This is my little tribute to Pink Day, though it's a bit late. It's a three-chapter piece, and should be finished within the next week or so. I own nothing here, especially not some of the opinions expressed here.
Toris was a pretty normal teenager.
Or at least he liked to think so. Staring in the mirror every morning, tugging at his shirt, stomach clenching nervously at the thought of another day. He didn't see anything that really made him stand out, that gave him away. his hair might be getting a little long -he should really cut it, soon- and he wasn't exactly the strongest guy around- thin, kind of lanky but he wasn't someone who should be noticeable in a crowd.
Sadly, Toris' physical appearance didn't seem to be the problem.
The problem had apparently just texted him, though. The phone in his pocket humming with the new message.
'soooooo tot excite 4 today! =D'
The problem was the name, hovering right above this new text message, all lit up on his phone's screen. Not that the name was needed. No one else ever texted him, anyways.
'Why? It's Thursday...'
Toris was very used to getting ready for school one handed, the other answering his friend's many morning texts.
'youll see! ;) see you! xoxo'
Staring at the little winky face, in all it's presumed innocence, Toris could feel his stomach twist even more unpleasantly. What did Feliks have in mind this time? He never thought his ideas through, and they always ended in disaster. Disaster that was usually messy and had Toris cleaning it up, as he listened to Feliks complain about the plan not working, then begin to plan again.
It had always been a strange friendship. But one Toris was happy with, really! It was just that lately, things had changed. A natural progression, Toris reminded himself, frowning at himself in the mirror one last time, before he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door to the bus stop. And one he was okay with. Of course! No reason to make a fuss. And they were both happy...
He didn't really know why he bothered stressing over his reflection in the mirror every morning. It didn't matter how long he spent there, trying to pin down what, exactly, people saw in him that made them so disgusted. But it wasn't in the shirt, a dull, basic thing, nothing to draw attention. No, it must have something to do with the shoulders under them, tense and small, and something in his eyes as well, because that's where their eyes would flicker last, and their expressions would shift into something ugly.
Well, not exactly last. Usually, they finished on his hands, and on the boy holding his hand. Because Toris, at least, tried to fit in.
Feliks had never really understood the sentiment.
As Toris waited for the bus, he eyed the other kids that used this stop. Raivis was absent again. He had tried out for the football team, he had overheard Eduard explaining. Poor kid. Broke his wrist. But Eduard hadn't been talking to Toris, he was telling it to the boy sitting next to him, and Toris was just eavesdropping, sitting alone in the row behind them.
Last year, him and Eduard had sat together every morning, chatting about whatever they wanted, whatever came to mind. He couldn't recall the last conversation they had had, not anymore. Toris turned away, and pretended not to care. It just... it wasn't fair. Because Eduard's new best friend was wearing a beret today, and he had such delicate features, and he was much shorter than Toris. He actually looked like a girl, from some angles. And yet Toris had never spotted anyone pushing Tino over, in the halls. Never seen him on his knees, trying to grab all the papers before anyone stepped on them, and getting his fingers stepped on instead.
Toris waited until everyone else got off the bus, then slipped in behind them. It was easier that way. He moved to stand against the wall of the school, and pulled out some math notes, going over them. They had a test today, after all, and Feliks' bus was usually the last one in before the bell rings.
Feliks was the first to step off the bus, but Toris didn't notice. That is because Feliks, his best-friend-and-kind-of-something-more, was a guy. Yes, he sometimes wore bright colors, and his hair was not only a little long, but stylized like a girl's, but he was a guy. He wore jeans, simple tees. And the first person off the bus was sporting a bright pink shirt, a pink skirt brushing their knees, and cute little Mary-Janes. So Toris really wasn't to blame, for not making the connection. He didn't, in fact, until Feliks walked right up to him and poked him in the chest.
"Like, still studying? Cramming just makes you sick, Tor, remember? You should totally just put those away."
