//so darken your clothes and strike a violent pose- maybe they'll leave you alone//
Every once in a while the sky gets like this. There's grey clouds like cigarette smoke tendrils across a velvet sky and my neighbor's porch light looks like some finger-smudged firefly through the window. It's cold- deep December- but I'm stubborn, and in boy shorts with a band tank top. Blankets exist for a reason, I think. Besides, my laptop is overheating, and it's a sort of hell-freezes-over contrast in the dark of my blue room.
My lips twitch up at the corners as I think of hell. God, that sounds weird.
It's because of her. We have this joke; she's the kind of girl who builds a persona out of fire and black and dark looks, and amasses a Queen of Hell reputation. I know it's weird that eternal damnation reminds me of her, but... I've heard that's what love does. The littlest things remind you of them and you're smiling by yourself in the 4 am darkness.
The strangest thing is that I've never really seen her face. I mean, I've seen pictures, and we Skype sometimes, but that in no way compares to seeing in the flesh how someone's features react to the shadows and light or just how their eyes crinkle at the start of a smile. She- Beck- lives in Minnesota, a tragic and basically unbridgable distance from my southern Oregon. Curse the miles, I think. And it's weird, because she's the only person I've ever really met who understands me, but our interaction is confined to the dual screens we've got.
I play a game with myself sometimes, to see how long I can go without thinking about her outright or seeing something to trigger a memory of a conversation we've had. So far the record's been about 40 minutes. We love the same music, so when my phone plays My Chemical Romance I think of her. We watch the same shows, so when I'm scanning the subtitles of Ouran High School Host Club I think of her. She recommends me books, so when I'm reading His Dark Materials or some David Levithan novel I think of her.
I am so goddamn head over heels it's not even funny.
So. I'm half-sitting half-lying there among the sheets and blankets under the cigarette sky, wondering if it's worth it to get up and get a snack, when my phone springs to glowing life with a message. From. Beck. And I get giddy, in a way that sends a quick burst of tingly excitement through my stomach, because I love our talks so much. She is so much more creative than I could ever hope to be but I try and catch up. If she sends an idea for a fanfiction, I volley something back and before long we're caught up in a story- the writer and the protagonist all at once.
Beck: heyy
Me: hey
Beck: what are you up to
Me: debating whether I should get something to eat and risk waking up my parents
Beck: lol do it. Never turn down the prospect of food
Me: true lol okay
I climb out of bed trying to be as silent as possible. I'm lucky I don't have much of a social life, because with my parent's room right across the hall from mine in our small house, sneaking out to go to a party would be an impossibility. But it's not like I get invited anywhere anyways.
Me: so what about you
Beck: I'm reading this drapple fanfic
Me: wait what the fuck
Me: isn't that draco and the apple from half blood prince
Beck: omg yeah it's great
Me: some of the harry potter fandom is messed up man
Me: okay not that I'm one to talk with that frerard fic I wrote
Beck: that was good tho this is terrible writing
Me: ugh that sucks
Beck: ikr like if you're gonna write trash at least make it grammatically correct trash
Me: lol at least it's better than those big hero 6 fanfics
Beck: whAT
Beck: IS THAT A THING
Me: yES it's awful omg
We go on like this for a while. Sneaking back to my room with a bag of Goldfish and waiting for her to respond over the miles between us, my mind wanders. I imagine us in my room, talking, and it's so easy and perfect and amazing to be close to her. And maybe she touches my arm to prove a point, and maybe I lean in a little to kiss her, and-
I shake my head a little. No. Don't do this to yourself, I think, because none of it is ever going to happen.
Beck: dude
Me: what
Beck: so I was thinking of maybe coming out to my family soon
Me: whoa yes do it
Beck's a cis lesbian, and I... I'm confused, is what I am. Some days I feel more like a guy than a girl, but other days I have no idea. I've loved everyone from my babysitter Lily when I was 6 to Thomas Hector in 9th grade and I don't know what label to slap on myself.
Beck: but my parents
Me: they're just gonna have to deal. I mean, I know how they feel about this stuff but you're their daughter and they love you
Beck: I guess
It feels like I've said something wrong.
Me: maybe say that one of your friends came out and see how they respond
Beck doesn't say anything for a while and I have a small series of strokes waiting for a response.
Me: just so you can get a handle on what they would do
Beck: that's a good idea actually
I smile, in spite of myself.
Me: couldn't hurt I guess
Beck: well idk
Beck: I was thinking of coming out on my birthday because like they can't ruin my birthday in good conscience
Me: lol that's true
The clock on my laptop says 4:24 am.
Me: fuck it's late
Beck: what time is it where you are
Me: 4:24
Beck: 6:24 here I just got up for school
Me: ugh school
Me: I'm gonna be a wasted wreck tomorrow if I don't get at least a little sleep
Beck: aw okay are you leaving
Me: I should sorryyy
Beck: nah you're good babe I have to start getting ready anyway
Suddenly the oxygen in the room is gone. Babe. I honestly can't tell if it's a platonic thing or not, but my heart starts beating like the Energizer bunny on his battery drum nonetheless.
Me: ah okay bye
Beck: night
Holy shit.
Sleep, I try and tell myself as I scoot under the covers, but talking to her is better than coffee laced with 5-Hour Energy. I can't get that "babe" out of my head. But she doesn't like you, I say to myself, and thinking like this is only gonna end badly. There's no way for you to be together.
It seems like an eternity goes by outside my closed eyes before the darkness finally gets in my head and lulls me to a sleep where my dreams are full of Draco Malfoy and planes to Minnesota.

YOU ARE READING
On The Bright Side
Ficción GeneralOregon and Minnesota couldn't be farther apart for Beck and Sawyer, but they'll make it work any way they can. Won't they? *** I mean, if you're not a fan of gay people, don't read this. In fact maybe just leave the internet forever. Potential trigg...