Disclaimers and summary on first chapter
Notes: Thank you so much reviewers/readers. Particularly Leigh and Mari. Love you all though!!!
Chapter 16 -You Know Nothing About The World-
+Mark's POV+
Roger is shaking me. I groan and push him away but he persists.
"What are you, drunk again?" He asks, laughing. "C'mon, get up! We've got to call ourselves in and see the city!"
I open my eyes to see his grinning face looming over me.
"Alright, fine." I grumble. I've never really been pleasant in the morning. My back has never hurt so much in my life, I think I would have been more comfortable on the floor. When I glance down at it, however, I realize a backache is a lot less to worry about than whatever that stain near the wall is.
Roger's still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair is unwashed, sticking out in all directions from the gel in it yesterday. He looks tired, but his usual excess of energy hasn't been dampened by his fatigue. He smiles again and I shake my head as I reach for my backpack. He still looks perfect.
I mentally slap myself.
"Hey, don't bother changing. C'mon, we've got to go!"
"But. . ." He's already pulling me out the door.
"I already checked us out, let's go! Wake up already!"
I follow him, exhausted. "They actually have a check out at this place?"
He laughs. "Are you kidding? This is a high quality establishment!"
"Where are we going?" I ask him. He pauses, looks back at me and shrugs.
"I don't know. Let's just drive around for awhile."
I groan. "If REO Speedwagon comes on the radio again, you better change the station."
"Promise." Another tug on my arm. "Let's go!"
+++
We called the school from the pay phone outside of the convenience store. I was terrified, convinced it would never work, but the receptionist didn't even question my pathetic attempt at changing my voice.
We parked the car a few blocks back and now Roger is standing in front of a store I suppose, the windows are full of mannequins wearing the most hideous clothes I've ever seen.
"What the fuck is that? Roger, I'm not going in there."
"I think it's a thrift store." He says. "Oh c'mon, let's go inside!"
"No."
He doesn't bother to answer, just grabs my sleeve and pulls me along with him.
The air inside is musty, I cough when it reaches my lungs. To our right is a large section devoted to formal wear and a special rack for prom dresses, near that is womens, across the room is mens, there's a small rack in the middle for children and in the back are appliances, furniture, books, vinyl and various other oddities. Roger runs over to the formal wear. Reluctantly, I follow him. When I reach his side a garish yellow taffeta dress is thrust at my chest. I back away, swiping at it angrily.
"What the hell, Roger!"
"Look at this stuff, Mark!"
I look, it doesn't have quite the same effect on me.
"Why are you picking out dresses, Roger? You don't wear dresses. . ." I lower my voice significantly. "Do you?"
He laughs and put the hanger around his neck and twirls with the hideous thing against his body.
"Not typically, but for this beauty I might have to make an exception."
"Dear God. . ." I shake my head and try desperately to pretend I don't know him.
"Excuse me boys, what are doing?" An old woman wearing a blue vest that designates her as 'Doris' asks us.
I open my mouth to answer, but Roger beats me to it.
"Prom shopping." He says casually, not turning toward her.
She raises an eyebrow. "Young man, our tuxedos and suits are on the next rack."
"I know."
I wince and then close my eyes, ready for the conservative old lady bubble to burst.
"Suit yourself, young man." She says after a pause. She shoots me a look after I reopen my eyes and there isn't any of the menace I had expected, but humour. She doesn't care whether or not Roger is a cross-dresser, but she thinks it's funny. I smile feebly at her and when she goes back to the cash register I go over to Roger.
"Can we leave now?" I hiss at him, grabbing his arm.
"What do you think?" He asks, hanging the dress back up.
"I think we should go!"
"No, about prom."
"What? What about prom?"
"Go with me. To prom."
I'm about to reply, but stop before the first sound leaves my mouth. I know he didn't just. . .
I push him away, as he's laid his hand on my arm. "Dammit Roger, I said I'm not gay!"
He looks at the ground, I know I've hurt him, but I really don't care. He sighs, it's a small, defeated sound.
"I know, but. . ." He looks up at me again and I've never seen eyes so clear as his are at this moment. They're green, green like the worn particles of glass I found on the beach last year during a forgettable family trip. Green glass. Transparent, honest. Am I not gay because I'm really not, or because I'm scared of what that means?
"I mean, I know that, but. . ." He doesn't know how to finish. I sigh. I do feel guilty for how I handled this. I go to him and cautiously lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Rog, I like you, a lot. But I just, well I'm not sure about anything else. Give me some time for that. But either way, I want to know you. I want to be your friend."