Toris looked up. And stared, his heart literally skipping a beat. Because oh no, he didn't, Feliks couldn't have, this was just too much.
One hand on his hip- he was wearing nail polish, and it sparkled, oh nonono- Feliks raised an eyebrow. "And don't forget to breath. That's apparently, like, really important."
Then he reached down, slipping his fingers through Toris' own, like he did every day. Every day since Eduard had stopped talking to him. Every day since he had started dropping papers and people would rather step on him than help him. Every day since his best friend since they were little had leaned over and kissed him, so shy and doubting and full of apologies almost immediately. But it was the natural progression, right? It was what made sense, and Feliks had looked so scared, so worried he was going to lose his only friend...
On some days, Feliks' smile, and the little skip in his step, was worth every bit of abuse they were hit with. But not today. Nothing could be worth this. This was way worse than rumors about maybe dating another guy. This was like walking up to every homophobe in the school and rubbing their faces in the gay.
"What are you wearing?" Toris managed to force out, as Feliks had started to drag them in the direction of their lockers. Quickly, wanting to avoid the hallways, too afraid to check and see if people were already staring, he dug in his heels. "L-let's skip our lockers this morning! And walk around!"
Feliks was already pouting. "But my books are in there! And I am totally not carrying my backpack around all day."
"We can share!" Avoid the halls, avoid the big guys who played whatever sport was in this year, with their muscles and their knowledge about how to use them to send kids flying, without lifting a fist. A nudge of a shoulder from one of those guys would send either of them flying, had sent them flying in the past.
Pout still in place, Feliks let himself be led around the building, sneaking through a back door that was used much less, and then it was only about five steps to their first class. "What's up, Liet? Don't you like my outfit?" And to Toris' horror, he actually spun, his skirt flaring up slightly. Toris' cheeks were burning.
"S-stop that!" He licked his lips, nervously looking at the door of the classroom. They had beat even the teacher there, and were now sitting in their usual seats in the back. But people would see them, as soon as they walked in. Feliks was too bright to miss. "What are you wearing, Feliks?"
Toris avoided the boy's eyes, but he could feel them. Feliks was probably smiling still, but Toris knew there was hurt in his eyes. "I, like, totally showed you all this, remember? You said it was pretty on me."
This was true, in a way. Feliks had shyly shown Toris a few things from his chest of girl's clothes, and there, in Feliks' room, with Feliks standing there, so worried and yet so strong, they had been more than pretty. And since then, Feliks often wore a girl's shirt, or maybe a skirt, when they were alone. But that was when they were alone. They were anything but alone, here, and that made any admiration of the outfit Toris harboured disappear.
"I did... but not here, Feliks!" The strain was showing. He was already snapping at his friend, something he rarely did out loud. Feliks actually flinched, but his happy tone of voice only wavered slightly.
"I, like, had to come out of the closet some time! And today was totally that sometimes. It was, like, meant to be, or something."
But they were already out of the closet. That was the whole problem. Well, it had been the whole problem, until Feliks had shown up looking like some strange, sexually-repressed, closeted man's version of a cheerleader.
And he couldn't quite hide his anger. "I wish you had warned me." In fact, he just kept getting more annoyed. Didn't Feliks understand that this was just going to make everything harder than it already was? Why couldn't he keep this to himself? They'd graduate in a few years, and then he could wear as much pink as he wanted.
Feliks tossed his hair back, but a bit of it still fell back into his eyes. Toris almost apologized right then and there, because he knew that meant that Feliks' eyes were stinging. He didn't want to make him cry, he hated when Feliks cried, and it was his job to help him feel better, not worse. But the apology caught in his throat. Because... he really was at the end of his rope. He had done all he could to hide what was different, with him. Feliks never even tried. And maybe it was a cruel thought, but it was true. If it weren't for the boy sitting next to him, hand close to his but now too worried to reach out, he'd still be sitting next to Eduard every morning. Navigating the halls wouldn't be a scary experience that made him dread getting up at all.
