Lost Within the Frame
Zakuyoe
Chapitre Un: The Broken Streetlamp

“Come on, dear, scoot closer to Scott…. Ryan, dear, you won’t fit in the picture!”

I frown at the plump woman—though I would never make such a comment in front of her face—that I call my mother, and with a slight scowl on my face I comply with her request. I can feel the raven-haired boy beside me shift uncomfortably, which gives me generous doses of internal laughter. Though seriously, it isn’t like we’re going to our first prom together….

We were definitely not going to prom that afternoon… and definitely not together.

I explain to my mother my thought process, and she merely laughs. “Oh, Ryan, that’s ridiculous. Is it wrong for a mother to take pictures of her son?”

“Not really,” I mutter, fixing my tie. “But why in this attire? And why’d you have me invite Scott?”

“Well,” my mom begins, and it’s that instant I know she’s about to explain some crazy concept to me. “I was looking through the old albums the other day—”

“Oh God,” I utter.

She glares at me before continuing. “—and I happened to notice you’ve absolutely no pictures with your best friend. So….”

“You decided that I should probably have some?” I finish and she nods. Figures… although, that still doesn’t explain why we had to do this with suits and ties….

I turn to Scott. “You okay, dude? You seem awfully quiet.” He smiles at my groundbreaking discovery, and I turn red for even making such a comment. Supposedly I'm the smart one, too...

Scott chuckles. “I’m fine, dude. I’m kinda used to this whole thing already, so… yeah. My mom went through this phase when I took Anne to Homecoming last fall.” Sometimes I really do admire my alleged best friend (not that he isn’t, though) for the way he just lets things happen as they occur. Sure, when he thinks something’s morally wrong he’ll stand up to it, but for the most part he’ll just sit back and deal with problems that happen to come his way. Granted that that really doesn’t happen too often, but still….

“But we’re not going to Homecoming—or any dance, for that matter!—and especially not together!”

“Ryan, just scoot it so I can finish taking the picture,” snaps my mother, and it’s only just dawned to me that she hasn’t even taken the picture she attempted to take a good five minutes ago. Sighing, I lean even closer into the boy beside me, and as I do my utter best to smile nicely for the camera I can feel an arm snake around my waist. Before I can do anything, however, the picture is taken, and immediately as I turn to Scott the arm releases me.

“Dude!” I exclaim, backing away.

Scott smirks at my reaction. “The picture was only from the waist up, I think. Your mom probably didn’t even get a picture of it.” From a distance my mom confirms his statement. “Seriously, Ryan you’re really homo—”

“No I’m not!” I exclaim, jumping backward. “I’m not gay!”

“Relax,” he says, and again he shakes his head. Huh?—what just happened? “I wasn’t calling you gay or anything like that.”

“But you said I was homo—”

“Phobic, dude. Homophobic.” I stare down at my feet in embarrassment as he pushes me slowly out the door to my own house. Granted that Luke and Eric are probably waiting for us by now, Scott opens the door to his car and leads me in, closing the door before walking to his own side. Yet it’s only when he ignites the engine when I realize how pathetic I’m being, unable to even enter someone’s car without needing help, all because of my jumping to conclusions.

No, I’m really not homophobic, nor do I think I’m homosexual, but I’m almost sure that now Scott will think I am. Figures.

My mom yells something incoherent from the door as we drive away, and in the awkwardness of a silence Scott turns on the radio. It’s some rap song—rap is crap, as I’ve always said—but nevertheless I sit back and ignore my small distaste for his music.

It isn't long, though, before I turn to Scott once more. “I apologize again for my mother’s random… urge to take a picture of the two of us.”

“Tis fine, dude,” he says, coming to a stop as he reaches that familiar, red, octagonal sign. “I told you, I’m used to moms wanting pictures and stuff. Beside, I kinda figured that she had a valid point.”

“What, why?” I exclaim, pouting. “You agree with that woman’s reasoning for taking pictures of us in suits and ties? Dude, I swear, it might even be one of her creepy feti—”

“I do,” he replies, and instantly, for some reason, my mind flashes a picture of a woman in a bridal gown. “I mean seriously though, why wouldn’t you want a picture with me? Looking this good, I mean.” I laugh at his foolish confidence as he points down at his lower regions—though that’s probably just his stomach he’s pointing at and not other things—and even though he’s being his cocky self I can’t help but to agree with him.

“I s’pose so, then,” I mutter. “I’m sure I’ll probably find it useful later on in life. Like, when I’m eighty-six trying to remember who to call for bail.”

“Why the hell would you wanna be that old in jail?” Scott asks, earning a light punch on my part.

But you never know. I might end up dying in a prison.

-

“What fags,” is the first thing I hear when Scott and I arrive at the local Pizza Hut. Granted my more-plump-than-my-mother friend’s such insults are probably the reason why I’ve become way too conscious about even the most lighthearted comments, not to mention Luke—my blond, sex-hungry friend—has an affinity for occasions accompanied by perverted comments and has a tendency to do just that.

