Hey, Mr. In Denial (LBGT)

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The purple mark on his cheek is so obvious now, and his cheek is swelling. Every now and then, as he moves his face, or just makes any expression, or moves a single muscle on his face, Dale flinches. His jaw remains clenched, and his hands remain in fist. His Adam's apple is bobbing up and down every now and then, also one of the signs that he's nervous. Just from watching him from afar, I have already known his traits, if he's mad or nervous or annoyed, I know what he does.

My arms are still crossed across my chest, still waiting for him to talk, to tell me a beautiful story about how they, he and Dustin, suddenly decided to kill each other with their bare hands. He looks at me, his eyes lose its shine, replaced with something negative: guilt, sadness, and pain. It almost makes me reach out on him, to hold his arm out, to hold his bicep again and feel him up, but as my mind flashes the image of Dustin and him fighting, my appetite loses.

"Are you going to talk or not?" I ask him, tone annoyed. Dale arches a brow at me. The warning bell has already rung, and I know, as a voice speaks at the back of my head, that I'm going to get called at the principal's office.

Dale sighs, shoulders sagging down and I turn on my heels, deciding for myself; he's not going to speak, and tell me the details. I should have known. But as I turn around, my hand about to reach the knob, Dale's arm stretches forward and his hand grips my shoulder and pushes me back on the door, knocking the air out of me and I glare at him. "I'm sorry." He says, almost a whisper, so low that I barely hear it, but I catch the way his lips move, and I watch how it descends on mine and a gasp escapes my lips as he presses his lips on mine. His palm rests at the back of my neck, pushing me forward, pressing me closer to him as his other hand rests on my hips; our chest, shoulders, stomach, thigh, and knees are all pressed together as my lips begin to move with his. The way I imagine his lips on mine, it meets the expectation. My heart races faster, and the only matters to me is his lips on mine, moving softly, needy, and passionately. He keeps it gentle, as if he presses too hard I might break. But I need this. I need him. So I press myself, if possible, to him and take control of the kiss, ravishing his lips as if it's the most precious thing in the world. It is. He is.

I'm suddenly scared, scared that this is only a dream, scared that this is only a figment of my imagination, but when he presses more into me, I only wish that if this is either a dream or just my imagination, I never want to wake up; I just want to be closer to him, to feel every inch of him against mine, to feel the thud of his heart, pounding against his chest as my fingertips rest on his chest where his heart lies.

The sparks, the fireworks, the butterflies fluttering in the stomach, they are all real as Dale and I kiss, our lips moving as if they are molding into one. My back is pressed on the wooden door, and the knob jiggles, as if someone's trying to break into the bathroom but neither Dale nor I give it attention. I moan out loud, when he bites, tugs, and nibbles on my lower lip and my hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer to me and bringing our lips together. "Beau..." he moans out, panting, breathing out loud, and that's when it clicks to me... he's supposed to explain things to me. I pull out immediately, pushing him away with force, and he looks at to me with his swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. "What...?"

"You shouldn't have done that," I say, shutting my eyes close, thinking this is just a dream. I back away from him, though my back is already pressed hard against the wooden door. He nears me, his arm stretching out and resting on either side of me. Dale leans down, closer to me, I feel it, his presence. When I open my eyes, I see how pained he is, how helpless he is. I wish this is not a dream. "You're not... you're not gay. You're not even interested on me. Why'd you kiss me? You kissed me like you meant it, and then I can foresee what will happen next; you're going to walk away from me, as if nothing happened between us, as if the kiss never happened, so just stay away from me. For the first time, let me be the one to walk out."

Dale looks like he's about to say something, but before he does, I turn around and hold the knob the door, my hands trembling as I twist the knob and opening the door wide, then I bolt out of the room, tears streaking down my cheeks. Students look at me, but I brush them away. All I can see is Dale; Dale's lips on mine, Dale's body pressed against mine, Dale's eyes boring into mine. He's all I can think of. And damn him for this.

Only do I realize, when I reach the place, that I'm in the Garden of Luck, which is not so lucky at all, where Dale crushed my heart as he walked away. I take a seat on the bench, and cry, and cry, until I'm tired. When I turn around, Dale is already there, sitting beside me with a worried look on his face, which makes me gasp. I haven't felt his presence. When did he come here? I back away from him as if he has a decease that is airborne; he's affecting me. Everything that he does, from the way he breathes to the way his brows furrow.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"But you did," I croak.