He didn't want to say it was all Feliks' fault, but it was. And his, for actually going along with it.
He was so caught up in his train of thought, that he didn't realize that Feliks was talking. Babbling, like he did when he was nervous, his speech pattern getting even more ridiculous.
"-and, like, I've been planning it for weeks, and it's totally an awesome idea, even if our school is way too, like, stupid and backwards to remember it. I'm, like, supporting something bigger than myself, and all that. Ya know, Liet?"
And that nickname, which came from who knows where. A pet name, just another sign that they were not normal, this was not okay. "What's bigger than yourself, Feliks?" He could feel a stomach ache coming on, and their first class hadn't even started yet.
"Pink Day! Liet, were you not paying attention, like, at all?"
People were at the door, talking and laughing. At least Braginsky wasn't in this class. Maybe he could convince Feliks to skip with him? That could work, and he'd tell his mom there was a problem, that he hadn't been feeling well. It wouldn't be a lie, at this point. And no one was looking back here just yet, which was good, it was very good.
"Wow! Who let her in?"
Alfred Jones was standing at the front of the class, his booming voice getting everyone's head swerving, first towards him, then to where he was pointing. At Feliks, whose smile was forced, but still there. He looked so alone, Toris couldn't help but think. For a second, he was on the other side, a bystander, a bully as opposed to the bullied.
Then Feliks reached underneath their desks, and grabbed his hand, holding it tight. And bam! He was back to being all alone. All alone, save Feliks, and the tightness of his grip kept him grounded.
"Like, get a life, Al." A flip of his hair, his voice nonchalant. Feliks should be an actor, Toris thought, not for the first time. Maybe both of them should be. They were both so good at pretending.
The bell rung, but nobody noticed, because they were all too busy staring at Feliks. There were some snickers, and Toris tried to spot where they were coming from, but Feliks just stared straight ahead, looking almost bored as he watched Al, still pointing. His laughter was loud and annoying, and even when the teacher came in and shooed everyone into their seats, Al was still chuckling, and the whispers circulating the room carrying more barbs than normal. Feliks acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary, doodling ponies and birds on his paper like any other day, but he also refused to let go of Toris' hand. His fingers were numb by the time the bell finally rang. Toris waited, as Feliks slowly packed up his stuff, chattering away again, not noticing or caring that Toris wasn't responding. He even let go of Toris' hand for a second, as they left the room, which gave Toris a chance to quickly wring out his hand.
And gave a chance for Feliks to be thrown to the ground by a pair of waiting hands. The hallway exploded in laughter, just loud enough to mask Feliks' cry of pain, as he landed hard on his arm. He took a moment to sit up, and for a second Toris was frozen, anger and fear all twisted into a sick bile somewhere in his stomach.
Al's laughter was the loudest, as he stood over the downed boy, arms crossed. "Guess walking in a skirt is harder than you thought, huh?" That All-American smile looking oddly attractive, no malice or ill intent there. The harshness was in his eyes, which is why Toris always tried to avoid looking at them. He quickly knelt beside Feliks, one hand on his shoulder, biting his lip.
"Feliks? You okay?"
One thought kept crossing his mind, but he tried to push it aside. Maybe, maybe this would deter him. Maybe he'd be hurt, and want to go home...
Toris almost felt his stomach rebel, at that one. He was a terrible boyfriend, a terrible person. No wonder no one wanted to sit next to him on the bus.
Feliks laughed weakly, reaching for the bag next to him with a nod. "Yeah, like, totally. You worry too much, Liet." He stood up, and glared up at Al, who just smiled back, giving him one last shove as he started to walk off.
"Watch it, Princess."
Feliks' hand found Toris' again, even as he glared at Al's retreating back. His nails were soft, smooth, and felt kind of perfect. They were sparkly pink, Toris reminded himself, and pretended he didn't like them.
