shadsy

Ugh, that time of night when my stomach’s upsetting me. It’s late enough, so I shouldn’t run into anyone…

I slip down the stairs, only to spot low light trickling from the kitchen entryway. Great. Lucky I came down in full pajamas. Now, to see who’s raiding the fridge at the same time I want to.

Well, they’re not wearing a shirt, for one. This is…quite a view. Their shoulders are strong, and while they’re not chiseled, their chest is nothing to sneeze at. Wait, is that a chain hanging from their neck? I study their face closer, and…

Ah, it’s Leon…

I bite my lip and walk around him, the light enough for me to see into the cupboard directly behind him. When I open it, he jumps. “Shit!” he curses, still a whisper as he rises with a bottle of soda in his hand. “I didn’t even see you…”

“Sorry,” I say with a sheepish look. He’s still wearing his jeans, but no belt for once, so his boxer briefs show at his hips. I…try not to stare.

He doesn’t give me much of a chance to, as he turns back around toward the fridge. “You can turn a light on, you know,” he grumbles. With a long drink of soda–I can hear every step, from the crackle of the plastic bottle, to the screw of the cap before he puts it back in the fridge. “You’re going to have to, anyway…”

He shuts the door, leaving us in the dark. Christ, my heart is beating fast. It hasn’t been too long since he moved in, so I don’t expect him to be completely warmed up to me yet, but I’m…working on it. I don’t care if Ray thinks I have poor taste. “He’s a greaseball dropout,” he says, “he doesn’t care about anything”, he says. But, I don’t think that’s quite true.

He flicks on the kitchen light for me, and I shield my eyes with one arm. “There,” he mutters, and by the time my eyes adjust, I can catch him crossing his arms in front of his chest. I let myself look him over once before continuing my quest for a snack. It’s hard to focus…what was I going for? Oh yeah, crackers…

“You…” he starts. Frankly, it’s something that he’s talking this much, especially for the hour, especially since I jumped him. I turn back, and our eyes meet for a split second before he looks off. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Not quite,” I reply. “Just need a snack, then I’ll be all right for the night.” Goldfish will work–I pull the bag down and have a few crackers. I offer the bag to him, and he shakes his head, hair tossing with him. I smirk in spite of myself–there’s something about him that’s…endearing. And he’s handsome in a scruffy way, but I couldn’t tell Ray that. He’d roll his eyes and probably wish he’d never let Leon know that he could live here.

He’s still standing in the doorway, for some reason, but as soon as I can think this, he sighs loud. “Well, I’m headed to bed,” he says.

I put the bag back–this should tide me over. “Me too,” I reply, shuffling across the tacky linoleum. We both go to turn the light off at the same time, but he gets there first. I jerk my hand away, but not before it brushes against the top of his fingers. God, what is this, some romance movie? Recognizing the cliché doesn’t quell the butterflies in my stomach.

I follow him up the stairs–his room’s the first one in the hall. “Night, Leigh,” he says.

“Yeah. G'night, Leon.”

He offers me a thin smile before disappearing into his room. I linger in the hallway, hand over my mouth as I walk backwards toward my room. Great. All I’m going to think about for the rest of the night is the image of him shirtless. In spite of this, I feel a smile creep behind my hand. I guess it’s not a bad thing.

2. leon

“That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” they say, bumping close to my shoulder as we walk back into the house.

“Yeah.” We went to see a movie together, my treat. We both wanted to see it, so why not see it together? Why not? On our way over, they picked a daisy off the sidewalk and tucked it in their ear, and it’s still there right now, even if it is a little wilted. I don’t…really know if I absorbed much of the movie.

The house is dark, but as my eyes adjust, I can catch the flutter of their dress as they take the stairs two at a time. Still, they’re quiet, and I have to make an effort to be slow so I don’t make any noise. Normally, I’d just want to go to bed, but my head is buzzing, buzzing. It’s weird.

They stop at the top of the stairs and wait for me. “Are you going right to bed?” they ask, voice soft. It makes my fingers itch.

“N…no, probably not,” I reply. “Still, ah…have a bunch of energy left over.” I guess? If you call this tight adrenaline in my chest “energy”…

“You can come hang out in my room, if you want,” they suggest. “We could listen to some albums.”

Yeah, that’s the sort of thing we do, isn’t it? They’ve got a huge record collection, bigger than mine that got truncated when Mom kicked me out. Lots of experimental stuff that I’ve never heard of. Probably wouldn’t listen to any of them myself, but they tend to sit close when we listen, occasionally telling me little things about each song. How they could go without this one, or how this one’s their favorite.

“Leon?” they say.

I didn’t realize I hadn’t answered them. Despite the dark, I can catch the reflection of the street lights in their eyes. The way the light shines in casts a square of light over the bridge of their nose, revealing light freckles. “Ah…s-sure,” I mutter. I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow, so it might not be a good idea to stay up, but it’s not too much…

“You don’t have to,” they reply, a giggle on their lips. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“Maybe.”

They’ve backed up against their door, and somehow I’ve followed them there. We’re similar heights, with them being just gently shorter than me, but the way they’re standing makes the difference a little more pronounced. The glare from outside has shifted, now casting pale light against their lips, slightly parted. “Ah…” they start, and I see their throat bob as they swallow. “Hey…”

They take my arms in both their hands, fussing against the leather of my jacket. I hold my breath. They held my hand in the theater, too. Damn it. Why is it when you do things like this, I feel so nervous? I never felt like this with Chelsea…why with you? And why…am I not mad about it?

A small huff through their nose, and they tug me forward by my arms. I dip down, and they tilt their head up, eyes close and they…

…kiss me.

I can feel their shuddering, anxious breath through their nose–or is it mine? No, it’s theirs, because I think I’ve stopped. I…manage to return it, my mind blank, before the moment is over, before they break it, audible in the dark silence. Their hand shakes when they tuck their hair behind their ear, and the daisy falls out onto the floor. “I-I’m sorry,” they whisper. “Was…that okay?”

I bend over and pick up the daisy, tucking it back behind their ear. I stroke their long, blond hair, down to their shoulder, aware of my heart thudding in my ears, aware of my own nod. “Yeah,” I utter. “It…was.”

3.

7 AM.

Leon’s alarm went off, and he slammed it quiet. School. He rolled over in bed, ignoring the morning light streaming through his window. Too tired. Too boring. Who cares?

He fell back asleep.

9 AM.

Footsteps through the hallway outside his door, and he jerked awake. Did I lock my door? He squinted at the deadbolt he installed himself on his door, turned to the locked position on its side. All right. Good. Nonetheless, he laid perfectly still until he heard creak of the screen door, the turn of a car engine, and the sound of it driving away. He let out a sigh when the house returned to silence. She’s gone for the day. Hopefully for the next few. Not that it matters–she’ll ignore me unless she needs something. Surprised she didn’t try to snoop around in here, thinking I was “gone”…

Whatever…let me sleep…

A hand over his eyes, and he dozed once again.

12 PM.

Noon was a harder sun to ignore, and Leon ran his hand through his thick, brown hair before beginning to get up. Might as well. Work at 3. That’s something worthwhile, isn’t it? Is it? Christ. The mattress creaked beneath him as he placed both feet on the floor, stretching his legs. What’s the point, anyway? He rubbed his eyes, a heavy weight on his shoulders. C'mon. Get up.

Unlock the door, trudge through the hallway, into the kitchen. Leon opened the refrigerator, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. Nothing. Nothing that’s mine, anyway. He slammed the door shut and shuffled back to his room. Whatever. I’ve got time to go to the store. He stripped off his t-shirt for another one that was nearly identical–plain white, and a little tight around the shoulders. He pulled the heavy chain around his neck from beneath the collar, allowing it to hang in view over his collarbone. A pair of jeans, ripped in the knees and faded, looked clean enough to wear again, even if they were a hair loose on his hips. Belt was next, snaking through the loops with ease, along with a couple leather wrist cuffs on each wrist. Wallet in the back pocket, keys in the front, and lastly, his leather jacket. He draped it over his shoulders, not bothering to put his arms in the sleeves. Close enough.

He locked his bedroom door behind him, and before he could make it out the front door, he caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. Gray eyes stared back at him, dull and tired. Fuck.

Leon shook his head and walked out.

He flipped his keys in his hand and unlocked his car–a dated, black sedan that reeked of cigarettes and dirty laundry. His backpack sat in the passenger seat, overflowing with untouched assignments and worn school books, editions ten years gone by. The car started without a fuss, but the shifter creaked when he put it in reverse, gas pedal taking too much pressure to respond. With one hand behind the passenger seat and the other to spin the wheel, he peeled out of the driveway with a squeal of the tires, huffing at the gray day and quiet streets. Midday during the week, what can you expect?

He pumped the cigarette lighter on the dash and cracked the window. If I take the back way, I won’t have to drive past the high school, he thought, pulling a cigarette from the open pack on the dashboard. As if on command, the lighter popped out, ready to use, and he balanced the cigarette between his teeth while his free hand withdrew the red hot light. Smoke billowed from the end as it lit, and he breathed it in, the comfort of nicotine beginning to clear his haze. Avoid the school, avoid Chelsea asking any stupid questions, buy food, go to work, avoid Mom, go to bed,

maybe wake up the next morning. Maybe.

Christ.

The grocery store wasn’t terribly far, and Leon didn’t even feel the need to turn on the radio before he got there. He pulled into a parking space and launched his seat back with the lever beneath him. Kicking his feet up onto the dash, he rolled down the window all the way so he could finish the rest of his smoke. God, please don’t call the house, Chelsea. Don’t leave a message. Mom’ll hear it, and I’ll get hell for skipping. I don’t want to take that. Not today. Preferably not ever, but especially not today.

His cigarette burned right down to the filter, and once there was no tobacco left, he ground it into the ashtray, already overflowing with butts from smoke’s past. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he was able to see the dark creases beneath his eyes more clearly, as well as the day old stubble growing on his face. With a grimace, he wrenched the rear view away from him and shoved open the car door. Cool, damp air sent goosebumps over his arms, and he hastily shrugged his arms inside his jacket sleeves. Damn it.

Through the automatic doors, Leon wandered through the aisles as if he were in a dream. His muscles moved him forward, even as his mind wandered. Bread, milk, peanut butter, some boxed macaroni and cheese, all tossed into a plastic basket. Nothing over $20, he thought, I can make this last a week. Maybe more if I’m careful. Don’t need to eat that much.

At last when he found himself in line, he had picked the one with the youngest looking cashier–bleached, white blond hair, bangs in…their eyes? Leon couldn’t discern their gender, despite “LEIGH” written in Sharpie on their name tag. “Hey there,” they greeted as he unloaded his basket onto the conveyor. “Did you find everything okay?”

Leon wanted to be angry at the cheery, customer service branded jingle in their voice, but found his contempt waver when he met their green-blue eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered simply. He tossed the basket beneath the conveyor belt and wandered up to just past the counter, eyes fixed on the cashier. I’ve seen them here before, and around town too. They…can’t be in school either, if they’re working at this hour…

Hell, why should I care?

They scanned everything quickly, sneaking glances up after every item. “Do you have a frequent shopper’s card?” they asked.

“No,” Leon replied, already reaching for his wallet, attached to a chain on his belt. Never bothered…

“That’s okay.” They produced a key ring from beneath the counter, complete with a small card, and scanned it in. “I don’t really know why we have these anyway,” they said with a chuckle. “Everyone just does this…”

“Huh.” Leon watched as they punched in a couple numbers into the computer, sweeping their bangs out of their eyes with one hand. It was adorned with several silver rings, one for almost every slender, long finger. “Total’s $21.15.”

Leon sighed as he pulled the bills from his wallet. Just over. Oh well, close enough. He was prepared just to leave the money on the counter out of habit, but as he continued to study the cashier’s face, he found himself handing it all the way over. Their face was thin, but with soft edges around their cheeks, freckles decorating the bridge of their nose.

“Thank you,” they said with a small smile. What’s it like, to smile at people so easily like that? Leon thought. What’s that like…

He was startled when they brushed their hands against his outstretched palm. “There’s your change,” they said, coins jingling against their rings before he turned away. “And I’ll bag this up…h-hey, what’s your name?”

The question also took him off guard. “Huh?” Leon replied.

“You come by a lot. I recognize your face,” they commented. “You work at that record store down in Davis Square, right?”

“Y…yeah?” He stared as they bagged up his groceries, all fitting neatly into a large, paper bag. “H…how…” How the hell do you know that? I should’ve seen you…then again… Leon looked at them more intently. I guess…I have? That hair, and those eyes...

“There, you’re all set,” they stated, lifting the bag up to make sure it was stable. “Have a good one.”

“Yeah,” he replied, biting the inside of his cheek. With some effort, weight shifting between staying put and darting away, he managed to wait and speak again. “I’m…Leon.”

Their polite service smile widened into one much more genuine. “Leigh,” they answered, and waved. “Bye.”

Leon nodded, swiping the groceries off the counter and hurrying himself out. What the fuck was that? he thought, face feeling warm. Leigh, huh…

4. leon

Friday night, and I manage to get home before 6. Guess I could go out, if there was anywhere to go. Not that I really want to.

The landlady is in the kitchen with the phone cradled on her tattooed shoulder. She’s…something. Ray keeps calling her “Vampira”, but her name is Zoe. Lives in the basement, and I wouldn’t assume she was the landlady if it weren’t for the fact that she was the one I had to talk to in order to move in. She tucks a strand of her purple hair behind her ear–her roots are out by about two inches–before turning to me. “Oh, hey,” she says. “What do you like on pizza?”

I stare at her, and she stares right back. “C'mon. You’ve got to like something. Can’t be that hard.”

My head jerks. “I don’t care,” I blurt. It’s a gut reaction.

She waves her finger at me, and I can see long black nails with the paint chipped off. “Don’t be like that, pal,” she says. “Because then I’ll get something you don’t like, and you’ll complain.”

“Why do you care?” I say.

“I’m ordering in, what do you think?” She shakes her head and pushes her glasses up. “Whatever. I’ll just assume you’ll be fine with cheese.” She starts to dial the number and mutters under her breath. “God, I don’t know why they like you, of all people…”

“Huh?” I say. “They”?

She rolls her eyes, and her tone perks up when she looks away from me. “Hi there, order for delivery? Yeah, I need two large pizzas, one cheese, then one half mushroom onion, half pepperoni sausage. …28 Cameron Ave, Somerville. …Cash. Okay, thanks.” She hangs up and crosses her arms. “You’re welcome.”

Ordering in for the house? That’s…generous. I automatically reach for my wallet to pull out some cash, and before I can yank it from my back pocket, she’s already shaking her head. “Put that away, punk.”

“Why?” I ask.

“This is what I do,” she says. “I take in queers, they pay rent, I buy pizza. Simple.”

Anxiety spikes through the back of my head. “I-I’m not queer.”

She gives me a look that clearly says “sure you’re not”, and I shift on my feet. It’s…just not something that ever crossed my mind. I’ve just…never felt strongly for much of anyone. Chelsea’s my friend, and that’s it. But…

She looks over her nails, scrunching her black lips. “Whatever,” she sighs, hanging up the phone. “You can tell me you’re straight, but I’ve been around the block once or twice. I see you and Leigh hanging out together.”

“What about it?” I say.

As if on command, Leigh enters, still in their supermarket vest. Their hair is tied back in a low ponytail, but their bangs are left out, fluttering against their face. “Hey, there!” they greet.

“Hey, just ordered in,” she says. “If you’re not going out, that is.”

“I don’t think so,” they say, and they look at me. “Are you going anywhere tonight? It’s Friday night, after all…”

“No,” I say. “Just got off work myself…”

“Okay!” They give me a big smile, one that I’m starting to look forward to, before they jog upstairs. I find myself watching them as they go.

I can hear Zoe chuckle behind me, and I catch her in the corner of my eye. “What?”

She sticks her tongue out, revealing a piercing. “I know a crush when I see one.”

5. leigh

It’s raining. The rhythm against the roof is soothing, a gentle hush of white noise. The Wallflowers album I put on ended about a half an hour ago, so we lie together in silence. I can feel the steady beat of his heart in his chest against my ear, and I nuzzle against him. He’s been idly stroking my hair, watching water drip down over the screen in the window.

It’s peaceful.

I could almost fall asleep…

He breaks his rhythm, though, and chooses to tuck part of my bangs behind my ear. I look up, and suddenly he’s looking right at me, a glazed, almost dreamy look in his gray eyes. Seems like since we started going out, he’s kept clean shaven, looks a little more put together. He still dresses the same, and he’s still got that grungy, punk attitude about him. Not that I’d try and change that.

