DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. They are the works of the filming staff of the film School of Rock.

AUTHORS NOTE: The following story contains themes which may not be suitable to children under the age of 13. Swearing, adult themes and homosexual tendencies are examples of such themes. I am not held liable for any disturbances caused by anyone who chooses to read this work. I strongly advise you to find a different story if such themes disturb or discourage you. I wrote this early in the morning and it was all improv ideas. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for choosing this to read.

Understanding life: something I find this concept relatively difficult. People always say life and the like of it is complicated, especially for teenagers. Yet that is a major understatement. Things are neglected-always-like understanding emotion, ideas, paradigms. Teenagers go through all this; they feel emotion, they have brilliance and thought...and their paradigms conflict each other. Yet a few teenagers have it worse...

That is getting ahead of myself I suppose. Yet this is also where I want to be. Once again; confusion. I guess it all started around seventh grade...I don't know what triggered it...but something did. Perhaps puberty; perhaps thought, perhaps life itself. I cannot understand though, most people will claim they cannot understand either.

And there he was, Freddy Jones, the exact opposite of me. So sure about who he was. Then there was me, Zachary Mooneyham, the odd nerd who no one ever seemed to notice, errr, who no one seemed to think was alive.

Yes, by fifteen I was sure Freddy was being laid by every woman who walked by him in the halls, sat by him in the cafeteria or on the school bus or whatever. Young, handsome, articulate, brassy and everything a woman wants.

I'm not of course.

So here I was, sixteen years of age and my mind was terribly numb. Drops of mercury stained my face and my guitar was slung over my shoulder like a gun. I don't know what triggered it-but god-something did. My mind was throbbing, not with a headache, but with thought and dreams. My mind ached with confusion too...but that wasn't as mind numbing. I was trembling and shivering, drowning in my tears. I listened to myself and to the sirens which blared outside my window. Also the screaming downstairs. Everything was wrong-everything was fucked up.

I guess while I was strumming a wonderful song my thoughts drifted. I flashed back to when that Dewey Finn was my teacher-wow he taught me a lot; not just about music-but about life, too. I became more articulate myself, I found my true colors and I felt more expressive. I wasn't so ashamed at my scrawny self and I knew that I really did have musical talent. I may not have been the genius like Summer or the brassy stud like Freddy, but I guess I was someone...I hope.

Yet two years later I guess, well, life changed. See, I realized something...I realized...well...

I liked guys.

Yes, I realized I was a flaming homosexual, a closeted gay teenager with scorching hormones and a burning crush on Freddy.

Screwed up-a crush on a blatantly straight guy. Yes, that's not just a definition of my thoughts, thats a definition of me. I'm screwed up. I crush on straight guys. I have no hope of dating them or screwing them. I'll die a virgin.

So I end up falling asleep, crying-no-sobbing. Hell, I'm lamenting, rather it be soft crying or a rushing rain storm.

I'm sad, I'm depressed...hell, I'm gay.

At least I think I am. See, there's this struggle too. I've never been with anyone so I tell myself it's just a pubescent phase that will pass. More to deny it I think...but I've got myself believing it. At least I hope I do.

See this confusion now?

So I'm a gay kid who's not sure about being gay but thinks he'd like it up the butt.

Life is wonderful...for other people.

I digress.

My dreams flashed to Freddy, of course. God these dreams are reoccuring...they're beginning to scare me. We're, together. I guess that's a proper euphamism. We're both kissing, our motions scorching like a million summers all crammed into one minute moment.

I wake up not sure if I'm panting from horror at once again having a dream like this...or panting from arousal at once again having a dream like this.

More confusion in my mind.

So I count to ten, take a few breaths, close my eyes and cry again. Cry because I'm so fucked up in the mind and I love a guy and I'll be ostracized from society and if he ever found out about...me...he'd socially murder me. Yes, the entire school would banish me, even the teachers, and they're obligated to be nice.

"Oh, Zach? He's gay! Oh my God! HE'S GAY!"