"He's just, like, totally worried someone will notice how he stares after gym class," Feliks muttered under his breath, just for Toris' sake. "Stupid in the closet homophobes. Like, gag me with a spoon, am I right?"
Toris nodded, but he didn't really know what he was agreeing to. He was busy keeping his head down, trying to tug Feliks to his next class as fast as possible. But Feliks would have none of that. He dug in his heels.
"Liet. You have, like, Gym next. Go on, I gotta go to art. If you're late, your scary teacher man is, like, totally going to yell at you." He let go of his hand, and pushed him in the right direction. "Go on, I'll see you at lunch!" And before Toris could protest, he was gone, practically skipping down the hall. How did he ignore all those harsh, hardly-whispered comments? And he avoided all the outstretched feet as well, trying to trip him up. Although that skill just came out of a lot of practice.
Gym sucked. It wasn't that Toris was particularly nonathletic. He actually liked basketball, had played it when he was younger. But sport and gym were so far removed. Because Gym was just a place for those that had muscles to laugh at those who didn't. But that wasn't so bad. Toris was used to being laughed at. No, the worst part about Gym was actually waiting for him, outside of the change room door.
"Ivan..."
"Hello, Toris!" His smile was fake, so fake. "Bright day, da?"
Ivan came from Russia, or so he's always said. Even if it was true, he'd been here long enough to at least dull his accent. But it was intimidating, it made people quake. Which was probably why it was still as strong as the day Toris had met him.
"Yes..." Ivan was a bully. But that sounded simple, and Ivan was anything but. Ivan was terrifying, from his fake smile that never reached his cold eyes, to the way he moved almost silently at times, even though he was big. Not just tall, but thick, too. Strong. There were rumors about how muscly he really was, under the layers he wore. Like steel, arms like pipes. Although how anyone had figured that out was beyond Toris. He never changed out in the open, and he wore long sleeve shirts, no matter how strenuous the activity. He usually didn't even take his scarf off, if he could help it.
Another thing that was terrifying about Ivan was how, once he picked something to focus on, there was no changing his mind. It was almost childlike, his obssessions. And, although Ivan had paid some attentions to him before, as soon as he spotted Toris and Feliks holding hands on the first day of school, he had apparently decided to make their lives a living hell.
If Toris were braver, he might think to ask Ivan why. Feliks was brave enough, but he hated Ivan. Hated him with such passion that sometimes Toris could almost swear Feliks shook around him. If he didn't know better, he'd think there was something he was missing, something that had happened between them. But Toris knew that there wasn't anything there, aside from the bullying that he was also subject to. Aside from surprises like that morning, Feliks didn't keep anything from him. He was actually really surprised Feliks was able to keep his plans for that day secret, as he really was terrible at keeping anything from his... Toris. Keep anything from Toris.
Toris wondered over this, as he walked past Ivan, feeling the boy's eyes boring into his back, even as he slips into a corner and starts to change into his gym clothes. Ivan was always staring, it seemed. Toris pretended not to notice, though it made him shiver.
Halfway through getting changed, shirt off, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he gasped, trying to jerk away from the hold. The grip tightened, and there was a light laugh.
"Jumpy, Toris?" It was Ivan, and Toris didn't want to turn around anymore. There had to be others in here, he knew there was! But no one was moving to stop Ivan. Ivan played football, Ivan played hockey. Ivan had friends, somehow. And those that were not his friends were not stupid enough to get in his way.
"Y-you surprised me, Ivan..." He forced himself to turn, trying to smile. Ivan usually wasn't physical in his abuse. Telling people what he saw as the truth, and letting them act on it, that was more his style. So what was he trying to do here?
"I saw your girlfriend this morning, Toris." The grip tightened. He was going to have bruises, but what he was concentrating on right now was just not shaking. "Pretty."
Toris yanked away, face bright red. "M-my... he's my... he's a he, Ivan. He's just..."
