Scholar

One

[Hey there! Just in case you didn't read the description, this is a BoyxBoy story. I don't put that in the title because if you're reading this story and not out or not comfortable letting people know you like this sub-genre of literature, I don't want it to put anyone in a bad position. Enjoy!]

"Alex? Wake up, you ugly idiot. If you make us late for school again, you better pray your death is quick because it will be soon!"

I groaned and rolled over. The bright rays of the sun burned through my eyelids as my annoying twin sister opened my blinds.

"Go away," I grumbled in response. She grabbed my arm and shook me.

"No, wake up," she insisted.

"Chelsea, I swear, I'm going to hit you if you don't go away," I threatened.

"Yeah, right," she responded. She put both her hands on me and shook me rapidly. I grabbed her arms and pulled her down, earning a loud gasp-screech hybrid noise from her. "I hate you," she said all too loudly into my ear. I sighed and sat up and stared at Chelsea who was laying on my legs. "Ready?" I rolled my eyes.

"Do I look ready?"

"I mean, you're always ugly, so I can't tell." I grabbed my pillow and threw it at her.

"We look the same, stupid." Chelsea grabbed the pillow and threw it back at me.

"No, you're a boy. That's, like, a huge a difference. Girls are hotter than guys anyway, let's be real."

"Yeah, okay," I sarcastically responded. Chelsea stood up and placed her hand on her hip. I noticed her normally curly, golden brown hair was now perfectly straight. Considering how long her hair was, that must have taken a long time; meaning, she's been up for at least an hour.

"You have five minutes to get dressed before I flip out."

"Why did you straighten your hair?" I asked. I noticed her face instantly turn red as she crossed her arms. She shrugged and opened her mouth, but she didn't say anything and shut it quickly. I groaned. "Really? For Ryan?" Chelsea looked at the ground, and I sighed. "I thought girls were all about not changing for men and not needing them."

"I just straightened my hair! It's not like I joined a cult. Leave me alone and get dressed." With that, Chelsea stormed out of my room. I sighed and shook my head. I know she hated when I weighed in on her affairs with Ryan, yet she never hesitated when it came to recalling every detail of every moment she spent with him. Women.

I got up and quickly brushed my teeth then got dressed. Like all gay men, I cared insanely about fashion. If someone's socks didn't match their sandals, I nearly died. I simply had to keep up with the trends and even get ahead of them. Therefore, the only logical article of clothing fit to grace my upper half was a plain, black long-sleeved shirt. Furthermore, the only sensible piece of fashion to be blessed with the task of covering my ass and legs in this Anarctica-esque weather was a pair of blue jeans. Finally, for my shoes, I would be wearing designer, off name-brand boots (I liked everyone to know just how tight on money I was) which were great for protecting my Versace socks. My Ver-sock-es. I smiled, completely amused with and by myself, and I grabbed my black hoodie. I threw it over my shirt and grabbed my phone, wallet, and earbuds, sliding them into my pockets.

I walked downstairs and searched for my mom. Before I could call out for her, I noticed a note in messy handwriting stuck to the fridge under a magnet that resembled a red rose. Mom's favorite flower was a white rose, but when she bought the magnet, there was only red. My eyes scanned over the note.

Picked up an extra shift. Behave and have a great day
Xx
-Mom

I left the note where it was and sighed. I heard stomping and turned around. Chelsea had her arm crossed and an angry expression on her cherry red face.

"We're late," she snapped. I shook my head and quickly grabbed my bookbag. I grabbed my keys off the counter.

"Then let's go, quit messing around!" She opened her mouth to contest but decided to close it and roll her eyes.

"Just go." I smiled and walked out behind her. I got in the driver's seat, and Chelsea got in the passenger's seat. I always drove because not only did Chelsea hate driving, but she was quite possibly the absolute worst driver I'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. I'm pretty sure she disliked it simply because she wasn't good at it. That left me to drive us everywhere. I didn't mind. I liked driving, and I was good at it. I liked driving because I was good at it.

We pulled up in front of the school, and I sighed. I wasn't ready for the day. It was early November, but it felt like mid-December. I hated cold weather and snow and all of that. It was nice to look at from a safe distance but absolutely awful to be in.

"To first period," Chelsea said happily as she looped her arm through mine and pulled me along as if she completely forgot we were late.