The thing about being gay, Landon notices, more so than the stereotypes and the fact that everyone thinks he watches Rupaul’s Drag Race, is that he likes boys. Disgusting, animalistic, revolting boys who don’t take showers, pull their pants up all the way, or chew with their mouths closed. Everyone always asks him what he sees in men, and Landon understands why, because he isn’t sure what he sees in them, only knows that women are just… they’re even worse. Aside from all of the gross bodily functions and weird fluids, it seems like they’re all either really aggressive or overly meek. Plus, they’re all so fickle. Landon knows what he’s getting into with a guy, but girls? Please.
Between his best friend and his own mom, women are terrifying in their unpredictability.
He knows this to be true whenever Ava decides to start walking on a handstand next to him in the middle of their conversation, and when she continues on as if nothing is wrong with that. She’s strong, he’d observe, all hard muscle and endless stamina built up from the hours she spends at the gymnasium working with her hoop. He’s seen her a handful of times, and he thinks that it’s absolutely incredible how she can switch from a delinquent who’s always picking a fight to an elegant gymnast with the grace of a swan.
Then there are the times when she’s at school. She hates it, sure, but she’s really good at it. Especially math. They’re not in the same class because Ava tested into algebra in seventh grade. She puts in very little effort to be so good at it, but she keeps her grades high enough that her parents don’t threaten to send her to anger management classes to help straighten out her behavior. The thing is, though, he’s never actually seen Ava get angry. She just likes to fight. She does what she wants, so Landon never knows which Ava he’s going to get on any given day. Which, again, is terrifying.
Between his best friend and his own mom, women are terrifying in their unpredictability.
He knows this to be true whenever Ava decides to start walking on a handstand next to him in the middle of their conversation, and when she continues on as if nothing is wrong with that. She’s strong, he’d observe, all hard muscle and endless stamina built up from the hours she spends at the gymnasium working with her hoop. He’s seen her a handful of times, and he thinks that it’s absolutely incredible how she can switch from a delinquent who’s always picking a fight to an elegant gymnast with the grace of a swan.
Then there are the times when she’s at school. She hates it, sure, but she’s really good at it. Especially math. They’re not in the same class because Ava tested into algebra in seventh grade. She puts in very little effort to be so good at it, but she keeps her grades high enough that her parents don’t threaten to send her to anger management classes to help straighten out her behavior. The thing is, though, he’s never actually seen Ava get angry. She just likes to fight. She does what she wants, so Landon never knows which Ava he’s going to get on any given day. Which, again, is terrifying.
No, he’d much rather stick to boys. Boys, who love to torment each other in the locker rooms by snapping towels at people’s butts and playing red hands out of pure boredom. Or excitement? An inability to sit still? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, because Landon never has to go that deep with boys, and he’s never been much of an analytical person anyway, so it doesn’t bother him one bit.
He’s thinking about all of this while sitting at a desktop computer in his school’s library, trying to do his homework. Trying, though not succeeding. His thoughts are much more interesting than -- he glances back at the dim screen -- Louis XIV and his gaudy palace.
His fingers drum a steady beat on the table in front of him, and he wonders for a second if he should stop, but the library is empty save for two seniors a few feet away from him who don’t look like they’re doing homework at all, so he continues. Ava’s gone to gymnastics. He’ll meet up with her later at his house because she’s avoiding her cousins (“my mom said that if I hit JJ again, she’ll make me sleep on the back porch”), and then he can talk to her about all this confusion he’s going through at the moment. She’ll make fun of him before she offers anything useful, of course, because the one consistent thing about her is the fact that she loves to bully Landon.
The door at the entrance of the library opens, jolting him out of his thoughts and back down to Earth, where his history homework has long since vacated the computer screen, leaving it black and empty where it sits in front of him. He looks back and spots a tall dark-skinned boy walking in, with locs down to his shoulders and brown eyes so dark they look black in the subdued lighting. His green polo shirt brings a pop of color into the otherwise lackluster room, and Landon thinks that maybe God doesn’t hate ‘the gays’ like all those opinionated women on Instagram say, because why else would he send Landon (a devout Christain, don’t get him wrong) someone so prepossessing to look at?
He’s thinking about all of this while sitting at a desktop computer in his school’s library, trying to do his homework. Trying, though not succeeding. His thoughts are much more interesting than -- he glances back at the dim screen -- Louis XIV and his gaudy palace.
