Stars In Her I's

thirteen

The ragged clouds dominating the sky passed a bit too fast for his liking. That usually meant rain was on it's way. Lumos had got him to memorize that little factiod- scud clouds, he thought they were called. Who the hell was in charge of naming clouds? Well, whoever it was, they needed to be fired. That's a bullshit name for a cloud.

He heard the sound of soft footsteps enter the room, ignoring them. Whoever it was, they could kindly screw off. The art room wasn't ready for class yet, so why should he be scolded? Students are allowed in here whenever they want. People just chose not to go.

Really, though, he just wanted to think. More specifically, he wanted to think about what Francis said.

Obviously they hadn't done what he said, as Lumos probably wouldn't be walking in a straight line right now, but that didn't stop him from thinking at the why. Why the fuck would Francis think he was trying to get with Lumos- scratch that, getting with any guy? He thought about it for a moment before pushing the thought aside. Francis had probably just figured that the rumors about Lumos were all true.

That being said, how low was his opinion of queers that he immediately assumes that? The utter disdain he had blatantly shown in his accusation immediately brought down his confidence in Francis. How could he be so against someone for liking dudes? Girls liked dudes, why get your knickers in a knot about it?

Vise versa, too. He sighed, letting some of the anger flow out with his breath. He'd also sounded jealous. A fleeting thought ran through his head: Does Francis... like me? He shook his head to clear it. Definately not. His horror at discovering his best friend might be a 'fag' proved that.

He wanted to get up and throw stuff. Smash the paint cans. Snap the folding chairs and tables. Put a dent in the doors. You know, break shit. Then again, it was use of the art room that was allowed, not it's destruction. Besides, 'destruction of property' wouldn't look good to any medical schools around here that might think about accepting him.

Then, the inevitable thought crossed his head, sparked by the circumstances of this whole thing. Does Lumos like me?

He jumped slightly at the sudden presence of a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, ready to fight, but softened when he saw that it was just the boy he was thinking of. Heh, 'boy'. He's only about three months younger than me.

"Hey." He slid over on the window seat, making room for him to sit. Instead of doing so, he stared at it.

"You're angry." He looked back up at him with his wide blue eyes. Something about the way his eyes always looked demanded attention, like some spell.

His brain stammered for a moment before he came up with a response. Chris reached up and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to take a seat. "You're blunt." He smiled at himself as Lumos's face ran red. "You get embarrassed as fuck for no reason, too." That only served to make his face get even more red, if that was possible.

"You're angry." He caught his eyes again and found himself frozen, like two deep and dazzling pools staring right down to his core- not in a creepy way, though. More like a warm and comforting stare with a sense of pleading behind it. It forced the smile off his face and made him get serious. He returned the stare for what felt like forever before he spoke.

"Yeah, I'm angry." Lumos scooted closer, his subtle way of encouraging Chris to continue speaking. It reminded of how his mom always calmed him when he got into one of his moods. "Francis thinks I'm a queer and acts like it's the end of the fucking world - my fucking world, anyway - if I am - which I'm not, if anyone still cares - all based on the fact you've got a frowzy haircut and a happy-ass smile on your face after walking out of my house. Fucking Sarah- she's poison. You did me a real favour saving me from her, thank you again. Spreading rumours and poisoning people's thoughts- 'Oh, they won't date me, and since I have such a fucking charming personality and I'm so fucking attractive that they must not even like chicks at all!' This whole thing is a steaming load of bullshit!" The last sentence was emphasised with a very large gesture, like lauching a throwing knife- in other words, a wrist flicking motion. "Don't you just hate people like that?"