Then of course the entireeee faculty room would explode in hysterical laughter and would ridicule me; figuratively speaking I would immediately be hanged or shot or whatever it is they do not adays.

So I fell back asleep.

I didn't wake up again...until the morning of course.

My cellphone woke me up-the alarm anyways. I wish someone called me, but no one calls me. No one cares enough to say, "Hi Zach!" I'm just the scrawny, near-anorexic child who is remarkable at the guitar. I'm noticed for that I guess, but not for anything else.

I just sit with my head down, sighing, listening to the lectures. People think I'm depressed and I'm ugly because I'm thin.

See what I mean? Now if I "came out" (digression-who ever chose that term anyways?) then, well, it would be worse. See people would notice me...but in the wrong way. Odds are I'd be raped in the bath room and no one would bother to help. People would watch, butttttt, with my luck, no one would care.

It's always me!

So I'm digressing again. I'm probably also being boring...but talking in the first person is fun. It sounds weird to say, "Zach Mooneyham said, 'So I'm digressing again. I'm probably also being boring...but talking in the first person is fun.' "

Wow...deja vu again, dammit!

So I shower and dress and all the things a normal teenager would do to prepare for school. I don't like calling myself normal becaues it makes me feel like I am-and homosexuals are, in societys perspective, not normal.

I think I'm a homosexual anyways.

Wow, homosexual sounds too proper. Let me rephrase this: I think I'm fucking gay!

That sounds more like a teenager. I guess that is good.

So I get to endure another long day of being in classes with Freddy; why I'm in classes with him I don't know. See, I took "advanced" classes, how he manages to pass eludes me. Yet I get to see him, but I get to cry over him again. My evening routine is always homework, dinner, shooting billiards, playing guitar, crying.

Always the same thing in my life-day after fucking day.

So I boarded the bus and sat next to a really cute blonde boy. Damn, I kept picturing Freddy's face on him...this was really stupid. Damn life, damn it! We talked for a little while and I tried not to stare at him with my overly large eyes. Yes, I felt my eyes were overly large, like some kind of insect which everyone wants to swat and kill.

Yes, that is me. Zack Mooneyham, the big-eyed homosexual insect. Free tickets and popcorn to the first six billion people who visit.

What a joke life is. I should stab myself repeatedly with bendy straws. I'll have to add that to my list of ways I want to suffer. I doubt I would die though, maybe, but I doubt it.

So, after digressing from writing this fucked up thing, I return to this cute boy. He notices I have this dreamy look in my eyes, (from digressing and losing myself in thought) and he asks what's wrong. I shake my head as the bus stops, and lone-behold, he boards the bus.

My heart begins to throb, I close my eyes and whistle, hoping he won't notice me. We're friends, yes, but he's also "popular". So of course when he does see me he just keeps walking, as if he didn't notice me. I flush, my flesh grows hot, my eyes are fevered and my soul goes numb.

Damn, shit, fuck...whatever other swear word I can articulate at this current moment.

So I try and fight this feeling and know I only have...god...seven hours to deal with him.

Yes, seven thirty until two thirty and then I'm away from him. It sounds weird that I want to stay away-but I hate thinking about something I can't hate. It makes me feel depressed and then I hit myself with spatulas. It's not a life worth living-even to the talented. Freddy has it easy, he gets laid by everyone. That's his talent. Mine is not being noticed and being good at the guitar.

So this boy goes off rattling about his new girl friend. Damn, does anyone else want to make me feel bad because I'm fucking gay and my options for romance are limited? I really don't mind, hell, I'll grow use to it...when I roll over and die.

So now I'm telling myself I'm gay. Ironic-I try and deny it, but I also support it. Much like when I take my acne medication. I deny that it helps, but I still take it. What the fuck is up with that? I really am screwed up!

Going to my first class, AP United States History, is, well, interesting. It's one of the classes I don't share with Freddy, so I'm very happy. I listen to a lecture on the Kansas-Nebraska Act and scribble notes accordingly. I realize something is wrong though when I'm dotting my I's with little hearts. Wow, that's very feminine. I scribble, "note to self: Don't let anyone notice this set of notes."