His fingers drum a steady beat on the table in front of him, and he wonders for a second if he should stop, but the library is empty save for two seniors a few feet away from him who don’t look like they’re doing homework at all, so he continues. Ava’s gone to gymnastics. He’ll meet up with her later at his house because she’s avoiding her cousins (“my mom said that if I hit JJ again, she’ll make me sleep on the back porch”), and then he can talk to her about all this confusion he’s going through at the moment. She’ll make fun of him before she offers anything useful, of course, because the one consistent thing about her is the fact that she loves to bully Landon.
The door at the entrance of the library opens, jolting him out of his thoughts and back down to Earth, where his history homework has long since vacated the computer screen, leaving it black and empty where it sits in front of him. He looks back and spots a tall dark-skinned boy walking in, with locs down to his shoulders and brown eyes so dark they look black in the subdued lighting. His green polo shirt brings a pop of color into the otherwise lackluster room, and Landon thinks that maybe God doesn’t hate ‘the gays’ like all those opinionated women on Instagram say, because why else would he send Landon (a devout Christain, don’t get him wrong) someone so prepossessing to look at?
He’s so caught up in his staring that he doesn’t notice that the boy is coming closer to him until he’s right up in his face, waving a hand to get his attention. He blinks once, very slowly, before meeting his eyes. His gorgeous, gorgeous eyes, which aren’t an unusual color like his own, but are entrancing nonetheless.
“Can I sit here?” asks the boy, and Landon isn’t usually a dramatic person, but he thinks he might die if he sits here. Naturally, he gives the only reasonable answer that someone would give in this situation.
“Absolutely,” he breathes, in complete awe of the person standing before him.
He’s… he’s pretty. So pretty. Very much beautiful, Landon thinks. Landon knows. It’s a fact, is what it is, because how could anyone look at this guy and not feel like their ribcage is shrinking over their rapidly beating heart, leaving them breathless and in shock? Landon has never felt like this before. All he knew was that boys were the less gross of the two binary genders and that he’s had a couple of crushes in the past, so by virtue, he must be gay. And he was right. He is gay.
He just didn’t fully understand how gay until this very moment.
He feels like his insides are about to spill right out of him when the boy takes a seat, and he at least has the presence of mind to ask for his name after a few moments of gawking at him.
“Kaycee,” the boy -- Kaycee answers, and Landon can’t get over how attractive his name is. Way more attractive than his own. Suddenly, he’s dreading having to tell Kaycee his name, because now he’s embarrassed. What kind of a name is ‘Landon’ anyway? He’ll have to talk to his mom about that when he gets home. “What’s, uh…” Kaycee trails off, and Landon snaps back to attention, realizing that his contemplative silence might have made the boy uncomfortable.
“Landon,” he says, much too quickly, too aggressively, yet too meekly at the same time. What was it that he said he hated about girls?
This boy is rapidly making himself at home in a space inside of Landon’s brain, nestled right between "bowling" and "Ava." This new space is apparently taking the wheel right now, too, because he can’t recall for the life of him what he’d been thinking about just before the other had walked in.
“Can I sit here?” asks the boy, and Landon isn’t usually a dramatic person, but he thinks he might die if he sits here. Naturally, he gives the only reasonable answer that someone would give in this situation.
“Absolutely,” he breathes, in complete awe of the person standing before him.
He’s… he’s pretty. So pretty. Very much beautiful, Landon thinks. Landon knows. It’s a fact, is what it is, because how could anyone look at this guy and not feel like their ribcage is shrinking over their rapidly beating heart, leaving them breathless and in shock? Landon has never felt like this before. All he knew was that boys were the less gross of the two binary genders and that he’s had a couple of crushes in the past, so by virtue, he must be gay. And he was right. He is gay.
He just didn’t fully understand how gay until this very moment.
He feels like his insides are about to spill right out of him when the boy takes a seat, and he at least has the presence of mind to ask for his name after a few moments of gawking at him.
“Kaycee,” the boy -- Kaycee answers, and Landon can’t get over how attractive his name is. Way more attractive than his own. Suddenly, he’s dreading having to tell Kaycee his name, because now he’s embarrassed. What kind of a name is ‘Landon’ anyway? He’ll have to talk to his mom about that when he gets home. “What’s, uh…” Kaycee trails off, and Landon snaps back to attention, realizing that his contemplative silence might have made the boy uncomfortable.