Scott and I take the matter two different ways. I personally try my best to get the two of them to stop, but I’ve definitely proven that it’s part of their personalities (and thus I will never stop hearing their teamed efforts on calling us a gay couple). Given that that’s probably why Scott thinks I’m homophobic, I don’t take Luke's perverseness or Eric's ‘faggy’ insults too well.

Scott, on the other hand, likes to play along, which only annoys me all the more—but for some reason it doesn’t bother me as much as the other two boys’ attempts. Not to say that I completely let it slide, since, given my reaction only moments earlier with my mom’s photo fetish, I do still react with all my self-consciousness. But, Scott holding my hand playfully doesn’t bother me on the inside as much as I know it should.

That’s why when Scott takes my hand (clearly being dramatic) and caresses it with his free hand, I do nothing but retract slowly after he’s finished.

“Seriously, though,” Luke says as he observes my awkwardness. “How the hell does Anne put up with you, dude?—having to compete with Ryn to get your attention?”

“She doesn’t know,” Scott says with a laugh, but with such a straight face I have to remind myself he’s only kidding.

I think.

“She’ll get all my attention later, anyway,” he adds, giving that smirk that I thought I’d only see on Luke's face. Though, as the blond nods his head in satisfaction, I can’t help but to wonder if he’s being serious that time around. Sure, Scott's been dating Anne for four years now (save me from the story behind it, though, especially since it’s too much drama for my liking), but I still think it’d be against his moralistic values to actually do… it… with her.

Moralistic values…? That sounds so stupid.

Our waiter decides to interrupt. “Hello, guys, my name’s Craig—”

“We know, dumbass,” Eric interjects.

“—and I’ll be serving you today,” he continues, not pausing despite Eric's remark. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Sprite,” Scott says automatically.

“We only have Pepsi products, so would Sierra Mist be fine with you?”

“Sure,” replies Scott dismissively. “I can’t tell the difference, anyway.”

“I’ll have a root beer float, then,” Eric says, licking his lips. Leave it to him to order something like that, though I know his actual order will be a lot worse.

“Water’s fine by me,” I mutter. Then, as everyone looks at him, Luke says the same thing.

“I’ll be right out with your drinks,” Craig says, turning around and heading into the backrooms. Once he’s gone, three completely different things are said.

“Okay guys, I think Craig’s officially a fag.”
“Luke, why did you ask for water?”
“I just realized the two of you are wearing tuxes.”

Being as I’m the only one who hadn’t spoken, I take the awkward silence afterward to laugh quietly, causing three boys to glare in my direction. I might as well be the only one to have actually heard all three things….

“Wanna try this again?” asks Luke, smirk on his face. “Me, then Scott, then Eric.”

“Ay!” Eric yells, loud enough for an old couple several booths down to give us quite the glare. “Ay, why the hell do I have to be last?”

“Dunno,” Luke replies. “Okay… so yeah. I’ve only just realized the two of you were wearing tuxes.” My eyes grow open at the mentioning, and indeed as I look down at myself I see a familiar dress shirt—that incidentally is not a tuxedo—and the accompanying black dress pants.

“You guys,” interjects Eric, “I think Scott and Ryan thought they were going on a date!”

“Shut the hell up,” I mutter. “No, it’s… a long story….”

“Yeah,” says Scott, and I’m relieved he doesn't try fueling their comments as he normally does. “So, erm… I said something like how I find it weird that Luke's ordering water.”

Luke frowns—a rarity as it is. “It’s the only thing I can order,” he says, pointing sadly at his mouth. “My tooth hurts, and my Pa says it’s a cavity. The dentist told me to just avoid sweet things—which is pretty much every soft drink in existence.”

“Oh,” Scott replies quietly, and a silence sets in. In a way I do feel bad for the boy... but then again his mind is satisified enough with all the sexual innuendos he can throw at practically anyone.

For once, Eric's voice is actually wanted. “Well, guys, what I was saying, I think we can officially call Craig—” but he doesn’t get a chance to finish as Craig arrives with our said drinks. Eric growls something nasty under his breath, but as I look toward Craig it appears he hadn’t caught it.

“Are you ready with your orders?” Craig asks, looking amongst the four of us.

With Eric ready to piss off about Craig’s unusual politeness (it’s part of his job requirement, though I don’t think he realizes it) and Luke abstaining from his sweet cravings (though we are at a pizza restaurant), I turn to Scott, who smiles at me and nods his head. In the end, as Eric begins listing his four meal orders, I manage to conclude one thing.

The night is indeed still young. And there’s still room for many things to happen yet.

-

I suppose I do regret saying such a thing. Especially once everyone’s already gone their separate ways.

We return the same we came—that is, Luke riding home with Eric's mother, and me with Scott. The familiar crap is playing on his stereo as he makes his way toward my house. Granted, though, that he has to peer at the mailboxes on the left side of his street once he gets closer to my house, since for some random reason the streetlamp in front of my house never seems to work.

Though, you’d think it’d be easy to find my house, since that light’s the only one that doesn’t work. I suppose you could tell him that, though.

