A shudder goes down my spine as I stroll my way along the side-walk.
Everyone knows I am bisexual, and I've yet to meet someone worth knowing with a problem with me or the way I was born (I mean, jeez, I was born this way for god's sake), but still, here I was, forced to segregate myself into an evening group specially for kids who were born with an attraction to the same sex, or with an attraction to both sexes, and had recently discovered or outed their feelings.
You could tell where it was by the massive rainbow on the door. Pfft, but don't I love rainbows...
As I enter I note that there is no specific organisation to the place, aside from the fact that everyone wears a name-tag on their front. From here I could see Brendon, Pete, Lindsey, Kitty, Jimmy, Tay, Patrick and a relatively young couple named Jack and Alex.
Oh, and there is a stranger, name-tagless (as far as I could see) sitting sombrely in the corner. That kid catches my eye. He's totally lost in his thoughts and from the way his fingers are moving, I can gather that, in his head, he's rockin' out on his guitar.
He's my kind of guy. If I could just introduce myself without scaring him, then we could -
A face (thankfully with a body attached to it) popping up from seemingly no-where in front of me startled me out of my thoughts.
"Hey!" says the guy name-tagged Brendon.
"...Hey." I say in a harsh, low tone.
"Woah, okay. I just wanted to make you welcome, dude!" he chirps.
I have to smile at his enthusiasm.
"Well, hey there. Nice to meet you, Brendon, I'm..."
"Name-tagless? Or shall I just call you 'Jacket'?" he jokes.
"Er..." I mumble, trying to think of which I preferred 'least', people knowing my name and wanting to socialize or being called 'Jacket' for the rest of the sessions.
Before I can fully reply, Brendon pulls a sticky label from a roll of (waaaaaay too many) other sticky labels.
"Here!" he beams, passing me a dark blue pen and the label.
"My favourite colour." I reply finally, but he was already gone, skipping across the room to socialize with the sociables.
In my best handwriting, I quickly scribble a "Gerard" onto the label before drawing a smiley face with crosses for eyes. (Thank you, Nirvana, my smiley faces may never look normal again.)
I stick the label to my jacket and vowe to go and greet Mr Sombre sitting in the corner.
This place is so god-dammed small that it feels like everyone is staring at me as I cross the room.
"Hey!" I cheer, attempting to look the solemn stranger in the eye (which was difficult as a) he's sitting down and b) he's pretty short).
"Get lost." he says sharply without even looking up.
I feel a little hurt. But I won't give up.
"Hey, c'mon, I don't bite..." I plead.
He looks up with a stare that could kill a kitten.
Scratch that, this look could kill 'several kittens'.
"Fine." he says harshly. "Sit down."
You see, he's acting so cruel but I can't, for some reason, ever imagine that this is his regular behavior. Maybe...? No. No, Gerard, you're not thinking straight. Of course he doesn't. He's not intimidated by your immense (non-existent) good looks and he DEFINITELY, DEFINITELY doesn't fancy you.
I sit carefully down on the cold floor beside him and as I do so he shuffles to accommodate me. (What a cute shuffle!) As he shuffled (cutely), the thin green fabric of his shirt ruffled to reveal a nametag on his chest reading "Frank". I love the name Frank, and the main reason for that is because my brother and I had kept a wild mouse with the same name when we were very young. We'd found it outside and convinced mom to let us keep it safe from the harsh New Jersey streets- she'd warned us about the agression of wild animals many times- but this was an unbelievably timid, kindly mouse that went on to live for many years before dying peacefully after a feast on christmas day. My reminiscing is brought to an abrupt stop by the unbearably awkward silence that threatened to ruin any possible chance I had with Frank.
Hoplelessly, I search my not-so large brain for something witty and/or interesting to say.
"Er...So... Frank...You play guitar?"
He shoots me a suspicious glance through his long, dark-brown fringe.
"How did you know that?"
"Well, I, er, I saw you... I saw you fingering before.."
He sniggers
I blush, but begin to laugh at his dirty mind.
Suddenly, he turns to look me straight in the eyes.
AND HE SMILES.
I hate to sound cheesy, but...It was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
I self-consciously return the smile, being careful not to show too much of my hideous (or so I think anyway, Mom says they're beautiful) crooked teeth for fear they might scare him off and he might scamper away from me like mouse-Frank used to do when he was scared.
"So... Are you coming here next week?"
"Probably."
"... Cool."
The conversation, as dry as it had first started out, was getting even drier.
"What is your talent?" he asks timidly.
"Well, er... I've never had a particular talent like playing the guitar.. I mean, I can sing, but... OH! I'll show you!"
"Yay!" he sounds excited.
I shiver internally in anxiety - I've never really done this on a whim before, and he might think I'm some sort of creep, but...
"Er, do you have any paper?" I ask as I pull my short, yellow pencil out of my pocket.
"Um... Here, take this." he says, passing me a scruffy piece of paper. "Maths homework."
"Hah." I chuckle, and I begin to draw.
"Turn." I demand, careful not to come across as a complete and utter controlling megalomaniac.
