Author: terranalleen PM
SLASH. COMPLETE. Mac has his share of problems: failing Spanish, having a best friend who really wants to be more than that, and coming out to his parents. But throw the cute new guy into the mix, and things get a whole lot messier.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Words: 4,464 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 22 - Follows: 25 - Updated: 01-26-12 - Published: 02-06-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2889117
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AN: I'm new to FictionPress, but definitely not to writing, so if I do anything wrong let me know, because this site confuses the crap out of me. :) Feedback is always welcomed.
I'm gay. C'mon Mac. It's just two little words. Say it already!
The half-eaten bagel in my hand flew reflexively into my open mouth, effectively silencing me, at least for the moment. Yet another attempt at coming out thwarted by my own cowardice.
My mom eyed me warily. "Are you sure you're all right, Mac?"
"Fine," I mumbled, my words smothered by the partly stale hunk of bread between my teeth.
Hi. I'm Mac, seventeen years old, senior in high school, and everyone except my parents is aware that I'm about as straight as Albert Einstein's luscious locks. Today was supposed to be the day I told them. Yesterday too. And last Monday.
"Randi's outside. Can't you hear her honking?"
I flew across the slippery tiled floor, nearly sliding into the glass paneled on the front door in my excessive haste. "Wait!" I yelled, sprinting down the street after the departing silver convertible. "Wait up!" Finally it slowed, and then came to a stop in the middle of the street. And just in time too. I'd never been much of a runner.
"What took you so long?" Gina asked as I launched myself into the car, landing awkwardly and painfully in the backseat. "We thought you weren't going to show."
"On the first day of senior year? Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"That's not an answer," noted Randi.
I sighed. "I tried coming out to my mom."
"How'd it go?"
"It didn't. I chickened out right after 'mom'."
"Oh." And then with the sort of delicacy only Randi could achieve, she abruptly segued into: "How're things with Mitch?"
"Randi," Gina warned.
Randi ignored her. "Has he asked you out yet?"
"Stop it," Gina interjected again, before I had much of a chance to say anything.
"You're just jealous because Mitch isn't into you," Randi snapped.
"Am not! I'm just considerate enough to acknowledge the fact that Mac hates it when you talk about them like they're already married!"
I didn't bother trying to tune out their argument; we had already reached the entrance to the student parking lot. "You need to turn," I instructed calmly. The two girls paused long enough to realize their surroundings. They both quit fighting and instead focused on finding an open parking space. After circling around a few times, we sighted a halfway decent spot crammed between an ancient minivan and a massive truck. And unfortunately, so had a gaggle of unfamiliar teens crammed into a car that put even ours to shame.
Luckily for us, we happened to be considerably closer and slid into the space with minimal difficulty only mere seconds before they reached us. Randi stood up in her seat and raised her arms triumphantly, doing a flamboyant dance of victory. A boy in the other car stood up also, and I quickly motioned for Randi to sit back down.
"Don't mock them, please," I begged her, worried we'd end up in a toilet bowl or a dumpster later if this continued.
But he didn't look too angry. In fact, he was smirking. I felt a sinking feeling stir in the pit of my stomach. "Hey, you," he called out loudly, "in the backseat. Yeah." I peeked timidly over the headrest. "What's your name?" I blushed and ducked down farther in my seat to avoid answering, but I hadn't expected the possibility of Gina's interference.
"The shy idiot is Mac."
His grin grew even wider. "All right. Will you let Mac know that he's cute as fuck?"
Cute as fuck? What am I, a hardcore teddy bear?
"Did he really just say that?" I hissed, mortified by the comment, while he sat down and the car slowly pulled away.
Randi laughed while I covered my face with both my hands. "He thinks you're 'cute as fuck', Mac." Both girls snickered.
"Why?" I moaned. "Why is this happening to me?"
Gina shrugged. "You should be happier. I thought he was pretty hot." She stepped out of the car, and Randi and I quickly trailed after, heading toward the main school building.
"That's not the point," I insisted. "He was clearly mocking me. You know, seeing as how I scream gay from head to toe." I gestured wildly at my much too fashion forward clothing. "He's probably some straight jackass who thought it'd be fun to torment me."
"Well I'm sure you'll have the chance to find out," said Gina, nodding in the direction of my first class, where all three of us could clearly see the guy lounging feet from the doorway.