“You should probably turn the music down, though,” I tell him, pointing at the volume control. “I’m sure there’re some anal parents out there not keen on hearing crap at ten thirty in the evening.”

Scott glares at me from the corner of his eye. “Bullshit, dude. That’s just a lame excuse to not hear my music. You don’t see me complaining about your music, do you?”

I shrug. “Still, I’m sure once you pass Adam's house it’ll be a complete mess.” Adam is a seven-year-old kid who lives at our block, who also happens to have an ADD problem; loud noises scare him. I point this out to Scott, and after laughing and sighing—both at once, almost—Scott reaches forward and turns down the volume.

And completely misses my house.

“Ah fuck,” he curses, craning his neck over as the broken headlight moves further and further away in his review mirror—not that he’s actually using it. “I s’pose I should make a U-ie, then.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” I reply, shrugging. “Just go to your house.”

“You wanna sleep over or something?”

I snort. “Are you kiddin’ me? I’m not sleeping while this tie refuses to stop choking me.” I glance at Scott as he slows down to pull into his own driveway. “I can just walk home, you know. It’s not that far.”

“If you say so,” says Scott, though there’s really nothing he can do since he’s already at his own house. “As long as I get to walk you home.”

I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Why, dude?” Though, as much as I wouldn’t mind, it’d probably only give Eric and Luke more of a reason to call us a gay couple. “It’s not that far. I can walk by myself.”

“That’s just it,” he says. “It’s not that far anyway, so I might as well walk you home. It’s the least I can do for completely missing your house.” With a smile I nod, and as the two of us exit his car we begin our rather short walk to my place. “You know, though,” Scott adds as he begins undoing his tie. “If you hadn’t complained about the volume of my music I wouldn’t have missed your house.”

“So you’re blaming it on me then?” I ask playfully and he nods.

“Definitely your fault this time, Ryan Benger. Actually, I think it’s al—”

I interrupt him with a scream, and as he stops in his tracks and in his sentence I cling onto him and point at something in the distance. “What the hell is that?” I ask, though I swear I’m not scared.

Well maybe I am… but just a little… really.

“Don’t worry about it,” Scott mutters, but I don’t think my actions are convincing him any. “It’s only a raccoon.”

“That’s too big for a raccoon!” I exclaim, but as it passes under the light I realize he’s right. “Dude, that’s a fucking huge raccoon….”

“There’re always those exceptional few, you know?” he says, and that smirk on his face cues me in on a comment almost worthy for Luke's own mouth. “There’re always be those bigger than others. Personally I think I’m one of them.”

“Probably not,” I chuckle, though I seem to offend him.

“Ryan,” he exclaims in a seemingly shocked voice. “Ryan Benger, I think because of that comment you are thus undeserving to hold my hand. I ask that you please let go.”

Wait… I’m still…?—oh crap, I am.

“Fine,” I snap, covering up my forgetfulness to let go of Scott once the raccoon had passed. “Your palms are sweaty anyway.” Our lighthearted insults continue on for a few more minutes, each insult becoming slowly more and more vulgar and perverse, but as soon as the lights around us fade so does our reason to continue insulting each other.

We’re under the broken streetlight. And in front of my house.

“So we’re here,” he says quietly, and though I know I should probably head inside as to not worry my mother, for some reason I’m rooted to the spot.

“Guess so,” I reply.

“So dude,” he says, and I think he moves somewhere in the darkness. It’s rather pathetic, since the area isn’t totally dark, but somehow I still can’t see much of him. “When will I ever get to see that filthy face of yours?”

“Shut up!” I exclaim in a hushed whisper, my self-consciousness kicking in once more.

“You gotta appreciate it more, though,” Scott mutters, and suddenly I feel his arm around my shoulders. “It’s rather nice. It makes you… you.”

Uh… okay…. “Thanks? I s’pose that’s a compliment.”

“I meant it to be one,” Scott says sadly. “Sorry if I offended you.”

“Not at all, dude.” I reply, smiling. He bumps into me slightly, kinda carelessly, but it does give me a hint as to where he is. I turn to him in the dark, meeting his gaze and frowning as his arm removes itself from my shoulder. “Okay, uh, Scott. I think this is totally gay.”

He takes my hand and smirks. “No, this is gay.”—and he raises my hand and kisses the back of it lightly. Squirming I’m back away, only earning a laugh from him. “Seriously, I really do think you’re homophobic.”

“I swear I’m not,” I reply quietly.

I don’t think he believes me though, even though I am telling the truth, and as he steps closer I find myself backing into the street. “So what exactly is it that you find so gay?”

I clear my throat. “Well, us… standing in the dark… being this close to each other.”

Scott snorts. “Yep, you’re definitely homophobic.” He blows a kiss at me and gives a wave. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

I purposely act unfazed at his action just to prove a point. “I suppose so.” And with that he walks back into the light, leaving me alone in the darkness of my house. But as I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I had to act, really….

I frown as I search my pockets for my keys. Not that they’re missing or anything, but… since when did Scott's tie land around my neck?

- fin -
(for now)

Reviews? Those would be nice. I wanna see where exactly I can take this.

- Zak -