and half of his neck, like he was Spiderman or something. It's entirely black, and only has little slits for his eyes. His eyes are this deep, rich brown, and they're the only part of his entire face that I can actually see. Of his entire head. This is ridiculous. What is he, a Mexican wrestler or something?

After a moment of appraising me, he looks back at his book. I'm still stunned, and incredulous. Why the heck does he need a mask? This is amateur wrestling, not the WWE.

It takes me a minute or so to finally get out, "What the heck?"

He looks back up at me. I can't read his expression at all. How could I? The only part of his face that I can see are his eyes!

"Yes?"

His voice is smooth and rich, but it's also kind of light and breathy. I can't believe I'm analyzing his voice this much. If I could see his face, like a normal person, I wouldn't be. This mask thing is throwing me off (because it's ridiculous!).

"A- a mask?" I finally splutter, and he blinks at me. It looks slower than it should, but that could just be because the only thing I have to look at is his eyes.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, and this time I'm pretty sure he's talking a little slower than before. No- I'm just making things up- that stupid mask is going to make me lose my mind!

"Why the heck are you wearing a mask?!"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! I can't see any part of your face except your eyes!"

He blinks again. "And?"

I throw my duffel bag onto my bed, probably a little more aggressively than necessary, and take a breath. "This is ridiculous. This isn't Mexican wrestling. This is amateur wrestling. And we're not even in the ring- this is our room! Why the heck are you wearing a mask in our room?!"

He tilts his head to the side, just slightly. If I could see his expression, I wouldn't have noticed that. This is so ridiculous. I should be able to see my roommate's face.

"My coach has ensured that it's allowed everywhere I plan to be. In the tournament ring, in the hotel, and in here."

"B-but..." there's no way Coach Turner would have agreed to this if he knew... "You- you can't... what about sleeping? And... showering?"

His eyes crinkle a little at the corners. Does that mean he's smiling? Is he laughing at me? "I can sleep with it on. And do you plan to be with me when I shower?"

I feel myself flush with heat. First, because of his last statement, which has a double impact, because I'm immediately wondering if he knows I'm gay somehow. Then, after that, with anger. "But this is ridiculous! I shouldn't have to live in a room with someone who's wearing a mask! I can't even see your face! I have no idea what you're thinking! How am I supposed to trust that you're not going to- to attack me in my sleep?!"

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes have faded, now. "You think I'm going to attack you in your sleep?"

Well, no. I didn't. Not until Vick mentioned it- and then, it seemed kind of ridiculous. But this mask thing is messing me up.