I scoot up a little, adjusting so I’m straddling him in his lap. His eyes refocus, running all over me, but he smirks all the same. It’s faint, but it’s there. I drape my arms around his shoulders, and lean down to kiss him. It’s slow, it’s easy. He was a fast learner in that respect. His arms hold my waist, firm and steady. His breathing through his nose melds in with the hush of the rain, and we kiss, kiss, and kiss…

I relax into his arms, our chests pressed together, and I let my tongue wander into his mouth. A slight moan from the back of his throat–very, very slight, but still there, and I relish in it. Everything about him is subtle, it’s deeper than the surface. He’s built such a thick exterior, one would think that there’s nothing there underneath. Even Ray still says shit like “I don’t get why you like him”. High school dropout, kicked out of his parent’s house, almost impossible to have a conversation with…

Why would you like someone like that? Well…

He sighs and breaks the kiss to look at me, snaking his hands back through my hair. He watches the motion before he meets my eyes, a long look. Long enough to study each peak and valley in his eyes, eyes like a storm, eyes like rain in the spring. He opens his mouth to speak, then decides not to, kissing me instead. I accept it, but it’s only one before he drapes me against his chest again. Now that he doesn’t have to look at me, he mutters in my ear. “Leigh.”

I don’t think he’s ever said anyone else’s name like he says mine. I smile in his messy shag of hair. “Hm?”

He breathes in my ear for a moment–just when the anticipation is about to kill me, he shakes his head a little. “N-nothing,” he whispers, and kisses the side of my head.

I can feel what he wants to say. I know he’s not great with words, or with being with other people, after being alone and forgotten for so long. So, I nuzzle back against him, holding him against my chest. If being together like this is so easy, I don’t mind the wait…

6. leon, nsfw

orig posted 07/12/2016. sexually explicit.

Fuck, fuck, God, fuck…

They only stop sucking me off to keep their hair off their shoulders, trying to snake it back onto their bare back before diving on me again. We were making out at first, and they kept grinding against me, and I got hot, hot and hard and they just said…

“Let me take care of it.”

And that’s sure what they’re doing, gripping my thighs, and they take me in, take me in completely, sucking hard and Christ, it feels good, I never felt anything like this before. Jacking off is one thing, and I really didn’t think anything of it before but they…oh, fuck, they…

They look up at me, those blue-green eyes, like an ocean, and I reach out with a trembling hand. I run a hand over their cheek and then up to their head, grabbing a fistful of hair in the process. They smile at me, even with their mouth full of my cock, and raise their head up just a little, enough so they’re just sucking the tip. My thighs twitch, Jesus, they know exactly what they’re doing…

Their tongue leaves me, but is immediately replaced by their hand, while the other massages their lips–I catch a glimpse of them, pink and swollen before they’re hidden by their hand. I try to talk, but all that comes out are a few moaning breaths, every word that tries to pass my lips disintegrates into thin air. They chuckle at this. “You like it?” they whisper.

Yes or no question, that’s easy. I nod. Yes, yes I like it, and you’re still keeping me warm and ready, heat rising through my body, from my groin to my brow. I push my hair back and swallow hard. There’s a smirk on their face that’s hard to resist, and my eyes wander through their freckled shoulders, their collarbone sharp above their chest. They’re pretty, they’re hot, and I’m…

I…

Ah…

“How do you want me to finish you?” they ask, simple, easy, like if they asked me if I wanted a fucking cup of coffee. This isn’t a yes or no question, but I don’t think they’re going to phrase it any other way. I’ve got to find my tongue somehow.

And oh, I want their tongue on me…

“M…” My throat clicks as I swallow again. “Mouth…”

They bite their lip. “Okay.” Hand still on my cock, they rise over me, still in their jeans but no shirt, and balance themself above me with one hand on the headboard. “A kiss for good luck?”

They make me reach for it, tongue out and panting, but God, it’s worth it to hear them moan…

7.

orig posted 07/12/2016

Metallica blasted from the speakers as Leon ran the vacuum along the aisles of the store. “God, can you turn that down?” he called to the front, sticking a finger in his ear.

“No, man,” Dave replied, mashing his cigar in the ashtray as he kicked back in the rolling chair. “I’ve got to get pumped for their concert coming this weekend!” He laughed and crossed his arms. “You missed the end, there.”

You’re going to give me a fucking headache, he thought, glaring at the carpet. He rushed the vacuum up to the spot Dave pointed to, bumping the side of the display along the way. At least Ray is quiet. And reasonable. Leon snapped off the vacuum and rolled his shoulders back before rolling into the back storage room. “There. Now what?”

“I already counted the register. I guess you’re free to go,” he called back. “You’re in a hurry. Got a date?”

Leon grit his teeth. “No.” We have this conversation. Every. Fucking. Time. I close. He ripped his leather jacket from the peg in the back. No, I don’t have a date. I don’t have anyplace to be. I don’t even fucking want to go home, because Mom will probably be there with something to bitch at me about. I really should take up Ray on that extra room in the house he’s living in…

He rattled his keys in his pocket, almost about to clear the front counter, when Dave stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Hey, kid,” he asked, voice low and cragged from decades of cigarettes. “Do you smoke?”

Leon squinted and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and shook them. You already know this, I ask for a smoke break every shift. What the fuck?

Dave rolled his eyes. “No, idiot, I mean do you smoke.” He opened up the drawer under the register and lifted the bottom tray. From beneath it, he pulled out a plastic bag full of blunts, green marijuana leaking from the edges. “I’m trying to get rid of these before I’m gone for the weekend.”

“What the fuck?” Leon muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not going to buy your weed.”

“C'mon,” he sighed, pulling out one blunt. “You look like you could loosen up a bit. I won’t even charge you if you just take one.”

I’ve never gotten high in my life. Chelsea would probably flip her lid. With a very heavy sigh, he snatched it from between his boss’ fingers. He brought out his cigarette pack and stuffed in with the rest with a grimace. “Did you try this on Ray?” he asked.

“Yeah, he didn’t bite,” Dave replied. “You kids don’t have any friends who–”

“Jesus,” Leon interrupted, turning on his heel and nearly fleeing down the aisle. “I’m out of here.”

“Hey–!” Dave called over the blaring music. “You better be coming in tomorrow!”

Leon pushed the door open with his back. “Who said I wasn’t?”

It took him a block walking before the music finally faded away from the store. That can’t be legal, he thought. What did he mean, anyway, I “need to loosen up”? I get enough people at school muttering that I look like a stoner, I don’t need to make it come true. Fucking hell.

He let his feet carry him down the deserted streets, past closed corner stores, past the gated construction pit that had yet to be filled, down through side streets adorned with tall trees. Please don’t be home, please don’t be home, he repeated in his mind, hands in his jacket pockets. I’m tired, I just want to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s Friday, I’ve got the noon shift, so no school tomorrow. I went in today, that should satisfy Chelsea. Didn’t do anything.

He stared up at the night sky, swirled with clouds stained purple from light pollution. I don’t get why she’s so adamant about it. She’s the one who wants to go to college, not me. She got into Tufts Med, and that’s great, good for her. I don’t want to do school anymore. I just want to earn a living and get out of this fucking house. Is that so much to ask?

I want to feel like I want to live again.

Suddenly, he was at his front door, his run-down car the only one parked in the gravel driveway. Thank fucking God, he thought in relief, scanning over the dark windows. No one’s home. He unlocked the door and stepped in–his instincts were to creep, slip around the edge of the kitchen unnoticed until he got to the hallway, where he’d bolt for his room. Instead, he stood with the door open, listening to the quiet of the house. I should…make sure.

He tiptoed to the main hallway, all the way to the end, where his mother’s bedroom was. The door was wide open, and even though it was dark, there was no sound of movement, not even the hushed breathing of sleep. Leon dipped his head. Good.

Allowing his feet to make more noise, he pulled his lighter out from his jeans’ pocket, as well as his pack of cigarettes. What a fucking relief. I can just…relax. The front door was still open, and he stepped out and leaned against it, fingering through the cigarettes in the pack. The blunt Dave gave him stuck out more than the others, and he found himself pulling it out, holding it between his fingers. What the hell. Weed makes you sleepy, doesn’t it?

He lit the blunt and took a hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs and letting it out slow and steady. The effect wasn’t quite instantaneous, but it certainly wasn’t the clarity that nicotine provided. Is this…what it’s like to relax? He tipped his head back against the door. Huh…

Maybe I’ll sleep well tonight…

8. leigh

orig posted 07/12/2016

I sit cross-legged behind him, running my finger over his naked back. He shivers instantly. “Hey,” he grunts, turning half around.

I giggle. “Sorry, sorry.” He doesn’t have freckles, not the dense shadows of light spots all over his shoulders like me, but he does have moles. Tiny spots dotted all over his back. His shoulders are a little arched from hunching over so much, but I still admire the shape and plain of his back–I run my hands down the sides, all the way to his hips, before I spot a mole, and poke it. I trace it to the nearest one I can find, on his spine. Then another one, a little higher and to the left. And another…

“What are you doing?” he mutters, trying to turn around.

“Nothing,” I reply. “Just…connecting the dots.”

“What dots?”

“On your back. See, there’s one here…” I poke one on his shoulder, then drag my finger down past his armpit. “…And here…” Down and across. “…And here–”

“Jesus–!” He shivers, and I see goosebumps on the edges of his arms. He tries to scoot away, but I drag him into me, and he doesn’t resist. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Quit tickling me…”

“I wasn’t–!” His hair shifts against the back of his neck as he looks up at me–it’s gotten long. I know he likes it that way, but he’s been fussing with it a lot more now that it’s gotten a little past his shoulders. And he’s too stubborn to put it up. I brush a strand out of his face. “You should get a haircut.”

“Look who’s talking,” he replies, gesturing to mine, halfway down my back. “I’ll just cut it myself…”

“You cut your own hair?”

He nods. “I just tie it off and cut it at my neck. Mom used to do it…” He pauses and sighs, heavy. “…until she didn’t.”

I hug him around his shoulders and rest my chin on his shoulder. “I could do it. If that’s all you ever did, it’d be simple.”

Leon shakes his head, and now is when he breaks away from me, standing up off the floor. “No,” he says, eyes darting around. “Where…where’s my shirt…”

I think I touched a nerve of some kind. Either way, I stand up as well, adjusting my lounging pants and scanning the floor. Ah, there it is. It’s in a heap with mine. “Here,” I say quietly.

He grunts a thanks and throws it over his shoulders. This takes a minute, because he doesn’t realize it’s inside out, and he has to start again. There are times when I feel really close, we get really close…and then one thing, one simple sentence will close him off. It’s back to silence and distant looks from his gray eyes.

But, I don’t think he wants to be that way. Because he could’ve just gone back to his room. But he’s still here. Standing, almost waiting. Waiting for what?

Tentatively, I take a step closer. Even though he’s not facing me, I can tell he’s watching out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to do everything yourself,” I say. Maybe you had to before, but you don’t have to anymore. Not while I’m around.

His hands twitch at his sides, and his eyes have gone to stare at the floor. “Is that right…?” he mutters.

“Y…” I start to reply, but then he turns his head to me. His face is drawn, eyebrows turned up, lips tight. He’s trying to hold this in, but it’s failing, because his eyes give him away.

He looks more like a frightened child.

God, Leon, sometimes I wonder how different you’d be if someone had actually taken care of you. This is what happens though, isn’t it? All the shit we end up dealing with as kids…no matter how hard you stuff it down, it always comes back around when you grow up. I know it, too.

I don’t say anything else, but I do reach out to touch his arm. I want to hug him, but it might be too abrupt. The contrast of his usual, stone-faced demeanor to this deer in headlights look is not something I want to test. Indeed, he flinches a little, and he bites his lip. Hard, by the looks of it.

You don’t have to be so guarded…

It takes a minute, but eventually, he pulls me into his arms, running his fingers through the back of my hair. It takes even longer for him to speak. “C'mon,” he sighs. It’s clear to me, anyway, that he waited until he was composed enough before he tried. “Give me a haircut…”

9. leon

orig posted 07/12/2016

It’s been thundering all afternoon. I pull into the driveway just as the rain starts. And by God, it’s fucking pouring.

I get out of my car, shut the door behind me, and I just…stand there. It’s been humid, and it feels good against my face, my hair. It soaks me instantly, right through to my shirt. It’s deafening against my car, against the roof of the house, and the hum in my ears drowns out the extra noise in my head. It’s just rain. It tastes bitter when it runs down my face.

It’s refreshing.

But, it doesn’t last long.

“Joseph? Joey!”

Ugh. She’s home. I try to ignore her, but her shrill voice could wake the dead. “Why are you standing out there? Get inside!”

The rain’s starting to subside–the most intense part only lasts a minute, fading into a softer rhythm. If it were any other time, I would go inside by now, but I don’t want to go because she told me.

“Joey! Oh, for Christ’s sake–”

Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. She runs out with an umbrella and yanks me by the arm, dragging me up the porch stairs and inside the house. I nearly trip going inside. Once I’m there, she smacks me across the face, water spraying everywhere. “What the hell is wrong with you? Standing out there like an idiot?” she asks me.

I don’t answer her.

Since I got into high school, I’ve grown up taller than she has, but that hasn’t changed too much. She’s wearing a ton of makeup, and I can smell the hairspray wafting off her, which means she’s going out. Again. Wonder if it’s the same boyfriend, or if there’s someone new this time? She looks me over with her arms crossed. “Look at you. You’re soaking wet. I didn’t raise you to be this stupid.”

Funny, I don’t think you raised me at all. I don’t say this. I don’t say anything. “Then again, maybe you were born that way,” she sighs, wandering to the kitchen table. “I got a letter from the school. You’ve skipped over thirty days this semester. You want to tell me what you’ve been doing?”

Not really. Some days I just slept through, but there are others that I’ve just picked up extra shifts at work. Not that you’d care. I’ve learned my lesson. Mom, do you remember when I was a freshman? I made honor roll, even though I struggled to get a B in my math and writing classes. I was on the freshman football team. I did student council, and I got my varsity letter for it. I went to school every single fucking day, and you know what you said?

Nothing. You said nothing and you left me alone for my fifteenth birthday. And my sixteenth. And seventeenth. And eighteenth, too. This year wasn’t any fucking different.

“And of course, you have nothing to say to me,” she sighs finally, clicking her tongue and grabbing her purse. “You ungrateful bastard. You’re so selfish, you never even think of how I feel about anything.”

I’m silent still, and she gives me one last sour look before leaving, slamming the door behind her. I stay perfectly still, so still, still dripping wet, while she pulls her own car out of the driveway, barely grazing the side of mine. The tires squeal as she drives on in the rain. Selfish, huh?

And now is when I move, because I can’t stop myself from shaking. I slam my fist down on the kitchen table, hard, so hard it stings, so hard I’m afraid it’ll bruise. I kick off my shoes against the front door, and they thud against it with a sloppy, wet thud. I rip off my jacket and chuck it on the floor, and strip the rest of my clothes right down to my underwear as I make my way to the bathroom. Selfish, selfish, selfish, you should fucking speak for yourself, if you were so fucking resentful of my fucking existence, you shouldn’t have gotten knocked up at 16, shouldn’t have let your religious mother talk you into keeping me to term, let alone raise me yourself…

I glare at the mirror, at least I try to, but fuck, there are tears in my eyes.

And my name’s not Joey.

10. leon

orig posted 07/13/2016

There’s a park next to the elementary school that they take me to on a blindingly sunny day. It’s only, what, a fifteen minute walk? But I’m already sweating. I don’t own any shorts, and if I do, they’re in storage, and fuck if I’m going to go back to Mom’s again. They’re looking cool, of course, in a pair of cut-offs that expose their pale, gangly legs and a loose t-shirt. “C'mon, this way,” they say.

“Can’t we find some shade?” This place is a giant field, pretty much, save for the playground on the far side, bordering the dental place on the next block. There are some trees, but they’re all the way across, and the sun is baking my head. They don’t mind, of course they don’t…Jesus, they’re pale as a fuckin’ ghost, shouldn’t they be the ones concerned about the sun? The look they give me when they notice me lagging behind says no.

