gay one shots | ✔️

shot thirty one: bookstore boys; part one

A/N: sheriarty is coming! after this one: i'm working on it rn.

I was almost done for the day when someone walked in the door. I didn't look up at first expecting another old couple, and greeted them after I'd finished my sentence. I bookmarked the book I was reading and looked up at an anxious figure in the doorway. He was about my age (sixteen or so) and wore steel-rimmed Harry Potter type glasses. His golden brown hair was ruffled and messy as he took off his hat and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He smiled nervously and said "hi."

I signed 'hi' back, saying the spoken word along with signing the sign language one. He smiled and signed back.

"Are you deaf?" I signed and said aloud.

"No," he said and signed back, and then walked up to the counter I was behind.

"Ok, so you're not deaf either?" He said and signed, just in case but I shook my head, no.

"Nope. Both my parents and my sister are though, and I'm slightly hard of hearing, but I'm pretty much good."

"Okay. Cool," he said, biting his lip. Man, he was so nervous.

"I'm Miles, by the way, and my pronouns are he, him."

He smiled and his eyes twinkled a little bit. "I'm Neil, he, they pronouns, but mostly he, him."

"Nice to meet you! What brings you to this old shack?" I extended my hand and he grinned a little.

"Well, it's far from a shack, it's like my dream home," he said quietly, gazing at the tall messily organised shelves.

I smiled at his wonder, and he adjusted his glasses. He's cute but probably straight—not that I was checking him out or anything... I was totally checking him out. I always have crushes on straight boys until I find out they're straight. I just need to find out if he's straight because if he is, I can't let myself develop a crush on him—I had a feeling he'd be back.

"So what brings you here, really?" I repeated my question.

"I'm trying to learn sign language; I have a few deaf friends, and I feel left out sometimes so I'm trying to learn to more properly communicate with them."

"Okay, so... you're trying to impress a girl," I smirked when he looked at me, shocked. "What's her name?"

"No, I.. I'm not. What I told you is true!"

"Mmhmm," I purred and stepped out from behind the counter. I walked towards our Languages section and pulled out a copy of Signing for Dummies. It was the book I'd learnt from.

"I'm really not," he insisted. "Plus, how do you know?"

He followed me back to the counter.

"Ah, so you admit it."

"No!"

"Why not?" I teased, I hope he understood I was teasing. I smiled at him. He was so obviously gay. He had to know I was teasing.

"Because... I'm..."

I let him trail off. I really hope I didn't just throw salt in a fresh wound. What if he'd just come out to someone and they'd reacted negatively? God, I hope he's okay.

"Hey, man, don't worry, I was just teasing you."

"Oh, okay," he smiled a little, but he was still super nervous. His cheeks grew pinker than they were when he came out of the winter wonderland beyond the doors of the cosy little bookshop.

"I know you're gay, by the way. Or queer in some way. It's pretty obvious."

"Oh, okay," he repeated. "I'm gay. Well, at least... you're okay with it, right?"

"Okay with it?! Are you kidding me?" I chuckled, but he cringed. Man! He was so fucking antsy. I wish he would chill out a little bit. "I'm gay too, dude, don't worry about it. This bookshop is welcoming to all people of all sexualities, races, genders, and religions, and lack thereof. Oh, and anything community-based organisation that you can think of that's not negatively affecting anyone."

He smiled genuinely, I think for the first time since he walked in here. "Okay, cool. Nice! I'm never bringing my parents here. How much is the book?"

"Twenty dollars, ninety-five cents. I learned a lot from it," I said, and he pulled out his wallet and gave me twenty-one dollars. After printing out the receipt, I wrote my number down on it quickly (also writing 'call me') and gave him that and the five cents back.

After he smiled at me one last time before disappearing out the door, Chelsea came around the corner from the coffee shop part of the bookstore. It was only me and her on week-nights, and since it was around, oh, six thirty, most of the people had flocked out already, and there were just a few lonely students on laptops still sipping coffee and munching on muffins in the cafe section. It was Friday though, so not many people had stuck around today.

"Done flirting with that twelve-year-old?"

I looked at her, concerned. "Are you wearing your contacts? He was our age. I'm not a fucking perv."

"Yeah, I know, Miles. Can I still sleepover tonight?"

"Yeah! We get off in an hour. Did you drive here?"

"Nope. Got a ride. I was hoping that you'd drive here."

"I did. You working tomorrow too?"

"As always. I'm gonna get back to my station, I think I see blondie coming back for a refill."

I smiled and opened my book back up, sitting down again and leaning back on the counter.
...
"So are we still shaving your head?" Chelsea asked, yelling over the Led Zeppelin. I didn't turn it down, because the guitar solo was almost ending and we were going to belt again soon.

"FUCK YEAH!" I said and we grinned at each other momentarily and then went back to belting the words to Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll."

When we got to my house, my mum told us the razor was upstairs and to not go too crazy, and we told her I wouldn't end up bald.

After getting a couple of snacks, we dash up the stairs and being the vacuum with us. My hair is bleached platinum, and we do a mini photo shoot with my hair before shaving it in all of our shared homosexual glory.

"Alright, you ready?" she asked and turned on the razor, putting the number five guard onto it. I inhaled, looking in the mirror, and smiled.

"Ready."

She ran the razor through my hair, stroking my head, and we finally put the guard down to a four.

"Okay..." she said when she was finished and smiled at me, grinning. I turned around and beamed into the mirror. "I LOVE IT!!"

"Alrighty now, young lad, we still need to dye it, unless we won't achieve full Annie Lennox 1980's."

"Whatever, we still need to bleach it again before colouring. Don't kill my spirit. Aren't you just in love with it!!"

"This is why you don't have a boyfriend," she sighed and grinned sarcastically.

I made a pouty face at her and chuckled. "You're so mean to me."

"Wanna start bleaching?"

"Let's do this," she grins at me, and I grin back and we each take a bite out of a tortilla chip.

And two hours later, my hair looks full on Annie Lennox 1983, and we're jamming out to "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" while cleaning up the bathroom. I wonder what Neil will think of my haircut.