Chosen~ Snowbaz

Outcast

I thought I was the only one who knew how to get onto the roof of the school. Apparently not. 

The boy standing in front of me was dressed strangely, almost like he'd gone through his wardrobe of very expensive clothes and picked out he least expensive-looking ones. He had, in fact, but I didn't know that yet. 

"Hello," I said, which is usually a good way to start when one runs into casually rich yet good-looking boys on high school rooftops.

He didn't say anything, just raised one eyebrow and held out a cigarette. I took it without making a move to light it. I had matches in my pocket, but I didn't smoke. 

The boy reached into his jacket, and I'm not sure why I was surprised when he pulled out a plain white matchbox. I guess, with his posh demeanor, I'd expected one of those fancy lighter things, maybe gilded, or set with precious stones. 

I had seen hundreds, thousands, even, of people light cigarettes before, and yet I found I could not look away from him as he did so. I stayed entranced as he placed it between his lips, holding it in place with his teeth as he slowly and methodically put the matches away.

It was three long drags later that he finally spoke. "Who are you?"

"An outcast." My voice seemed hoarse and almost whiny compared to his deep, even, accented one—even though it was he who had been smoking. 

He laughed. I wanted to hear him laugh forever. "So am I, kid. So am I." 

We found out a lot about each other that night on the roof. I learned that his name was Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch which was long and hard to say and even harder to spell, as I found out the next day as I doodled it on scraps of paper. He learned that I was two months older than he, though I didn't look the part. If this surprised him, he didn't show it. 

That night was the first time I fell in love with a boy. 

I suppose it's misleading to say that, as it sounds at though I've fallen in love with other boys, too. Truthfully, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch was the only boy I ever fell in love with, and fall in love with him I did. 

Over and over again. 

I didn't realize this until much later. 

At the time, it was just me and him and his cigarettes. 

The sun was barely peeking out over the horizon when he stood up from where we'd seated ourselves on the edge of the roof. Didn't even speak, just gave me one long, cool look and made his way down the fire escape. 

He was there the next night, too, and the next, and I promised myself that I would keep going up to the roof of Johnson High as long as he wanted me to. 

He always wanted me to, but I didn't know that yet, either. 

In retrospect, it was Baz (I found out pretty quick he'd deck anyone who called him anything else) who taught me everything I knew about the real world, like how to lie and when to keep your head down and that you should never tell anyone you didn't trust anything about yourself. He had trusted me right from the start, and I'd never been prouder of anything. I didn't tell him that for a good long time. 

He showed me how to use a knife, too, and one evening he gave me one of his—sky blue hilt with an intricate golden sword hand-painted on. I still have it, even after all these years. 

We got to know each other better than I think had ever known anyone before. And we matched. 

Even in the ways we didn't match, we balanced one another out—I didn't have any family; he had too much. I fought hard to win; he let himself lose. I wanted the world, he needed to get away from it. 

I told him I could be his world. I'd never seen him cry before that. 

The night after, he took my hand and held it and said he'd like that very much. 

We kissed after that, there under the stars, and when we carved our initials in the worn-out beams of the rafters, we had no idea our sacred place—our home, though neither of us dared voice the thought—would be in ashes less than a week later. How could we? We were just boys. 

Some people would think five days is too soon to say it, but in truth, it had already been far longer. So, whispered against his lips, I told him I loved him for the first time. 

He said it right back. 

When I heard the school had burned down, I wasted no time going to find him, terrified I that with the destruction of the building, I had lost him forever. By the look on his face as he stood in the parking lot, he'd had a similar fear. 

We held each other close all that night, soaking our shirts with tears and promising that we would always be there, because I was his world, and he was mine.