The first day Angel came out with us was different. He'd been in training, building up muscle mass, concentrating on specific regions. Deltoids, Internal abdominal obliques, biceps, triceps. Anything he could enhance he would. He'd spent a few hours simply staring in a mirror, marking on his chest where he needed to bulk up.
As he bulked up he grew more confidant. The weight of his sexuality off his chest he was able to laugh a little with us, he got to join in on the group more and we found out more. Things slipped out in his conversations. Just like they did for all of us. Even me, I let things slip, a joking "Nice job" and a slap on the but. Just like Kon did to everyone after a good workout session seemed to become more intimate as Gabriel would turn and smile at me.
One day I asked him about his name, what it his real name, or a pseudonym.
"Gabriel, right?" I asked sitting on the couch in a rare moment of peace.
"Well I've been here for a few weeks, I hope you know my name." He smiled at me, I felt the need to watch him, the energy I normally used for running, moving, suddenly focused entirely on him. I noticed how his hair covered his eyes. How the ragged cut would catch on his golden eyelashes. How his breath would cause the ends to fly up when he lay down and relaxed.
"I know your name" I said impatiently "Least what you say your name is."
"Huh?" he smiles again, but this time it's a little worried. I can see why he might be worried. I'm a little kid to him. To everyone. Someone who knows too much and doesn't say it. I worry them too. Because of what I could say.
"Your name really Gabriel?"
"Yes" He said slowly, watching me for a sign of what I'm trying to get at.
"That's really coincidental" I say, moving quickly next to him, more from the need to move then from the need to be near him.
"I know" Gabriel said. "I know."
And suddenly I realize he's 3.5 inches taller then me, that his collarbone has a slight scar on it. That his eyes are an impossibly beautiful shade of blue, I realize how soft his lips look, I am hyper aware of the fact that he came out. I am for the first time in my life over stimulated. There are too many things happening too fast. I freaked. Not in a way that is noticeable. I stood still. Looking at that hair. Watching for the first time an individual strand, not the entire head of hair.
"Did you know the average blonde has 140,000 hairs on their head?" I asked blurting it out. I didn't think he was interested in the fact any more then I was. But I felt the need to say something, anything to break us out of this silence that had descended, calmly, over our shoulders. "Red heads have 90,000, people who have black hair have 110,000" I gulped not wanting to think about the peculiar mix of my own hair, a seemingly simple brown, but really with under tones of red.
"Really?" He asked "What about those who have mixed colours?" He smiled at me. "Like you" Gabriel reached out, reached across the small distance between where his hand had been and my hair and he ruffled it.
I'm sad to say two things, one is that this wasn't a long seductive ruffle which ended with his mouth on mine and his hands turning my hair into something more like bed head then simply rumpled. The other was that I got an embarrassing erection from the playful touch.
After that sad conversation I escaped quickly into my room, not even pausing to answer the question. But I did try and remember it, remember that my hair is a mixture of the lowest and the second highest count of hairs. That the average person had 100,000 hairs. The average of those two was 100,000. So I wasn't anything special.
I just had 100,000 hairs on top of my head, for all the pretty colours they could be.
And he had 40 thousand more then me with out even trying.
