Coen threw his gym bag over his shoulder, feeling his heart race in his chest. It was the middle of November, but today was supposed to be his first gym class in high school. He had broken his leg only two days before the first day of school and been put in study hall instead of gym. Now that the cast was off, and he was technically healed, he had no choice but to suck it up and attend.
This sucks so much. Nearly more than that slut in my English class. He smiled slightly and fished his neatly folded schedule out of his pocket. He stopped dead in his tracks. If this stupid piece of paper was right… Fuck no, I'm not in a senior class! This paper had condemned him. Let me just sign my own death certificate now. Wouldn't that be cool?
"Ugh," he sighed slightly. He almost felt like crying. Don't I have enough trouble here without having to be in an upperclassmen class?
In all reality, Coen had almost no friends, maybe one or two at the most. Sure he was pathetic, but he managed…kind of.
He walked as slowly as he could down the hall towards the blue door embedded in the off-white wall in all its flaky, peely-paint glory. He twisted the grimy metal doorknob and pushed the heavy door open.
It was just a locker room. Coen took a deep breath, he hadn't been attacked yet. This must be a record. He walked a few steps in the entry way and saw several older guys getting ready and talking and laughing.
They're not so scary… yet, anyway. He walked to the most barren corner of the locker room and pushed his bag into the locker. He sat down and massaged his temples, trying to push down his fear and slight nausea at being stuck in this class.
He stood and walked towards the bathroom when he was held back by a firm grip on his shirt. His heart seemed to stop beating in his chest, no breath moving in his lungs. He hadn't even looked someone in the eyes yet. How can they be mad already?
"You're new," a voice stated simply.
Coen looked up and his heart was shocked into beating again. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. "Oh," was all he could manage to say.
"Are you?" The beautiful creature continued in his silky voice. How was it possible to have a voice like that?
Coen suddenly found his own voice, high pitched and slightly cracking. "Uh, y-yeah, I am." He managed to stutter out. Great first impression, not like you're making him think you're smart or anything. That would be a total turn-off.
"Alright," the boy smiled. What a weird smile – but oh my God his teeth are gorgeous. The beautiful piece of man walked away and left Coen alone in his thoughts.
Coen forgot all about his bladder and walked back to his locker. He pulled his clothes out of the bag, took one long, resentful look at the fabric and immediately replaced them. Maybe the teacher will give me a break since it is kind of my first day.
"Hey, don't even think about not dressing!" He heard the same voice call to him from across the room.
That boy… it's him, right? Oh God, I hope so.
Coen looked up, almost scared. But when he saw the walking Adonis making his way towards him, he almost fell over from relief.
He looked towards the ceiling and groaned. Do you want me to have a heart attack and die? He shoved his things back in the locker somewhat bitterly, his hands shaking slightly at the thought of the guy coming over and talking to him. To me!
"What?" Coen stared, blinking slowly. I think I have been rendered speechless.
"You have to dress out, come on." The boy smiled his weird smile again.
"Why?" Coen's head cocked to the side in a questioning gesture. He couldn't help but stare at the boy's face, and once he got past the icy blue-grey eyes, he realized why his smile looked so strange. There was a thin scar running from slightly beneath his lip, all the way up, creating a thin white line that broke his bottom lip into two uneven chunks.
"You have to, Duval will flip shit if you don't, especially on your first day." He replied, digging into Coen's bag for the clothes shoved in there. "Now!" He pulled them out and threw them at him, "Take your pants off!"
Coen laughed; something he really thought he wouldn't do after discovering he was in this class.
"What's your name, anyway?" The boy asked, leaning in a little more closely as Coen moved to pull his shirt over his head.
"I'm Coen Boyer."
"Oh, well, I'm Mikkel Gagné." He grinned his broken smile.
Mikkel is such a cute name… Mikkel and Coen… Coen and Mikkel… and I'm totally not creepy right now for thinking how cute our names would sound together… even though it is adorable.
"Hey, put your pants back on – and yes, that is probably the first time I've said that to a guy." Mikkel laughed, making Coen's heart skip a beat.
"So… you're gay?" Coen asked somewhat hesitantly.
"Yeah," Mikkel smiled widely, "How could you tell?" He put his hands on his hips and then over-dramatically popped them to one side as he sighed sarcastically.
Coen laughed and immediately covered his mouth.
Mikkel pulled Coen's hand away and just stared at him with a blank face. He let go of Coen's wrist and looked down, grabbing the black t-shirt sitting on the bench. "Here."
Coen's heart raced in his chest, he could still feel Mikkel's hand wrapped around his wrist and imagined his strong hands wrapped around something else...
"Sorry," he apologized in a low tone.
Coen pulled the dark shirt over his chest and adjusted it. He raked his fingers through his hair to make sure it was okay and took a deep breath.
"Okay… let's go." Mikkel said, his happy, confident voice returning. He turned on his heel and began to walk away slowly.
Coen watched for a moment as the boy walked, his eyes fixed on the way his hips swung and looked so good in those shorts while they did it. His ponytail, high on his head, swung in time with his sashaying hips.
"Are you coming?" Mikkel asked, glancing back.
Just about. "Y-yeah," he stuttered slightly, rushing after the older one.
A story... why yes, it is a story.
Written by me and beta'd by the lovely Shannon.
Haha. That's about it.
Reviews make me happy on the inside.