Leis Larsson (boyxboy)

Chapter 1: All Unimportant Stuff

I knew I was staring, but it was damn near impossible to stop. I wanted to stare and stare until I somehow came to understand some part of him in a way that somehow made us intimate. He was staring too, but not at me. Unfortunately for me, he was far more intent on the contents of his locker. He'd been staring for about two minutes at something within that unknown void as though something ethereal had sprouted wings in there. He looked so completely confounded so as to ignite intense curiosity on my part. Then he slammed the locker and disappeared down the hall all too quickly for me to agree with. He was in a hurry.

I leaned back against my locker and thought of him. His aery height. His feather-light raven hair. His deep green eyes. His lean and beautiful body. It was entirely unfair of him to be so beautiful. And his face... I never thought I could glance at a face pierced so determinedly as his and not cringe. It was not the five years in a catholic school where the nuns and pastors were so resolute in indoctrinating their students with their own skewed version of the bible which asserted that any metal in the face (ears included) was satanic, but I kind of horror at the very thought of something sharp and metallic like that tearing through thick tissue to emerge on the other side. I was always caught on this feeling where my legs tingled and my face scrunched up in pain. But with him it was different, I loved the shiny black and silver metallic embellishments sprawled over his face numerous enough to count on more than two hands. They were mostly studs, six dark ones around his lower and upper lips and two on either eyebrow, one under the eye, at least four on either ear and one he sometimes wore on his nose, and two on either cheek. The rest were were tiny rings and rounded out his collection of facial jewellery. Every now and again I entertained my imagination, mentally running my fingers over the jewellery he may or may not have through other parts of his body.

The first time I'd seen him was when I was a sophomore, last year. He was a freshman. I'd been out of the catholic system for nearly a year now, and I was half used to seeing the bare navels and miniskirts, the dishevelled outfits and borderline rude t-shirts. But this I was not ready for. There were kids in the school who wore black and had a lip ring or a nose ring, but never everything all at once. He looked like something out of a book that my old school would have made the center of a bonfire. I was immediately attracted. I spontaneously thought of just how beautiful he was with no precedent whatsoever. I just felt it. After that I had to deal with the small issue of whether or not he was the devil or had something to do with him. I could just see Sister Catherine's scowl burning through my skull, reprimanding me for falling into temptation (what I found funny was that I never allowed her to be pissed at me for being gay, even though it was so central to what constituted being hellbound). I decided that he smiled way too sincerely to be Satan on Earth. And he was picked on. I'm sure if The Devil himself decided to visit up here he'd smite any human that dared fuck with him.

All that was quite far removed from reality. He was always so heavy on my mind you'd be forgiven for thinking I saw him every day. I didn't. And it was incredibly cruel. But I made up for that by making him my every waking thought. Pretending there was some kind of a chance he was gay. The only thing I had to go on was that the jocks and bullies called him a fag, but that was obviously stupid from the base. They called everything a fag. If their locker combination was off, the locker was officially a fag from that moment forward. Every now and then you'd here mumbled references to a faggy car, faggy weekend, faggy streetlight. The list was painfully endless. They called me a fag too, but I got used to it. I knew they weren't reffering to my secret. Because only my mother knew, and she kept secrets. Although the initial time I did truly panic and made up some convoluted plot that included the Vatican and going to hell, but suffering on earth first. I realised soon enough that they were just being stupid.

When they made fun of me I basically shrank and tried not to look offended. I tried to kind of laugh along with them, I thought it would deter them. It did. They didn't stop entirely, but they got bored.