He complies. I study the perfect features of his ageless face. From his large, dark-greeny eyes to his perfectly rounded lips that wouldn't go amiss on a young lady.
"So," I start, "How old are you, anyway?"
"I'm fourteen, almost fifteen."
Oh crap. Am I too old for him?
"You?"
"Er... I'm seventeen."
"... Aren't you a little old to be here, then?"
I cringe. I wasn't exactly going to step out and say "Oh, gorgeous boy of my dreams, it's because I have issues with depression and self-confidence, but it's okay, I'm happy sometimes!" was I?
Quick! Make something up!
"Well, I don't act my age, I suppose..."
Wow, that excuse was lame... (but actually kind-of true...)
"Done."
I pass him my drawing. I'd tried to make the likeness of the profile as like him as I could. I feel quite proud of my attempt, although, obviously, it can never be nearly as lovely as his actual face (ooh, put the cow away, I'm making too much cheese!).
"Wow."
Yes! The reaction I was after.
"But who is it?"
Shit.
"Er, it's you..." I reveal tentatively.
"But... I'm not nearly as beautiful..." He wails pitifully.
"You kinda are." I smile, casually touching his arm. (look, I'd read in a magazine that that was the thing to do if you fancied someone. And I definitely fancy Frank.)
He giggles as I touch him. Woah, that giggle... It's so cheeky, yet, argh, so full of ironic innocence.
I can't help but laugh at that giggle.
Before I can further the conversation Brendon, again, pops up out of nowhere.
"Circle time!" He cheers.
I groan inwardly.
I hate socializing.
I join the rest of the group never-the-less as they drag flimsy plastic chairs into the centre of the room to form a circle.
"Right," starts Brendon once we had all sat down, "I want you all to compliment one person in this room and I also want you to mention one good thing about yourself, okay?"
The group simulatneously nods.
"Let's start with you, Lindsey."
"Well," begins a stunningly pretty black-haired girl who I would, if I didn't presently have my eyes on someone else, gladly take out for dinner. "I like... My hair... and I like... I like how friendly Kitty was to me when I arrived, even though she didn't know me. Also, girl drummers are kind of... Sexy." she blushes.
I zone out as the chirpy teenagers begin to compliment one another with gay abandon. Most comments are essentially the same - " So-and-so said 'hi' when I walked in.."; "So-and-so made me feel welcome";"So-and-so smiled at me and from that I inferred that he/she may want to someday have lots of sex and/or adopted babies with me..."
I sigh quietly. I really am warming to this place. Aside from the fact that everyone wanted to be friends with everyone, the colours are a little too bright for me and I have an impending sense of embarrassment around 'him', I am, actually, enjoying myself.
Bringing myself back to reality, I realise that there are only two more people left to speak: Frank and myself.
Brendon turns to Frank and waits anxiously for him to speak.
"Uh, I like... I like that I'm not a persevering person in the least yet I had the patience to pick up an instrument - uh, the guitar - and learn it." With that, he grins, "And, I like, Gerard -" he looks straight at me "- that you can draw anyone and make them look ridiculously attractive."
I blush, but I don't agree with him. It isn't just my drawing that had makes him look ridiculously attractive - he naturally looks that way. His parents and his genes deserve some credit, right?
"Gerard, it's your turn."
"Uh! Yes! My-my t-turn." I say, stuttering in embarrassment. It wasn't everyday (heck, it wasn't even every year) that I spoke in front of a group of people that weren't my relatives. " I like about myself... I like... I like the similarities I share with my brother. He's the kindest boy I've ever met. And... Ah... I like... Frank! I like your face, but don't worry, it's nothing like mouse-Frank's face because he was all hairy and he had massive ears because, well, ah, he was a mouse!"
The words I reeled out quickly, after saying Frank's name, had all jumbled into one massive word that I can imagine a few people struggled to understand. All but one person in the room find my compliment to Frank too weird to be funny. That one person was Frank - and he is laughing his (very nice, but not hairy) face off at this precise moment.
Slowly, Frank's avid laughter dies down and the group begin to clear the chairs away. Stacking mine first, I leave pleanty of time to lean casually against the wall and observe the other members. I find myself unintentionally staring at Frank and smiling. I glance at my watch.
19:00 - the ending time of the club's activities.
"Okay guys, you can start heading home now, thanks for coming and I'll see you next week!" exclaims Brendon, obviously pleased with himself that it'd gone well.
People had begun to leave, but I set my heart on staying back to say goodbye to Frank. I couldn't go without doing so. I catch his eye from across the room and he timidly walks towards me.
"Uh, ha, bye." He says nervously.
"Bye." I say glumly, looking down at him and realising how much I wanted to wrap my arms around him and clutch him to me. Cringing, I resist the urge to do just that, and settle with a wave good-bye. "See you next time!"
Nodding, he leaves quickly and quietly.
I thank Brendon for the fun I've had and he waves his perfectly formed fingers at me as a goodbye.
'I'll never forget this day,' I swear to myself as I leave, ' As for me, it feels like a new beginning.'