Ch 1
The cold whisked around my face and nipped at my nose. Though it was colder than it has ever been, I barely noticed. My mind thought of one person; one boy. His hair was dark, black as coal. Blue eyes pierced my heart leaving a wondrous sensation behind for me to have. That skin of his, almost porcelain. Deep within me the urge to brush my fingertips on his baby textured skin grew and festered inside of me. Some call it a monster.
Gay. Is that what I am? I chewed the word inside my mouth but it sounded so wrong. Gay is tan, muscled, dyed, and fake. I am pale, lanky, red haired, and could care less about fashion. The more I try and think about me with someone else my mind races to him. My best friend. My soul mate?
Stan Marsh. He is nine years old. I am three-quarters of an inch taller than him, but he's a few months older. We've been friends since forever and this love feels so right. At least I think I should call it love. Yet day after day I fight it off. Never daring to whisper the words I think in my head in fear that they will carry off to unworthy ears.
Today is the day. I wrote a note that I will leave in his room, on his cream coloured dresser filled with his everyday clothes, that he will soon read and either share my feelings or outcast me, forever ruining our friendship. As I think about it I grow paranoid. I imagine him picking up the note once I'm gone and adapt a disgusted face. Then he will call me, ask me never to talk to him, and then hang up. I stop, snow falling on my green hat that covers my ginger corkscrew locks of hair. While spinning around I think of going home and burning the note, never thinking of it again.
No. I told myself at the beginning of this adventure I'd face the consciousness that follows my plan if it doesn't end up pleasantly. I twirl on the heels of my shoes and accumulate a brisk walking pace, a bit faster than before.
The note is inside my pocket, but I still occasionally reached my mitten covered hand in to make sure. I was so close to Stan's house my heart started pounding.
I pulled a green glove off of my soon to be freezing hand with my teeth and knocked on the door. Anticipation created an explosion of butterflies in my stomach. Now that sounded gay. Seconds went by and I thought he might not be home. I played with the idea in my mind that I could put the note in his mailbox, leaving the risk of someone else finding it.
As soon as I decided to go home, with the note, the door opened.
"What dude?" Stan said in a tone that made me melt. Gay, gay, gay.
"Wanna hang out? Fat ass has got the flu and Kenny's thinking of going down to Raisin's and try to pick up a girl. I was thinking a movie with popcorn?" the words slipped out faster than necessary which was mostly because of the nerves.
"Uh. I kinda have Wendy over. Sorry man." He then closed the door leaving me quite disappointed. I came here for a reason though and knocked again.
"What?" he asked, irritated. In response I handed him the note and turned around to start walking, sporting a red blush all across my face. Not exactly how I planned it in my mind but I felt a burden leave me.
Moments pass as the shock settled in and I soon head in the direction of home. Although I'd rather it not be, my mind is on Wendy. Jealousy suffocates all of the other senses in my body and focuses on the dismay in my life. How I wish Stan would think of me like he thinks of Wendy. I don't expect a flower and a date, I mean we're only nine, but the knowledge that he too shares the strange feelings that accumulate whilst together.
Home seems so lonely. Dad must be off working a case and Ike out with Mom somewhere that I have no time to think about. I sulk around in my room for an hour or two, flipping through channels on the TV not really in the mood for entertainment, and wait for something to do.
How I hate Wendy. She takes up Stan's time and I end up in my room, bored out of my wits. They could be holding hands or worse kissing. She thinks she's smart but I've seen the grades of students when I helped the teacher grade papers and she only averages a B. Not that it matters to Stan but if it did I'm sure I'd be there holding hands with him instead of that girl.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts and at first I thought I imagined it. Another pair of knocks follow it and I am forced to get the door.
Stan is standing awkwardly, and I irrationally feel superior as he looked at mr with those blue ocean eyes of this screaming forgiveness. I barely have time to step back and ask him if he wants to come in when he jumps up onto me and holds me. I stumble backwards and land on the carpet in the living room. A moment goes by where we just stare at each other, not just into out eyes but into our mind and soul.
It's weird how small moments make bigger impacts than longer ones. I can't remember a single thing from first grade but that moment on the carpet is something I'm going to carry with me forever. My mystified expression reflected off his endlessly beautiful eyes as questions bubbled in my mind.
"Why are you here?" I force the words out. It is hard to breath with all of Stan's weight on top of me.
"Because I think there is a possibility I might like you like you. After reading that note I couldn't even look at Wendy anymore. Truthfully I've felt this way about you for a while but my dad talks about gay people as something bad. I'm not sure I care what he thinks anymore though." he smiles and hugs me tightly as if I might slip away. I hug him back and bravely kiss his cheekbone at which in time we both blush and decide to get off the floor.
Again we stare, our hands find there way to each other and we sit on the couch, happy as can be.