God…

“Yeah, in a sec–oh, look!” They point wildly, and before I can really focus, they’re dragging me by my wrist over to a weeping willow tree. Shade, thank God. Its base is surrounded by wildflowers–some daisies, dandelions, and small, white ones I don’t know the name of. They’re fucking everywhere around here, though. They pull me down to the ground, crossing their legs and immediately picking a daisy. “There are a ton here! With nice, long stems, too…”

Flowers, they love flowers. Every day I saw them at the grocery store, there was a flower in their ear, or pinned to their hair. Real one too, most of the time. I’ve noticed a couple fake flower clips on their dresser in their room–bright colors, like pink and blue, ones I’ve never really seen them wear.

I don’t know why I remember that so well. Been…spending a lot of time with them, I guess. I don’t see Chelsea that often anymore, since I stopped going to school. Yeah, yeah, drop out right before graduation–not that my grades were doing that great beforehand. There’s a part of me that wants to rub in her face that the world didn’t stop turning when I stopped going. I’m doing fine. I work, I have my own bills to pay–if you call slipping a check into the skull covered box outside the basement door “paying bills”–and I…

…feel okay. I feel okay, for once. Even though my scalp is burning, and these jeans are too tight for a hot day like today…

I stop staring at the grass and glance back up at them. They’ve weaved together the daisies’ stems at an alarming speed, making me wonder how long I’ve been spacing out. They’ve got just about a whole ring made. They glance over with a little smile, then hold it out in front of them, a circle in both hands. “I think that’s big enough,” they say. They untangle their limbs from the pretzel position they’ve gotten into, crawl over, and drape the crown of flowers on my head. “Ta-da!”

“Wh-what?” I try to look up and see, but it’s no use. I feel kind of silly. “Why?”

“Because,” they reply simply, “I wanted to.”

Their freckles are shining in the sun over the bridge of their nose, and while they look me over, they kneel up to adjust the flowers in the crown while it’s still on my head. You wanted to, huh? It’d be better on them, better suited. You can’t spruce up a guy like me with a few flowers…

Still…

“Hmm,” they muse, then chuckle to themselves, pressing the back of their thumb to their lips. “I wonder if I should’ve used dandelions.”

They shift their head, blond hair sliding over their shoulders. Everything about them is bright and clean, even though they wear more black than I do. Why would someone like you want to hang out with someone like me? Chelsea I only barely understand, because she met me when I was worth something a little more, but–

They giggle again. “B-because, you know…dandy…Leon?”

That was terrible. It cuts my train of thought clean off as I stare at them, then roll my eyes. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, standing up and dusting off my pants. “I’m going home.”

“Hey!” They’re laughing now, stumbling to their feet. They stagger over, grabbing onto my arm and nearly tripping over their own feet. “If you’re trying to escape, remember that we live together, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. They continue to bump against me, and I can feel the flower crown has tilted against my head. Even though the warmth from the sun is unbearable and making my shirt stick to my back, the warmth from them close-by is…comforting. Leigh, I don’t know why you like being around me so much,

but I hope you keep coming back.

11. leigh

orig posted 07/13/2016

I look really femme today. Mascara, eyeliner, along with my favorite dress. It’s a little tight in the waist, and I’m not a big fan of the skinny straps that show off my bony, broader shoulders, but it’s nothing my coat can’t cover up. It was an endeavor to get over here–I almost missed the bus, and the next one doesn’t come for another hour. I tuck my hands into the oversized pockets and walk into the Target.

I’m buying lingerie today.

I keep my head down, slipping through the aisles through to the ladies’ section. I want to get a bralet and some matching panties. They always seem really comfortable for lounging around, and the bras I have are all foam cups, to make it look like I actually have a chest. They work, but I want something different.

Okay, okay. I’m getting them with Leon in mind. Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself…we’ve only kissed once, that time after we went to the movies, and that was…that was like some hazy dream. He kissed me back, though. I don’t know if we’re “dating” now, or not. We’ve been on a date, but…hm. It’s complicated.

I sift through the racks, looking for something in a medium. There are lots of lacy ones–pink, maybe? Or black? I check the price tag–yikes, they’re more expensive than I thought. I’ll have to just get one. Black it is, then. I glance around me–no one’s staring, no one’s even taken notice of me, and I sigh with relief. Good so far.

Anyway…Leon hasn’t gendered me yet. That’s also a relief. I like to confuse people when I meet them, but usually after a while, they slip into a gender without even realizing it. “She” I can live with…I can pretend to be a girl, fine, but…I’m not a guy, I never was and I never will be. And ultimately, I don’t have a gender. I’m neutral. I’m just Leigh.

God, I don’t want a thong, I can’t stuff myself in there. Maybe one day, when I’m feeling adventurous, but that’s not today. I pick up a pair that looks like it will cover my ass, but it’s small in the front. This is always a problem. After a bit of digging, I manage to find something that’s lacy and covering. It’s a “boy cut”, just the name of it makes me cringe, but oh well, it’ll be sexy, it’ll do. Pair it with the bralet, and it’ll be just fine.

Now, to pay…

I pick up a pack of gum on the way, as if that’ll detract from the fact that I bought only underwear. And now is when my hands start to shiver. Covering up my voice is hard, but manageable. I smile at the cashier, and she greets me with the same back. “Hi there, did you find everything okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” Short answers are better–my falsetto seems to be holding up well. I play with the ring on my thumb before I realize that I need to pay. There’s doubt in my mind, God, God, anytime I try to be more binary, I get this anxiety. If I don’t pass to this girl, I could get kicked out. I should’ve just come like normal, so if there was any doubt, I’d get a “oh, are these for your girlfriend?” Or something, something, I’m wearing a choker over my neck, I made sure my makeup was perfect before leaving the house–

“It’s going to be $29.13.”

Just get out your cash, Leigh, you’re fine, you look fine. A twenty and a ten, between my fingers as I hand it over, and I fuss with my bangs. Deep breath. She bags up my things and hands me my change. “There you go. Take care.”

“Thanks, you too.” My voice barely cracks at the end, but I cover it with a clearing of my throat. There, that’s done. The anxiety diffuses as I twirl the plastic handles around my wrist. I feel better without a gender, but this I can fake well enough to feel all right about. I can’t wait to try this on when I get home…

And maybe someday show it off for him.

12. leigh

orig posted 07/13/2016

Leon sleeps a lot.

Since he moved in, I’ve been peeking past his room a lot–it’s right between Ray’s and mine, and it’s across from the bathroom, so I have an excuse to. The door doesn’t shut right (he’s already complained about it to Zoe), so it’s always a crack open. He said his mom kicked him out, so he’s been living out of his boxes for right now. No furniture, just a sleeping bag that’s situated parallel to the window. And most times when I come past, he’s asleep.

Yet…even though he sleeps so much, he still seems really tired. He always has dark circles under his eyes, he always looks distant. Makes me wonder if he’s actually sleeping.

Today is one of the few days that I catch him awake. I visited the record store today–Ray uses his employee discount to get me used tapes for really cheap, and my jacket’s stuffed full of them. “We’re practically giving them away,” he said to me today, “Dave wants to make more room for CDs.” But it was Ray who was working, not Leon, so I’d expect him to be home. I peer through the crack in his bedroom door. He’s sitting up on his sleeping bag, his head in one hand. Ah…

I push the door open, just enough to reveal myself. He doesn’t notice at first, even when the door creaks. “Leon…?” I say.

His realization is slow–first, he lifts his head up. Then, he drags his hand down his face, and then he looks over at me. “Oh, hey,” he mutters, looking me over. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing, I…” My tongue twists. God damn it. He’s cute, and I can feel my face warm up. C'mon… “I was just seeing how you were doing.”

He grunts in response and stares at the floor. He’s cute, but I’ll admit he’s hard to talk to. At least here, he won’t find an excuse to leave. God, I know that I should probably just leave him alone, if he wants to always be left alone so badly, but…I barely see him with anyone else. He’s always alone. That sucks, doesn’t it?

I try again. “Hey, ah…I just got some new tapes.” I pull one out and wave it in front of me. “Want to…come and listen to them with me?”

His expression doesn’t…quite change, but he does tilt his head and look at me in the face again. He doesn’t ask the question, but I can anticipate it–why? “Just for something to do. I just got done work…”

He continues to stare, and I stand perfectly still waiting for his response. It takes…a while. My hand feels stiff when he finally speaks. “No,” he says, accompanied by a very heavy sigh.

Ah, fine. “Okay,” I reply. I stuff the tape back into my pocket. It was worth a shot–

“Just–” His voice is oddly sharp, and it stops me in my tracks. His mouth is open for a moment, but he still shakes his head and goes to stare out the window. “Not today.”

I bite my lip because I can feel a smile forming. “That’s all right,” I say. “If you want to you…can just come by my room anytime. It’s just at the end of the hall.”

“Sure.”

I stay for a second longer, making sure that yes, this is all I’m going to get out of him, before I pull the door shut as far as it will go and hurry back to my room. I throw off my jacket and dump the tapes on my bed, a clattering sound that’s loud compared to the tones we talked in. “Not today” is a more open answer than a “no”. So, maybe someday.

I’ll just have to keep asking.

13.

orig posted 07/14/2016

The bell sang through Somerville High to indicate the change of the period, and it rudely interrupted Leon’s thoughts. He glanced up at the clock. 1:30? So, only one more class to go…thank God. “Make sure to do the reading for tomorrow,” the teacher at the podium announced to the shuffling of bags and papers. There were notes up on the whiteboard, but the notebook on his desk was blank. Not completely–doodles of spirals and circles lined the margins, a border to the lines absent of any schoolwork. And it’s my study hall, too, so I could bounce if I really wanted to–

A jarring, peppy voice interrupted him. “Hey!” Chelsea perched herself with one leg on the edge of his desk, her hoop earrings bouncing against her cheeks. She caught a glimpse of his notebook before he managed to stuff it away in his backpack. “Got a lot of work done, I see.”

“Whatever,” he grunted, focusing his attention on zipping his bag. Let me guess, she’s giving me that half pity smirk, like she’d laugh at me if this shit didn’t happen every single day? He scooted himself out of his seat, and sure enough, there it was–one hand on her hip, a little shake of her head that made her tightly coiled, curly dark hair spring in its ponytail.

“Have you done anything for the senior fundraiser?” she asked, scooting off the desk as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Any of the raffle tickets–”

“No,” he replied.

She waited for more, but when there wasn’t any, she pressed on. “Well, if you don’t, you’ll have to pay $100 out of pocket for your class dues,” Chelsea said. She adjusted her letter jacket, bright red and adorned with pins from clubs and activities, over her chest as she followed Leon out the door.

“Fine,” he said. What do I care about class dues? I don’t really have the money to spare. And Mom never wanted to pay for anything I did… Leon kept her in his peripheral as they made their way down the hall–a little difficult, since she was so much smaller compared to him, but enough to be aware of her scrutinizing gaze. God, stop looking at me like that. Stop looking at me like I’m a problem you can solve.

She jumped ahead of him and walked backwards to force him to look at her. “They won’t let you graduate or go to prom if you don’t pay your dues, y'know,” she added.

Leon scoffed and shook his head. “What makes you think I’m going to prom?” he snorted. Honestly, what makes you think I’m going to graduate? You stopped hounding me to study with you a while ago, you’ve got your yearbook and student council friends that’ll do just the same…

Surprisingly, her face fell. “Whaaat? Really?” she pouted.

He took a turn down the center hallway, toward the east exit. “Seems a little overrated, if you ask me,” he grumbled. His fingers itched at the strap of his backpack, and he found his free hand wandering to his back pocket for his cigarettes. I’ll have to rent a tux, hang around all these people I barely spend any time with, fuck, I don’t even like dancing, or the noise…

Chelsea bounced on her toes. “Aw, c'mon! It’ll be fun! I can take you!” She took a glance back to maneuver herself so she wasn’t in the middle of the hallway. “We can–”

“Hey, Chels!” Another girl, tall with permed blonde hair, stopped them by the lockers. She smiled at her, but it faded significantly when she glanced at Leon. “Ah, we need your help with ideas for a couple of editorials on the yearbook…”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure! I’ll be in there in just a minute,” she replied, flipping open the binder she had against her chest. “I had some layouts here…”

They continued to chatter, even as the period start bell rang, and Leon drifted backwards, pack in his hand. She’s got her own friends, her own crowd, he thought, jaw tight in his mouth. I guess back when we were freshman, I was part of that crowd, too. Somehow. Enough to catch her eye and for her to talk to me.

He looked around–the halls had emptied considerably, and the light filtering from the double doors ahead called to him. Yeah, there’s no point in going to my study hall. I want a smoke, and my shift starts at 2 anyway, which means I’d have to leave early in the first place. Idly, he opened his pack with one hand, pulling out a smoke between two fingers. If I just kept on walking, she wouldn’t even–

“Hey.” The other girl snapped at him, pointing to his hand. “You can’t smoke in here.”

He jerked his head and squinted at her. “Wasn’t going to,” he said. Ugh, I get it, you think I’m some druggie punk delinquent, he thought. I can see by the way you look at me, with that curl in your lip, that holier-than-thou way you talk, the way you fucking snap your gum. Leon bit the inside of his cheek, then sighed. “I’m out of here.”

Chelsea took a step forward, only one to his steady strides. “Hey, Jo–Leon, wait–”

Not Joey, not Joey, not Joey! Christ. “I’m taking off anyway,” he said, more venom in his voice than he initially intended. What was intentional was sticking his cigarette to his lips–quietly relishing in the disgust on her blonde friend’s face. “I’ve got work.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “A-all right,” she replied, scratching the side of her head with her neon pink painted nails. “S-see you.”

Remember when she used to follow you? Leon thought as he stalked down the hall, past the classrooms full of students in the middle of classes. “C'mon, it’s just one more class”, she used to say. She doesn’t do that anymore, does she?

“I don’t know why you’re friends with him.” The blonde only barely bothered to control her voice. “I mean, besides that, he was always kind of a jerk, wasn’t he?”

“No…” Chelsea’s protest was weak, her voice waning. Damn it. Leon stared down at the floor, sighing loud through his nose. “He’s nice once you get to know him…”

“Uh-huh. What the fuck kind of name is ‘Leon’, anyway? Isn’t his real name Joseph or something?”

“Um, yeah…he wanted–”

Finally, Leon made it to the double doors, bursting through them as if he were rising out of the ocean. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, lighter out as he rushed through the parking lot. Last thing I want to fucking hear is some preppy bitch gossip about me, he thought, making a beeline for his beat up car. What the hell does she know? I bet your parents are CEO’s in the Pru and fucking kiss the ground you walk on. I bet they can pay your whole tuition to Harvard out of pocket. I bet that you don’t ever have to come home to an empty house, or have your mom beat on the door and scream at you for not vacuuming the carpet when she’s barely even fucking around.

Jesus, Jesus. Get me out of this hell.

He slammed the door of his car and turned the ignition, just so he could open the window and let the smoke from his cigarette filter out. His backpack was strewn in the passenger seat, right on top of his leather jacket. He took one, long drag from his cigarette and balanced it smoking in the ashtray before resting his head on the steering wheel, eyes closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And you know, I thought today would be all right. She called me last night, begging “please come to school, you’re missing a lot of stuff, and I miss seeing you around”. She actually sounded concerned, so I…so I did it.

It sounded like she cared…

He grit his teeth. Be real, Leon, who really gives a shit about you?

A tap on the side of his window. “Excuse me, there’s no idling on school grounds,” said the police officer, wrinkled face and protruding gut leaning against the side of his car.

Leon glanced up, then nodded weakly. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. Good, an excuse to get the fuck out of here. He barely waited for the officer to clear his car before jamming it in reverse and spinning out of the lot.

14. leon

I park on the side of the road outside of the house. It’s hot, it’s humid, and having the AC cranked is making my car irritable. I hope I don’t have to take it into the shop. It needs to last me…well, a while longer. I kill the engine and get out, and things look normal enough but…

There’s someone sunbathing on the front lawn. In a bright red bikini. It’s definitely not Ray, thinner than Zoe, and…a much bigger chest than Leigh. This must be the other mysterious roommate, the one no one ever sees because she’s at Harvard Law. Fuck, I don’t even remember her name.

I’m slow walking through the gated fence, so she notices me. She tilts her sunglasses up on her head to look over me with thin, brown eyes. “You…” she mutters, folding her book over her stomach. “You’re living upstairs now, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” I reply. It’s been a couple weeks now. That’s how not around she’s been.

After the suspicion leaves her demeanor, she sits up and stretches her hand out to me. “I’m Clover, I live on the main floor,” she says. Her bikini top is too small for her, not leaving much to the imagination, but I do a good job looking at her face. “You probably already knew that, though…”

“Yeah,” I say again.