Though at least it's not like Summer who dots her eyes with mush room clouds that look remarkably like the clouds produced by atomic explosions. Yes, that is definitely weird.

"Mr. Mooneyham, please pay attention."

Huh? Waitta moment now, I'm paying attention, aren't I? Then I realize that my head is planted on the desk like a firmly rooted tree. Now I'll I need are birds and leaves and I'll finally accomplish my goal of no longer being human.

The leaves and birds of course do not come. So I raise my head and stop thinking about Freddy who came into my thoughts. Yes, that happens a lot. Especially at night, you know, when guys do what guys do.

More struggle of course, yes, more struggle.

My eyes drift to my teacher...damn, that's not good. I realize this and try and stop, I'm going insane. I stare at him, admiring him. He's young, twenty six years old, fresh out of Cornell. Single, no children. I wonder if he's gay.

Wow...I can't believe I'm having these thoughts. Especially about someone who is ten, yes ten years older than myself! It's barbaric, outlandish, morally wrong.

I wonder if I could seduce him.

Wow my conscience is on overdrive today. I admire his eyes as he goes on lecturing us. His voice drows me. My heart throbs again and I go numb-that feeling of not wanting to move. That feeling of utter relaxation, nirvana, whatever. I'm in the moment!

And I'm gay and having these thoughts I shouldn't. I don't feel alive. My eyes burn. My heart throbs. I think something is very wrong, everything in my life is so screwed up-my parents, my friends, (what friends?), my thoughts, my sexuality, me! My parents are divorced, I have no friends, I'm fucking gay and thinking of my teacher in the most crude and perverse manners possible!

I wonder if he'd like top or bottom.

Goshhhhh!

Then of course my thoughts return to Freddy. Better there than on my teacher. I think of Freddy, sprawled out, sweating, me telling him he's beautiful as I watch his breath like the sun rise and set. I listen to his voice swallow me.

I think to myself, "I want to kiss Freddy." I hope I'm not saying this out loud.

I'm not.

I hope I'm not anyways.

My thoughts develop even more. I become, well, horny, thinking of him. Just thinking of him-wishing I could have him, in bed, no, in my arms. Nude with me, noooooo, cuddling on the couch watching a movie.

With sexual plans later.

God I'm disturbed!

How I love him.

"MR MOONEYHAM! PAY ATTENTION!" the teacher scolds me, he's right up in front of me and I can see how wide his pupils are.

They absorb me. His lips are swollen and parted, his balding head reflects the shimmer of the lights. People are staring at me like I'm some spectacle. I don't understand why. I'm confused. I'm horny.

I think I'm in love...with a straight guy.

I can feel his eyes burn through me like acid and I could smell the burning drip out of his iris like someone left some acidic faucet on. Drip-drip-drip as it corroded my mind and soul. I've really pissed off Mr. Dalles. He doesn't like students laying their heads on the desk, he likes them blatantly attentive and learning, especially in AP.

So I blushed furiously and nodded. He went back up to the front of the room. "Now students, with Mr. Mooneyham's cooperation, while it lasts anyways, let us return to the Compromise of 1850. The importance of this on America is so significant that it radically altered our history. Much like a bill banning gay rights would do."

Wow, he had the nerve to say that? The bastard!

"See, America was essentially divided. The "North" or "free states" and the "South" or "slave states". States entered the Union quietly until Kansas and Nebraska, then, a territory, went to decide slavery and liberty. Needless to say violence ensued."

His voice went back to a drone as my thoughts returned to Freddy. The bell rang a moment later and quickly shattered his lucid dreams into a billion beautiful pieces. "You may be dismissed" Mr. Dalles said as he adjusted his glasses. I stood up and gathered my things to depart but Mr. Dalles gave me another acidic glare, this time with the addiction of ice.

"I want to have a word with you Mr. Mooneyham..."

