Only Shooting Stars Break the Mold

A lighthearted look at the joys of being a teenager - and discovering that you like other guys. Modern alternate universe fic, prequel to The Scholar and the Brawler.

Rated T for swearing and innuendo.


Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Done. First the agility drills, then the skills, then the sprints and lunges and bear crawls. And finally - after Coach had reduced the entire football team to a mass of lumbering exhaustion - the showers. Everyone had run faster, kicked their knees up higher, slammed the tackle dummy like it had been insulting their mother for the past hour and a half. The Bulldogs were gnashing their collective teeth for next week's showdown with South High, who had creamed them into paste last year - and was about to sign a check of repayment in Spartan blood.

Cao Ren scrubbed himself off, tuning out the din that echoed off the tiled walls of the shower. Everyone was already making enough noise. Ren saw no need to add any of his own, nor did he particularly care to do so. This rivalry came off like a reboot of that great and terrible feud between Grangerfords and Shepherdsons. Nobody was getting shot over it, but nobody could remember how it had started either. And by now, it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. At least Spirit Week inspired some true creativity. A bunch of the art and history types had built a decapitated soldier in papier mache and taken over the PA system to present a classical ode to their adversary's demise. Yet it also set the wannabe comedians on repeat with that dead old joke about dooming the South High Spartans to dine in hell. At this point, next Friday was already long overdue.

Ren stumbled out of the steam to be greeted with the stinging whack of a towel on his butt. Of course his cousin would be lurking in wait when he had forgotten to keep a look out. "Damn it, Yuan."

Xiahou Yuan only laughed. "Every time. Your mouth falls open the same way every time." He imitated the slack-jawed stare of a zombie. "Ever consider a career as a Pez dispenser?"

"Ever consider giving it a rest?"

"Aw, come on. How much fun would that be?"

Ren got dressed, admitting to himself that it would not be much fun at all. Yuan might drive him up the wall at times, but that was part of the strange sort of brotherhood they had evolved throughout high school. They hung out now and then, stuck together on the football team. Yuan got into the macho hype from time to time, pestering Ren to live a little as well, but he seemed to be in it for the amusement value. He never bought into it wholesale like the meatheads who had nothing else going for them whatsoever.

"Hey Rockman."

Moose's nickname could be seen as an insult to the animal it came from. He was a bulwark of a linebacker with shaggy blond hair hanging in his eyes. On the field, Moose moved like greased lightning. His brain fell on the other end of the spectrum, unable to handle much more than the number of whoever he was about to flatten into the turf. Who knew how Moose kept a high enough grade average to stay on the team, but his athletic ferocity might very well trump the usual standards of academic performance.

"How do I write my name in Chinese?"

People usually stopped asking such questions when they got old enough to know better. Then again, Moose seemed unlikely to know better about a great deal of matters more obvious than that. "You don't," Ren replied. "Why?"

"I was going to get it tattooed on my leg."

"You could get my name tattooed on your leg," Yuan offered.

"Why?" Moose scowled. "So everybody would think I'm gay for you?"

"You should be."

"You'd like that?"

"No way." Yuan smirked. "I have standards."

Yuan could afford to fire off his mouth at will. He was built like Moose and not afraid to get in trouble if his words came back to lock him in an impromptu wrestling match. A foot shorter and not as intimidating off the field, Ren preferred to keep his trap shut. Especially now, with that three-letter word blazing through his head in neon purple. Yuan could get away with the gay jokes as well. He had been with the same girl for the past year. Ren, on the other hand, had never been lucky with dating. But he had woken up from lurid dreams about the rugby team captain, dreams that made him unable to look the boy in the eye the day after - and had him hoping for a rerun when he went to sleep.

There were guys at school who dated other guys, and everyone shrugged it off as no big deal. At the very least, it meant less competition for the ladies. But those guys were fashionable and polished and put together, sometimes even pretty if they could pull it off. Ren's sense of style could be summed up as baggy. His hair stuck out every which way unless he glued it into submission with about half a bottle of gel. Like Yuan, he was bulky and ungainly and already sporting a beard at seventeen. And his face was not exactly destined for stardom.

Being open with the theater crowd was one thing. A confined space full of machismo made for a different story. On the field, life was straightforward. Plays were made, pants stayed on, and not much else factored into the equation. Ren would be the same old lineman with stubborn strength to stop even the big guys in their tracks. But the closeness of the locker room might get weird. Ren imagined a backslide to that freshman awkwardness of hiding under towels and staring at the floor while getting dressed, as if he would gape in the way that obnoxious guys ogled the chests of every girl in sight. Most would get over it when his eyes kept their usual discretion. Some might try to include him, specifically allowing male candidates in the discussions of which celebrity everyone wanted to bang that week. Even so, he would be Ren the Gay instead of Ren the Guy. Preference first, person second, although he had been the same all along.

"We're there," Yuan said.

Ren looked at him quizzically.

Yuan sighed. "A party. The party. Keef's place. Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

"Why are we going? It's not like we ever talk to him." If Ren had not known Kiefer personally, he would swear the kid was a transplant from that sort of high school that only existed in Hollywood. He was almost too stereotypical. Blow-dried. Homecoming king. Rich parents, huge house, minimal supervision. And nothing in common with Ren and Yuan apart from their team jerseys.

"Because everybody else is." Yuan nudged him. "Especially girls."

"Like who? Bunni-with-an-i?" Ren had taken his chances on exactly one party this year. In his infinite wisdom, Yuan had brought over a cheerleader whose main concerns were reality shows and the proper spelling of her name. Ren had left her by the beer keg, wondering how anyone managed to swill that pisswater down and keep it there long enough for another round. Perhaps it really did make such events more bearable. "Besides, I have that English paper to finish." Which could be done over the upcoming week, but Yuan did not need to know that.

"We've got to get you laid. Then maybe you won't be so uptight."

"I'm not uptight," Ren grumbled. "And look who's talking. You're not exactly Cao Cao yourself." Their older cousin had never been without a girlfriend, and he often dated several women at once. Yuan sometimes speculated about what else they might all do at once until Ren told him to shut it. There were lines of thought he preferred not to cross, especially with regard to relatives.

Yuan shrugged. "Not my fault she wants to wait."

"Then why can't I?"

"You want to be a virgin forever?"

Sanchez stopped rummaging in his gym bag and cast a curious glance over his shoulder. Ren's face turned atomic red. He automatically sprung off the bench, slamming Yuan into a locker with a satisfying bong.

Yuan picked himself up and went back to tying his shoes. "Nice show of dominance, but you ought to save that for when the girls are around, you know?"

The door opened. Coach poked his head in, fixing Ren and Yuan with a beady-eyed squint.

"That was all me," Yuan said. "I tripped."

"Yeah," Sanchez piped up. "He tripped."

Coach scrutinized them all for an unbearable moment as visions of squat thrusts danced in Ren's head. With one last suspicious raise of his eyebrows, he turned around and left.

"You owe me one." Yuan bumped Ren's shoulder. "It's party time."

"Whatever."


Author's Note: Edited 1/7/2010 in response to review feedback. Thank you!