“I’m like, barely here, because of school, but I’m free!” she exclaims, kicking her legs up and flopping back on the lawn chair. “For…at least a week. Then my internship starts.” There’s pain on her face, and she drags her hands down her face. “I can’t think about that right now. No. Zoe!”

I jump when the kitchen window slides open, almost immediately. “Yes~?” she says.

“I need another one of those drinks you made me,” she replies, holding up a tumbler with a straw and an umbrella in it. “I’m thinking about my internship again.”

“One pina colada, coming up,” she replies, and the window slams. This house is never dull.

“So, you work with Ray over in Davis?” she says.

Questions, questions, I just want to get inside and out of this heat. “Yeah.”

She nods, and she waits for me to speak again. I don’t have anything to say. So you’re the girl who lives downstairs, big deal. It starts to get awkward, and I’m about to go when Zoe emerges with another glass adorned with an umbrella. “Here you go, darlin’,” she says. Even her mass amounts of tattoos can’t cover up how pasty she is, purple hair piled on her head. “Hey, Leon.”

I grunt a hello while Clover drinks deep from her cup. “Mmm, this is good,” she says, and relaxes back, bumping her sunglasses down back over her eyes.

“Don’t drink that too fast, there’s an extra shot of rum in it,” she says with a chuckle. “I see you’ve met our grunge baby.”

Grunge baby? Oh, for Christ’s sake. “I’m not a fuckin’ baby,” I grumble, and storm back toward the door. Zoe laughs behind me, and I can hear Clover chuckle too. Opening the door lets out a rush of cool air, and I slam it behind me to keep it inside. Sweet, sweet relief. Just standing outside for five minutes has made me sweat, and I need a shower now…

“Aw, I’m just teasing you!” Zoe calls back, and she runs up to the window and knocks on it. “Leon…!”

I shake my head and head upstairs. Unfortunately, it’s hotter up here, since none of us have AC installed. Cold shower it is. I kick open my door and strip my shirt and jeans, then straight into the bathroom. I pass Leigh’s room on the way–music’s blaring from behind the closed door. Maybe…I’ll stop by after I’ve cleaned up.

Towel from the cupboard, shut the door, strip down the rest of the way, turn on the water. You know, even if this is a weird house, with the five of us living together, and even though Zoe teases me and Ray gives me that exasperated look all the time…

…I feel more at home here than I ever did growing up.

15. leigh, nsfw

orig posted 07/15/2016. sexually explicit.

We kiss each other on my bed, slow and easy. My room because his door doesn’t shut all the way. Both of us are stripped down to just our underwear, chests brushing as we kneel up almost against each other. There’s always a part of me that gets nervous right at first, worried that he might gender me when he sees my body, but as far as I know, he doesn’t. He doesn’t say much at all…

He runs a hand down my chest, and I shiver and wrap my arms around his shoulders, kissing a little deeper. His hands are rough and firm, but he won’t go too hard unless I ask him to. He’s always seemed very…new to this sort of thing, and even though I’d give anything for him to just rail me every day, I don’t push it. Sometimes, just this is enough.

“Nngh…” It’s a guttural noise in the very back of his throat, just as his tongue touches mine, and my legs wobble underneath me. God, God. I kiss him a little harder in return, and he goes for it, running his hands down my sides. My own hands retreat to his shoulders, down his wide chest, right to the band of his boxer briefs. I can feel the heat wafting off him–he’s hot all right, and without looking, I skim my hand over his crotch. Yup, that’s a hard on.

I don’t go any further–I break the kiss and I look up to him, hand still at his waistband. It’s cute how he’s trying to stay cool and collected. At least he thinks he is. I notice his heavier breathing through his nose, how his eyes are a little wider and his lips, swollen from our kissing, are just a little parted. Mmn. I brush my bangs away and tug a little more persistently at his underwear. Asking without words.

He gets it, though. He nods.

I pull them down just enough to get his cock out, and I make every touch gentle, everything light, because I want to see him sigh, I want to see that flush in his cheeks. I stand up a little taller on my knees, enough so I can just be over him, push out my chest, eyes heavy lidded. He won’t take his eyes off me, that’s good, and that’s when

I squeeze

and I stroke,

and he shudders,

and there’s a spark in his gray eyes, and he pulls me down to kiss me again. His tongue’s immediately there, but instead of a fierce, hungry pace like I expected, he still keeps it slow–hard, but slow. I continue to stroke him, I feel him grunt in my mouth, and it’s making me hot too…

Ah…

His hands wander down to my own hips, through to my own hard-on, and he doesn’t hesitate, he pulls me out and starts to stroke me as well, and now I’m the one who’s sighing, I’m the one who’s moaning in this gradual, comforting heat. My sounds have higher pitch than his, and they blend behind my closed eyes, embracing each movement of his lips, each steady pull against my cock. My free hand comes back up to stroke his neck, run through the back of his hair, and I could just do this forever…

But my hips are grinding into the motion, and it sets him off balance and he collapses back on the bed, and I follow suit. “Oof–!” he grunts as my full weight’s on top of him, but I slide off before he can lose his breath. He draws me back in flush to him, however, he’s not done yet, no…

Anyone looking into his eyes then could tell that much…

Leon…

Lying down, we pick right back up where we left off, and we kiss again…

16.

orig posted 07/15/2016

(The fall air was crisp as they watched the flames from the bonfire lick up into the night. Chelsea rubbed her arms, bare in her short sleeved field hockey uniform. “Damn,” she muttered, bouncing on her toes. The wind raced around her bare legs, pricking up goosebumps. “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Leon glanced down at her–he was in both his standard leather jacket and a red sweatshirt, hands stuffed into his pockets. “You should’ve,” he replied. Typical, she thought, sighing and crossing her arms. Guess I’ll just have to stand closer to the fire–

Within a few moments, however, he grunted and shimmied off his leather jacket, letting it flop onto the field grass. Then, he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, showing his football uniform underneath, number bright on his back–“DONOVAN 39”. He shook out his messy hair and handed the sweatshirt over. “Here,” he said, holding it out while scooping up his leather. “Don’t care much for red, anyway…”

Chelsea smirked and took it from him, ignoring the faint smell of cigarettes on it as she yanked it over her tightly coiled hair. “I was about to say, it’s unusual to see you so…festive,” she said.

He shrugged, jacket back over his shoulders. While he kept his eyes on the fire, flames reflecting in his eyes, she could’ve sworn she saw the beginnings of some kind of amusement on his lips. “We had a game today, too,” he said. “Might as well.”

She snickered. The sweatshirt fell just above where her skirt left off, and she had to roll up the sleeves so she wouldn’t swim in them, but it was warm from his own body heat. “Thanks,” she replied…)

A binder slapped on the table in front of Chelsea, and she shook her head. “Huh?” she said, jerking her head around.

The student council president snapped her gum and snorted. “Earth to Chelsea,” she teased, flipping her blonde perm out of her face. “What were you daydreaming about?”

She chuckled, even though her hands clenched underneath the table. “Nothing,” she replied. Just about how much can change in a couple years. Things seemed a lot simpler when we were freshman, didn’t they? Now your mom kicked you out, you barely come to school anymore, and even though you stayed at my place for those few days, you left without a trace or a note as to where you moved to…

Her eyes cast down at the desk. Maybe you told me? I can’t remember. I’m worried about you, Leon. Forms and itineraries were scattered before her, in varying states of completion. I got caught up in all this end of the year stuff, that I…haven’t even bothered to check in on you. You’d call all this “bullshit”, wouldn’t you? Say it doesn’t matter in the long run, or something–

“Are you sure?” the president asked, walking around her chair.

“Well…” she started. “Y-yeah, it’s nothing. I just…” Chelsea chewed the inside of her cheek before sighing loud. “I just haven’t heard from Leon in a while–”

“Oh, God,” she said immediately, and it made her wince. “Really? You should just forget about him. He wasn’t any good for you anyway. Didn’t he drop out to deal drugs, or something? And that’s why he got kicked out?”

“N-no…” No, that’s all wrong, all wrong. He was never like that… “Something about…his mom…”

“See, even you don’t even know!” the president said triumphantly, waltzing back around the table. A couple others became privy to their conversation, eyes fixed on Chelsea. His mom hated him, even if she was always nice to me. I never really saw anything that she did, but I know Leon was suffering from it. “If I were you, I’d just let it go. There are much nicer boys out there.”

Leon is nice, Chelsea thought, gripping the underside of her chair and rattling her nails under it. Not that you would know anything about it. Besides, you think a guy and a girl can’t be friends unless they also want to fuck each other, right?

“Mm, hey, did you hear about Alyssa?” said another girl across the table from her. “Crawford, junior? I heard she was caught by the science labs making out with another girl.”

“Get out–!” the president exclaimed, making her way to the source of the gossip. “She’s a lesbian?”

The way she said the word sounded as if she were holding out a sweat sock fresh off a marathon runner’s foot. Chelsea shifted in her seat, swallowing hard. How is that a bad thing, again? I like most of these girls, but sometimes…they just rub me the wrong way. The conversation continued. “I know, right? She always looked like a dyke…”

Chelsea scooted out of her chair and gathered the papers on the desk in front of her into a neat pile. “Well, it’s 3 o'clock, and I need to run some errands,” she proclaimed loudly, shouldering her backpack with a tight-lipped smile. “Just finish organizing what we’ve got, and–”

“All right,” the president said with a raised eyebrow. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

In the end, she gave Chelsea a smile, and the other council members followed suit as she waved and backed out of the door. Once outside, she made a dash down the hallway, letter jacket open and fluttering at her sides. Yeah, it’s been long enough. I need to catch up with him. He’s still working in Davis, right?

It was a straight shot from the high school to Davis Square, and on bike, it took Chelsea an impressively short time to cruise down Highland Avenue right into the center of it. As soon as the train station was within sight, she skidded onto the sidewalk and hopped off, slowing down to a jog as she scanned the area. Let’s see…it wasn’t right in the square, but off one of these side streets, right? Close enough though… She kept clear of the central intersection–Highland Avenue, Elm Street, Holland Street, and College Avenue all congregated into one place, making it a mess of traffic, even in the dead of the afternoon.

She took the loop onto Elm Street, and after a block, she encountered a side alley with a sign labeled “ELM STREET SHOPPING GALLERIA”. Yeah, this is the place. Between an ice cream store and a Starbucks sat Somerville Records, with a huge glass window showing off the rows and rows of CDs and cassettes on the inside. She leaned her bike against the ramp and jogged inside, the bell jingling at the top of her door to signal her arrival. The counter was at the far end, and a man with short, spiked black hair and enormous broad shoulders stared her down from the entrance. Chelsea glanced around–I’m the only one in here, she thought. “H-hey…!” she greeted.

The man nodded in response, focusing back down the the counter, even as she cruised down the row directly to him. “I was wondering if Leon still worked here?” she asked.

“Yeah,” the man replied. Upon closer inspection, he had a pile of cassettes in shrinkwrap in front of him, and a sheet of price stickers right beside it. “He’s not in today.”

“Oh,” she said, huffing. Of course he’s not. Just my luck. “Um, I’m actually a friend of his from school, and I was wondering…ah, where he was…living, right now?” God, that’s such a random and odd question. If it were me, I wouldn’t say anything. But, he did say he wanted to room with one of his coworkers, so…

He looked up at her, blue-green eyes startlingly bright, and squinted. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ch…Chelsea? Chelsea Lawrence.”

He stopped what he was doing and straightened up, fully showcasing his height. “You’re Chelsea,” he reiterated.

She blinked, leaning her head forward. “Y…yes?”

“He’s mentioned you,” he remarked. “You let him stay at your place when his mom kicked him out.”

She nodded, just as a voice echoed from the open door behind him. “Ray! Who’s that?”

“Friend of Leon’s,” he called back, craning his head back.

Rough laughter crowed forward. “That kid’s got friends?”

Ray chose not to answer, rolling his eyes. “He’s living with me,” he muttered. “It’s on Cameron Avenue. 28 on the Somerville side. I guess I can call to see if he’s around–”

“No, no,” Chelsea interjected. “I want to…check it out for myself. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, resuming his labeling once again.

Chelsea waited a few seconds for anything else, but when he said nothing, she turned on her heel and made her way back down the aisle and over to her bike. 28 Cameron, that’s actually…not too far from here. It’ll just take me a few minutes. As she remounted her bike and pushed herself off out of the lot and into the breakdown lane, her hands twisted on the handlebars. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him. I’ve been…collecting all of his missed work, but there’s almost a month’s worth, and I don’t carry it around. It’s in my locker. Not that he’d want it anyway.

He’s been pretty clear about how he feels about school, at least now.

I just…I don’t understand how he went from being so present to…nothing at all. Sure, he’s always been quiet and not much to talk to, but he’s not mean, he’s not cruel. She biked back down Holland, scanning the blue street signs for Cameron Avenue. But I never saw him around anyone, except for me. And even then, he only brought me to his house a few times…

(“Oh, Chelsea, sweetie, how are you!” Leon’s mother cooed, hugging her tightly and quickly.

“Good, good!” Spinning around, she saw Leon was hanging back, staring back out of the picture window.

“Are you still doing field hockey?” she asked, eyes flicking back. “It’s such a shame that Joey stopped doing football. But, what can you do!” She chuckled, hollow.

“Y-yeah, I am, we’re…doing well this season,” she continued. “If we win our next couple of games, we’ll probably make it into the playoffs–”

“Joey!” his mother snapped, and his head jerked up. “Aren’t you going to ask if your friend wants anything?” Her sharp tone was contrasted by the saccharine smile she gave her, strained at the edges of her mouth. She picked up her purse from the table and slipped it in the crook of her elbow. “Well, I have to get going, but it was good seeing you!”

“Y-you too,” Chelsea replied, even as unease settled into her shoulders and made her hug her arms.

For even as she walked past Leon and out the door, he didn’t budge…)

She turned onto Cameron Avenue, a slope that made the wheels of her bike whir as she coasted through. The street was lined with overgrown gardens caged in by chain-link fences, and tall, shaded trees marking every other house. 17, 25…shit, it’s across the street. Chelsea whipped her head back before weaving across the road and into the driveway of number 28. She parked her bike on the side of the house and walked around the short stone wall. Within it, a mess of wild grass grew messy and high, accompanied by the occasional white crown of Queen Anne’s lace dotted in the landscape. Up the sidewalk and to the concrete steps, Chelsea was faced with a red door and the sound of still, suburban silence–the rustle of trees, an occasional car from up on the main street, a few birds arguing in a nearby bush.

Just…knock on the door, she urged herself, staring between the two mailboxes on each side of the door. One was labeled “WILSON | YEON”, the other “R. MASON | L. MASON | DONOVAN”. Yeah, he definitely lives here. Just knock. If there are five people living here, chances are one of them will answer. Chelsea took a deep breath, raised her knuckles above the doorhandle–

–but was interrupted by a woman in a suit bursting forward. “Okay, okay, later–!” she exclaimed, before she nearly sent Chelsea sprawling on the concrete. “Oh no, sorry!”

Chelsea managed to back up in time to get a better look at her. She had smooth, black hair tied back in a ponytail, thin brown eyes, and a small, upturned nose to match her bow shaped lips. There was a gold and red pin fastened to the edge of her suit, and if she squinted, she could make out the school crest of Harvard University. “Are you okay? Gosh, I’m sorry, I was in such a rush!” she apologized again, gathering a couple of binders against her full chest.

“No, it’s okay! I was j-just standing here,” she replied, chuckling a little. What a pretty girl…

Chelsea clumsily stepped out of the way, but the woman studied her a little more. “You go to Somerville High?” she asked, pointing to her jacket. “Are you…uh, looking for someone?”

“Oh, um, yeah! I’m a senior,” she replied, smoothing her ponytail behind her. “And actually, I was–”

Footsteps echoed from inside. “Hey, I thought you were going to be late!” A chubby woman covered in tattoos stepped into the doorway. “Ooh, who’s this?” she asked, peering over her glasses. “What can I do for you, hon?”

“A-ah, I was just…” Both pairs of eyes on her made her fidget with her backpack strap. “Does…does Jo–I mean, Leon Donovan live here?”

The tattooed woman clapped her hand against her face. “Ooh, you’re looking for the grunge baby! C'mon inside.” She beckoned her to the door and disappeared into the house. Grunge baby? Chelsea mused with a barely masked snort.

“You’re a friend of his?” the woman in the suit asked, slowly backing down the walkway. “Well, if that’s the case, ah…” She tucked a flyaway behind her ear and beamed. “I’m Clover, I live on the main floor. Hopefully we’ll see each other again soon!” Her heel wobbled on the sidewalk, and she shook to right herself before cruising around the corner to the driveway. “I’ve got to go though…!”