He smiles sadly, slightly reassured, and tries to regain his composure.
"Besides, I can't go to prom, I'm only a sophomore. I don't really think they'd let us go together anyway."
He looks offended. "Underclassmen can go if they're invited. But why not? How can they stop us?"
I roll my eyes. "Just a little thing called 'discrimination'."
He narrows his eyes. "Like, as in, 'your being there together would make everyone else uncomfortable so it's just more convenient for us if you don't go'?"
I nod and he clenches a fist. "I didn't know that! How are they allowed to do that?"
I can sense his temper rising. Quickly I try to avert it.
"Besides, do you want everyone in school to know you're gay?"
It wasn't the smartest thing I could have said, now his anger is fixed upon me and I have to admit, it's just as intimidating a feeling as I imagined.
"Why? Is it something to be ashamed of? Should I be embarrassed because of the way I feel about you? Should I have to hide that?"
"You honestly think you're ready for that? Do you have any idea what the world thinks of people like you?"
He's not angry anymore, but hurt.
"People like me?"
"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."
"Is that how you feel, Mark? About me? Do you think like them?"
"No!"
"Then why does it matter?"
"How can it not?"
He shakes his head at me. "You know nothing about the world."
I glare at him scornfully. "And you do?"
"Obviously more than you!"
"Excuse me? Boys?"
We turn and look at Doris again.
"What?" We yell in unison.
"I don't mind you boys being here, or even arguing, but you're scaring the young ladies away from the prom dresses." She gestures at three girls our age standing awkwardly a few feet away.
"Take it over to mens for awhile, ok?" She smiles at us and gives us each a pat on the shoulder, then walks back to the register again. Roger starts walking and I follow him.
"Why do you care so much anyway?" He asks me. "You're 'not sure'." He says mockingly. "No one's going to be persecuting you."
I lower my eyes.
His voice is softer when he speaks again.
"What?"
I hadn't really wanted to tell him, but I think now it might be a comfort. It's not like I could tell Maureen. We always talk about her family.
"My father thinks I'm gay. He calls me a faggot."
I look back up at him. His anger has lessened, considerably.
"I didn't know, Mark."
"No one does, unless they've heard it."
"Does your mom know?"
I nod. "Yeah. She wouldn't really care either way I don't think, but she won't stand up to him."
"Wow. Um, look, I'm sorry Mark, ok? For anything I've said."
I shrug. "I think he thinks it's funny, that he's joking with me."
"It's not funny, Mark. Don't take that." I feel his hand on my arm and I look down at it. "Is he why you are the way you are?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're so angry. You hate the world, you hate everyone around you. Is that why?"
"I don't hate everyone around me."
"They annoy you."
I shrug. "Maybe it is. He can be a real asshole. But like I said, I don't think he means it to be like that. He's just disappointed I like to play with cameras instead of footballs. That I don't play catch with him in the backyard and don't hide Playboy under my mattress."
Roger tries to hide a smile. "You don't?"
"Why should I?"
He shakes his head and laughs. "You really need to loosen up, Mark. Don't you, you know. . ."
I feel myself blushing and I turn away.
"Nevermind, forget it." He says quickly. Why should I care what Roger thinks? No matter what he's still going to like me. I could probably tell him most anything. When I look back into his eyes I correct that. I could tell him anything.
"Yes. I do." I say quietly.
He smiles. "Alright, so you're normal." He punches me in the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me rub it afterwards. I nudge him.
"Do you, you know. . ."
He laughs out loud. "Honestly, Marky?" He puts on a very innocent face. "Never, and I'm offended you asked."
I laugh with him, however feeble. I wish I had a real laugh like his, loud and genuine. Mine always sounds nervous and forced. God, what does he see in me?
"Look, about prom. Why don't you just come over to my house? I'll. . . I'll show you some stuff I've filmed."
"That'd be great!" He grins and quickly pulls me into a hug. I struggle to get away from him and he lets me go after a minute, laughing again.
"I'm sorry, but, you're just great."
I smile back, less forced than usual, almost real.
"Yeah, I know."
+++
Notes Continued: Alright, first of all, shout out to Doris. She's the friendly old lady at my local thrift store. Also, I've never really discussed their ages till now, but Mark is a sophomore (like he says) and Roger is a junior. Oh yes, and this all takes place approximately 2 months before the end of the year. I based it off of how my high school runs things. Prom is usually a three weeks to a month before the end of the year. So they have about a month and like the good little OOC boy he is, Roger is planning ahead. Ah, life is good. Hope you all enjoyed! New update coming soon!!
