A modern, gay retelling of the star crossed lovers, Romeo & Juliet, about two boys falling in love despite the burden the world and their families put on their shoulders.
[Extended synopsis inside]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Twenty-One |Janitors Closet, Again
Zaheer reminded me of the Shadow Man from The Princess and The Frog. He stood at 6 feet and 9 inches, his legs legs stretching past his torso, and his arms reaching down to his knees. His skin is the color of a paper bag, but one of those paper bag from Chipotle with all the writing and art on it. I don't know if the many tattoos that covered his face and body were supposed to be used for an intimidation factor to make up for his lack of muscle build or if he just really loved tattoos.
He's always been somewhat too tall for his build; maybe if he were a few inches shorter he would be all the somewhat less terrifying. It was as if he stopped growing only to be stretched on one of those medieval racks a half-foot more. His face was mostly obscured by a black scraggly beard that clung to his skin like winter ravaged ivy tendrils.
His heavy eyelids always hang at half mast, giving him a sleepy, bored look and the rest of his fleshy face sags in the same general pattern. As he stares at me from across the room, I try not to look away, try not to let him think he has any power over me like he does all the other men in his life, but then his dark lips stretch into his familiar menacing gap toothed smile and I instantly turned my head.
"Little Asher," His voice deep and his words are slowly drawled from out his mouth. "Or should I just say Asher now since you're clearly not little anymore. Nah, you're a grown man now." Zaheer had the kind of voice that whenever he spoke, every head in the room would turn. He had that rich, silky tone. He speaks as if he controls the world, and a part of me think he does.
My dad stands beside me with a wide tooth smile as he stared at the man. He stared at Zaheer like he was a star in the sky, eyes gleaming and face stretched into an unnerving smile. He doesn't seem to notice the uncomfortable look on my face, he doesn't seem to notice anything really, only the man that sat in front of us behind his mahogany desk.
"Don't be shy, c'mon here." Zaheer finally stands up from his seat, his 6'9 figure coming into full effect. He gestures for me to come around the desk, indirectly asking for a hug.
I blinked at him, before turning to my dad and seeing that he was already staring at me. "Don't embarrass me," his facial expression reads as he nods forward at Zaheer.
I exhaled a low sigh, before making my way around the desk. Instead of embracing him in a hug, I extended my hand out instead. Zaheer looked down at my hand, the slit in his brow raising up at me.
"Handshake? Now you know we don't do that around here." His laughed sounded like thunder to my ears. I hate thunder.
He pulled me in for a hug, and I'm instantly hit with his familiar scent that makes me shiver. He always smelled like that, like he had spilled cheap cologne all over himself. It was never a pleasant scent and truthfully it gave me headaches sometimes. He rubbed my back as we hug, and I just stand there awkwardly as he does it.