“S-sure, bye!” Chelsea replied, walking backwards herself into the house. She seemed nice…maybe this place isn’t so bad for him. She covered her mouth as she shut the door behind her,

(“I heard she was caught by the science labs making out with another girl.”)

face hot beneath it. With roommates like these…

She tiptoed down the entryway until she found the tattooed woman, purple hair piled on her head and fastened with a couple pens, sitting on the couch at the other end of the hall. “So, you’re here for Leon?” she asked. She crossed her legs, revealing a pair of tall, purple and black striped socks that went over her knees.

“Y-yeah.” Chelsea stood in the doorway of what appeared to be the living room–a couch, some chairs, a TV that was hooked up to a VCR, Super Nintendo, and a Playstation. Sunlight beamed in through the back window, shrouding over the woman like a halo. “Is he…here?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Probably getting groceries. He’s an odd kid.” She drummed her fingers against her doughy arms. “You go to school with him?”

“Yeah. Well, went,” she replied. “Not like he comes to school much anymore…”

She tilted her head back and forth on her shoulders. “Yeah. Guess it’s not for him. Oh, well. He works though, so that’s good. Means he pays rent on time.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “What’s your name, girly? I can tell him you stopped by.”

“Er…Chelsea.” Why’d she even invite me in if he’s not here? I’m a stranger, for all she knows. “I mean, if there’s a number here I can call–”

“Sure, hon.” She pulled a pen out of her hair and wiggled it in front of her. “Hold out your hand–”

“No, I have paper…” It’ll smudge before I can even get home. She slipped her backpack off her shoulders and let it hit the ground with a thud, kneeling down at it. “I-I biked here, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She chuckled a little. “I’m just so used to writing all over other people’s skin. I’m a tattoo artist over near Porter.”

“That’s cool.” Chelsea withdrew her notebook and held it out for the woman, who grabbed it immediately. So, a Harvard student and a tattoo artist, huh? Then there’s the record store guy and…someone else. A full house.

“We don’t have separate lines here, at least not yet,” she said. “So just call this one and ask for him.” She handed back over the notebook, and Chelsea took note of her long, black nails and silver ring on her middle finger, adorned with a spider. “Shit, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Zoe, I’m the landlady.”

“O-oh, okay…!” And she’s the landlady. Wow. Chelsea bit her lip and tucked the notebook away into her backpack, zipping it quickly and heaving it over both of her shoulders. “Well, I should get going, if he’s not here…”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Zoe replied, smiling through her dark lipstick. “Come by anytime you want. God knows he could use a little company.”

Something tells me he still keeps to himself around here. “A-all right.” She waved, gave a bright smile, then started back down the entryway. This time, she took in her surroundings: coming back through was a closed door on the right, with a bathroom across from it, then a small dining room looking area, across from the kitchen. In the kitchen was a person in a loose t-shirt and skinny jeans, taking a long drink from a water bottle. Long, ice blond hair topped with dark roots fell around their shoulders. And that must be the last roommate, she thought. They didn’t notice her as she passed, and she turned the gold doorknob to the outside as quietly as she could to keep it that way.

She took a deep breath of the summer air, steadily cooling as the sun set over the street. Well, that was an adventure, she thought. I still…don’t know how Leon’s doing, not really, but at least I know where he is. And he’ll know that I’ve come by for him. Maybe that’ll spur him to come to school tomorrow. Her fingers twitched as she jogged down the stairs and made her way around the corner. That’s…wishful thinking, isn’t it?

Fine. I’ll call him tonight, then. Chelsea wheeled her bike out of the driveway, staring up at the house as she did so. Then, I’ll know for sure. Something tells me…he’s doing better here than he was before,

even if it’s not quite what I’d like.

The thought was enough to push her up the hill, legs burning as she gained speed onto the main street.

17. leon

orig posted 07/15/2016

I’m upstairs finishing my dinner in the dining room, and I can hear Zoe and Clover gossiping over in the kitchen. Ever since Clover and her girlfriend broke up (wasn’t that the story?), she’s been visible in the house a little more. Plus, I guess her summer internship isn’t as rigorous as she thought it would be. Anyway, they’re loud. I groan and am about to just clean up and go when–

“Who was that girl that Leon’s friends with?”

“What? Her? Honey, she’s a baby.”

Now, I’m actually listening. What about her…? I creep out of the dining room and hang on the edge of the doorway. Clover’s twirling her ponytail in her finger, but Zoe’s out of sight. “But, she’s so cute…” Clover says, pouting with her hips out. “Sh-she’s 18, right?”

Zoe snickers. “You’re terrible.”

“Listen!” she exclaims. “I saw her letter jacket, she’s got a million pins on it. She does stuff! She’s probably top of her class and everything.”

“Which means she’s probably going off to college,” Zoe added. “Do you know where she’s going to school?”

“Um…”

God, I can’t take this anymore. Why are girls like this? “She’s going to Tufts Med,” I interrupt, standing fully in the doorway.

Clover looks at me like I’m a ghost, and jumps so bad she knocks herself into the back counter. “Jesus! Leon…!”

Zoe doesn’t even flinch or break stride. “So, she’s going to be in the city, then. It’d be a risky choice.”

Clover’s face looks like a tomato, it’s so red. “I-it’s a train ride away! Davis is just around the corner. It doesn’t take that long to get in…”

“Do you really trust the MBTA that much?” Zoe snorts, then looks to me. “Hey, do you know if your friend is into girls? Older women, perhaps?”

“I’m not that old!” Clover retorts.

I sigh. “I don’t know. Never really cared to ask.” I shrug and forage in to dump my dishes in the sink. There was always so much buzzing about romance around school and I just tuned it all out. Didn’t really get it. Back when we were freshmen, people constantly asked if we were a couple. Just because we hang out together doesn’t mean we’re dating? Good lord.

I start to head out, but Clover stops me again. “W-wait! Do you have her number?”

“Oh my God–!” Zoe crows with laughter.

Why don’t you just ask her next time she’s over?” I reply. Whenever that will be. I honestly don’t know.

I don’t wait for any answer, I just head back upstairs. I don’t know when she’ll be over. There’s a distance between us now, it’s been growing for a while, but it’s more palpable now that I’m not around at school every day. She was…my only friend for a while. She’s still my friend. If there was anything she needed, I’d be there.

I just…

Before I get to my door, I grab the cordless phone off the wall in front of Ray’s room and take it with me. I know her number by heart, and I dial it. One ring, two rings. Her little sister picks up. “Hello~?”

“Hi. Is Chelsea there? Tell her it’s Leon.”

“Okay~!” I hear her yell in the background. “Chelseeeea! It’s Leeeooon!”

It’s less than a second before she’s on the line. “Leon?”

“Hey.”

A pause. I’m shit on the phone. I did this on impulse. “Wh…what’s up? Everything okay?”

I sigh long in my dark bedroom, looking up at the stars through the window. “Yeah,” I say. “You should stop by sometime. One of my roommates wants to hang out with you.”

“R-really? Which one?”

“Clover.”

“O-oh, neat! I, um, I wanted to ask her a couple things about college stuff anyway–!”

She sounds excited. Guess Clover will be pretty excited too. It’s the least I can do.

18. leon, cw

orig posted 07/15/2016. contains suicidal ideation and attempt, viewer discretion advised.

It’s mid-afternoon. I didn’t work today.

I don’t like being by myself like this.

I’ve went to school for half the day, came home and slept the other half of it. Chelsea didn’t even see me go. Why would she? She’s got other things on her mind, and I’m the least of her worries. If she’s even worrying about me at all. I’ve been sleeping but I still feel tired. I stare off the edge of my bed.

I don’t think it would make any difference if I were gone.

Mom would be happier. One less thing for everyone else to be concerned over. I’ve dropped slowly, so slowly, that it would barely register as a blip on anyone’s radar. A couple years ago, it’d be a tragedy. Not anymore. Dave would have to find someone to fill my shifts, but you can get anybody to do that kind of work. Mom can sell all my shit, if anything’s worth anything.

I lie back on the bed and reach underneath it. I pull out a bottle, the insides a strange, translucent green. It’s an old Gatorade bottle, but the insides are a lot different. I made it a few months ago. Half of it is whiskey–something old in the cabinet that had been sitting for years, not to be missed. The other half is Nyquil. Crushed up some over the counter sleeping pills from the cupboard, and a little bit of rat poison to top it off. It should do the trick if I take it all in one go.

I’ll even unlock the door. It should be too late by the time she checks on me.

I stare at it, the green glowing from the setting midday sun. I’m tired. I’m so tired of living. I’m tired of being left alone, only to be screamed at when anyone’s around. I’m tired of being forgotten. Or, if I’m going to be forgotten, just let me not exist.

I’m about to unscrew the cap when the phone rings. The bottle nearly shakes out of my hands, and I grip it against my chest. Suddenly, I’m heaving as if I just ran a marathon. Shit. Shit. The answering machine clicks. “Congratulations! You have been selected to win a free trip to the Bahamas! Simply enter your credit card number to begin your claim!”

Fucking telemarketer scam. That’s all it was. The line goes dead. I’m still shaking. I mean, who was I to think that was anyone for me? But, I thought of something else…

I bought the Nyquil one night after work, I went to that same clerk I always do when I see them working. Leigh’s their name. It was the only thing I bought. “Having trouble sleeping?” they asked.

I don’t know how I responded, but I remember how they looked at me. It was like…they saw right through me. Like they knew why I was buying this. Who knows, maybe it was just my imagination…

Imagining a stranger could care…

Christ, I’m so desperate…

But I drop the bottle off to the side of the bed and roll it back underneath. I guess it’s not happening today…

19.

orig posted 07/16/2016

“Leigh?”

Leigh whirled around in the hallway, arms hugged across their chest in their loose t-shirt. “O-oh, hey!”

Zoe had emerged from the basement in a black bikini set, fully showing off the sleeves of tattoos across her arms, and the dragon tattooed on her stomach. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, cocking her head and adjusting the magazine under her arm.

“O-oh, I was just spacing out a bit…” They rolled their shoulders back and offered a small smile. “I have the day off, and I don’t know what to do…”

She chuckled. “Wanna come sunbathe with me? Lather you up in SPF 100 and you should be fine.”

Leigh held out their arms, pale white and covered in fine hair, freckles dotting through their wrists and top of their hands. I could use it, they thought. If I’m careful the first time I get out in the sun, the little tan will be enough so I don’t burn. “Sure, but…” They glanced down at their chest. She’s going to want to go in the front yard, and I’m not sure about showing my bare chest like this…

Their pause was enough for her to tilt her head. “Huh?” She stared for a moment longer, then sighed and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Ah, that’s right. We should go out and shop for a bathing suit that you like someday.” She pursed her lips. “Probably a bandeau top would be good for you. Or even a sports bra?”

“Maybe.” Their voice had distance, and they sighed and leaned against the railing of the staircase. “It’s like…I don’t mind going out without a top, but I don’t…I don’t want…” God, sometimes I’m good about this, other times I’m just not. Zoe doesn’t care, she’s probably the most supportive in the house next to my brother, but– “I don’t want people assuming…”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Zoe replied. “I mean, the wall’s just high enough and our chairs are low enough so that people just walking by aren’t going to see. They’d really have to look.”

“Yeah, but…Leon’s probably going to get back from work while we’re out there–”

Leigh instantly regretted the words that came out of their mouth when Zoe’s lip curled up. “Oooh~!” she cooed. “You know his schedule already, huh~?”

“Sh-shut up!” Their face grew hot, and they shrunk further into the railing and covered their mouth. “I-I just know that him and Ray have the same shift today–!”

Zoe, however, couldn’t stop giggling. “Leigh has a crush on the grunge baby~!” she sang.

“Hey–!” Even though their ears were burning, Leigh managed to rip themselves from the banister and lunge at her, fingers wiggling. It’s not like I can deny it too much anymore, they thought as Zoe squealed and dropped her magazine. Ray’s picked up on it, and so has Zoe…the only one who hasn’t is Leon himself. I’m getting there.

Leigh backed her up against the wall, before she pushed her hands out and shoved them away. “Okay, okay, jeez! I won’t tease!” she exclaimed, adjusting her top. “Do you still want to come out?”

“Well, yeah, I just–” They gestured to their torso again. “Eh?”

“Ah, right.” She tapped her chin with one finger, the nail painted purple. “Everything I have is going to be too big for you. Hm…” Zoe blinked, cocked her head, then reached behind her back and unclipped her top, letting her breasts sag and fall free from the restraint of her bikini. “I could always join you.”

Leigh’s first instinct was to pointedly look away, staring directly at her face as she rolled up the bikini top in her hands. “They’re just tits, and this is my house,” she sighed, then winked. “We’ll both be topless, how’s that?”

“Um…” That’s Zoe, all right. I guess once you hit a certain point, or age, you start to not really care anymore.

She cradled her chest in her arms to hide her nipples and leaned forward. “Unless you’re not cool with it,” she amended.

I mean, I’ve seen boobs before. I’ve touched several pairs. Oh, whatever. In a swift motion, they yanked their t-shirt by the collar over their head and swept their long hair away from their shoulders. We’ll both be topless, then. “I’m going to need some serious sunscreen.”

“Hell, you’re not the only one,” she replied with a snicker, then brushed past them, beckoning with one finger. “Let’s lather up.”

Leon and Ray walked in silence together under the blazing sun, turning the corner onto Cameron Avenue. God, I hate New England humidity, I hate these summers, Leon thought, unsticking his hair from the back of his neck. One second it’s modest and cool, the next it’s 80 fucking degrees with 80% humidity. Above him, Ray snapped his gum one more time before spitting it out on the sidewalk. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“What?” Leon asked.

“Zoe wanted me to install the AC today,” he replied, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “And if I don’t do it today, we’re going to bake and she’ll complain. I don’t even know if it’s going to work…” He glanced over at Leon with disdain. “She tried doing it herself and dumped it in the backyard. Twice."

“Oh, God.” Leon shook his head. Somehow, I’m not surprised. But, that means I’m just going to be swamped when I get upstairs…

They turned the corner onto the walkway of the house, and Ray stopped dead in the middle. It was so abrupt that Leon, with his gaze fixed on the sidewalk, nearly ran into his back. “What the fuck,” Ray blurted.

“Oh, hey.” Zoe’s voice wafted from just over the stone fence, and Leon side stepped to glance over it. She was topless, in her lawnchair, with a book that she conveniently and promptly rested over her bare chest as soon as she spotted movement. She smirked and waved to him, wiggling her fingers. “How was work?”

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Ray asked instead, crossing his arms.

“Solidarity,” she replied. Beside her, Leigh was lying on their stomach, pale back like a beacon in the sun, their hair parted to one side. They were wearing tight shorts on their bottom, a spray of freckles just above the waistband at the small of their back. Leigh. Oversized headphones pushed their bangs back, and their head gently bobbed to the music, a tape player lying on the grass. They’re topless too, huh?

It took him a minute to realize Zoe was staring at him, not letting up as she pulled one earphone away from Leigh’s ear. “Leigh,” she said.

“Huh?” They rolled over a little, then looked over their shoulder, eyes widening as they registered the two of them. “Oh!” It wasn’t clear whether the red across his cheeks was from the sun or something else, but it brought out the flurry of freckles on his nose and face. Their headphones fell around their neck as they tucked their arms under their chest. “H-hey!” they greeted, biting their lip.

“Hey,” Leon said slowly. Ah…

Beside him, Ray rolled his eyes. “God,” he mumbled, grabbing Leon by the arm and thrusting him in front of him on the walkway. “Don’t stare, asshole.”

Leon stumbled to the front door, tripping and spinning around. “Jesus, I wasn’t!” he proclaimed. Still, his eyes flicked down to meet Leigh’s once again, no longer hiding the smile on their face. I wasn’t…staring. They brushed their bangs back and adjusted their headphones back against their ears. Just…

“Aw, he’s fine,” Zoe dismissed, picking her book back up. “You know, he’s pretty mature for a teenager.”

“I’m right here,” Leon mumbled, leaning against the door and fumbling for the handle.

Both Ray and Zoe ignored him. “Can’t you go out back or something?” Ray said. “Someone’s gonna take pictures or call the cops…”

“It’s barely three feet deep out back, and completely overgrown,” Zoe replied. “Unless you want to clear it? I would like an herb garden one day…”

“No.”

“I’ll take a hundred bucks off your rent.”