Notes: Thank you so much reviewers/readers. Particularly Leigh and Mari. Love you all though!!!
Chapter 16 -You Know Nothing About The World-
+Mark's POV+
Roger is shaking me. I groan and push him away but he persists.
"What are you, drunk again?" He asks, laughing. "C'mon, get up! We've got to call ourselves in and see the city!"
I open my eyes to see his grinning face looming over me.
"Alright, fine." I grumble. I've never really been pleasant in the morning. My back has never hurt so much in my life, I think I would have been more comfortable on the floor. When I glance down at it, however, I realize a backache is a lot less to worry about than whatever that stain near the wall is.
Roger's still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair is unwashed, sticking out in all directions from the gel in it yesterday. He looks tired, but his usual excess of energy hasn't been dampened by his fatigue. He smiles again and I shake my head as I reach for my backpack. He still looks perfect.
I mentally slap myself.
"Hey, don't bother changing. C'mon, we've got to go!"
"But. . ." He's already pulling me out the door.
"I already checked us out, let's go! Wake up already!"
I follow him, exhausted. "They actually have a check out at this place?"
He laughs. "Are you kidding? This is a high quality establishment!"
"Where are we going?" I ask him. He pauses, looks back at me and shrugs.
"I don't know. Let's just drive around for awhile."
I groan. "If REO Speedwagon comes on the radio again, you better change the station."
"Promise." Another tug on my arm. "Let's go!"
+++
We called the school from the pay phone outside of the convenience store. I was terrified, convinced it would never work, but the receptionist didn't even question my pathetic attempt at changing my voice.
We parked the car a few blocks back and now Roger is standing in front of a store I suppose, the windows are full of mannequins wearing the most hideous clothes I've ever seen.
"What the fuck is that? Roger, I'm not going in there."
"I think it's a thrift store." He says. "Oh c'mon, let's go inside!"
"No."
He doesn't bother to answer, just grabs my sleeve and pulls me along with him.
The air inside is musty, I cough when it reaches my lungs. To our right is a large section devoted to formal wear and a special rack for prom dresses, near that is womens, across the room is mens, there's a small rack in the middle for children and in the back are appliances, furniture, books, vinyl and various other oddities. Roger runs over to the formal wear. Reluctantly, I follow him. When I reach his side a garish yellow taffeta dress is thrust at my chest. I back away, swiping at it angrily.
"What the hell, Roger!"
"Look at this stuff, Mark!"
I look, it doesn't have quite the same effect on me.
"Why are you picking out dresses, Roger? You don't wear dresses. . ." I lower my voice significantly. "Do you?"
He laughs and put the hanger around his neck and twirls with the hideous thing against his body.
"Not typically, but for this beauty I might have to make an exception."
"Dear God. . ." I shake my head and try desperately to pretend I don't know him.
"Excuse me boys, what are doing?" An old woman wearing a blue vest that designates her as 'Doris' asks us.
I open my mouth to answer, but Roger beats me to it.
"Prom shopping." He says casually, not turning toward her.
She raises an eyebrow. "Young man, our tuxedos and suits are on the next rack."
"I know."
I wince and then close my eyes, ready for the conservative old lady bubble to burst.
"Suit yourself, young man." She says after a pause. She shoots me a look after I reopen my eyes and there isn't any of the menace I had expected, but humour. She doesn't care whether or not Roger is a cross-dresser, but she thinks it's funny. I smile feebly at her and when she goes back to the cash register I go over to Roger.
"Can we leave now?" I hiss at him, grabbing his arm.
"What do you think?" He asks, hanging the dress back up.
"I think we should go!"
"No, about prom."
"What? What about prom?"
"Go with me. To prom."
I'm about to reply, but stop before the first sound leaves my mouth. I know he didn't just. . .
I push him away, as he's laid his hand on my arm. "Dammit Roger, I said I'm not gay!"
He looks at the ground, I know I've hurt him, but I really don't care. He sighs, it's a small, defeated sound.
"I know, but. . ." He looks up at me again and I've never seen eyes so clear as his are at this moment. They're green, green like the worn particles of glass I found on the beach last year during a forgettable family trip. Green glass. Transparent, honest. Am I not gay because I'm really not, or because I'm scared of what that means?
"I mean, I know that, but. . ." He doesn't know how to finish. I sigh. I do feel guilty for how I handled this. I go to him and cautiously lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Rog, I like you, a lot. But I just, well I'm not sure about anything else. Give me some time for that. But either way, I want to know you. I want to be your friend."
