The Last Flameling of Solnis

Bio

My eyes flutter open to the drag of leather. I look down at a slumbering Keon slumped over in my lap. He fidgets his body under a red blanket to make himself as comfortable as possible in his cramped Miata. The rising sun rays melt over his warm skin and fill the sky with glorious blues, pinks, and oranges.

A glance around at the concrete tops of walls tells me we're at the top of a parking garage. And the smell of the sea wafting up to us tells me which one. I gently sit up from the reclined seats and see the waterside glistening under the sun's light. Reflecting back the wonder of the sky.

He brought us to the Waterside Marina to watch the stars, I think to myself with a smile as I the fondle one of his thick locs between my fingers.

"Yep," he responds to my thoughts as he rouses awake. "Our special place. And you missed it. You passed out before we got here, lightweight," Keon chuckles as he turns back to look up at me. His hazel eyes send an ethereal chill through me.

"Stay out my head, man," I return with a soft giggle of my own. I bend down to kiss his lips again. He grips my manicured locs with a free hand and pulls me in deeper.

"Good mornin' to you too," he says as he releases me from his grip. He pats his black cardigan's pocket and pulls out his iPhone to shuffle through Apple Music. He lands on SZA and plays Garden on a loop as I watch the sunrise.

He reminds me to take my own cracked, dead phone and plug it up to see the damage I've caused. As I wait for it to charge, I take a long look at Keon. He casually strokes my chin filled with new budding hairs as he wriggles again for comfort and closes his eyes.

He's not going back to sleep though. He's starting a daily meditation to prepare his mind for the world. He's done it ever since I've known him.

My first memory of Keon is of him alone folded into lotus pose on a courtyard lunch table, his newly budding freeform locs adorned with golden beads.

His black ass is white-folk crazy, I jest to myself with a smile as I watch him from a brick pillar. His long held ohms seem to be a mesmerizing tune to the morning birds that peacefully flock to him like a Disney princess.

He finishes his meditation and then has the nerve to mingle with some of the most popular seniors, self segregated into little cliques, all while being himself.

One confident leg slightly crosses the other in a femme stride as he daps jocks, throws peace signs to e-boys, then sits and laughs with the theatre kids with an heir of self-assuredness and freedom.

My sophomore self finds him to be an anomaly that stirs up feelings within me. Feelings that excite me. Feelings that terrify me because I know what my family expects of me. I know what they've carved out for me.

Their football star son is supposed to play for BHU and get married to a beautiful girl and give them grandchildren and carry on the Anderson lineage.

I know what my friends will think if I make my feelings plain. What my junior varsity football team thinks. 'Keep that gay shit over there.' 'Yeah I'm cool until you bring it 'round me. You just askin for a fade.'

I hide my longing gaze for him as days bleed into weeks by taking peaks between the gap in an oblivious Dustin and Tory's necks. And every time I see him climb down from that table in the corners of my vision, I become more and more intrigued with him.

My curiosity for Keon leads to looking at his Instagram just to get closer to him. I don't dare double tap a picture of the popular, modelesque Star_Peace. Even the photos of him at the beach with his shirt off. Even the ones that make my skinny jeans feel just a little too tight. I can't bring myself to like them. At least not on purpose.