Washout

Not gay. Just in Love with a Guy.

My name is Tyler. I'm 16 years old. I live in Oklahoma. My mom died when I was 11.my dad ran out on her 6 years before. I live in a boys home 2 blocks from Farris Academy, the Catholic Co-Ed school I've been enrolled in since I moved to this shit-ass town halfway through freshman year. I have short, lightish brown hair and hazel eyes. Hobbies include: listening to punk rock, drawing (I'm a very good artist, not that anyone knows of course. I'm especially good at horses), playing guitar, and dropping empty beer bottles off the Interstate Bridge.

      Oh, and I also happen to be in love.

I didn't mean to. Really, I didn't. I'm not the lovey type. But honestly, it's not my fault. It would be impossible not to fall for those green eyes, or the dimples, not to mention he happens to be in terrific shape. Oh yeah, I said 'he'. That's part of the problem.

I've never been gay, I've never classified as gay, though to be honest, I've never had much interest in girls either. So no, I'm not gay. I just happen to have fallen in love with a guy.

And it's not like I'm homophobic or anything. I'm not the type who much cares about how other people decide to live their lives. Let them do what they want.

Then I show up here, at Farris, on the 8th of December. And it's cold. That day, I mean. And so you know, I'm wearing like, a scarf, and boots, and a coat that falls down to mid thigh.

Now I don't know if that outfit is particularly 'gay' but I think the look I was going for was more along the lines of "my fucking balls are freezing." Nevertheless.

So anyway, I walk through the gates, and there are these pricks leaning up against the dumpster and smoking cheap cigarettes and talking in that cheap slang.

And then they see me, and they start nudging each other and then they're walking over to me and nudging me in a much less friendly way.

And I'm not a violent person, I'm like 5'4" and I can't weigh more than 115 pounds, tops. So I'm trying to shrug them off and they're all like "faggot!" And "you done fucking your mother yet? I'd like a turn." And then I'm shoved rudely to the ground and immediately I feel my cheeks turning red and my other cheeks turning into icicles.

And then one of the molester-devil-welcoming committee gives me a hard kick with a heavy boot between the legs, pulverizing my testicles.

And before I knew it, MDWC, (molester-devil-welcoming committee) was gone and in their place was an angel to rescue me. A beautiful angel with sandy hair and sparkly green eyes.

"Hey kid, c'mon, you ok?" And before I knew it he's touching my hand, grabbing it, and I'm on my feet, trying not to wince at the pain in my crotch.

He brushed me off sort of awkwardly. "Right." He said, and for one moment, his eyes met mine and I immediately felt all my barriers fall down, like he had seen right through me, like I was nothing but water.

And then he walked away. And maybe after about 5 minutes I became aware of the huge erection inside my tight jeans. And the bruise forming on my cheek. And the gravel embedded in my palms. It took me 5 minutes to realize I was standing in a freezing courtyard after just being assaulted, 3 minutes after the bell had rung, like a complete idiot. All because he looked at me.
Jesus.

That was 2 years ago. And the most interaction we've had since then is whenever he says "hi" in the hallways. Of course, I don't respond. Whenever he's even in a 50 foot vicinity, my tongue seems to grow to the size of a large plum inside my mouth, like a sponge filling with water.