I bowed my head. I did feel ashamed, I loved history and Mr. Dalles was a brilliant teacher. A Cornell graduate, PHD in political science. He was brilliant. I wasn't.

"Zack, I'm concerned for you. You haven't been attentive all week. It's Thursday and something is wrong. You're a good student, so what is it?..."

I shrugged, I couldn't tell my teacher I was gay and loved another boy. He'd laugh at me. Yet his eyes were drenching me in acid. I was burning up, I either had to leave and be castigated for insubordination, or talk.

I chose the latter. I shrugged, body language. He glared at me but the pupils of his eyes showed concern and not anger. "I...I don't really know. I just phase out, I've got a lot going on."

"Well Zaaack, you need to pay attention. The AP exam is in a few short months and we've all got to buck up. You can score a five on this exam, you're very intelligent. You've got a great talent with the guitar, but it's grades that take you places. You need to focus."

"I'm sorry, I just have a lot going on. Being a teenager is hard."

Oh yes, I bombed. I said those five little words. I felt my world shatter and I felt the shards of time cut into my skin. I tried to use the pity-party words, envoke sympathy from my teacher. 'Being a teenager is hard', yes, we all know it. Move on to the next teenager and hear his laments.

"I know it is Zack.", I thought he'd say that, "but you need to pay attention and take notes. I'm wondering if I should do a notebook check for a grade. You won't pass if your notes aren't good. Your notes reflect your attentiveness and your attentiveness reflects your goals. You tell me all the time you want to be successful. Yet Zack...you need to pay attention. Not just for me but all your subjects."

I was wondering if his little adage would ever end so I wouldn't be late for class, or if he'd keep spitting words out like fire crackers and hand grenades. He sounded like an officer in the army. 'You need to buck up and be a perfect person or you'll die out on the fields'

Well I was being slaughtered by the nation Dalles telling me that I'm not attentive. I had a 96 average.

My thoughts turned the number around.

Finally he let me leave. I sprinted down the halls so I wouldn't be late-too late, the bell rings. As I turn the corner I run head long into...Freddy.

I gasp and stumble after we smash together. My head feels like it was split open and he collapses to the ground hard. We're jostled and I'm confused. I see who it is and my heart dies. It just dies. I tremble in embarassment. His sleak blond hair is left disheaveled and he is staring at me, blinking.

"What the fuck!" he yells, throwning obscenities like grenades.

"I'm...I'm sorry." I lament, "I was trying to hurry to class."

"Well Mooneyham, slow the fuck down!"

I can taste blood from when I bit my lip. The metalic taste blends with my saliva and I swallow it. I can feel lead tears well up in my eyes like a dam about to break loose. All the while I'm sweating from just running into the boy I love. He stands up and stands so tall and beautifully. His lips are parted and his eyes are wide and hazel. Hazel like the dirt, the color of nature and life. Green and brown like leaves blown around in the wind during winter.

I'm falling for him. I'm falling into him.

He helps me stand up, I feel his clammy hands, so sweaty and wet. I wonder where his hand has been. Crude thoughts, but pleasing thoughts. I can smell his rich cologne, the remarkable smell of life.

"I-I'm sorry..." I tremble.

"I hope you're ok. Watch where you are running next time..." he says.

I slip into his voice, I love being blanketed by it. I want to kiss him right now. I want to push him into the bathroom and slowly undress him, moving my way down his torso as I undo his jeans.

I'm a perverted bastard.

I damn well know it too.

I trudge off to class, knowing I'm really late. My head hurts, my eyes are red and blurry with tears, I just ran right into the guy I love. What a shitty day.

So I'm struggling with myself as I arrive at class. I'm depressed, contemplating suicide perhaps. Everything is so wrong and the person who I care about can't care about me. When I enter the room I'm lectured about my tardiness and given detention. Even with my appologies I'm still given detention.

What the fuck!

The rest of the morning passes without much incident. Lunch comes and I'm at the table eating alone. Freddy comes up to the table and looks at me. "You're alone..." he mumbles.

