m i a m o r | benjey

03

my breath hitches as the boy ambles over to his desk. he has slightly lifted his head, giving me a better view of his warm eyes. he looks at me shyly as he walks, putting out a small, nervous smile. a smile that made my heart thunk, like an empty plastic bottle against my head. he sits down, somewhat awkwardly in a way that makes me smile. i gulp as i smell sweet vanilla perfume.

he turns to face me and, scared to face him, my cheeks start to go red. i can see him studying me inquisitively from the corner of my vision. he clears his throat, cutely i might add, and i finally i turn to face him.

i stare at him, but i don't even realize i'm staring.

he has so many features i'm just now seeing, like his well-groomed eyebrows and his plump lips... lips that could go for such deep kisses...

i steady myself. i'm not going to let myself have a crush. not now. especially in senior year, with high school coming to an end and inevitably all relationships, as well. plus, i am in no way ready to come out.

i'm snapped back to reality when be starts speaking.

"uh, hi? a-are you b-benjay?"

i almost die at his accent. i try to remember my earlier statement, but his obvious lack if english and heavy spanish accent are telling my heart different things. i try to push the thoughts out.

i chuckle, scratching my head. it's glaringly obvious, judging by the heat i feel in my face, that my cheeks must be red-hot. "yes. but it's benJEE. not benJAY. and you're jorge?"

he blushes, which makes my stomach ripple just slightly. "y-yes, sorry. and you can c-call me jeyjey. english is, uhm, obvi-obviously not my f-first, uhm-" i chuckle again "language?" he nods, smiling again, but less shy. i grin. "hey, that's okay. my spanish is as rusty as your english. it would be just as bad as you tried to talk to me in your first language!" he laughs and chews on his lip nervously, which sends rivets through me. his colorful plastic butterfly clips shake slightly as he laughs. then, for a moment, i just stare at him deeply. i don't know why i would do that. but something in me is ignoring the unspoken law of social confrontation which states you should never awkwardly stare at someone and say nothing.

he returns the stare, and suddenly his eyes became the only eyes i'd ever want to study. they were almond-shaped, a hazel mixture of warm honey-brown and emerald green. they were decorated with little flecks of gold. they were wide, always seeming in a state of shock. glossy, too-

voices snapped him out of his daze. loud voices that came from the very front of class. "fag!" they yelled, laughing. paul and his friends were pointing at him and laughing like they had just heard the joke of their life. me and paul's pack of rats were mutuals, both being popular, but i tried my best to avoid him. the way he made fun of others revolted me.

"i bet he has a crush on benji," i heard one whisper loudly, "being the fag he is."

my cheeks got hot as my head snapped forwards, eyes harsh and assertive. paul and his friends silenced, looking away and continuing to mutter about the schoolwork.

i looked back at jey. a single tear was welling in his eye. i could see in his eyes he was used to this. he had that look that showed that he was hurt in a way he was used to.

i clutched my fists. that face would be the end of me. i had just met this boy, but seeing him upset lit a fire in me.

it was then and there i decided.

i would protect jorge garay for as long as i could.