Ray hesitated, arms crossed once again. “Maybe. Not today though.” He trudged down the walkway, staring down Leon. “What? Get inside.”

“Y-yeah.” Finally, Leon managed to twist the handle and let himself in, immediately scooting out of the way so Ray could go after him. Even with the door shut, Leon could hear Zoe and Leigh giggling now that they were out of sight. Leon found himself tuning into it, eyes spaced out toward the staircase. It’s…nice.

Ray circled around him, studying Leon with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, pointing before he mounted the stairs.

“What? What the fuck?” Leon said, shaking his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Good,” Ray called, already at the top of the staircase and out of sight.

What was that about? he thought, wandering over to the kitchen and running the tap. It took a moment before it ran cold, and he splashed his face, running some of the water back through his hair. The sun beat down from the kitchen window, and he could just see Leigh say something to Zoe before they put their headphones back on and settle back on their stomach. Don’t even think about…what?

…Them?

A brief spike of adrenaline caught him in the heart, and he stared down into the sink, pulling at the back of his neck. Shit.

20. leigh, cw

orig posted 07/16/2016. contains transphobia, viewer discretion advised.

The music is pumping, pumping in my ears. “Let’s go out tonight”, my coworker said. “There’s a new bar in Allston Village I want to check out”, she said. “I’ll get you in, don’t worry about it.”

Well, getting in wasn’t hard. There were so many people, we snuck past the bouncer, and she bought my drink. I drank too quickly, though, and it all went to my head. I feel warm, warm just like the mouth of this guy I’m kissing, mashed into the back corner of the bar. He was cute, and we talked, and he seemed into it. We danced a bit–the top I’m wearing is sleeveless, held up by a strap around my neck, loose on my body, but it’s chic, and he’s running his hands down it. Probably should’ve worn a bra, but I don’t care right now…

He grinds up against me, ah, it’s been a while since I’ve had a fling like this…I’m warm all over, and if I’m making any noise, it’s muddled by the pulse of the bass. Nn…

He thrusts his hands under my shirt, and freezes. It’s amazing how fast fear can sober you. The freeze is absolute, meaning he’s still got his crotch pressed right up against mine. His hard on sure hasn’t gone away. Mine…is fading. This is a new bar, but it isn’t a gay one. I’ve probably made a grave, grave mistake. I see his mouth move. “What?” he says, he has to shout because of the music.

My anxiety is screaming in my head, but it’s time. I take a deep breath, and I drag him down so I can speak right in his ear. “You were into it, weren’t you?” I hiss.

“But…you’re a dude,” he replies.

“No, I’m not.” I’m gripping the back of his shirt now, my other hand down at my pocket, thumbing the inside of it. “I’m not–”

“Dude, what the fuck–!” He jerks back enough to look me in the face. “What, you trying to trick me into blowing you, you fucking tranny?”

It’s an effort not to flinch at the words, at least with my face, but my hand dives into my pocket for my switchblade. “I wasn’t trying to trick you,” I reply, flipping the blade between my fingers, until it slices out and is ready at my side. I glance down just enough to make sure he sees it. He does. It’s his turn to flinch. “But if you think that, I’d just walk away.”

I let go of him completely and back against the wall, blade clenched in my fist at my side. Keep a straight face. He looks more disgusted–and disgusting–by the second. But he doesn’t try to hit me, he doesn’t start a fight. He spits on my shoes and he storms away. When he finally disappears into the crowd, that’s when I relax, and my whole body is shivering. I was so smooth to remove my switchblade, but now I’m fumbling just to sheathe it, stuffing it clumsily in my pocket as my throat feels thick and dry.

I rush to the bar, where my coworker is, and tap her shoulder. “We need to go,” I say.

She turns her head, and the fear must show on my face, because she doesn’t protest, she just nods and grabs my arm. We book it out of there into the chilly, spring night. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I curse, hugging my arms. Tears are spilling down my face, and I hate it, I hate it.

“Hey, are you okay? What happened? I saw you with that guy…”

“He thought I was a chick, and he tried to feel me up,” I sputter.

“Oh, shit.” She looks me over. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No…” Not physically, anyway. I’m not going to be able to go out like this for a while, though. Damn it, I can’t help myself half the time, because I’ve been able to persuade a few people. I’ve been exceptionally lucky in dating. I forget that most of the world hates me for who I am, for not playing by the rules. Hell, I was lucky tonight for not getting a black eye. “T-told him if he didn’t like it to fuck off…”

We walk onto Comm. Ave., the train running straight down the middle of the street back into town. “Hope you didn’t cut him,” she sighs, fishing for her keys.

“No.” And if I did, would you’ve blamed me? I don’t think she’ll ever really get it…

I know because she pulls out her cigarettes and taps the pack against her palm. “Damn it, we just missed the train…hope the next one comes soon…” Already, she doesn’t want to talk about it, why I have to keep this knife on me everywhere I fucking go. I know how to use it, but it’s mostly for show. I hate that I have to, just to stay alive. There was a story on the news about a queer who got beat and thrown over the bridge upstate, left to bleed and drown alone. And that sure as hell isn’t going to be me.

We walk to the train stop, and I stare at the starry sky above, marred with clouds and light pollution. I’ve only used it once.

21. leigh

orig posted 07/16/2016

Working here gets really monotonous. Hi, how are you? Scan their stuff, ring them up, pull out the receipt, next customer, so on, so forth. I’ve been here all afternoon, hell, I’d love to get a break to do some sorting, but my shift is almost over…ten more minutes…

A familiar mop of messy, tawny hair arrives to my line with a basket. I feel my heart jolt. It’s Leon. “Hey–!” I say, abandoning my script.

He nods to me, then keeps his head down as he empties his basket. It’s kind of hard to tell whether I’ve made an impression on him or not. But as he shoves the basket under the conveyor, I think I see a smile. I take it, anyway. “How’s it going?” I ask.

“Okay,” he mumbles in reply, shoving his hands in his leather jacket. He wears it everywhere, even in the middle of the summer. Doesn’t that get hot? Then again, I’m one to talk about a jacket someone wears all the time. I mean, it doesn’t look bad. It’s pretty cool, actually. At any rate, he can’t quite look at me when he speaks. “You almost done?”

“E-er, I mean…” I start scanning his stuff quicker, my hands shuddering a bit. Not a good day for him, I guess…

…at least I thought, before he finally turns his gray eyes on me and blinks. “I meant…are you almost done your shift.”

“Oh,” I sigh, with a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, actually…” I glance at the clock on the computer readout. I could probably make him my last customer. I fumble underneath the counter, pull out a sign that reads “CLOSED”, and snap off the conveyer belt. Sliding the sign down the belt, I click the enter button on the keyboard. “$20.14.”

He hands over a bill, then digs in his pockets for change. He holds his palm out in front of him filled with coins, then sorts out the ones he needs with this thumb, pushing them onto the small counter by the credit card reader. Exact change. I punch it in and the drawer slides out, hitting me in the hips. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Huh? For what?” I reply.

He huffs, gathering his bags in the corner of the counter. “For…startling you,” he says.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I dismiss, waving my hand and continuing the motion to tuck my hair behind my ear. His communication skills aren’t stellar, I already know this, so I shouldn’t be surprised. He does seem apologetic, and he’s lingering at the edge of the counter as he puts his chain-drive wallet back into his pocket. I take my time logging out of the computer.

Finally, he speaks. “I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

“S-sure!” That was too eager, too loud. Normally, I ride my skateboard to work, or walk; bus if it’s too cold. It’s a bit of a hike from here back to Davis, but I don’t mind it. I got a Walkman for my birthday this year, and I’ve been using it a lot. Anyway, a ride back with Leon. “J-just let me get my stuff.”

He nods. “‘Kay. I’ll…be outside.”

He grabs his bags and leaves, while I rush around the counter, nearly jogging to where the customer service desk is. Beside it is a door that reads “EMPLOYEES ONLY”, and I use my keys to unlock it. I rush to my locker and fling it open, tearing off my vest and grabbing my skateboard, my jacket. “You’re in a hurry,” I hear behind me. It’s one of my coworkers–short, bushy ginger hair and big round glasses. She’s smirking.

“My housemate’s giving me a ride,” I say, skateboard under my arm. “Later–!”

I’m nearly skipping out of there, out of the sliding doors, and I scan the parking lot. Sure enough, I can spot him near the front of the parking lot, smoking a cigarette leaning against his beat up black car. He looks so stereotypically “punk”, like a “bad boy”, with his chains on his belt and around his neck, the leather, the cigarette, that disinterested look…it’s a little silly. Maybe. Who am I kidding, when I was in high school, I wore nothing but black and eyeliner, as if I were much better…

So I can’t say I’m not into it…

He catches my eye and jerks up, taking a quick drag before letting the cigarette hang between his lips. “Here, let me just…” he starts, opening the passenger side door. I’m not surprised that it’s a mess–not a lot of trash, but just clutter. Remnants of school papers are scattered on the floor, backpack in the seat, ashtray full of cigarette butts. He hastily tosses his old backpack into the back, picking up a few of the papers and crumpling up. “Shit, should’ve…done this before…” he mutters. “There.”

In an effort to get away, he shoves into my shoulder as he’s coming around. “Sorry,” he says again. I bite my lip–he’s not usually this clumsy. He’s nervous. I don’t comment as he gets back into the driver’s side. I shrug to myself, toss my skateboard in the backseat, and get comfortable before I shut the door.

He starts the car, cracking the window as the AC immediately blasts hot air into my face. I fumble to aim it lower so it doesn’t completely assault me while it warms up–or cools down, rather. He flexes his hands at the wheel, then pulls his cigarette from his mouth and throws it out the window. “Put on whatever you want for music,” he says. “Radio, or there are some tapes in the glovebox…”

“Okay,” I reply, pulling my Walkman out of my jacket pocket. I pop it open and pull out the tape. “I have something here…?”

He looks at the tape, then over to me, then nods as he puts the car in gear. “Sure.”

He adjusts the rear view mirror, then puts his hand behind the passenger seat as he backs out of the parking space. There’s something about the gesture that’s instinctual–he’s probably done it ever since he started driving–but intimate as well. Not intentionally, even as he brushes the side of my hair once he puts the car back into drive. I can…I can imagine.

I smirk to myself as I let the tape deck in the dash eat my cassette. Maybe I am making an impression.

22. leigh

orig posted 07/16/2016

We don’t usually spend much time in the living room, but our days off coincided, so we’re lounging in here together in the afternoon. The sun beams in warm through the back window, and I’m leaning heavy on his shoulder. Our hands are laced together, and I stroke the side of his with my thumb. He’s relaxed for once, not that dull tired haze he usually has, which is a relief. The TV’s on, but it’s mostly background noise. I think he’s starting to nod off, and I am too a bit…

It’s warm and good, being together like this.

“You want to do anything?” I ask him quietly, nuzzling his shoulder. “Go out, or something? It’s nice out today…”

He shrugs, then yawns. “I dunno,” he replies. “Maybe later.”

He settles further into the couch and squeezes my hand, and I can see a little smile on his lips before it settles into neutrality. We kind of fell into dating, after a few casual dates, a few off hand kisses…he said he hadn’t been with anyone before, but he’s taking to it pretty well. Maybe it’s because things are slow for now. But, he’s happy, and even though it’s quiet, I can tell.

The door unlocks, and Zoe walks in, humming to herself. She clearly doesn’t realize she’s not alone until she glances down the hall and jumps. “Oh, hey lovebirds,” she says. If she was really startled, it melts away as she grins and saunters to the doorway of the living room. “You guys look cozy.”

I only respond with a little giggle, and he doesn’t at all, just wandering his eyes over to her. She watches us for a moment–there’s a longing in her eyes, she hasn’t had much luck dating lately–before she chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t get too frisky, we all share that couch.”

I snort. “Duh,” I say.

She turns and leaves, although Leon holds his breath until we hear her footsteps down the stairs of the basement. It’s a long sigh, accompanied by him leaning further into the couch. I follow him, and crawl a little onto his lap at the same time. “Maybe we should go upstairs,” he grumbles, running a hand back through his hair.

“Aw, it’s nothing,” I say, close to his cheek. “Ray shouldn’t be back until the evening, same with Clover.” My voice drops. “We have time.”

He looks over to me, just what I wanted, and I kiss him nice and slow. It’s so soft and warm it makes my chest ache, and he stays with me, we keep each other’s pace, kiss after kiss, with the sun still beaming down over us. We keep our hands together, but my free arm wraps around his chest, and I make my way further into his lap…

But he breaks the kiss. “Didn’t…” he starts. He has to catch his breath. It’s cute, especially paired with his forehead against mine. “Didn’t she say we shouldn’t–”

I chuckle. “This is nothing,” I murmur. “She just doesn’t want us making us a mess here.”

He snorts, a jolt in his chest. “Right.”

A hand behind my neck, thumb right at the base of it, and he kisses me again…

23. leon

Leigh’s coworker gave us a ride home. 1 AM, the house is quiet, we’re both a little tipsy, and God, I can’t stop touching them…

They push me up the stairs, over into their room, shut the door behind them and before I can even think, they have me pressed up against the wall, hips right flush, and we’re making out as if we’d never tasted anything sweeter. They’re already making a little noise, quiet, I strain to hear it, and it sends shivers down my spine, even though I’m hot, hot. They clumsily force my jacket off, falling to the floor, and I help them further by taking my own shirt off. Theirs is off soon as well, a glittery tanktop that flutters to the floor. I fuss with their bra as they press themselves into me, kissing my neck, Christ it’s hard to concentrate…but I get the hooks undone and they shimmy it off their shoulders.

They pull me by my belt loops to the bed, unbuttoning my jeans on the way over, and with one hand against my chest, I fall onto it. They yank me out of my jeans, a hungry look in their eyes, one I’ve seen a few times, but not quite as intense as this. I’m dizzy from it, as I watch them jump out of their own jeans. Oh, they’re wearing those lace panties…I guess they expected something to happen tonight–

They pounce on me and start making out with me again, and it’s all I can do to reciprocate, hands light on their waist. I’m having a hard time keeping up with each mouthful of their lips…

And I think they can sense it too…

Because they roll over to the side and stop, pushing my hair out of my face, scanning me all over. They’re panting from the excitement, and even in the low light, I can tell there’s a flush on their cheeks. “D-damn…” they whisper, swallowing hard enough to make their throat bob. “I got…carried away…”

“Huh?” I reply.

They shake their head, and kiss my cheek, much more gentle this time. “I didn’t mean to push you,” they murmur, and they wrap their arms and legs around me, like a tangled cocoon. “I got excited…”

I noticed. Their hard-on has faded a little, but I can still feel what’s left of it. I’ve never had any kind of relationship before them, romantic or sexual. And I don’t think I’d be interested, if it weren’t for them. Something about them just draws me in, even if it is a frenzy like this…but there’s a part of me that’s definitely relieved. I’d rather start slow, then ramp things up…

They scoot up and look at me again, constantly running their hand through my hair. “Are you okay?” they ask.

I nod. I’ve been more okay with them then I have with anyone else in a long, long time.

They bite their lip, the way they do when they’re trying not to smile too big. It’s cute, and it always makes me smile in return. “Wanna…keep going?”

“Mm.” I stroke the side of their neck with my thumb, down along their freckled shoulder. “Start…slow, though.”

A giggle, soft and light. “Okay.”

I close my eyes, and pull them closer…

24. leon

“Close my eyes, feel me now, I don’t know how you could not love me now…”

Dave made me close alone tonight, that bastard, so it’s almost 11:30 by the time I walk in. From the street, there were still a couple lights on, but it’s mostly dead. Kitchen’s dark, so’s the shared living room. You’d think with five people living here, someone would be down here. Whatever.

I trudge up the stairs, key in hand to unlock my door. Leigh’s door is half open, yellow light pouring out of it. I wander past it, just peering in.

They’re on the bed, headphones on with a tape player on their lap. Most of their white blond hair is in their face, their roots just starting to show. God, it’s got to be hard to keep that up–their roots are almost black dark in comparison. Their hand is over their mouth as they listen, rocking back and forth.

…I guess I won’t bug them.

I turn to leave, when I hear their voice. “Leon?”

God, they know it’s me, every time. Maybe it’s because I keep wandering past here whenever they’re around. Or maybe because when I first moved in, I always felt like there was a shadow around, but nothing I could catch. Anyway, I poke my head through the door. “H-hey,” I say.

They part their curtain of hair, slipping their headphones off, and smile at me. “What’s up?” they ask.