“Landon,” he says, much too quickly, too aggressively, yet too meekly at the same time. What was it that he said he hated about girls?
This boy is rapidly making himself at home in a space inside of Landon’s brain, nestled right between "bowling" and "Ava." This new space is apparently taking the wheel right now, too, because he can’t recall for the life of him what he’d been thinking about just before the other had walked in.
“What’s up, Landon?” asks Kaycee with an easy smile. Landon decides that his name sounds much cooler coming out of his mouth.
“Nothing,” he says, smartly. “Just working on history homework.”
“Are you now?” the dreadhead quips, eyeing the blank screen, and Landon can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed when he laughs a little at his own joke.
“I… was?” Oh how eloquent (he thinks he might die).
Kaycee breathes a laugh out of his nose and pats Landon’s shoulder with one hand, the other hand moving around so he can grab the mouse and wake up the black computer screen. Landon moves robotically to unlock it, and then Kaycee’s humming, scrolling down and looking over Landon’s work like none of this is abnormal in the slightest.
Is this what love feels like? Landon thinks, staring wide-eyed at the guy he met five minutes ago. And it must be. There’s no other explanation for it. Five minutes is a long time, you know. Have you ever had to swing a three-pound bowling buddy for five minutes straight?
He’s yanked back from that line of thinking by his inner Ava telling him not to be stupid. Five minutes is not a long enough time to fall in love with somebody. Also, it’s disgusting that he was even considering it. Love? Gross. Who needs it?
(Landon does!)
“You’re so stoic,” said boy comments, and Landon is once again whisked out of his thoughts and back to the present where Kaycee is eyeing him with amusement. It’s ironic, really, because Landon is anything but stoic, but his face has a habit of staying put no matter where his thoughts roam.
“Sorry,” Landon apologizes, but Kaycee simply smiles at him. Up close, Landon can see a few dark marks on his skin, probably scars from acne or rough housing as a kid.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “But look, this SAQ isn’t too difficult. Just explain how he was an absolute monarch.”
“Right…” says Landon. He doesn’t really want to admit that he kind of sucks at writing anything, so he just nods and looks back at his screen, the page seeming to taunt him with every word he reads.
“Nothing,” he says, smartly. “Just working on history homework.”
“Are you now?” the dreadhead quips, eyeing the blank screen, and Landon can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed when he laughs a little at his own joke.
“I… was?” Oh how eloquent (he thinks he might die).
Kaycee breathes a laugh out of his nose and pats Landon’s shoulder with one hand, the other hand moving around so he can grab the mouse and wake up the black computer screen. Landon moves robotically to unlock it, and then Kaycee’s humming, scrolling down and looking over Landon’s work like none of this is abnormal in the slightest.
Is this what love feels like? Landon thinks, staring wide-eyed at the guy he met five minutes ago. And it must be. There’s no other explanation for it. Five minutes is a long time, you know. Have you ever had to swing a three-pound bowling buddy for five minutes straight?
He’s yanked back from that line of thinking by his inner Ava telling him not to be stupid. Five minutes is not a long enough time to fall in love with somebody. Also, it’s disgusting that he was even considering it. Love? Gross. Who needs it?
(Landon does!)
“You’re so stoic,” said boy comments, and Landon is once again whisked out of his thoughts and back to the present where Kaycee is eyeing him with amusement. It’s ironic, really, because Landon is anything but stoic, but his face has a habit of staying put no matter where his thoughts roam.
“Sorry,” Landon apologizes, but Kaycee simply smiles at him. Up close, Landon can see a few dark marks on his skin, probably scars from acne or rough housing as a kid.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “But look, this SAQ isn’t too difficult. Just explain how he was an absolute monarch.”
“Right…” says Landon. He doesn’t really want to admit that he kind of sucks at writing anything, so he just nods and looks back at his screen, the page seeming to taunt him with every word he reads.
Kaycee pulls out what Landon presumes to be his own homework, and he’s a little surprised to see that he’s working on the same Spanish assignment that Landon had finished at lunch.
“What grade are you in?” he asks then, and Kaycee looks over at him with an odd look on his face.
“You don’t-” he starts, then shakes his head. “I’m a freshman, just like you.”
“Oh,” says Landon, sounding chipper about it. “That’s cool.”