"Fantastic," I muttered. "This is freaking fantastic." I stalked into the classroom, no longer willing to listen to pointless gossip about my nonexistent love life.
The bell hadn't rung, so I walked slowly to the back of the classroom and sat down at a computer in the corner, one that was surrounded by a plethora of empty seats. I'd only just barely pulled out my chair when lo and behold, in sauntered the guy who was successfully turning my first day of school into an absolute nightmare.
I envisioned myself melting into the floor as I plopped down onto the hard unforgiving plastic seat, but he had already spotted me and was walking briskly towards my little corner. He sat in the empty chair to my right and I groaned inwardly.
When Mitch followed, sitting down on my left, I was ready to curse every deity, real or imagined, ever in existence. This was turning into the worst day ever.
The guy from earlier was quick on the draw, much to my surprise, engaging me in conversation before Mitch even had a chance to open his mouth. "Mac, right?" There was that smirk again. "I'm Nick."
I could sense Mitch bristling behind me. "You know this guy, Mac?" he asked, filling his usual role: the way too overprotective older brother who really needs to get a life.
"Actually, yes," Nick answered cheerfully. "Not that it's any of your business." Then, seeing the look on Mitch's face, he quickly backtracked. "Oh, I see, you're…I guess that—" He laughed and turned back to me. "You know, I'd labeled you as a fruitcake from first glance, but I would've never figured this guy as your type."
"We're not together," I retorted, seething over being called a 'fruitcake'.
"One of you thinks differently."
Mitch tensed and whipped around again to face his antagonist. "What the hell did you just say?"
"Well it's so obvious that you want to lay Buttercup here—"
Ooh. Blonde jokes. Scary. For the record, I loathe Princess Bride.
"Keep your mouth shut," Mitch commanded, his tone turning lethal. "I'd be happy to do it for you if that's too hard."
Fists were about to fly. "Stop," I tried to say, but the volume of their argument drowned me out, which was swiftly escalating to catastrophic proportions. The racket ceased only when the hulking shadow of our teacher loomed ominously over our heads.
"What's going on here?" he demanded in a booming tone that silenced every other voice in the room.
There was a brief pause, and then both Mitch and Nick launched into heated explanations. It went on for about thirty seconds before the two of them were hauled roughly out of their seats and herded out of the classroom, leaving every pair of overly inquisitive eyes nothing to look at but me, seeing as I'd been at the center of the whole conflict. I returned my gaze to the blank computer screen, trying to look for all the world as if was not just involved in a very public shouting match.
After what seemed like an eternity of nail-biting anxiety over the whole fiasco, class finally ended, and I bowled over more than a few underclassmen in my hurry to Spanish. I trotted into class like a lost puppy, gazing around for the tell-tale mane of choppy black hair. Finding my target shortly, I homed in on Gina's desk, zooming into the seat beside her with a loudly expressed sigh.
She glanced up quickly, startled by my sudden appearance at her side. "I think you may have broken the sound barrier with that arrival. What's up?"
"Mitch got into a massive argument with Nick last hour," I told her, ignoring our teacher, who was trying futilely to start class. "They yelled at each other in front of the class for a good couple of minutes before the teacher dragged them outside."
"Nick…. Oh, the guy that thought you were cute."
"Yeah…." I made a face. "About that. Turns out he thinks my preferences are just a big joke."
"And Mitch got mad?"
"Over that, yeah, but then the guy basically accused Mitch of trying to get into my pants. Things sort of went downhill from there."
Gina nodded sagely in response. "An interesting turn of events, certainly. I will give the douche bag props for his speedy observation about Mitch, however."
"Mitch doesn't want to have sex with me," I replied hotly, earning a few more curious stares, thereby ensuring my silence for the duration of the period.
Mitch cornered me outside of math, looking more serious than I had ever seen him, and that was really saying something. There was a bruise on the side of his left eye, but I decided I'd rather not know what had happened between him and Nick. We stared at each other without blinking.
"I want to have sex with you."
Oh, come on, are you kidding me right now?
"Did Gina put you up to this?" I asked suspiciously.
"No. I'm being honest with you."
"You know how I feel about this."
"Actually, I do not, as you always avoid the subject when it comes up."