"And you kissed me back," he says, his green eyes boring into mine and here I am, letting him see how vulnerable I am. I wish the ground would just open and eat me up, and there, I can drown in self-pity and self-loathe. I look away from him, brushing my face with the back of my hand and focus my eyes somewhere. I can feel his gaze on me, burning the side of my face. Two birds, sitting on another bench, are so closed, as if they are having a moment of their own and it looks like they are kissing. If it weren't for the beaks, I would imagine that they are indeed kissing. "I've been thinking a lot lately, and I have talked to Gloss, since he's really my best friend and all ever since back in my old home."

I look at Dale, who has his head bowed down. His fingers are fumbling, index finger twirling with each other as he takes a deep breath, as if he's mustering up a courage. I turn slightly, watching him as he gets nervous. I can practically see the beads of sweat running down his temple.

"I've talked to Gloss... about what he... feels," he stutters, looking away and focusing his eyes at a distant. My brows furrow in confusion. "This is a big thing for me. I mean... I really don't know what I feel anymore. Gloss..." – Dale chuckles, shaking his head, then he continues, - "he was straight back home, and when I came here, after hearing what happened to him, that he lost his memory, I was kind of shock that he had - has – a boyfriend. I'm not homophobic, because my brother is gay as well. Then... I saw you, and I started having these weird feelings inside me, and I was in denial, because there was no way that I'm gay, which I still believe I'm not, but when I look at you, I feel this weird thing inside me bubbling, growing and growing, but when I look at other men, I don't feel the same way. I feel... straight. So I talked to Gloss about this, because I knew that he was the only one who could understand me better about this, and he never failed me. He was the best choice. He told me about these feelings inside me, and at first it felt weird for him, too, but he told me that he got used to it, and he told me that I should get used to this as well. He told me... stuff, stuff about you. Despite the tough façade that you always put, you're fragile... and that you need a lot of care and love."

Did really Gloss say that about me? Is it that obvious? "I don't understand." I say, even though I perfectly understand what he means. I just don't want to assume. Because I'm afraid that in the end, my heart will break. That's something I don't want to happen.

Dale sighs, running a hand across his face up to his hair. "Beau, I like you," he says, stressing the word and I catch my breath in my throat. I shut my eyes as tight as I can. Upon hearing his words, my heart races faster. I have been dreaming of this. I have been dreaming of this for almost every night yet why do I feel different? Why do I feel hurt? I shake my head. "Beau, damn it, listen to me, I like you. I don't know why but I do. I wish I could stop this, but I like you. I wish I could just forget this, but I like you. I have so many wishes in my life but still I like you."

"You don't mean that."

"God f*****g damn it," he stands up, kicks the dust, and runs his hand across his face, frustrated. "Beau, I mean everything what I said. It's hard for me to say these things. I hoped that you would understand, that you would help me here, but I think I thought wrong."

I stand up, anger boiling inside me. "Can you blame me, Rob? I've been broken several times. Can you f*****g blame me for not trusting your words? You have cut me with your words yesterday, and I just don't want to deal with shits anymore because I'm tired of getting hurt. I want to give myself a chance! A chance of everything I deprived myself of! Can you still blame me?" I croak, breaking as tears begin to pour out of my eyes.

My face buries itself in my hands as I cry. His arms wrap around me and he pushes me into him, his hand resting at the back of my neck while his other hand rest on my hips. "Please don't call me Rob. I'm Dale to you, and it hurts me knowing that you're angry at me. Please forgive me." I just continue to cry. "Would you give us a chance to be together? Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? If we get together, I'm warning you, that you'll need to help me. All the time. I'm new to this. I'm exhausted. With all the girls trying to get into my pants, and the gays wanting to have a taste of me, you'll deal with them if we get together."

"Cocky bastard," I hiccup.

He chuckles. "So... the offer is still up. Would you like to give me a chance? Would you like to be together with me, even though I'm full of crap, full of shits, full of troubles? Would you still want me if you know that I have nightmares? Would you still choose me if you know that I'm not really great, not the one that you expect?"

I just look at him. Deep down, I already know the answer.

And I wonder if I should answer him.