Kaycee purses his lips, seemingly deliberating before speaking. “I know we’ve never talked before, but are you so wrapped up in your girlfriend that you don’t recognize me?”
And he’s right, Landon should recognize a face as pretty as his’, but-- “Girlfriend?”
Kaycee nods. “Your girlfriend, Ava, yes.”
“My girlfriend, Ava?” Oh wow, it’s been a while since anyone’s come to that conclusion. It hasn’t happened since…
Well, it just hasn’t happened in a while.
Kaycee keeps looking at him expectantly, so he decides to clear up the misunderstanding. “Ava’s not my girlfriend.”
“But you like her?” Kaycee presses.
Landon’s nose scrunches up in a rare display of emotion (he knows Ava will hate having missed this), and he shakes his head in dissent. “Uh, no. Ava’s a girl.”
Kaycee blinks once, twice, then twice more before speaking again. “And you’re… a guy…”
Landon considers the pros and cons of playing this off like a joke. It’s quite incriminating to say that you don’t want to date someone because they’re a girl, and he’s sure that Kaycee has already made the connection between his revulsion towards girls and his sexuality, but he figures there’s still time to save face. If he wants to. Which, honestly, he doesn’t. It’d be more beneficial to him if the dude he’s interested in knows that he’s into dudes, right?
“What grade are you in?” he asks then, and Kaycee looks over at him with an odd look on his face.
“You don’t-” he starts, then shakes his head. “I’m a freshman, just like you.”
“Oh,” says Landon, sounding chipper about it. “That’s cool.”
Kaycee purses his lips, seemingly deliberating before speaking. “I know we’ve never talked before, but are you so wrapped up in your girlfriend that you don’t recognize me?”
And he’s right, Landon should recognize a face as pretty as his’, but-- “Girlfriend?”
Kaycee nods. “Your girlfriend, Ava, yes.”
“My girlfriend, Ava?” Oh wow, it’s been a while since anyone’s come to that conclusion. It hasn’t happened since…
Well, it just hasn’t happened in a while.
Kaycee keeps looking at him expectantly, so he decides to clear up the misunderstanding. “Ava’s not my girlfriend.”
“But you like her?” Kaycee presses.
Landon’s nose scrunches up in a rare display of emotion (he knows Ava will hate having missed this), and he shakes his head in dissent. “Uh, no. Ava’s a girl.”
Kaycee blinks once, twice, then twice more before speaking again. “And you’re… a guy…”
Landon considers the pros and cons of playing this off like a joke. It’s quite incriminating to say that you don’t want to date someone because they’re a girl, and he’s sure that Kaycee has already made the connection between his revulsion towards girls and his sexuality, but he figures there’s still time to save face. If he wants to. Which, honestly, he doesn’t. It’d be more beneficial to him if the dude he’s interested in knows that he’s into dudes, right?
Right. “Who's into guys,” he finishes, firmly.
“Oh.”
“Mhm.”
Or maybe not right. Maybe very wrong. This is possibly the worst decision he’s ever made, and he’s friends with Ava. What does he do? Does he grab his stuff and run away? No, he’d never make it in time, and he has to sign out of the computer. He might as well just brace himself for the fists that are going to come swinging at him any second now, because that’s what people do when they find out that you’re gay. They hit you, and they don’t stop hitting you until you’re wheezing and bleeding and and and and--
“Don’t look so worried,” chuckles Kaycee. “Me too. Well, and girls. Both. Anything.” He pushes a few locs out of his face. “I’m pan.”
No one ever notices how tense they are until said tension leaves their body, Landon notes, as he slumps back into his chair. He nods coolly (very coolly) and turns back to the computer, which is asleep again. His reflection stares back at him from the glossy black screen, and he’s momentarily surprised at how his eyebrows are more pinched than usual.
He says nothing else as he opens the device back up and gets to work, not wanting to embarrass himself further. Kaycee doesn’t seem to mind, so he figures that it’s fine. He finishes his assignment in a brisk thirty minutes (it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with, but he was stalling because history is the worst thing since red grapes), and begins to pack up his things and log out of the computer. He’s a little sad to have to leave the other boy, but he also really wants to get out of this stuffy library, and he should definitely get home before it gets dark.
Kaycee raises his head as he stands up. “You’re leaving?” he questions.
“Yeah,” confirms Landon, sounding dejected even to his own ears.