“Just…got back from work,” I reply, edging my way in, just so I can lean in the doorway. “I had to close on my own tonight because my boss wanted to go out…”

“Aw, that sucks,” they say, rearranging themselves on the bed. They’re wearing an oversized t-shirt, and…I can’t tell what else. I try not to stare, focusing on his eyes instead. I don’t reply right away, and they glance over at the clock on their nightstand. “Yeah, it’s pretty late.”

I nod, trying to fish up more to say. Normally, I’d just leave if I didn’t have anything else, but…with them, it’s a little different. “Wh…what are you listening to?” I ask, pointing to the Walkman.

“Oh! It’s some stuff I got from my last trip over to your work,” they say, holding the player up–gingerly, as not to warble the tape. “It’s…kind of weird, actually. Really…noisy. But it’s cool.”

“Ah.”

They smile to themselves, playing with their hair again. “Do you…want to listen?” they ask.

“Uh…s-sure.” My feet walk themselves over to the bed as they scoot over, and I take the oversized headphones and put them over my ears.

“Wait, let me…” they say, and hit the rewind button on the Walkman. The tape whirls, gears grinding, and their eyes are focused out until they feel out where to stop. “There. Try now.”

They hit play, and my ears are assaulted by a wash of distorted guitars. Despite the noise, it feels low-key, and if I listen carefully, I can hear some lyrics…

They’re watching me while I listen, and it’s distracting me more than the music I’m listening to. Still, I see their lips move, and I can’t hear them. I pull the headphones off. “What?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” they say with a giggle. “I dunno, I dig experimental stuff…”

“Huh.” I can feel my own mouth curve up into a smile. Their shy appreciation for it is…it’s… “It’s something…”

They look at me for a moment, blue-green eyes right into mine. You’re something too, Leigh. There’s something about you that I can’t quite put my finger on…but all I know is that I keep wandering into your room, and I want to stay.

They pull the headphones off my neck. “Damn, I wish I had a splitter,” they mutter.

“A what?”

“You know, a little splitter jack, for two sets of headphones.”

“Wh…why’s that?”

They bite their lip and look off. “So we could listen together.”

25. leon

I’m eating a TV dinner in the dining room when Leigh comes home, skateboard under their arm. “Zoe!” they call. “Are you here?”

An echo from the basement. “Down here!”

They walk out of my line of sight and over to the basement door. “I need some advice…” There’s more talk that disappears down the stairs, and I find myself trying to eavesdrop into it. I’m doing that…a lot lately, with them. I’ve just noticed that whenever we’re both home, they tend to shadow me around the house. I didn’t realize it before…

“Oh, he is? Ah…”

The footsteps return up, and they walk down the hallway, looking first into the kitchen, then across to me in the dining room. Their face lights up when they see me. “There you are!” they say. “I, um…I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure.” The shitty little plastic tray is just about empty anyway, and I push it away.

They bite their lip and fuss with their bangs. “Um, well…I just got…I got tickets to see Drop Nineteens over in Allston Village. They’re a, uh…an indie band, we l-listened to one of their tapes…”

They can’t seem to look at me right in the eye, the hand at their skateboard fidgeting and twisting. The name of the band sounds familiar, so we’ve probably listened to it. “Which one was that?” I ask anyway.

“Um, let me think…” They stare at the ceiling for a moment. “Oh, it had that song with the spoken word section in the middle of it. The girl is talking over the guitar–”

“Oh, yeah.” I remember now. Another one of those…experimental sounding bands they’re into. There’s a name for it, but I can’t think of it right now. The flush in their face brings out the freckles across their face. They manage to look at me for a split second, but their eyes chase away again. Such a…clear shade of blue. Or is it green?

Ah…

“So!” they start again, after another deep breath. “I wanted to know whether you’d want to…come with me, or not. I mean, I’d ask my friend at work, but she’s not…she’s not into it…”

They want me to go to this concert with them. It’s been a while…since I’ve been asked to go anywhere with anyone. Chelsea stopped asking me to go to her games and other stuff around school a while ago. Well, last week, Zoe asked me to go out…somewhere, but that was with the rest of the house. And I think it was because I’d spent my whole day off in my room.

But this…is different.

They want to go somewhere…with me.

And…I want to go with them. “Yeah,” I reply finally. “When is it?”

They relax, just a little bit, and it shows in a smile. Something stirs in me, and I find myself smirking in return. “N-next week! Next Friday night. We can drive down or just take the train, I know parking sucks over there…”

“Sure.” I’ll have to make sure to get that night off. My Friday shift is usually in the afternoon, anyway…

They giggle and start to back out of the dining room. “I’m excited!” they exclaim. “It’ll be fun!”

I nod, leaning back in my seat. For once…I’m excited too.

26. leigh

The weather’s getting cooler. That means I can wear my favorite jacket around again, the one I got from the army surplus store in Boston. It’s really plain, but it’s good for all weather. Except blistering sun, but even then it’s not so bad. I hang it on my bedpost for later. It’s still early, and I’m still in my pajamas. Enough time to get some breakfast…

I didn’t expect Leon’s wardrobe to change at all. He seems like the kind of guy to wear the same shit year round. I mean, I was the same way in high school. But, when I see him in the morning, he’s wearing a red flannel over his typical too-tight t-shirt. He hears me creaking down the hall, and turns to me with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. “Morning,” he greets.

“Hey.” I shouldn’t be this impressed by just a shirt, I really shouldn’t. It’s not like he’s wearing a suit, or anything like that. It’s just a casual plaid, so who cares? Me, apparently. It just suits him and his whole style, combined with his bedhead and scruffy five o'clock shadow, the bleary sleepiness in his eyes.

Luckily, he’s too tired to realize I’m staring. “You work today?” he asks, taking another sip of his coffee.

I nod. “Until 1. I’m doing stocking today, so it shouldn’t be so bad.” God, I just want to wrap my arms underneath the flannel and rest my head on his chest, but I find myself hugging my own arms instead. What’s stopping me? “You?”

“Not ‘til later.” His voice takes on a gravelly edge, and he coughs to clear it. “Just…woke up. Figured I’d stay up.”

“Mm.” I wander closer, my pajama pants scuffing on the floor as I make my way over. He’s staring out the back window, but he senses me, and draws an arm around my shoulder. He’s warm, so warm, and I sink into him. I can smell his coffee, and I almost want to take a sip, but I know better. He likes it black. Yuck.

His hand runs down my back before he starts to shuffle around. “I’m gonna have a smoke,” he mumbles with a yawn.

“Wait.” I grab each side of the flannel, and he pauses. He’s looking at me with sleepy surprise, it’s adorable, and I lean forward and kiss the side of his unshaven cheek.

It catches him a little off guard, but he smirks, and chuckles in the back of his throat…

27.

orig posted 07/18/2016

Saturday night.

Leon came in at around 10:30, but caught a dim light flickering from the dining room. Slipping around the corner, a single candle was lit in the middle, with Ray seated at the head of the table with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. He was leaned back, and his eyes dragged up to his face to acknowledge him. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Leon replied. Wild night, huh?

They stared at each other for a moment, before Ray pushed the whiskey bottle toward him, scraping dully against the dining table. “Want to join me?” he asked with a grunt. “Get your own glass.”

Leon shrugged and shuffled to the kitchen. The far cupboard hosted most of the glasses, and he reached up for a shot glass to match the one Ray already had. What the hell, he thought, making his way back and slouching into a chair beside him. Not like I’m doing anything else tonight…

Ray poured him a shot, as well as one for himself. He raised his eyebrows as he held out the glass, and after a delay, Leon finally got the hint, and clinked it with his. He watched Ray take a sip first, before he took one of his own. It was an earthy, bitter taste, and burned on the way down, making him cough. “Shit,” he sputtered.

With a snort, Ray took yet another sip. “You don’t drink much, do you?” he commented.

“Dude, I’m only 18,” Leon protested, trying another sip. The next one was a little easier to handle, and warmed the pit of his stomach. “I don’t really get the chance to…”

“Oh, yeah. I forget about that sometimes.” Ray stared at the flickering candle, watching the flame lick high, then die back down into the wick. “Well, you’ll sure get a chance around here.”

“Mmn.” It’s not like I haven’t drank before, Leon reminisced. He took another whiff of the whiskey in his glass, the scent stinging his nose. Aunt Sharon used to let me have nips of her gin when Mom wasn’t around. There’s always been something in the cabinet, but it’s usually wine. Or tequila. I don’t know what I really like yet. He sighed heavily and took another drink of the whiskey. This is strong, but…it isn’t bad.

“How was the store?” Ray asked.

Leon shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Another drink, and he felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen. “Tried to sell me weed again today.”

Ray rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Jesus,” he muttered. “At least he hasn’t had you go and run anything by the pit…”

“What?”

“You know that weird, fenced off…pit that’s in Teele Square?” he said, gesturing a square with one hand. “It’s all overgrown and shit. He gave me five hundred bucks to run weed to the freaks that hang out around there.”

“Shit.” Now that I think about it, I have been past there. People at school buzzed about it too, say you can get speed easy down there. Shit that makes you feel like you can fly. Leon flexed his hand against his thigh, and took another drink from his shot glass, a little deeper this time.

Ray shook his head and sighed. “Don’t really want to get caught up in all that. It’ll get you fucked up.”

Leon nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, his tongue growing lazy.

Another drink before he looked him over. “You know, despite looking like a punk, you sure don’t act like one.”

His gray eyes shifted over to him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see you running out late, blasting the Clash, trying to start a riot or getting high.”

“My friend’s the valedictorian of Somerville High,” Leon snorted. “Guess she rubbed off on me a bit.”

“Huh.”

Leon’s head tilted from one shoulder to another, staring at the candlelight. “…Crossed my mind, though,” he mumbled.

“What?”

Ah. I said that out loud… He stayed quiet for another second, then finished off his shot. “Dunno. Just…” The glass rattled on the table, and he fumbled to steady it with his fingertips, fingertips with the nails chewed down and ragged. “Getting high. Maybe it’d feel like…something worthwhile.”

I mean…I managed to fly out of Mom’s place, somehow. But, sometimes I don’t know…what it’s all for.

What would it be like to fly away from this place…

It took him a second to realize that Ray was staring at him. “You all right?” he asked.

Leon nodded with a heavy sigh, then rose to his feet. A wave of light-headedness made him weave, but it soon shook into a tired blanket over his head. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m going to bed.”

He took the stairs carefully, one at a time. I hate this heaviness, he thought, rubbing his eyes. I just want to sleep…

Sometime around midnight, in the middle of Ray’s third, slowly sipped shot, Leigh came bustling through the front door. “Hello?” they called quietly, meandering down the hall. Their hair was in a low side ponytail, most of it over their shoulder, with a flower clip pushing their bangs aside. As soon as they spotted Ray, they smiled. “Hey.”

Ray simply nodded, gesturing to the disheveled seat that Leon left behind. They shimmied off their jacket and draped it over the chair, sitting down and pouring themselves a shot. “Weren’t you just out drinking?” Ray asked.

“Not tonight,” they replied, holding up their arms. Two, large black X’s were marked on the tops of their hands. “Got carded at the door.”

He shook his head. “You could really get into it for that, y'know,” he remarked. “I’m surprised you get away with it half the time…”

Leigh smirked. “I’m pretty and I don’t drink like a frat boy.” They inhaled the aroma of the whiskey, then took it all in one go, tipping it down their throat.

Ray cringed. “Well, you sure take a shot like one,” he said. “You’re not supposed to drink it like that.“

With a shake of their head, Leigh winced. "Whatever,” they dismissed, a click in their throat. After, they sank down in the chair, resting their arms on the table with their chin resting on top of them. “I never liked straight liquor, anyway.”

“I didn’t ask you to drink it.”

“I know.”

Leigh poked the shot glass, pushing it gently in front of them with one finger. “Who was here before?” they asked. “You like to drink alone.”

Ray hesitated before replying. “…Leon.”

Leigh felt adrenaline spike in the back of their neck. Leon. “Oh,” they replied, biting their lip. “Do…you think I could get him to come out with me?”

He scoffed with a shake of his head. “You’ll have a harder time getting him into the bar, let alone out of the house.”

“What? He’s got scruff, he could sneak in–”

“It’s funny that you consider that a perk.”

Leigh sat up and crossed their arms, looking off. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m your brother, it’s my job.” When Leigh glanced over, there was a tug on his lips, and he reached over and gently punched their shoulder. “I can’t say you’ve had worse crushes.”

All they could do was scrunch their face at their lap. A crush, yeah. Haven’t had much interest in picking up a date on the weekends lately because of it. I keep hearing the quiet way he talks in my head, and seeing the glint of his eyes in my head…

Ray finished his last shot and capped the whiskey bottle. “This is against my better judgement,” he muttered, “but I think you should go see how he’s doing.”

Leigh raised their eyebrows. “Huh? Why?”

“Seemed a little down,” he said. Ray pushed the whiskey bottle close enough to the candle so it filtered warbling, amber light through the bottle. “I don’t remember being so sullen at fucking eighteen, do you?”

Leigh shook their head. “Not really. Except when Mom called me her ‘darling son’.” Their lip curled in distaste, but it faded quickly. I didn’t have a walk in the park growing up by any means, being queer and trans, but Leon…

…that’s something different all together.

They scooted out of their chair and smoothed their hands against their jeans. “I’ll see if he’s up, anyway,” they said. “You coming to bed?”

“Yeah, in a minute.” Ray leaned his head back against the chair. “Just going to let this catch up to me.”

“All right.”

Leigh nodded, then swung around the doorway and jumped up the stairs, creaking as they went. Within a few moments, the flickering glow emanating from the dining room was snuffed out, leaving the house in complete black. Well, not complete–as soon as they reached the second floor, a muted glow filtered beneath the center bedroom door. So, he is up.

Taking a deep breath, Leigh knocked on the door. “Leon?”

The shuffle of a sleeping bag, one step, two steps, three, and then Leon was at the door, bleary eyed in only a pair of sweatpants. “What?” he said.

“Um…” You’re tired, but you’re not sleeping. “Y-you’re…still up?”

He nodded, as if through a thick fog, then ran a hand through his thick hair. He stopped just as it cleared his forehead. “Guess so,” he mumbled.

“Well…” Leigh jerked their head to the side, toward their room. “I’m going to be up for a bit, if you…just wanted to chill for a bit.” They bit their lip and played with their ponytail, twirling it between their long fingers. “I’ve got some new albums…we don’t have to listen to anything too weird…”

They trailed off as he stared at the floor. I wouldn’t press, normally, but…if he’s really feeling low tonight, then…I want to do something.

After a minute, Leon finally looked back up. “Sure,” he grunted, turning around. “Just a sec…”

Leigh nodded, then spun on their heel to grin away from the door. Yes! They covered their mouth and bounced back toward the other end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. I mean, yes, but I hope I can help.

He shortly reemerged wearing a shirt, widened his eyes at them with a bit lip, then walked past to the end of the hallway. It may be wishful thinking, Leigh thought, reaching into Leon’s room and feeling for the light switch to snap it off. But…I think I already have.

28. leon

orig posted 07/22/2016

It’s a quiet morning. Overcast. The last week’s been this way, but it isn’t a dark cloud cover. The sun is a white orb behind pale, puffy clouds in the sky, as if it might come out with some blue for a change. I sit up on my mattress, stare out the window.

Leigh kissed me last night.

I kissed them back.

I’d…never kissed anyone before. Never even thought about it. It wasn’t mind-blowing, no end-all be-all of anything, but…it was something. It was intimate. Close. I’ve never been one for details, but I can remember every moment from it like it just happened. I run my hand down over my face, cupping my palm around my mouth. It was nice.

If they asked, if they offered…I’d kiss them again.

I check the clock–9 AM, right on time. I can walk to Davis from here, don’t have to worry about parking, so I can just go right to work. I don’t know…what shift they work today. I forgot to ask. I stand up and sigh, digging for a shirt in my dresser. Birds have conversations outside my window, the window I keep spacing out at.

I was all right with being alone. I had accepted it. Mom sure didn’t give me any company. I went places on my own, I came back on my own. I didn’t really think there was any other way for me.

I…don’t feel that way anymore. Not as long as they’re around.

Dressed, I wander into the hallway, my feet making the floorboards creak. Making my way to their door, I hesitate as soon as I get there. This is a stupid idea. They’re probably still asleep. I can just wait until I’m done my shift, then figure out what they’re doing for the day. But for some reason, I don’t want to.