He smiles sadly, slightly reassured, and tries to regain his composure.
"Besides, I can't go to prom, I'm only a sophomore. I don't really think they'd let us go together anyway."
He looks offended. "Underclassmen can go if they're invited. But why not? How can they stop us?"
I roll my eyes. "Just a little thing called 'discrimination'."
He narrows his eyes. "Like, as in, 'your being there together would make everyone else uncomfortable so it's just more convenient for us if you don't go'?"
I nod and he clenches a fist. "I didn't know that! How are they allowed to do that?"
I can sense his temper rising. Quickly I try to avert it.
"Besides, do you want everyone in school to know you're gay?"
It wasn't the smartest thing I could have said, now his anger is fixed upon me and I have to admit, it's just as intimidating a feeling as I imagined.
"Why? Is it something to be ashamed of? Should I be embarrassed because of the way I feel about you? Should I have to hide that?"
"You honestly think you're ready for that? Do you have any idea what the world thinks of people like you?"
He's not angry anymore, but hurt.
"People like me?"
"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."
"Is that how you feel, Mark? About me? Do you think like them?"
"No!"
"Then why does it matter?"
"How can it not?"
He shakes his head at me. "You know nothing about the world."
I glare at him scornfully. "And you do?"
"Obviously more than you!"
"Excuse me? Boys?"
We turn and look at Doris again.
"What?" We yell in unison.
"I don't mind you boys being here, or even arguing, but you're scaring the young ladies away from the prom dresses." She gestures at three girls our age standing awkwardly a few feet away.
"Take it over to mens for awhile, ok?" She smiles at us and gives us each a pat on the shoulder, then walks back to the register again. Roger starts walking and I follow him.
"Why do you care so much anyway?" He asks me. "You're 'not sure'." He says mockingly. "No one's going to be persecuting you."
I lower my eyes.
His voice is softer when he speaks again.
"What?"
I hadn't really wanted to tell him, but I think now it might be a comfort. It's not like I could tell Maureen. We always talk about her family.
"My father thinks I'm gay. He calls me a faggot."
I look back up at him. His anger has lessened, considerably.
"I didn't know, Mark."
"No one does, unless they've heard it."
"Does your mom know?"
I nod. "Yeah. She wouldn't really care either way I don't think, but she won't stand up to him."
"Wow. Um, look, I'm sorry Mark, ok? For anything I've said."
I shrug. "I think he thinks it's funny, that he's joking with me."
"It's not funny, Mark. Don't take that." I feel his hand on my arm and I look down at it. "Is he why you are the way you are?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're so angry. You hate the world, you hate everyone around you. Is that why?"
"I don't hate everyone around me."
"They annoy you."
I shrug. "Maybe it is. He can be a real asshole. But like I said, I don't think he means it to be like that. He's just disappointed I like to play with cameras instead of footballs. That I don't play catch with him in the backyard and don't hide Playboy under my mattress."
Roger tries to hide a smile. "You don't?"
"Why should I?"
He shakes his head and laughs. "You really need to loosen up, Mark. Don't you, you know. . ."
I feel myself blushing and I turn away.
"Nevermind, forget it." He says quickly. Why should I care what Roger thinks? No matter what he's still going to like me. I could probably tell him most anything. When I look back into his eyes I correct that. I could tell him anything.
"Yes. I do." I say quietly.
He smiles. "Alright, so you're normal." He punches me in the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me rub it afterwards. I nudge him.
"Do you, you know. . ."
He laughs out loud. "Honestly, Marky?" He puts on a very innocent face. "Never, and I'm offended you asked."
I laugh with him, however feeble. I wish I had a real laugh like his, loud and genuine. Mine always sounds nervous and forced. God, what does he see in me?
"Look, about prom. Why don't you just come over to my house? I'll. . . I'll show you some stuff I've filmed."
"That'd be great!" He grins and quickly pulls me into a hug. I struggle to get away from him and he lets me go after a minute, laughing again.
"I'm sorry, but, you're just great."
I smile back, less forced than usual, almost real.
"Yeah, I know."
+++
Notes Continued: Alright, first of all, shout out to Doris. She's the friendly old lady at my local thrift store. Also, I've never really discussed their ages till now, but Mark is a sophomore (like he says) and Roger is a junior. Oh yes, and this all takes place approximately 2 months before the end of the year. I based it off of how my high school runs things. Prom is usually a three weeks to a month before the end of the year. So they have about a month and like the good little OOC boy he is, Roger is planning ahead. Ah, life is good. Hope you all enjoyed! New update coming soon!!