"I know. I'm always alone, even when I was born there was a sign in my head that said welcome to existance. Population, you."

Freddy laughed at my stupid joke. "You're flustered. These past couple days you've seemed out of it. This past month you've drifted away from me."

Freddy sat down, next to me.

"We used to be friends..." I said.

"I know that, so what happened?"

"You became popular. You're always having girl friends, I'm always stuck to the same fucking routine. My life sucks, your life is brilliant, you seem to hate me because you have friends and I don't and you think you are so fucking cool!"

I'm yelling and I hardly realize it. I want to yell though, I want to let all this emotion ripple through my ebulliency and frustration. I want to scream and punch him, I want to make him feel just as hurt as I feel. I want to make him cry and run away from me, like he's pushed me away from him.

"Whoah, calm down!" he says. His reaction is ironic, it takes me by such surprise. I expect him to either yell back or leave, saying "fuck you man!"

Yet he just continues eating his hot dog as if nothing mattered.

He's eating a hot dog...ironic.

I'm sorry, I'm pissed, there's a lot going out and I've had one hell of a fucked up day.

Well, Mr. goodattheguitarandacademics, my life isn't as remarkable as you seem to assume it is. I'm not laid by every girl who comes under my nose like I tell people. I have friends, yes. Yet you seem adament about not making friends-sitting alone every day all year. Staying to yourself, not bothering to get out. I have friends because I cared enough to have friends. Good looks help, yes, but it's the desperation. It was Einstein who stated, "success is one part inspiration. Nine parts desperation"...

I blushed, I felt embarassed now. He's right, he's always right.

"Dude, you got to stop moping. Do something, take action instead of crying."

I sighed. "You're right...it's just that I have a lot of shit going on."

"That's not an excuse, so do I. Yet I don't cry about it. I make the best."

I bowed my head and just stared at my food, tears welling up. I was a sissy, I wanted to cry. He's right, I'm a coward.

He put his arm on my shoulder. "Just be positive. Sit with my friends and I, laugh with us, have a good time and for Heaven's sake put the fucking books away for a period!"

He smiled and I smiled back, wiping a lead tear away. It was heavy like my soul.

"And if you want someone to talk to...I'm here."

I grinned again and felt lighter. He cared about me...he didn't think I was just some walking corpse. He knew I had life and soul. Even if he was popular and I was just a lonely book nerd.

You may be wondering why I havent mentioned our band relationship. He ended up falling away from the band. He lost interest I guess. He said it was too strenuous and he needed to learn to breathe again. I think it was because he had a girl friend and he wanted to screw her more.

I just stared at him for a moment, losing myself inbetween the walls of reality. I watched as he chewed his gum. My eyes glazed over like a snow globe that had just been shaken. I became misty-eyed and I began to fantasize about the boy sitting next to me. He was still holding my shoulder, his eyes wide and caring. I wanted to touch his cheek, or his legs, or something. I wanted him to hold me and I wanted to sob. I wanted him to tell me everything was alright and that it was ok to be gay and there was nothing wrong with it and that it was socially acceptable. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me just as much as I loved him. I wanted him to tell me that dreams do come true. I wanted this to be something from Romeo and Juliet, forbidden love and trust. Undying love and trust. I wanted our heart beats to be drunken. I wanted to trace his face in the constellations and have the smile be at Orions Belt because those are the three brightest stars. I wanted to sleep with him on our teardrops and on the stars, undress him with the silence of our love.

I wanted him, I needed him like I needed oxygen and bio nutrients. I adored him with every part of my soul and I wanted him there, forever and always. I loved him, everything about him. His words, his smile, his skin and body, his talent at the drums. I cared about him like he cared about me. Yet my love was just one way. He bore none of it for me.

