Chapter 13: Why Subincisions Suck, Besides the Fact it's Slicing Your Penis
"So Lauren ran away." Jessie was near hysterics. It was the GSA meeting, and Aiden was sitting in his back corner, mourning the obviously necessary absence of one Jonathan Laycock. As the fag watched with vague amusement as some random members of the GSA Jessie had minimally paid attention to tried to do their best to be sympathetic and concerned. "Yeah, yeah." She sobbed. If Aiden wasn't so sure it was authentic, he'd hate the girl for her falseness as well as her retardation. "She just - she just fucking left."
"Did she say why?"
Aiden picked at his teeth. He was hardly in the mood for hysterics. Especially as it was coming from the exactly slut that was causing his near-hysterics, and John's all-the-way-there-hysterics.
Insert painfully loud sob. Aiden wasn't exactly sure what was muttered, but whatever it was, was loud, high pitched and altogether indistinguishable. He'd had enough. Without any words, he left the room, leaving any GSA members who weren't coddling Jessie in a state of semi-disarray.
Despite the malignant growth of cancerous confusion manifesting itself all over John's brain, the Republican was very keenly away ware of a great many things. Truly enough, most of these things were based completely on recent observation, and therefore had a slight chance of being proved otherwise if given enough time - but John didn't have time. And even if he did, he didn't have the patience.
"So, uh - Greg." It was strange that he felt so awkward with someone he had known for such a long time. Maybe 'strange' wasn't the word for it: The longer he thought about it, the more reasonable the awkwardness seemed: 1.) this boy was the only one of his 'old' Republican buddies to seem completely indifferent about his largely-discussed supposed homosexual escapades with one Aiden Moreau, and in so, John felt a strange sheepishness arise in him about believing that if their situations had been reversed, he
would begrudge and shun the boy instead of completely ignore it and 2.) John was a little ashamed of his own shame, and he had a strong feeling that Greg knew this and was ashamed that John was ashamed of his shame - and that was just stupid. Thus the cause of a very potent awkwardness. "Sorry I didn't play Halo with you earlier. I've had a rough day. I'm sure you know..."
For a few seconds, John felt a very strong fear that maybe the root of Greg's indifference lied within the fact that he wasn't even aware of all the accusations of great gay butt sex with Aiden. But that fear was soon dead as soon as the look of vague confusion on Greg's face was replaced by one of disgruntled understanding.
"That. I'm afraid you were a hard man to avoid in conversation today." Greg took a leisurely lean back onto his chair. They were in Greg's basement, in the 'entertainment' area where their entire VHS, DVD and Video Game collection was located. John had granted himself the pleasure of visiting his friend after a rather torturous hour alone in his own house, mulling things over in his brain over and over again: he needed another human to converse with. The boy opposite John waited a beat, studying his friend closely. "You want to talk about it?"
John did indeed want to talk about it - but he didn't want to seem too desperate to do so. Nor did he want to go into any amount of great details; some things were better left unsaid. So John took a moment to choose his next few words carefully. "What were they saying, exactly?"
"That you and Moreau are fucking, and you're a flaming queer." Greg almost looked sympathetic as he answered the question without much hesitation or indication that he wanted to sugar it down a bit for the offending topic of the rumor before him. "Basically."
Jonathan Laycock was speechless. He pictured himself in his mind telling Greg that they had really only fucked once, and in his mind, John seemed to say it with such conviction and determination and Greg would have no choice but to shrug and offer him cheese doodles. But he couldn't do it. Instead, John just sat there on the cold basement floor, his mouth opened slightly, and his eyes helplessly darting to avoid Greg's rather cold eyes. John shrugged, hoping that Greg was fluent in body language.
The awkwardness between the boys remained, only now it was a cold awkwardness, and it left plenty of time for John's mind to go over his few choices at the moment: all of them dramatic, all of them humiliating, and none of them desirable.
John shrugged again, shaking his head. He had to fucking say something. "Aiden and I are friends -"
"-I've noticed." The words were a little emphasized, but nothing that really seemed to discourage John one way or the other, since they seemed to hold no bitterness. "Tell me something I don't know, John -"
"- We fucked once -"
"- What? -"
"- But I'm not a 'flaming queer' God damnit!" John was a little surprised at the speed in which the last few words were exchanged. John was extremely surprised at how unrelieved he felt after he had said what he had assumed to be the worse thing. "Only once!"
Greg shook his head, turning his head away as though unable to look at John. "Jesus fuck, John - once is enough. I don't even -" Greg cut himself off, seemingly too aggravated at something to continue.
The Laycock fidgeted at his restlessness. "Are you mad?"
"Yes. What a stupid thing to ask." Greg shook his head, and looked back at the boy in front of him. "So stupid."
"Sorry." It wasn't a sincere apology, though perhaps he didn't mean it to sound quite as sarcastic. He had meant it to sound defeated, not sarcastic. "Next time I'll lie."
"Next time, just don't fuck the flaming cocksucker!"
"Don't call him that - leave Aiden out of this."
John was surprised that he said it; Greg wasn't. "So you liked it."
"Well," A small laugh caught itself in the back of John's throat. "It was sex..."
"So you'll do it again?"
"I don't know." After hearing himself say it aloud, even John thought it sounded silly. "Yes." As John watched the boy in front of him exhale in what seemed to be defeat, he began to make the motions to stand up to leave.
"You don't have to go." Greg picked at some stray threat on the chair he was sitting in. "I'm sure this is worse for you than it is for me."
John shrugged; he'd been shrugging a lot lately. "Maybe."
Suddenly a giggle erupted from the boy sitting down before John, and to be frank, the newly admitted faggot-fucker was quite alarmed. "The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Remember when you got your GameCube and the first game you got for it was Harry Potter?"
The giggle turned into a burst of laughed. "So go ahead and fuck the faggot!"
John couldn't help but weakly return the laugh. "What? Right now?"
"Because I've been traumatized all day?"
"And that doesn't make you horny for hardcore gay sex?"
John shook his head. Greg had gone insane. "No, not really."
"Oh. Of course not. How silly of me." One last giggle. "Want to play Halo?"
"John?!" Aiden watched with amazement as John Laycock strutted into his room, looking like he had just conquered the world. As soon as the surprise had worn off, Aiden had to admit he felt a twinge of anger pierce his twisted and torn poor gay heart: here Aiden was, laying on his head worrying his makeup-less head off about John and whether or not he'd ever want to allow the gay albeit largely gifted fingers of Aiden ever lay themselves upon his God-like flesh, when here the God himself comes, walking into the room as though he'd just won the 2004 election all over again. "Why are you so...?"
"Guess who just got told by Gregory Reese to go ahead and fuck Aiden Moreau?"
Aiden blinked. "You did not!"
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, butter-butt - that's where you are wrong!" Like a fucking five year old too excited to go to take a bath, John advanced upon Aiden's bed - where the faggot was currently curled up like a ball on, looking ghastly and confused - and plopped himself right in front of the bed's owner. "So turn that frown upside down and get naked!"