Freshmen

Tommy recollects on the memories he and Ghost swore to never speak of again (Canon Divergence, Tommy/Ghost slash, unrequited love, awkward adolescence, male/male love, though one-sided)


Tommy remembers when he kissed a boy.

He was 14, fresh out of middle school and starting the Freshman Year with failing grades and hanging with the wrong crowds. It was on a drunken dare with 'adults' who supplied the adolescent boy with enough alcohol to send him in a drunken stupor.

They spin the beer bottle, and it lands on James St. Patrick, the quiet boy who sits in his Spanish class. Tommy laughs an obnoxious laugh.

"I ain't no goddamn faggot. The fuck I look like, kissing on a boy?" He slurs. The quiet boy rolled his eyes and muttered in Spanish; something about idiot and white trash; the rest is a blur. The quiet boy looks over at the Puerto Rican girl with the bad acne and the sloppy ponytail; her name starts with an A…? He doesn't care.

He doesn't like her and that's all he knows.

"Let's get this over with." The boy grumbles. Hoots and hollers hail the duo as they make their way into a crammed coat room that smells of old furs and dusty photo albums.

"I ain't a faggot." Tommy blurts out.

"I ain't, either." The boy replies.

"Let's get this over with."

Tommy feels his lips press against his, and he feels a tickly feeling spread in his stomach. Who knew a boy's lips were so soft…

They pull away, the quiet boy scrunching up his face like he tasted bad fruit.

"Your breath stinks. You smell like my Auntie Rita at Thanksgiving." The quiet boy wipes his mouth.

"You tell anyone about this…and I'll kill you, white boy. You hear me?" He jabs his finger into his chest. Tommy laughs.

"You ain't gon' do shit."

The boy punches him in the face. Tommy clutches his jaw, looks at the boy, and on impulse, crushes his lips against his. Teeth clashing against teeth, lips and tongues awkwardly fumbling, they pull away, panting.

"You're fucking crazy, man." The boy wipes his mouth again. Tommy smirks.

"You liked it, pretty boy. Don't lie."

They were nose to nose, eyes locking onto each other. The quiet boy looks away, warmth creeping up his cheeks.

"I ain't queer or nothing, but you kinda cute. I like you." Tommy holds out his hand.

"Name's Tommy."

"James."

"You're in my Spanish class."

"I never see you."

"Cuz I hardly show up." Tommy snorts.

"You want to…come over my place? I could help you catch up so you won't fail."

Tommy would usually beat up geeks that want to study and tutor, but something about James makes him say yes.

"You got it."

They shake hands.

"You and I are going to be the best of friends." Tommy announces. James smiles in response.

He has such a pretty smile…