A/N: I've got plenty of women, so I did a guy too. There's more to this story than meets the eye, at first, thus the title doesn't seem to fit the story. I planned for it to be realistic to a teenage lifestyle, so please review with suggestions if you think it didn't work out well.

---

Lucas slowly rubbed off his eye-makeup. His clammy fingers smoothed nakedly over his bare eyelids. They came away smudged dark brown, traces of rubbery black mascara clinging to the pads.

Then, with a sigh, he tossed himself tiredly onto his back and pulled the sheet up to his chin. He glanced at the window to his left and shuddered. It wasn’t quite that he was afraid of the dark – he just didn’t like the idea of what it could hide. In a fit of frustrated rage his father had once slapped him around the face and cried that there was nothing in the dark that wasn’t there in the daylight as well.

Lucas didn’t really understand that.

He wasn’t very bright. He was the first to admit it. So he averaged a B minus. So what? What did he care for grades? He knew he could still get whatever job he wanted, if he applied himself to an apprenticeship or something. Problem was, mechanics or woodworking didn’t really draw him in. He was the kind of guy who’d rather read Shakespeare or write a poem.

He was a dramatic person – not necessarily a drama queen, but certainly he had no problem speaking his mind and was not reserved.

So it amused everyone no end that he claimed not to be … well, that way.

It amused Lucas no end as well.

He was gay of course, he knew it and he knew that no one listened when he said he wasn’t. But until he actually said he was no one could ever truly know. This was what amused Lucas, and why? Because he was a master and student of human nature.

His dream was to write. It was his passion. He wrote song lyrics and ballads – he loved writing ballads. Instead of paying attention during Maths he would sketch lines out and during English, instead of working on his essay drafts, he would flip through his dictionary, or thesaurus, and look up more rhymes.

His favourite thing to write about was his observations of people in love. They fascinated him – the way they had to make an huge exhibition of themselves in public. The way they insisted on needing a ring and a sheet of paper to verify their emotions.

They were so very different from him, and it was for this reason that he studied them and wrote and composed about him. He wouldn’t say he admired them. They just intrigued him. He didn’t even actually find a lot of them all that interesting.

He couldn’t figure out, however, their need to flaunt their partners – to wear their love on their sleeves.

Lucas was much different. He never spoke of Michael. None of them had met him. No one even knew Lucas was in a relationship. He hid Michael away – Michael was something just for Lucas to enjoy. Their was love was Lucas’ private property and he didn’t want other people pawning off him – even for poetry. He liked his privacy – he valued it. But he also kept his emotions to himself. He rarely showed sadness. He never showed anger.

He was happy. If anyone ever asked about Lucas they would get as a response that he was a happy person. But he never exhibited pain or hurt or fear or love. He figured if other people knew about that in him they could exploit it. He was a strong person, but he wasn’t going to give people openings to get to him.

See he was also real paranoid. A side effect, in his opinion, in growing up with a homophobic, ergo abusive, father.

‘Course, his paranoia had nothing to do with his public denial – which was just for his own amusement! And he hadn’t told anyone about Michael – not because he was ashamed or nervous or afraid, but just because Michael was his. No need to share.

With another sigh, Lucas rolled over onto his right side and wrapped his arm around Michael’s waist. The other lad sighed and muttered some half-asleep comment of amor and snuggled backwards into Lucas’ body.

Lucas put his mind to rest for the night. There would time for further analysis later.

---