Don't

selfless

Faggot.
The word was still ringing in his ears, and he shut his eyes tight, as if that would help.
What if you get AIDS or something?
To be fair, that was a pertinent question. Jimmy was well aware of what the side effects of being with Dean could be (well, with anyone, but in his mind it would always be Dean), and he knew that with homosexuality technically being illegal, it was simply a game of luck to see whether you would get the disease or not. There was no way to protect yourself from it- nothing that you would legally get sold, at least.
I'm not gay.
That was a lie. Jimmy knew, or at least he thought he knew, that Dean was gay, or at least bisexual. There was a big difference between genuinely being straight and being in denial, and Dean's pathetic attempts to deny how he felt didn't fool him one bit. Okay,so maybe Dean didn't like him specifically. That was certainly possible, and probably likely after how he'd reacted the previous day.

But he'd seen things...

Sometimes Dean would casually stare at a guy's ass, or he'd get all twinkly-eyed over a boy in their year. Often, he'd make references to things he really shouldn't have...to things he really shouldn't have known about.

"Ow, fuck!" Dean yelped as he almost threw his Popsicle across the room. "Why do they have to make your head hurt so much? It's stupid!"
Jimmy chuckled at his friend's grumpy expression and sighed. "The only reason you got brain freeze is because you bit it too hard."
"And?!"
"You don't bite...you're supposed to suck it."
Dean instantly smirked, and he winked at him.
"You only had to ask me."
"Dean!"
"I'm kidding."

Dean always had to ruin it by saying that. "I'm kidding," or "Joking!" were the two phrases that Jimmy hated the most. Although he'd known better than to take Dean seriously when that happened, it had resurfaced in his mind and he pushed it away with a groan. He'd had enough of waiting for Dean. He'd fallen head over heels for him when they were younger and ever since it had become more and more apparent just how much of a dick he was. Jimmy glanced at the small wicker basket by the side of the bed, which was stuffed almost to the brim with discarded love letters and coming out notes, all of which he'd planned on giving to Dean. But then...whenever he thought he'd found just the right moment, it would all go horribly wrong. Dean would have a new girlfriend, or Dean would spurt some homophobic garbage in front of all his friends, and the opportunity would have been lost.

Jimmy looked thoughtfully at the most recent letter, stuffed haphazardly into the faux wicker basket. Years ago, he'd sworn to himself that he'd never revisit any of the things he wrote, but now that he was leaving, it seemed kind of appropriate. Slowly unfolding the crumpled ball of paper, he grimaced as he saw the horror that was his old handwriting. Loopy, girly, and way too neat to be considered normal. He preferred Dean's, a spidery scrawl that was great for shorthand and looked cute in any context. Dean... Jimmy groaned as he realised that his anger at Dean after the previous day had evaporated very quickly, and he cursed himself.

Damn you, he scolded inwardly. You're so in love with him you can't even get angry when he's broken your heart.

The letter was brief and sappy, although Jimmy prided himself on how honest he'd been. It explained everything that he felt, and although it became somewhat bitter at the end, he could imagine Dean accepting this one. For a moment or two he wondered why he hadn't sent it.

The letter went something like this:

Dear Dean,

I know that you don't want to hear this. You've told me enough times that being gay is wrong, and that we'll go to Hell, but I don't care. If I got to spend my time in Hell with you, I wouldn't know the difference.

Six years, Dean. That's how long I've been in love with you. Six long painful years of hoping and waiting, crying...every time I heard you deny what you are, what we are.

One day I hope that I'll have the courage to tell you all of this. Even know as I write I know it's probable that I'll never send this to you. I've got hundreds of drafts stuffed in the trash at home.

I guess the point is that for me, it doesn't matter if you're gay or not. It doesn't matter if twenty years from now, you're walking some beautiful girl down the aisle on the best day of your life and you barely notice me. As long as I'm there and I'm with you, it doesn't matter.

I've imagined telling you before. Taking you in my arms, crying, confessing everything after a fight or just when I can't take it anymore. Sometimes I envision you crying as you admit how you feel, what you are, telling me everything that you love about me, and then we'd-

The end of that sentence was smudged, as if he had been crying while he wrote it. Knowing Jimmy, he probably had been.

Dad told me yesterday that we're leaving soon. He found a new job somewhere in Illinois, and we're moving there in a couple of months. I didn't have the heart to tell you, because I knew you'd be angry. You always show your emotions through anger...I think it's because you don't want people to know you're vulnerable.

I'll miss you, Dean. Even as young as I am, I know that I'll never love anybody as much as I love you. Your eyes, your smile, the way your brown hair glistens in the morning sun and makes it look golden.

There's something beautiful about the way that you'll never love me, no matter how much it hurts.

I'm sorry, Dean.

Jimmy wiped his eyes, and he hauled the piece of paper back into the trash in disgust. Reading that one last time was his closure, and now he could put thoughts of Dean to rest, at least for as long as he could bare it.

The ride out of Lawrence went in a blur, and it was exactly as Jimmy expected. No one was waving them off. There were no banners or fireworks or people sobbing as they clutched on to the very last time they would see the Novaks. No, the ride out from Lawrence was cold, and quiet, and as the rain rolled down the window, Jimmy half heartedly looked up at the top window of his old friend's house, the rain greying the bland white walls and making it look dull. To his surprise, a face popped out of the small skylight, watching him. Dean wobbled a little, and Jimmy's stomach twisted as he realised that he'd probably clambered onto his bookcase just to see him one last time.

A pair of green eyes met his, and he found himself turning away before Dean could try and make contact with him. He'd deleted his number the day before, resolving that if he was going to forget Dean he had to really forget him.

Dean dropped down from his bookcase with a bump as the last wheel of the Novak's Corvette disappeared from his view.

"Please don't go."