"Can we talk about this later?" I pleaded. "I really need to get to class."
"You're running away again."
"I really don't have time for this."
"Fine. But we are going to talk about it. And don't think you'll get out of doing so."
I grimaced, but left it at that, knowing he was going to be damn persistent about things from now on. Just what I needed.
Lunch was unsurprisingly heralded by the cheerleading team emptying milk cartons on my head. Seems weren't too fond of the idea of me ogling their boyfriends or some crap like that. Come on, girls. I tried to kiss Crandall Richards once, and I'd gotten punch in the face and locked in the janitor's closet for half the day. Wasn't that punishment enough? Crandall's girlfriend Breezy obviously didn't think so, as she headed the assault on my appearance and dignity, sneering while drenching my hair with cow-juice.
Mitch found me in the bathroom—again, unsurprisingly—and silently helped me clean up. I sighed and stared solemnly at my expression in the mirror while he dried my hair with a wad of paper towels.
"Why does everyone hate me?"
"Randi and Gina don't hate you. I don't hate you."
"You know what I mean."
He let the towels fall to the floor and ran his fingers through my hair instead. "Mac, I love you. Why isn't that good enough?"
All semblance of composure left me, tears rolling down my face with unexpected ferocity. "I…I don't know."
Moments later, I was slumped against the bathroom wall, sobbing and alone. I had just begun to transition into uncontrollable hiccups when I heard the door open.
"Hello?" Nick walked in warily, eyes almost missing me completely as he scoured the area for the source of the noise.
I stood shakily, bracing myself against the sink to keep from falling over. "Hi," I replied flatly.
"Mac," he said, surprised.
"Oh, Nick. You remembered my name. And didn't address me in a derogatory manner. Bonus points for you. Now, what the hell do you want?"
He rolled his eyes and formed a cage around me with his arms. Not that he'd be able to stop me if I decided not to stick around, but I was slightly interested in what he had to say.
"I want to apologize for the shit I said to you."
"That's big, coming from you."
"Will you just listen?" I sighed, and gave a grudging nod. "Thank you. Now." He paused, and looked contemplative.
"What is it? I don't have all day, you know."
"You know what?" he said, ignoring me, and acting more like he was talking to himself. "Let's get out of here."
He grabbed my arm and started to drag me along behind him. I was so bewildered that I didn't think to put up much of a fight. "We can't talk here," he explained. "We're going out to lunch."
"But we can't just leave school," I spluttered.
"Sure we can. I didn't even park on campus. We'll just sneak out."
"Sneak out…?" I'd never been much of a rebel. I didn't really feel the need for that. Nick was taking my rebel virginity! A blush came across my face following that thought. I didn't want to think about Nick taking my anything virginity—or at least that's what I was telling myself.
It finally occurred to me once I was seated in the passenger seat of Nick's car, cutting through a park and interrupting a kids' soccer game, that I was letting myself be kidnapped by a stranger who had verbally harassed me and ditching school while doing so.
"Where are we going? Please don't hit the children."
He laughed and ignored the numerous middle fingers he was receiving from angry parents. I hyperventilated all the way up until we started driving on an actual street.
"That was fun, huh?"
"Not really, no," I replied, chewing on the nail of my pinkie finger furiously. "Will you tell me where we're going before I call the police to report my abduction?"
"Do you like Chinese?"
Nick repeated the question, more slowly this time.
"Oh. Um, sure, I guess."
We pulled into a cutesy little place strewn with colorful paper lanterns and Nick got us a private booth, baffling the hostess when he requested two kids' menus. I looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged. "We're on a budget." I pointed out the fancy car and raised my eyebrows, prompting him to add, "They don't take anything larger than a twenty."
The service was shockingly quick, as we were both wolfing down unexpectedly good food after only a short—but awkward—silence. I shoveled more chow mein into my mouth, and Nick finally decided to speak.
"So what's your favorite color?"
"Oh, nuh uh. We are so not doing this."
"Playing some asinine get-to-know-you game…letting you interrogate me…. If anyone is going to be answering questions, it should be you." I jabbed my finger into his forehead enthusiastically, and he flinched back, startled.
"Yep. And you can start by telling me why you were a homophobic ass earlier, and then went bipolar on me."
"Well, I—" Nick glanced around shiftily. His voice lowered. "You really do like dick, right? You're not just uber metrosexual?"