I really did begin to cry. Great drops of mercury and lead spilled from my eyes, intoxicating me. I trembled and set my head on the table, sobbing and lamenting in public. I felt like an idiot but I didn't care. Freddy began to rub my back, whispering things to me. People were staring but he ignored it. He tried to comfort me, he tried to help me. He was being a friend. Yet I wanted more than a friend. I wanted someone to tell me that they love me, someone to tell me that they care. He wouldn't say that. He's straight I thought, he's straight and a homophobic. He'd recoil if I told him what had been plastered to my soul. What had dissolved me like paper in water, cookies in milk, metal in acid.

I suddenly wanted to tell him-so he'd know-so he'd understand. I couldn't though. I kept crying and sobbing until I began to speak.

"Everything is so fucked up...everything is so wrong."

He raised my head with his hands. My eyes were beet red, my lips were trembling and my face was wet with tears. He looked at me with his wonderful hazel eyes and just stared at me. I felt my world crash and my soul vibrate like an earthquake. I felt I was hallucinating about comets smashing into my mind, breaking me apart and everything I knew. I felt dead in a way, but alive with Freddy. For this one instantaneous moment I would have taken a bullet for him. I felt my soul tremble and combust as I broke down in tears even more. I cried on his chest, holding both shoulders, digging my fingers into the fabric of his clothing. I could hear the rythm of his heart, the thud of his life. I wanted to hold his heart forever.

"Lets go someplace else so we can talk..." he said. "You need to talk to someone."

I shook my head. I didn't want to talk because I knew I'd tell him this painful secret. Yet my soul was aflame, burning in agony with years of caged torture suddenly released and spilling from my soul and mind. "Yes" he said soothingly, "lets go talk..."

He picked me up and helped me stand up. I swayed, dizzy with my tears. He guided me out of the cafeteria and towards a bathroom. We entered and he checked to make sure no one else was in it. He seemed to think this would be private.

I sniffled as snot leaked out of my nose. My eyes were a deep red and I looked like a skinny, pale mess. Freddy fetched me some tissue so I could blow my nose and I thanked him. He looked at me with his beautiful eyes so full of care and brightness. Not red and full of guilt and depression like mine.

"My..." I said.

He lifted an eyebrow and leaned against a stall, giving me time to speak. I had never seen him this caring, this sympathetic. It was weird, very weird. Normally he left people to their own problems, but he cared about me.

"We've been good friends at one point..." I said, stumbling on my words.

He nodded, "That we have."

"Bu-bu-but things have changed."

"Yes indeed." His words were laconic.

"My family is fucked up and my parents might divorce. My father is drinking and yells at me for playing my guitar. He says it's not healthy and I won't get anywhere with that kind of talent. Music goes no place."

"Fucking asshole" Freddy said. I waited to see if he'd say anything but he just closed his eyes and let me go on.

My breathing grew deeper. "School is getting hard...two fucking AP courses and I'm only a Sophomore. I'm expected to know all this complicated shit and I can't keep up. I'm falling behind in my studies and trying to keep up on billiards and guitar. It's not working out. One and one is not equalling two."

"So you should know how to fix this." Freddy said. "You need to decide what means a lot to you then sacrifice what doesn't. Music and billiards or your education. You won't be valedictorian so you can give that up, Summer is way too good."

"I don't give a fuck about being valedictorian!" I suddenly snapped.

Freddy looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, cool down."

I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, I'm just frusterated."

"This can't be all that's bothering you..." Freddy said.

"It's not. There's more."

"Go on then..." Freddy thought for a moment, then added, "please." He was never one for manners.

"Also, ever since eighth grade...welll, I knew I was different. Not because I'm a scrawny boy who comes across as depressed. Not because I don't have friends and I isolate myself."

"Just speak up!" Freddy demanded.

I bowed my head. I couldn't tell...there was no way. I'd ruin my life, I'd ruin everything I had. I'd have to run away, become a Nomad and harvest the land, reaping it of it's minerals and resources. I'd become a coward, castigated for my sexuality.

The silence grew longer and more awkward. Each second became more difficult to breathe in. I knew I'd have to say it...

"I'm gay."

The words vibrated and echoed, but I still didn't seem to hear them correctly. They sounded weird and stupid and I didn't think it was my voice. If it was I hated it, I abhored it for saying those two little words. Those two fucking words.

