Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter twenty-four - danger boy

chapter twenty-four — danger boy

<Lukas' POV>

THE FRECKLES ON HIS SHOULDERS DARKENED IN THE SUN. He hated how he burned, but on the rare occasion he remembered sunscreen, his freckles would start smearing out like watercolors. He hated how they made a little mask on his face, the blur of pigment streaking across his nose, but I loved it. I loved the constellations mapped out on him. I wanted to trace them.

I wanted to taste them.

"Stop daydreaming about Kieran, it's creepy"

"Huh?" I shook my head, half-assedly mopping at my face with the bottom of my shirt.

"I wasn't daydr—"

"—Don't even bother lying," Marco sighed, his hand stuck through the wired holes of the fence. He was trying to pull up the grass on the other sides, the strands slowly accumulating into a small pile by his feet. The pile looked like a strange little nest, strikingly green against the grit of the blacktop.

"It's weird to see you drool over him," He continued, tossing some gravel at my legs, "Kinda sad too"

"I'm not—"

Marco shot me a look and I shifted closer to the fence, defeated.

"—I know"

The sound of a bank shot: rubber hitting polycarbonate, but this court couldn't afford the sound of a bank shot. We settled for the hollow sound of a dying hoop and a weathered ball. Kieran didn't like using the backboard to make his shots nearly as much as he preferred the aesthetic swish of the net, but the net here was ripped. There was nothing left to swish, but Kieran made the most of it, his skin glistening. It was hot outside, his shirt the first thing to go when we'd started a short pick-up game.

Marco and I had tapped out after the first hour though, and I was perfectly content watching Kieran practice, the shirt he'd stolen from me bundled up in my lap as I sat in the shade. Marco seemed imperfectly content to watch neither of us, more concerned with avoiding his own thoughts.

"I know, I know," I fiddled with his shirt, rolling the fabric in between my fingers, "I'm pathetic"

"Not pathetic," Marco mused, tying little knots in the blades, "Well kinda, but you're just mainly really fucking stupid"

The knot he was tying ripped, either side of the grass length dropping to the ground as he sighed heavily. There was another pile by his feet now, littered bodies of his failed projects. They cast a funky shadow against the ground, the sun deciding to gift everything its own dark reflection no matter how small and insignificant it was— even a small pile of grass.

"Stupid?" I echoed mindlessly, mouth disconnected from my eyes as they watched Kieran dribble up and down the court. I caught the ripple of his muscles as he tended to jump, his fingers grazing the rim just barely. So strong.

I want to feel his skin against mine.

I felt like a fucking creep, averting my gaze after just a second. It was fucking unfair. I'd seen girls undress Kieran with their eyes before, climb all over him and force a kiss without even asking if he was okay with it. I felt guilty just looking at him. I'd never do anything to him if he didn't consent, but I wanted to feel okay looking at him, looking at any guy, even if I wasn't harboring a crush on them.

It was like being gay meant I had to be attracted to every guy in existence, but, if I was being honest, George Washington just didn't do it for me.

"Yeah, stupid," Marco threw a grass knot at me, the movement catching my attention more than the impact.

"You think everything's gonna work out in your life if you just sit and wait don't you? Fate, or destiny, or whatever bullshit you've convinced yourself of," Marco was quiet, his whisper strained and barely concealed.