"Yes. I am gay, if you must know."
He gave a little relieved smile that did nothing to improve my dour mood. "Good. I thought so."
"Get on with it already."
"Should I leave?"
"No, no, don't." His brow furrowed, and he sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. "Sorry. I just…it's hard to talk about. I've never actually told anybody."
"I…I think I'm gay."
Stunned, I blinked a few times, and let that sink in. "And you're telling me this even though you just met me and made a terrible first impression because?"
"You're the first, you know, gay person I've ever met."
"That's so…weird. And a little sad, actually." My fork screeched against the plate—I'm too incompetent to handle chopsticks—and we both winced. "So, if you're gay, then why…?"
"I have an A-minus in AP Calculus."
He laughed. "Okay. Fair enough. My family doesn't know and I don't want them to know. I get the feeling they wouldn't be too cool with it, right? So when I saw you I just thought of it as an opportunity to prove myself. Tease the gay kid, no one will suspect a thing. But I felt really bad about it after, so I apologize."
"Okay. Um, well, apology accepted then."
"You know, we still have to pretend to hate each other," he mumbled through a mouthful of egg roll.
"Can I tell my friends at least?"
He looked rather apprehensive at that. "You're sure they can keep it secret?"
"They won't tell."
"Are you going to tell that Mitch kid?"
"All right," he said. "That's good enough for me."
Nick and I happened to share the same English class after lunch, and though we had split after sneaking back onto campus, I found myself darting out of the cafeteria after his retreating form to avoid Randi and Gina's prying questions.
"What's the rush?" I queried as we walked down the empty hallway. "Why you going to class so early?"
"Why didn't you tell your friends like you said you would?" he shot back.
"I just didn't want to get into it right now. I told them I was at the library but they didn't believe me. How'd you know I didn't tell them?"
"I was watching you for a bit."
"Creepy…. Are you okay?"
He glared pointedly and flicked my ear. "Not friends remember? Should I stuff you in a trash can to make the concept stick?"
"Ooh, you're good at this bullying thing. But, despite my love for the odor of garbage, I'm going to have to decline."
"Pity. I was really looking forward to that."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Just get inside before someone sees us fraternizing."
"God. You're such a closet case."
He shoved me through the door and pushed me down into one of the front seats. "So, tell me, Mac. How did you come out? What's your story?"
I crossed my arms and sighed, slumping back against the cold plastic seat. "I guess I always found other boys…physically attractive. But it wasn't till like freshman year that I stopped denying that and owned up to myself.
"I wanted to tell Mitch first. He…we've been friends since we were in diapers, basically. So, I went over to his house, opened my mouth to tell him, and he said he already knew. Before I could even get a word in." I blushed. "Then he had me watch a porno with him while he explained safe sex."
Nick guffawed. "Are you serious? He seems so uptight."
"He is. He just…yeah. Everything he does is really intense."
Nick nodded thoughtfully. "Do your parents know?"
"No, thank God. I don't know how well that would go over. My mom at least is convinced I'm going to father six or seven children right out of high school. I don't know about my dad, but if I was going to tell one of them, it'd be him. I told Randi and Gina pretty quick though. Not sure how, but after that rumors started circulating and the whole school was aware of my situation too."
"That's quite the story."
"What? Were you expecting me to tell you I posted a sex tape on Facebook or something?"
The bell rang before Nick could reply. As students began to file in, he claimed the seat next to me and pulled out a thick notebook, setting it on the desk along with a pencil.
"Seriously? A wooden pencil?" I adorned my best scandalized expression.
"What's wrong with that?" Nick asked, pouting.
"It's the twenty-first century. Go to Staples and buy a pack of mechanical pencils." I scoffed. "Cave man."
He grinned. "Bet that turns you on, the thought of me dragging you back to my pile of saber tooth skins for a long hard—"
A lanky red headed girl, a broad smile painted onto her freckled features, moved swiftly towards us.
He turned quickly away from me, trying to act like we hadn't just been flirting all of five seconds ago. I settled in for some good ole eavesdropping, since it was obvious we would not be continuing our conversation anytime soon.
"Minka. I thought we didn't have any classes together," he said slowly.
"Last minute schedule change," she chirped, dropping down beside him.
