I watch you when you're looking elsewhere.
I watch you because you're beautiful.
My eyes follow you when you walk away.
I watch you in the hope that maybe you'll watch me too one day.
I watch you when the others aren't looking, so they don't know who it is I love.
Why won't you watch me too, Timothy? Because Jonathon is watching you…
(Taken, with permission, from arwenjanelilylyra's poem, "I Watch You.")
Chapter 1
Jonathon Cordon sat on the bench in the locker room, smelling of the hard game of dodge ball that had just finished. His eyes followed the back of the head of Timothy. "Turn around. Turn around," Jonathon repeated under his breath, his eyes still glued on Timothy's retreating figure. "Please. Turn around and look at me." The locker room door closed behind Timothy, leaving Jonathon alone, amidst the lingering smells of dirty jock straps and socks.
He wished, just once, that he would be able to tell Timothy how he felt about him. How he longed for him. No. "Longed" wasn't the right word. He hungered for Timothy. It was as if Timothy was the one; the one he is supposed to be with. He knew Timothy was gay; that's not what stopped him from telling him how he felt. It was the rest of the school…the other members of the rugby team, more specifically. Jonathon shook his head at the thought of what his teammates would say, or do, if they ever found out about his secret desires. He had an image to uphold. Becky, his beautiful girlfriend loved him. His teammates looked up to him. What would happen if they knew?
But he couldn't help himself. Timothy was all he thought about. It hurt him so much to see the others, even Coach Driskill, harass him mercilessly. Even today, after Cooper nailed him in the eye with the dodge ball, Jonathon wanted to run over and hold him. Why he felt as strongly as he did, he didn't know. After all, he and Timothy never really talked, but something about Timothy just drew Jonathon in more. Sighing, he got up and walked out of the locker room, headed towards Ms. Tebbit's classroom.
Sitting down at his assigned seat, he waited patiently for class to begin. Trying to keep his mind off of Timothy, he watched as Ms. Tebbit dragged her chalk across the blackboard as she wrote. The bell rang, just as Timothy entered the classroom, his right eye, bruised by the hit from the ball. His heart sunk as Timothy walked past him quicky, sitting down in his seat n the back of the room. He didn't want to give anything away, so Jonathon kept his eyes towards the front of the room, wishing he was brave enough to turn around.
As Ms. Tebbit started talking to the class, about William Shakespeare, Jonathon opened his notebook and started scrawling Timothy's name on the last page. Over and over again, he wrote his name as his mind began to wander. Suddenly, it got quiet in the classroom. Turning around in his chair, he found that every chair was empty, but for one. Timothy was slumped over in his chair, his head on his desk, fast asleep. Cautiously, he stood and walked to Timothy's chair. He looks so peaceful, he thought as he reached out, and gently touched Timothy's cheek. Timothy shifted in his chair, turning his face completely facing Jonathon, but didn't wake up. Taking this opportunity, Jonathon knelt down and brought his own face right up to Timothy's. Leaning closer, he could feel Timothy's warm, steady breath on his face. He moistened his lips, closed his eyes, and slowly pressed his lips against Timothy's.
The bell rang, bringing Jonathon out of his reverie. He turned around, just in time to see Timothy bolt out of his chair, storm past him and out the door. Saddened by the fact that his sweet daydream had been interrupted, he quickly closed his notebook, gathered his belongings, and walked out the door, headed for the locker room to change for rugby practice.