Ivan's smile grew. There were snickers behind him, but Toris' eyes were fixed on those dead eyes. "Well, he's pretty. But someone may mistake him for a girl, da? Which is dangerous, because he is so small. Just like a girl!"
Toris' heart literally skipped a beat. "Wh-what? Ivan, what... are you talking about?"
He let go of his shoulder, giving him a pat. "Just wanted to warn you, da? To keep your girlfriend close. Because some people are not nice." And then he turned, slipping into a stall to get changed while Toris just stood there, shaking for real now. Feliks... he should go find Feliks. He should skip Gym, he should.
But his arms went out, tugging on his gym shirt, and he walked out the door, into the gym. He was so distracted, so worried, that he didn't realize that Ivan never came out to join the rest of the class. Toris wouldn't see him until lunch. When he went to find Feliks. Feliks, who was usually waiting for him at his locker, mouth already running away from him, going on about how art class was. What he was working on. Feliks usually made himself pretty easy to find. But once again, Feliks surprised Toris.
Because Feliks wasn't at his locker. Feliks wasn't waiting for him at his locker, but met him outside the locker doors. His eyes were red. There was brown paint, splattered all over his shirt, even across his neck, and in his normally-perfect hair. Feliks had the softest hair. Sometimes, when Feliks came over and fell asleep leaning against him, Toris would comb his fingers through Feliks' hair. It was another thing he had to pretend not to like. Feliks was kind of holding his arm funny, but Toris was distracted by the paint in his hair.
"Feliks...?"
"Hi." Feliks wasn't looking at him. Toris' stomach, feeling a bit better after a gym, dropped again. Dropped to his toes, it felt like. Feliks sounded bad. He sounded sad, and Toris almost reached out to hug him, but restrained himself at the last moment. Because they were in school, people might see them.
"Hi...?" He didn't know what was going on. He didn't want to. He liked this surprise even less than the other one.
"So... was thinking." Uh oh. This was bad. Feliks had been crying. Toris wondered what he used to keep his hair so soft. He had never thought to ask. "About something someone told me. To, like, ask you. And stuff."
"Someone said something?" That was the wrong thing to say, but Toris couldn't think, he couldn't.
Feliks looked up at him for that, something cold in his red-rimmed eyes. "Yeah. I talk to, like, more than just you, you know."
"I didn't say they didn't..." But Feliks didn't seem to hear.
"And... someone, like, helped me with a revelation." His voice was wavering, and he was holding his arm closer to himself. Was he hurt? "You're, like, not even gay, are you?" What? "You never said you were, I just assumed, and you totally didn't complain, and you even kissed me back!" His voice was definitely shaky now, and he made it louder to cover it up. For once, Toris didn't think about the people that could be watching. For once, he was focused solely on Feliks. Watching him break down.
"I... what?" This hadn't even occured to him before. Had he... never... He blinked. Wasn't he gay? It's what everyone said, it's what everyone assumed. He had just assumed right along with them. "I... don't know. I don't know?"
Feliks was staring at him, and he really was crying now. Tears smudging the subtle makeup he had worn today- Toris had meant to tell him it looked nice, but he had forgotten- and getting stuck in his soft hair, dotted with paint.
"I can't believe you, Liet." He was going to say more, maybe, but his voice broke, so he just turned away. Toris marveled his bravery, being able to walk away. If it had been Toris, he'd have ran all the way home. Feliks just pushed through the crowd, although most just moved out of his way. Someone didn't move fast enough, and he stumbled before catching himself. A few people laughed. Most were just dead silent, watching him go. Toris had always admired Feliks for his bravery. Maybe he should have told him that.
It was in that moment that Toris realized that it had just happened to him. And he was too afraid to even run away.
He also realized he was crying.
As he turned, he brushed past a tall, frightening boy. He couldn't see, through the tears, but the boy was smiling. The boy readjusted his scarf, and went to follow Feliks. Well, wasn't that entertaining?
But Toris didn't notice, he was too busy running away.