As I continued watching them closely interact, a sneaking suspicion at the back of my mind grew and mature into full-fledged worry. Were they dating?
Halfway through the period, after Mr Duncan started us on our homework—on the first day?—their conversation started up again, much to my dismay.
"Make any new friends?" Minka asked.
"No. Not yet."
"Well what about him?"
"The guy sitting next to you."
"Oh. He's nobody. Just some kid I have a couple classes with."
"Okay. He looks really…."
"Yeah. I know."
No more was said on the subject of my blatant femininity.
"I heard you got in trouble," she said next. "What happened?"
"It wasn't a fight or anything," Nick replied quickly, sounding almost overly defensive. "I had a heated discussion with this guy in first hour. No big deal."
"Disrupting class already? You sure do work fast, Nick. So what did you guys argue about?"
He looked distinctly uncomfortable now. I didn't blame him. "Later," he grumbled.
I was ambushed on my way to the parking lot, after school.
"What's really up with you, Mac?" Randi asked as the three of us climbed into her car, this time with me riding shotgun.
"You're a terrible liar," Gina added. "We know you weren't at the library."
"So where were you?"
I frowned, recognizing this conversation as inevitable, but with no desire whatsoever to participate.
"I went out to lunch with Nick," I muttered. "We skipped school."
Randi's hand froze halfway to the car door, and Gina just gaped.
"You did what???"
"I broke school rules," I said slowly, "to go on a friend-date with a closeted gay I encountered this morning."
"What the hell? Isn't this the guy who was making fun of you?"
I nodded. "Apparently he's in Narnia, if you catch my drift." Both girls stared blankly back at me. "You know, because Narnia's at the back of the wardrobe, which is kinda like a closet, so I was…. Bad joke. Sorry."
When I got home, Mom was on the phone, but had already started throwing together a fruit salad for our mid-afternoon snack.
Some may wonder how a mother could watch reruns of America's Next Top Model with her son and not realize the extent of his gayness, but Mom was always oblivious to gender roles and homosexual stereotypes when it came down to my self-expression. I could probably prance around in skin tight, sparkly, hot pink vinyl, and she would just assume I was asserting my individuality.
With Dad, it was a different story.
Predictably, all through high school he'd pushed me to do sports, auto, anything to solidify my masculinity in his eyes. To Dad, I was a disappointment, in that he couldn't ever be satisfied with my choices in life. He didn't understand me, and he didn't like that.
"How's your food?"
"Dinner's good, Mom."
Dad frowned. "You've hardly touched it, Mac. Is something wrong? Did something happen at school?"
"God, Dad. No. I'm fine."
He didn't seem convinced, but then Mom spooned another heap of pasta onto his plate and all was forgotten.
I was surprised when the usual argument over dinner morphed into a wall of icy silence between my parents, and I deduced that said argument had obviously occurred earlier, without my knowledge. I quickly wolfed down the rest of my food, though I wasn't actually hungry, and excused myself from the dinner table. I had to get away from there.
"Mac, could you come here?"
I cursed inwardly. The plan was to dash up to my room and hibernate in there with my lap top all night, but of course Dad called me down before I was halfway up the stairs.
"Uh sure, what's up?" I asked awkwardly, witting down on the living room couch and facing Dad, who was seated in the opposite corner.
"Mac, come here," he insisted, practically yanking me into his side and looping an arm tight around my shoulders. This was new. Really new. "That's better. Now why don't you tell me what's going on?"
"What do you mean?" And why the therapy session?
"I'm not blind," he said, sighing, "and neither is Mom. Something's wrong."
"It's just—" I inhaled deeply and suppressed the tears I knew would come if I didn't calm down.
"I had a fight with Mitch."
Dad's fingers started rubbing circles into my upper arm. "Are you okay?"
Maybe deep breathing wasn't very much help after all. "I…I, um—" I started sobbing, burying my face into my dad's chest automatically.
He hesitated for just a second before letting his hands fall onto my back. "Mac, what happened? Did he hurt you? You can tell me anything. Anything."
I latched onto that assurance like my entire life hinged on it…and maybe it did. "Dad," I whimpered.
"Do you promise not to tell Mom?"
"I—Yes, I promise."
"Okay," I replied, taking some more deep breaths.
"What is it, Mac?"
Just tell him.