"What?" Freddy said.

I knew he heard me...I couldn't say it again. The words are too difficult, I choke on them, they clog my breathing.

He looked at me, blinking. Here I was telling one of the most popular guys in school that I was gay. Telling the guy I loved that I was gay, alone with him in a school bathroom. Here I was confessing myself to an ultra-homophobe that I liked dick up my ass. That I liked dick in my mouth. That I liked men.

He just blinked. I wish I could have read his mind, knew what he was thinking; what his reaction was. His face was screwed up. I couldn't tell what he felt about this.

"Wow..." he finally said, shattering the screaming silence. "Yes...wow."

I felt ashamed. I began to hit my head against the wall. The pain seared but I ignored it. He grabbed me and stopped me. I began to cry hysterically as I felt small droplets of blood careen down my face. I sat down and put my head between my knees and cried and cried and cried. He just watched me.

"Oh Zack..." he said.

"I hate myself!" I screamed. "I'm a fucking fag!"

He blinked and walked over to my side, sitting down next to me.

I looked at him and screamed, "I want to kill myself!"

He blinked and frowned then placed his hand in my hair, rubbing it. Partly to straighten it and mostly out of sympathy. I felt my nerves spark in pain as his hand contacted the regions on my head from beating myself against the wall.

"You shouldn't say that." he said as he looked deep into my soul. He then embraced me and just hugged me.

I felt myself lighten a little. The guy I truly loved, yes, loved, was holding me. He was listening to me as a friend, he was caring about me.

"Who cares if you're gay..." he said, once again breaking the tear-filled silence.

My breathing was heavy. I whimpered. "I do..." I gasped in tears.

"You shouldn't. It's just your sexual desires, it's not your personality. So you like it up the ass. So you like sleeping with men. The thing is, men comfort you, men will care about you as you will care about other men. People can't hate you for who you care about and love and trust and respect."

I continued to weep hysterically. I felt so ashamed of myself and so embarassed, yet I need my crying time too. "If people at school found out, they'd...someone would probably kill me."

Freddy looked at me and blinked. "Pfffft" he said. "I doubt it. I doubt they'd give a flying damn. They might give you some shit for a brief time...but...outside of that, there's nothing wrong."

"Right, except you're popular and the people you hang out with are raging homophobics.

"They are...that's why they don't know about me."

The moment died, irony breathed and my jaw dropped. The silence rang like a gong and screamed like a million throbbing, burning years, exploding and rippling like the birth of space and time. My ears rang loudly at these words.

"Yes, I am gay too...people think I'm straight because of my relationships but I've never had sex. I've always made up some lame-ass excuse to get out of it. I've come close, but I've always stopped it. Women aren't right, but I have to date them or people would get suspicious. That's why being popular sucks!"

I gazed at him, not believing him at all. The boy I loved just confessed his own homosexuality to me.

"I know this was hard for you. It's easier for me because I've long come to grips with myself. I know it is nothing, I am still Freddy Jones, hot stud, amazing drum player and egostical fuck. You still seem to have to think about things, organize your thoughts about your desires and dreams. Love and sex are big deals, big changes. Coming out is a small part of this...being with someone is the part where you need to be sure of life and love."

I listened to him, dissolving in his words. I felt so happy that finally I might have a chance with him. Finally I might be able to love him.

"Love changes you. It's a big thing. Dating, hugging, kissing, fucking are big events. Your first kiss, your first fuck. We both have things to learn-even if I have been with people."

I sighed and knew that he'd think me inexperienced and immature. My heart throbbed though as I listened to his words, his melody. I felt hot and feverish, I felt dizzy with life's song ringing in my ears. Here was the boy I loved telling me he was gay. Telling me all this stuff.

I looked at him and dried my tears with my hands. "I know...you've been with a lot of people...but I've always only wanted to be with one."

He raised an eyebrow but seemed to know what was coming. "I've wanted you too..." he responded.