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Zyaires POV

Beep, beep, beep, bee-. Before the alarm has a chance of finishing its annoying beeping my arm moves on its own accord and slaps at it as if on pure instinct. I listen to the soft thud it makes as it hits the edge of my open drawer before it topples over once more in a desperate attempt to kill itself. Taking the crash as a sign that the damn thing did just as it wished to, I allow myself to fall back to the peaceful slumber I had been in seconds ago.

Silence. Such blissful silence fills the dark waters in my mind. Not a single ripple or dream is able to break it as it holds me in its gentle yet tight grip. Not even the fresh thought of my father killing me for what I had allowed my alarm to do for what has to be the thousandth time just this month. No, it is peaceful, so peaceful in fact I have nearly fallen asleep within seconds. That is until I hear a loud squeal just before I feel a body jumping on top of my own. As soon as I feel her on top of my back not only do my eyes rip open wide but my breath leaves in an oomph as she begins to jump on me. "Zy wake up today is the day we talk about our first homecoming!" I frown at her words in complete annoyance as she squeals directly into my ear before I shrug. I feel her roll off of my back and onto the bed behind me as I shrug her off but she only giggles as I do so.

"You know that I couldn't care less about that shit Zya now leave me alone." My soft voice is just that as it leaves me. No matter how hard I try to sound angry I will always sound gentle and I blame my mother for it. I am a male and I am suppose to sound like one, but I don't. I don't even look like a boy. No, like Zya, I have a small frame that is as thin as it is short. I would blame it on being her twin brother, but most twins don't have this problem. Unlike most I share the same four foot eleven height as Zya. Even though I go with my father on trips every weekend to go camping or climbing a mountain and even though I go to work at a saw mill each day, or close to, after school I have little to no visible muscles unless my shirt is off or I am wearing a tight shirt and decide to bend the rules and randomly flex about. I have a very feminine face with a sharp strong jaw that rests beneath hollow cheeks and a pair of high pronounced cheekbones to hold the damn things in place. I have a childish nose with freckles that roam the bridge only for them to leak onto my cheekbones around my eyes. My lips are full and plump with a soft red tint to them. I have jaw length deep brown wavy hair and one bright blue eye while the other is a golden honey brown as it rests in the sun. To make matters worse it is exactly how Zya looks were she to have a brown eye like me instead of having bright blue eyes. The only other major difference, other than her busted chest, would be how my eyes have natural black around them. I hate the damn birthmarks but she has this odd jealousy over them. She always says it looks like I've done my makeup with such flawless perfection and she wishes she had such beautiful markings.

The dumbass.

"Oh come on Zy, get up and let me do your hair. Please? If you let me do it I'll stop on the way to school and get you some coffee. I will even get Austin to hang out with you as long as you like at the dance next Friday." I feel my eyes peel open on their own when I hear those words leave her lips and I curse them for it.

It isn't a secret, everyone knows I'm gay. If they hadn't, then the rainbow colored scarf and shoes would be a dead give away. Even my mermaid colored bag and unicorn pens would be more than enough to give that up. But I don't mind it, I'm not one to care what others say or do. My family accepts me and that's all that matters. Of course it had been hard at first, my father had been raised not to be so accepting so he had a hard time for that alone. My mother was a huge Christian freak that had been told homos were going to hell and that anyone to be close to them were considered sinners. Of course it took a while to get them both to ease themselves to the concept but they never gave up on me. I love them for it just as I love Zya for always being there and sticking up for me when it got heated. Of course being gay isn't really accepted by the community but nobody has given me hell for it. Besides, I'm not one of those cliché gays. I still act like a boy and do outdoorsy things every chance I get instead of dressing and talking like a girl. Yes, I am the genius that wears rainbow colored scarfs, socks, and shoes, and I do wear skinny jeans, short shorts, and an occasional crop top, but I do so because I had gotten them from Zya and our mom. It wasn't my ideal taste but they got them for me so I wear them.