Disclaimer: On first page.

A/N: Here's chap 4. Thank you all so much for reading/reviewing my stuff. It means so much to me. And thank you to those who just read it for sheer entertainment. I love you all. Thank you again fraulein for your help too. Love you.

12-Year-Old Gay Boy

The next morning I'm up bright and early. I'm excited. I can't help it. I dress quickly and practically run out the door in a flash. My mom stops me on my way out and coaxes me to have breakfast. She's made scrambled eggs and hash browns. I scarf my food and dash out the door. My sister Cindy grabs my backpack and yanks me. I nearly fall on her.

"Damnit Cindy. What do you want?" To pester me.

"What, I can't give my little brother a hug before he heads off to school?" I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. Damn her.

"I'm in a hurry Cindy." She's already wrapped her arms around me. I struggle to break free from her wretched grasp. "Cindy, I have to go. I can't miss the bus." Freedom. I run briskly to the bus.

I get to first period late because I was in the dark room developing the pictures I took yesterday. The pictures of the cheerleaders were a little blurry because they were moving while I took the shots. But the ones of Roger at the bleachers were good. So were the ones of him and his band. Damn he is so cute. Okay, so I am a 12-year-old gay boy. No one knows it though and for now it's going to stay that way.

I see him as I run into class after the bell rings. Someone has taken the seat I had yesterday and am forced to sit in the back. Roger waves me over to him and points to a seat beside him.

"Hey. How's it going? You're late."

"Yeah. I was developing the pictures I took yesterday. They turned out really good."

"Do you got 'em with you?"

"Yeah, you wanna see them?" Of course he does.

"Sure." The teacher interrupts our conversation by clearing her throat. Roger snickers. I hand him the pictures I took and he gives them a look over.

"Hey these turned out great. Good work." He whispers to me.

I feel myself redden. "Thanks." He smiles at me. That cute smile again.

He hands me back the pictures with another smile. My face brightens once again. This time though, because of his smile. I hide my face as best I could so he doesn't notice. I wonder if he has any idea I've got a crush on him. What would he do? How would he react if he found out? Would he still be my friend? What if he shared my... doubtful.

The bell rings. Roger looks over at me and gestures me to get up. I wasn't even paying attention in class. What had I missed? Well hopefully he paid attention. I gather my books sticking them into my backpack and Rog and I walk toward our next class.

"You know, let's not go to class."

"But we could get in trouble." I've never ditched a day in my life. And never thought of doing so either.

"No we won't. Not if we don't get caught. Come on. It'll be fun." I don't even have the chance to say no, he's dragging me by the arm toward the football field.

"Come on hurry. Before they have a chance to catch us."

"What if they call my parents to tell them I wasn't in class?"

"They don't call till after a third time so don't worry." He didn't sound very convincing, but I went along with it. We make our way through the football field through a hole in the fence.

"Where are we going?"

"If we hurry we can catch the bus to my house. My mom won't be home so we can hang there. She's working a double shift today so she won't be home till later tonight. And since you're suppose to come over later anyway, we can just hang there till you have to go home."

We scurry to catch the bus and just make it. He seems to know the driver pretty well and even speaks to a few others sharing the ride with us. He must ride the public transportation system often. We rode for about an hour before we reached his neighbourhood.

"Come on we have to hurry. If the neighbours see me they'll tell my mom and I'll never hear the end of it. Not that she'll yell at me but she'll give me the 'you need an education to get a good job' speech. I don't need an education. As long as I've got my guitar and my band I'm good."

I laugh as we run to his house. He opens the door and we hurry in. He takes a quick peek making sure no one saw us then closes the door.

"So, what are we gonna do?" I ask unsure of why we were really here to begin with.

"I don't know. We've got till 6 o'clock. Got any ideas? I figured we could just hang out." He extracts a cigarette from his pack and lights it. "Want one?"

I don't smoke, normally, but what the hell. "Okay." I take one and he lights it for me. I watch him smoke his and try to imitate him. I cough.

He laughs at me. "This must be your first time. Take it slow."

I do. It becomes a little easier, but I can't figure out why he likes these things. "Does your mom know you smoke?"

"Not really. I'm sure she suspects something though, since she notices her smokes keep disappearing. But she hasn't said anything, so I guess she doesn't mind."

"Okay." I decide to change the subject. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

"A girlfriend? Nah. Haven't found any I'm interested in. Most of the girls are to fake. Besides I... Never mind. That's not important."

"What? I mean if you want to tell me." Please say you're gay.

"It's nothing." I come to find he says that often. "I'm just not ready for a girlfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Hell no. Girls are not my forte. "No. I haven't found one I like. Plus this hair cut doesn't do much for my image either."

"Well I can certainly change that. C'mon." He grabs my arm and drags me to the bathroom. "Now how do you want it? Like mine? Or something different?"

"I can't. My mom would get pissed."

"Do you do everything your mom says?"

"No. Not always." Okay so I do.

"So let me do something to your mop. Otherwise you'll never get a girlfriend." He grins mischievously.

I don't want a girlfriend. "Okay." I can't help but give in. "But I'll have to put my hair back before I leave. My mom would have a fit."

"No problem. You can fix it before you leave."

My hair has so much hairspray in it, that when I touch it I can hear it crackle. He went crazy with the hairspray and a comb. I think he teased my hair. It almost resembles a flock of seagulls. If my mom saw my hair she would shit bricks. Honestly, I think I'm about to do the same thing.

"Rog, what did you do to my hair?" I'm staring into the mirror in disbelief.

"You don't like it?" He acts hurt. And he quivers his lower lip. That's adorable. But not fair.

"I didn't say that. It's just different. And big. Very big."

"But you like it right?"

I stare a bit longer before answering. "Yeah. It's... cool."

"You really don't like it." He sounds surprised. "I'm hurt." He quivers his lower lip again. Damn him. He's so cute. Well one day he'll make some girl really lucky. I just hope it could be me instead.

"No I like it. I really do." I don't, but I can't help but give in to him. I would give in to him any time, all the time. All I need is a chance.

"No you don't. I can tell. You're just being nice." He starts laughing suddenly.

"What's so funny?"

"Your hair. It does look bad. Real bad. I think I teased it to high. If you want to wash it out you can."

"Naw. I think I'll keep it this way. It's not that bad." I laugh too. "Okay, it is that bad." We share a good laugh together about my hair, and I decide to wash it out.