“Can I… can I have your phone number?” Kaycee asks, pulling his phone out from where it was wedged between his thigh and his seat. He has that same strange look from before on his face, and Landon finds himself wanting to pick apart the expression, do a deep dive into his brain to see exactly what he’s thinking and feeling at the moment.
He doesn’t, because he’s never been much of an analytical person (or so he says, but the facial expression is photocopied into his brain ‘for future reference’), but he nods, grabbing the unlocked cell phone and quickly typing his name and number into it before handing it back.
“Thanks,” says Kaycee. “See you later?”
And Landon, he smiles. It’s a small thing, the barest curve of his lips as they stretch over straight white teeth, but it makes the boy across from him gasp before he’s smiling back, and before they know it, they’re smiling like idiots at each other, not even understanding why.
“Sure,” says Landon. He’ll have to make a point to notice someone other than Ava at school tomorrow (shouldn’t be much of an issue, all things considered), but he definitely will. He’s never felt like jumping out of his shoes and doing one of those silly little dances that his mom does whenever she gets happy, but maybe he ought to try when he gets home. Maybe then all this excess energy will burn off of him and he can try and settle down enough to wipe this goofy expression off of his face before Ava sees (she will know that something happened, she always does, but at least she won’t be able to tease him for smiling about it).
He turns on his heel and just barely keeps himself from skipping, exiting out of the same door that Kaycee (Kaycee!) entered through.
(And if he does skip just a bit on the walk home, well, there’s no one there to judge him but himself.)
“Oh.”
“Mhm.”
Or maybe not right. Maybe very wrong. This is possibly the worst decision he’s ever made, and he’s friends with Ava. What does he do? Does he grab his stuff and run away? No, he’d never make it in time, and he has to sign out of the computer. He might as well just brace himself for the fists that are going to come swinging at him any second now, because that’s what people do when they find out that you’re gay. They hit you, and they don’t stop hitting you until you’re wheezing and bleeding and and and and--
“Don’t look so worried,” chuckles Kaycee. “Me too. Well, and girls. Both. Anything.” He pushes a few locs out of his face. “I’m pan.”
No one ever notices how tense they are until said tension leaves their body, Landon notes, as he slumps back into his chair. He nods coolly (very coolly) and turns back to the computer, which is asleep again. His reflection stares back at him from the glossy black screen, and he’s momentarily surprised at how his eyebrows are more pinched than usual.
He says nothing else as he opens the device back up and gets to work, not wanting to embarrass himself further. Kaycee doesn’t seem to mind, so he figures that it’s fine. He finishes his assignment in a brisk thirty minutes (it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with, but he was stalling because history is the worst thing since red grapes), and begins to pack up his things and log out of the computer. He’s a little sad to have to leave the other boy, but he also really wants to get out of this stuffy library, and he should definitely get home before it gets dark.
Kaycee raises his head as he stands up. “You’re leaving?” he questions.
“Yeah,” confirms Landon, sounding dejected even to his own ears.
“Can I… can I have your phone number?” Kaycee asks, pulling his phone out from where it was wedged between his thigh and his seat. He has that same strange look from before on his face, and Landon finds himself wanting to pick apart the expression, do a deep dive into his brain to see exactly what he’s thinking and feeling at the moment.
He doesn’t, because he’s never been much of an analytical person (or so he says, but the facial expression is photocopied into his brain ‘for future reference’), but he nods, grabbing the unlocked cell phone and quickly typing his name and number into it before handing it back.
“Thanks,” says Kaycee. “See you later?”
And Landon, he smiles. It’s a small thing, the barest curve of his lips as they stretch over straight white teeth, but it makes the boy across from him gasp before he’s smiling back, and before they know it, they’re smiling like idiots at each other, not even understanding why.
“Sure,” says Landon. He’ll have to make a point to notice someone other than Ava at school tomorrow (shouldn’t be much of an issue, all things considered), but he definitely will. He’s never felt like jumping out of his shoes and doing one of those silly little dances that his mom does whenever she gets happy, but maybe he ought to try when he gets home. Maybe then all this excess energy will burn off of him and he can try and settle down enough to wipe this goofy expression off of his face before Ava sees (she will know that something happened, she always does, but at least she won’t be able to tease him for smiling about it).
He turns on his heel and just barely keeps himself from skipping, exiting out of the same door that Kaycee (Kaycee!) entered through.
(And if he does skip just a bit on the walk home, well, there’s no one there to judge him but himself.)
