Unspoken Currents

01

“I am not gay.”

I tell myself this every morning. Some days I believe it. Most days I don’t. But the words always leave my mouth, echoing in the bathroom like some sort of weird ritual. As I stand here, staring at myself in the mirror, the thought creeps in, unwanted: What if I am?

No. I’m not.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to shake off the heaviness in my chest. Maybe if I say it enough times, it’ll stick. Maybe I’ll start to feel normal, the way I’m supposed to feel—like I’m interested in girls, like it’s easy to talk about crushes and dates the way other guys do. Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll stop thinking about him.

I push that thought away, grab my towel, and head back to my room to get dressed. Senior year. I’m supposed to be focused on this, right? I’m supposed to be thinking about graduation, about college applications, about getting out of this town. And I am—mostly. But there’s this other thing, this Colton thing, sitting in the back of my mind like an itch I can’t quite scratch.

I tug on my hoodie and pull my backpack off the chair. It’s early, but I like having time before school. Being the first one up means I can avoid awkward conversations with Mom or Dad, and I don’t have to answer any questions I’m not ready to face. Besides, I’ve fallen into a routine—get up, eat, go to school, get through the day without thinking about Colton. It works. Mostly.

Downstairs, the house is still waking up. Mom is already in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone, her coffee steaming on the table. Dad’s probably still upstairs, rushing through his morning conference calls. It’s a familiar rhythm, one that’s easy to blend into.

“Morning,” I mutter, heading straight for the fridge.

Mom looks up briefly, her expression softening. “Morning, William. You’re up early.”

“I have some homework I didn’t finish last night.” A lie, but one that’s easy to say. I grab a yogurt and some toast, avoiding her gaze. “What time are you heading out today?”

“Not for another half hour,” she says, distracted by whatever’s on her screen. “Your dad has a late meeting tonight, so don’t wait up for him.”

I nod, though it hardly matters. I’m used to the house being quiet. Without Layla here, it’s been quieter than ever. At first, I hated it. Now, it’s kind of nice. No one to ask what I’m thinking. No one to pry.

Mom doesn’t say anything else, so I grab my stuff and head out the door before Dad comes down. The cool morning air hits my face as I walk the few blocks to school. It’s still early enough that the streets are quiet, only a few cars passing by. The high school looms in the distance, the same as it always has—big, gray, and completely unremarkable.

Senior year. Everyone says it’s supposed to be the best year of your life. For me, it’s just one more thing to get through. One more way to stay busy, to keep my mind from wandering. The day stretches out in front of me, predictable and dull, but that’s how I like it.

I head to my first class, keeping my head down as I walk through the halls. It’s not that I don’t have friends—I do. But lately, I’ve found myself drifting away from them, not quite fitting in the way I used to. They talk about parties and girls, about hooking up and which college they’re applying to, and I just... don’t care. Or maybe I care about the wrong things.

I slide into my seat in English class, pulling out my notebook and flipping through the pages. Mrs. Harlan is droning on about some book we’re supposed to be reading, but I’m not paying attention. My mind keeps drifting back to last summer, to when Layla brought Colton home for the first time. To the way he’d looked at me, like I wasn’t just her little brother. Like I was someone worth noticing.

It doesn’t make sense. I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’ve never felt this way before. But Colton—he’s different. And ever since then, I’ve been trying to figure out what that means.

The bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I grab my bag and head to the next class, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just a crush. A stupid, confusing crush. It’ll go away. It has to.

I spend the rest of the day like that—distracted, barely paying attention to anything going on around me. My friends invite me to sit with them at lunch, but I make up some excuse about having to study. I can’t be around them right now. I can’t fake my way through another conversation about who’s hooking up with who or which girls are the hottest. I don’t have the energy for it.

Instead, I head to the library, sinking into one of the quieter corners where no one will bother me.

I pull out a book I’m supposed to be reading for history class, but my mind keeps wandering back to Colton. To the way his laugh sounds when he’s joking around with Layla, the way his hair falls across his forehead when he’s not paying attention. The way he smiled at me that one night on the porch, like there was something between us. Something neither of us knew how to name.

I shake my head, trying to focus. It’s stupid. It’s not real. I’m just imagining things.

It's like I'm some obsessed fan. I promise there's other things I do besides thinking about Colton all day. Like...reading?

***

By the time I get home, the sun’s already starting to set. The house is empty, as usual. Mom and Dad won’t be home for a few more hours, which leaves me alone with my thoughts. Again. I drop my bag by the door and head up to my room, pulling off my hoodie and collapsing onto the bed.

I stare at the ceiling for a while, my mind racing. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that I’m not gay, that Colton is just a phase. I tell myself that it’ll pass, that everything will go back to normal.

But no matter how many times I say it, the truth lingers in the back of my mind, impossible to ignore.

***

Because the truth is, I’m not so sure anymore.

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