3. Figures
He turns the plastic trinket over in his hand again, examining all of it perfections and imperfections. There's nothing really special about it- just a man and a woman standing together, like it should be. The solitary streetlight casts strange shadows over it, giving the couple dark grimaces. After school he'd take the car for a drive. His mother asked him where he was going and, as usual, he didn't respond. It was 3 hours away, but this place was the only place he could be alone.
He leans back on the hood of the old Dodge trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. Nothing seems right. He'd won the championship, he hadn't flunked out yet, and he remained one of the ruling forces of the school. He looks at the little sculpture, gripping it a bit tighter. It's not his fault. If it weren't for that fag he would be fine. Even when the queer left, he was still haunted by him every day. The angry glares from the gleeks, the occasional ribbing by his friends about not have a girlfriend- the dreams.
On top of that, he was forced to join Glee. Even if it was one week, that halftime show would remain probably go down in infamy as one of the stupidest things the football team had ever done. Worse than breaking out into dance in the middle of a game. He would never forgive himself for that.
It didn't matter he was good at it. It didn't matter that people were still talking about how great the show was. It didn't matter that it made him happy, as happy as
The moment he kissed...
In one quick motion he throws the wedding topper off the side of the road. He jumps back in his car and drives off- not heading home, not really heading anywhere.
The engine roars so loud that he can't hear himself scream.
