Gage Cilleti has just begun his junior year of high school, and is becoming more and more involved in his school's activities, considering he'd been playing baseball since he was just seven-years-old.
Elijah McCay has just dropped out of school, du...
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My father had been angry with me, the night before. But I had managed to slither passed him, and up to my bedroom, when Toro began to sniff around our living room, apparently needing to go outside, and use the restroom.
In my bedroom, I collapsed down onto my bedspread, and tried my absolute best to take deep breaths. Elijah was so interesting, so fulfilling to learn about. Although, he didn't tell me much.
Not that I blamed him at all. All I was to him, was the curly-headed crybaby, who had an immense crush on him his senior year. And just that thought alone, made me want to bolt my bedroom door closed, and never go outside again.
Thinking back on it now, it seemed as though Elijah didn't care much about it last night. Like maybe, just maybe he didn't carry as much toxic masculinity as the rest of the straight-men community. Which was undeniably refreshing.
My shirt reeks of both alcohol, and pancakes, considering he'd been nice enough to take me to get food. Without another thought, I toss my t-shirt, and the rest of clothes into my hamper, and hop into the shower.
The steam makes me think of nothing other than Elijah, like my old fascination with Elijah McCay will start up again. Making me completely disregard Terrance into the back of my mind.
Once my lights were dim, the streets were quiet, and Toro was beside me—I sign into my social media on my laptop, trying not to let my mind wander, as I type in Elijah's name.
The first account that comes up, is his cheerful, and most-definitely handsome face, with two other boys right beside him. And when I don't recognize the other two, I assume their from Michigan, or go to Michigan State.
Using the curser to scroll down a little ways more, I come in contact with a few photos. Not many, but enough to get more of a feel about his personality.
There's one with an older woman, who he resembles. And I know, with just a second look, that she's Mrs. McCay. Elijah's mother had comes to his baseball games a few times a year, back when he went to Wayland.
She'd pass out disposable water bottles to the players, and once even gave me one, while I was benched.
His caption reads a significant date, and it takes me a few moments of realization, before I finally understand what it means, and why it correlates to that specific picture.
That same date reads at his bio, too, and I become a little more sadder within seconds. I had no idea that his mother had passed. And me barely finding out, makes me feel a little more like an asshole.
Although, I don't know why. Elijah had only spoken once, before tonight. It wasn't like I should've been expecting a cell-call about a yearly update about his life.
I continue searching—for what, I have no idea. But I know that if I stop now, he and his mother's tragedy will be the only thing on my mind until the following morning.
Another interesting photo, is him, a girl, and another girl. A lake is behind him, and he's in nothing but swimming trunks. I don't want to stare, knowing it does nothing but entice me.
Then, my eyes wander over to the two girls, who are beautiful in any way possible, and have the straightest teeth I've ever seen. One is spectacularly thin, and has the longest blonde hair I've ever come across. And her eyes are a genuine blue, her squinting them in the suns light.
The other is remarkably short, her skin-tone matching Elijah's caramel drift. Her hair flows down just at her shoulders, it falling in tight, tight curls. Her eyes are a brownish-green, and I've almost convinced that she and Elijah are related in one way, or another.
Seconds later, my eyes find the follow button on the top right corner of the screen, as I debate whether or not doing so would be such a horrendous idea. I'm sure Elijah would never be an asshole about me following him, but I also know that he's just asshole-y enough to let me know that I'd freaked him out.
I want to call Rick, ask him about his opinion on this. Want to ask if trying to be friends with Elijah McCay is ethical. But I know what'd he'd say.
That Elijah has only given me an inch, and I'm asking for a mile, that back when he went Wayland, he wasn't the nicest guy.
But now, I feel as though I know Elijah, that he's not at all like he used to be. That he wouldn't do what Terrance did. But still, there's the inevitable fact of his sexuality. And that I'm almost ninety-nine percent sure he's straight.
No matter how sweet he was to me tonight.
Deciding to log out for the night, and conclusively not following Elijah, I roll onto my back on my bedspread, hands kneading at the thread hanging from my t-shirt.
A few moments later, there's a knock at my bedroom door, the echo of the wood resonating so that I'm sure it can be heard downstairs. Almost groaning, I contain myself, knowing it's my mother or father.
"Come in," the door is pushed open for another few seconds, as Toro pounces onto my sheets, followed by my mother who wears a concerned face. "What's the matter?"
She runs a hand through her long, dark, and irrevocably straight hair, green eyes giving a stare-down. "I just got a call from Coach Witherspoon. Why didn't you tell me you'd made captain, G? You've wanted this for so long—"
"I-I know, mom, I just forgot." She doesn't buy my answer, leaning in closer, both she and Toro making a face.
"Look, we've had this conversation many times before, Gage. If something's going on, someone's bothering you, I need you to tell me. Or Yusuf, or even Alaric." Her words have become firm, as she begins to speak Romanian, not being able to contain her emotions.
Nothing's bothering me, I want to say. I'm completely fine, just working through immense emotions. And with Terrance doing what he did, saying what said. Then with Elijah just simply—being Elijah, I can't see myself holding onto a conversation anytime soon.
"Nothing wrong, mom," I promise, grasping onto her hand, "I just—I want to be sure I know what I'm feeling before I rant about it to either you or Abba. But I promise, nothing's the matter." I speak my last sentence in Romanian, so that my mother is certain that nothing is bothering me.
"All right, then. I love you, get some rest." She speaks in her maiden language, both she and Toro making their way out of my bedroom, with me clamping my laptop shut with vengeance.
"Love you more."
I spend that night tossing and turning, biting onto my fingernails with fierce anxiety, as I try not to turn onto my side, and spill out my guts to Rick over FaceTime or messages.
Tomorrow seemed like it'd better, since I knew exactly who I'd spend both my morning, and afternoon with.
