Love Only

One ; Jeremy

I stared at myself in the dull, foggy, male bathroom mirror of Morrisville High. My nose had been bloodied, dripping crimson down to my blazer, a deep purple bruise beginning to form just between my eyes and under the left one. My lip was swollen and my eyes were puffy and red after the hour and a half session of crying I had just finished.

The faucet below me dripped methodically as my pale hands gripped the marbled tan countertop. I looked down to my pink blazer, which was now stained with my own blood. My matching trousers had been stained with deep colored mud and the bright green of the grass I had been thrown into.

Stupid fucking junior, watch where the hell you're going!

I shook my head as if it would help to throw away his voice. Make those awful thoughts leak out of my ears.

Only pussy boys wear pink, Walker. You a pussy boy? Fag.

I couldn't help but hear every word said to me today. Those said days ago, weeks ago, even years ago.

The threats and slurs that punched me in the face and stole my lunch money.

Give me all of it, Jeremy.

...

Damn it! You don't even have enough for smokes. Weak!

The overheard conversations that stabbed into my heart, and brought tears to my eyes when I was alone in my bedroom.

Hey, mom. Why is that boy's hair long? Is he a girl?

Don't stare, Michael. He looks filthy. His mother probably doesn't give him haircuts.

I thought all boys had to have short hair. Why can't I have long hair? Huh, mom?

Hush up. Because it makes you look like a girl, a faggot. Now stop looking and eat your food before he hears us.

The talks from my own parents that made me feel alone. Made me feel like a revolting freak.

What would you do if I was gay?

Oh- Oh heavens, Jeremy, don't ask such a question. You nearly gave me a heart attack. No son of mine would ever be a dirty bum boy.

It seems as if the whole world is against me. Can you imagine that? Like a television show. 'Jeremy Walker Against The World: starring Keanu Reeves as Jeremy Walker! Tonight at 6 Eastern 8 Pacific on the comedy network.'

Keuna Reeves would never play my part. With his chiseled cheekbones, perfect stubble, flowing hair; not even with makeup and effects could he convince the viewers that he was supposed to be me. My ugly blue-grey eyes, patchy stubble, and flat mahogany hair will never match the looks of a breathtaking man such as Mr. Reeves.

If only he was gay. Maybe people would like the rest of us more then.

Suddenly, I jump as a faint knock is laid upon the wooden door beside me. I take in a soft breath, trying not to worry about who it could be.

"Occupied," I mutter.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, I'll leave and come back ..."

I didn't bother listening to the end of this person's sentence. It's not that I didn't care, or something like that, I was just confused. The voice on the other side of the door was female. Low in tone and very anxious, yes, but it held that high octave that only a girl could have. Hastily, I rushed to press the circular button with my thumb and open the door.

"... I'm sorry I both-"

They stopped in their nervous rants as I pulled the door back. I was appalled, as were they.