I stare at the door for another minute before I choose to knock. Two small taps. “Leigh?” I mutter at it. My voice is grating from disuse, and clearing it doesn’t do much good. “Leigh…”

I get silence for a reply, which is what I expected. Whatever, it’s fine, I’ll just…have my morning smoke and get on with my day. But, I’m still waiting here. Listening. And then I do hear them stir, feet heavy in sleepiness across the floor. My heart jars in my chest.

They open the door, rubbing their eyes in a huge t-shirt, even more oversized than the ones they usually wear. “Oh…” they yawn, and try to shake it off. “Leon…”

And now I’ve forgotten what I was going to ask them. I feel guilty for waking them up, but at the same time, there’s something…charming about seeing them like this. God, listen to me. I can feel myself smirking, and they mimic it. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

“I…” They slept with makeup on, because it’s smudged around their eyes, but they’re still that clear shade of blue-green, like the ocean. “I was just…wondering what you work today,” I manage.

“Oh! I actually have today off,” they reply. It’s almost as if nothing had happened between us, but there’s something different in their smile, in the way they hold themselves, that suggests otherwise. “Did…you want to do something?”

“Well…I have work.”

A pause. “Okay. ‘Til when?”

“Three.” They’ve learned to fill in the blanks when I go quiet, when most people would simply drop a conversation and walk away. It’s hard to believe…

It’s hard to believe someone would…

…would care about me like that.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can meet up with you at work,” they suggest, brushing their bangs aside. “Then we can…” They yawn again, leaning up against the door frame. “Hang out.”

I nod in reply. God. I’ve never felt like this before…if I keep standing here staring at them, though, I’m going to be late for work. “Mmn. Yeah. Okay.”

They giggle and cover their mouth. “Sounds good.”

“I should…get ready,” I say, and turn back toward the bathroom. I need to wash my face, it feels too warm…

…but they catch me before I can get too far, thin fingers against my palm. They look at me in the face only for a second, before staring down, pulling me back closer. Tentatively, they bring me into a loose hug, nestling their head in the crook of my neck.

And I return it. My hands wrap around their back, right where their long hair ends. They’re warm.

It doesn’t last long, though. “I’ll see you later,” they murmur, breaking away with pink lining their ears. “I-I need to get some more sleep…”

“Sure,” I reply. “See…see you later.”

I’m frozen in the hallway as they give me a last smile before disappearing behind the door. My heart feels like it’s lodged right in my throat. I…

…guess this is what it feels like, to like someone…

29. leigh

orig posted 07/24/2016

I have to force myself not to run to the record store, especially since half of it is uphill. I can’t help myself–I’ve been feeling giddy all day. I could barely go back to sleep after he woke me up this morning.

Leon…

I was almost regretting kissing him last night, almost. I wanted to, I’ve been wanting to for a while, so I did it. I mean, how else was I going to end a night like that? You could consider it our first date. He even held my hand and everything, even if it took him a while.

I head into the plaza, through to the store. There are a couple people browsing today, and judging by the cloud of smoke around the ceiling, the owner is at the register. Yup, there he is. I thought you weren’t allowed to smoke in buildings anymore? Oh, well. I jog up to the counter, glancing at the clock mounted on the ceiling. I’m a couple minutes early. “Hey!” I say. “Is Leon here?”

He looks me over, recognition in his eyes. “Leon? Sure, sweetheart,” he replies (he assumes I’m a girl, always has), then spins around toward the back room. “Oy, Leon! You’ve got someone waiting for ya!”

There’s a clattering in the back before he emerges with a couple CDs in his hand. He grips them tighter, eyes wide as he looks at me. “A-ah, Leigh…” he mutters. I smile at him, and he can’t hold my gaze for long. He’s gotten bashful lately…

The owner–Dave, I think his name is?–takes a drag off his cigar before glancing up at the clock. “Ah, what the hell. Get out of here, Ray’ll be here any second.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, escaping to the back.

I turn my back to Dave and bounce on my toes. I’m glad I got here before him–he’ll be on his way back from the gym at this point. And I don’t want him giving me that glare. Listen, I didn’t know that I was going to get a real crush on his coworker…although since he’s been living with us, I figured it was only a matter of time. And I think…that makes it worse for him. Oops?

Leon comes back, familiar leather on his arms, and nods to me “Ready?” he asks.

“Uh-huh!” I reply. It’s way too bright and way too eager. But, he smiles in spite of himself, staring down at the floor, and that makes it worth it.

“See you tomorrow,” Dave says as we leave.

Leon doesn’t respond, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as we exit. He silently offers the pack over, and I shake my head. “I’m trying to cut back,” I say. So Ray doesn’t preach at me. Leon shrugs and lights one up for himself, taking a drag and holding the smoke at the side opposite me. Watching him smoke is giving me a craving already, but I’ll wait it out…

We stop at the intersection. “So,” he says. “What…did you have in mind to do?”

“Oh, I dunno.” I didn’t think this far ahead. I was too busy thinking about how odd it was that he came to wake me up, just to see what I was doing today. How shy his gray eyes looked, just like they kind of do now. “We could just head back to the house. Or, get something to eat. Have you had lunch yet?”

“Just a little something earlier,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his hair. We walk down the street, and meander around the train station, where there’s a little park. There’s a bike path that runs over to Cambridge this way that I like to skate down. I don’t think I’ve shown it to him, but he guides us this way, looking around at the trees hanging over us. I’m walking as close to him as I can without impeding his pace. My hands are itching in my pockets, and I take them out, forcing to hold them loose at my sides.

Okay, Leigh. If you want something, you just have to do it yourself…

His hand is close enough beside mine that I take it. He’s in the middle of a drag, the last of this cigarette, and he coughs as soon as my fingers reach for his. “Shit, are you okay?” I ask. We slow to a halt, and I use the opportunity to further lace my fingers with his.

He nods as he covers his mouth, eyes watering. With a swallow that bobs in his throat, he chucks his cigarette on the ground and looks over at me. “I-I’m fine,” he croaks. “Sorry…”

“You sure?” I rub the side of his hand with my thumb. This is apparently the right idea, because he smiles at me. It’s not much of one–it doesn’t fill his whole face, but it’s there, and it’s for me.

I can’t hold back my own.

“Yeah,” he says, with a very brief squeeze of my hand. “Let’s keep walking.”

30. leon, nsfw

orig posted 07/28/2016

They tuck my hair back around my ear, snake their fingers back through it, and then they kiss my neck, just below my ear. “Ahn…” they murmur, breath hot, one hand trickling down my chest. “How are you feeling?”

I swallow thick. All I can do is make a little noise and nod right now. I’m so warm, and they’re wearing this lacy thing on their chest that looks…it’s really nice. I can’t keep my hands off their chest, I can’t stop touching them, hands skating down through to their hips, where they’re wearing lace underwear too. Christ, I came home from work, and they coaxed me in their room, they were waiting for me like this…

Ah…

They kiss me, open mouthed with tongue, moaning gently. They drift their fingers beneath my shirt, tugging on it, and we break just long enough for them to rip it off me, tossing it aside on the floor. Back to my lips they come, hungrier than before, and I feed into it. I grab their ass and they shudder. I’m getting dizzy from all this heat…

They break the kiss to hiss in my ear, fumbling at my belt. “Baby,” they sigh, swallowing hard. “I want you to fuck me…just as hard as you can…”

My breathing stutters. Jesus.

They manage to unbutton my jeans, massaging my cock under my boxer briefs. They’ve got me going, all right, and the touch makes me shudder. But, still, before they go much further, they bump their forehead against mine, looking into my eyes. “Is that all right with you?” they ask.

Their blue-green eyes stay locked with mine. Even though I can feel their hard-on right against my thigh, if I said no, I’m not feeling it, they’d back off. I know because I’ve backed out a few times. I don’t crave sex the same way that they do–it comes and goes. But right now, as their breathing stays heavy, and with the lingerie they’re wearing…

Yeah, I want it.

I want them.

“Yeah,” I mutter finally.

Their face bursts into a grin, and they kiss me again, and again…

Time gets blurred as I take the rest of my clothes off, and they fish in their drawer for a condom. They hand it to me, and splay themselves back on the bed, blond hair spilling everywhere. They raise a hand to their mouth, biting the side of their index finger with a heavy lidded look, and God, God. I pause to stare at them, pale with freckles on their shoulders, over their arms, some on the sides of their stomach. The black lace is a stark contrast against their skin, and I idly finger the waistband of their underwear, embracing the texture. They’re so…so pretty…

“Leon,” they say quietly.

Ah. I bite my lip and fumble with the wrapper, and they giggle at me. It lilts, and my face grows hot. Where’s the lube, did they get it out? There it is, on the nightstand. I have to stretch to reach it, and…damn it, my hand’s shaking. I’m all right, I’m all right. I’ve never been with anyone before them, let alone sexually, and I still feel so new…

I still sometimes don’t know what they saw in me, to want to be with me this way…

Thankfully, they interrupt this train of thought before it gets too far. “Can I have some?” they ask. One hand is out, the other is pulling themselves out of their underwear.

I nod, slipping the condom on over my cock. I take a bit of lube before handing it over them. God, it’s slick… “Do you…want to leave that on?” I ask, gesturing to their underwear.

“Mmn.” It’s almost a sigh as they lube their cock. “If you can…”

Deep breath. I use two fingers to tuck under where the lace meets their thigh, tracing it right around, then stretch it as far to the side as it can go so I can see their ass. They lean back in turn–I can sense them shuddering in anticipation. I don’t want to keep them waiting, so I scoot forward,

and I push myself in.

“Ahh…” They moan almost instantly, biting their lip. They’re tight, but they relax the deeper I go, until I’m hovering right over them. Their eyes scan over me for a moment, still only half open, before they reach up to touch my face. Their palm grazes over my five o’clock shadow, thumb over my lips.

Leigh…

My mouth parts instinctively, and I kiss it.

Their lips curl into a smirk at the side of their face, and I feel them clench around me. “Okay,” they whisper. They reach their arms around my shoulders and draw me closer. “Let’s go.”

I nod, and start to undulate my hips in a slow rhythm. I’m trying to remember what they’ve told me about this, so they don’t have to remind me again in the heat of things. Then again, sex isn’t exactly hard. And with every flinch of my hips, they moan, so I’m doing something right…

Ah…it does feel good…

They reach up to kiss at me, whatever they can get at, which happens to be my cheek. “C’mon, mmn,” they murmur, their own body rocking. “Give me a little more…”

So, I do, and they gasp. “Yeah…yeah…”

One arm around my neck, the other down to touch themselves, and now I’m getting into a rhythm. There’s just enough lube and just enough friction, nn, it’s hard to…focus on much else…besides them…

I collapse my arms so I can be closer to them, and now I’m starting to make noise of my own. “Nngh…”

“Mmn, that’s it…” Their one hand digs into my back. “C’mon, baby, can you go any faster than that?”

Ah, you want more? You want more, I can…I can do that…

I buck harder into them, and now they’re getting even louder. Was anyone home? Christ, if Ray’s here, he’s going to give us hell…but the thought is deep in the back of my mind, because the faster I go, the better it feels, the tighter they become, and God, God, it’s good, they feel so good…

“Haah, nnnhh…!” they gasp. “F-fuck, L…Leon…”

Their voice reaches higher, it’s going into a falsetto, and I keep pushing, keep pushing. I’m starting to sweat, but I don’t care, I don’t care…

Suddenly, their eyes snap open. “Oh, God, ahhh–!”

They get louder, and I clumsily clap my hand over their mouth as they come. They bite my hand, they claw the back of my neck as they shudder, shudder, shudder. They pant through their nose when the moment passes, staring right at me, and just as I relax and stop…

Fuck, I can feel it, damn it–!

They can see it in my face, and the moan that rumbles in my throat, and they peel my hand off their mouth. “Go on,” they say, grinning. “Go for it, just go for it…”

“Ah…haaahn…!” It took me by surprise, but I follow it through, the rush pushing my hips harder into them, and as I come, a wash of heat and release through my thighs, they grin the entire time, Leigh, Leigh…

I collapse on top of them, and they stroke back a hand over my hair. I can feel the stickiness against their stomach from their own orgasm, but I don’t care…

Let me stay close to you for just another second…

31. leon

orig posted 07/30/2016

“I love you.”

I freeze. I’m nine years old, in the kitchen at breakfast. Aunt Sally made pancakes for us and gave me a small stack. “What do you say, Joey?” Mom says.

“Thank you, Aunt Sally,” I rehearse in a sing song voice. “Aren’t you a good boy,” my aunt says, with a pat on my head.

“Love you, sweetie.”

My hands are shaking. It’s hard to breathe.

“I love you.”

I’m thirteen, using a payphone. I call Mom’s work number, I ask if Shelley’s there, and after a second, she picks up. “Hello? What?” she answers. She sounds rushed and irritated and I instantly regret it.

“Um, it’s m-me, Le–Joey.” I’ve just started using Leon around school, but saying the other name still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “I’m going to be home late, since I have practice–”

“Sure, whatever,” she replies. “What, do you need money or something?”

“No.”

“Then why did you call?”

I don’t know, Aunt Sally cared whether I came home late or not, and now that she’s gone, there’s only you. A habit? One that I’ll break soon enough.

“I have to go, I have a table waiting.”

“‘Kay,” I mumble. “Love you.” It’s automatic, it’s what you’re supposed to end a call with, right?

“Yeah, sure. Love you too. Bye.”

Dismissive, dismissive. I hang up the phone and run all the way back to the practice field so my throat can burn for a reason.

“L…Leon?”

Now I’m back in the present, with Leigh kneeling in front of me, and I still can’t talk, I still can’t move, I’m frozen and my hands are shaking. No one’s said that to me since. I stopped trying with Mom, because of how abundantly clear it became that she didn’t care. It sounds different when they say it, it has weight, and the weight is heavy in my chest and I feel like I’m going to burst, but I can’t, I can’t…

They take my hands. “I-I…didn’t mean to spring that on you,” they say, soft and soothing, and they won’t take their eyes off me. “Y-you don’t…if you’re not ready, you don’t have to say it back, it’s okay…”

It’s been weeks since we’ve been dating, it’s not sprung, you’ve been careful with me, so careful, more than anyone else has even tried. Everyone else assumes that I’ve got everything under control, I don’t say anything, so I must be fine, right? Right? Even Chelsea thought so. My eyes are starting to swim. Leigh, Leigh, how are you so kind to me? I’m nothing, I’m just dead weight most of the time but you…

You…

“Leon, talk to me.” Their tone grows serious and sharper, and they grip my hands harder. “Are you okay? Please…”

I don’t know if I’m okay. I know you’re…one of the best things that’s come around in my life so far, though. I think I love you too, but my mouth still can’t speak…

So, I pull them closer by our linked hands, so their head rests right in my chest, and I rest my face in the crook of their shoulder. “I…” It’s all I can manage, especially since the instant my throat made noise, the tears start running down my face, and I can’t stop them. It’s too much effort and so I let them fall, soaked up by the collar of their shirt.

They let go of my hands in favor of wrapping their arms around me. “It’s okay,” they whisper. “It’s okay…”

And yeah, it will be, even though I’m shuddering from the thought that someone else could love me. I’ll try to tell you all this, but some other time…

Now, I just need to get this out, and now that I’m with you, it’s not quite as suffocating…

32. leigh

orig posted 08/06/2016

We’re napping in his room. I never was one for taking naps too often, but he’s about it, especially on his days off or when he works the morning. It was the latter in this case–he picked me up after I got out at 2, we came back here, and he almost instantly just fell into bed.

The mattress we rescued from his mom’s place is a full, so it fits us, but God, he’s a bed hog. I dozed for about a half an hour until he rolled over and scooted right against me, almost knocking me off. Realizing your leg isn’t lying on the stable mattress will wake you right up.

So, I shove him over toward the wall, and it stirs him. “Hn?” he grumbles.

“You’re pushing me off,” I mutter, spooned right into his lap.

“Mmn…” He wraps his arm around my waist and buries his head into my hair and neck. “Nngh…”

I smile to myself. Sleepyhead. I roll over despite his grip, sliding down so I can comfortably nuzzle into his chest. He took off his shirt, but he’s still wearing that chain around his neck, and I’m careful to avoid it. “Leon…” I sing gently.

He continues to grumble, but this time I get words. “What? I’m trying to sleep…”

“Don’t scoot me off, then,” I say, kissing his collarbone. “Or else I’ll be sleeping on the floor…”

He won’t open his eyes, but he pulls me into him closer, shoving his back all the way against the far wall. “No,” he mutters. “Stay here…”

I wasn’t going anywhere to begin with. “Okay,” I whisper.

His body is warm, and as his breathing slows into something more steady, drowsiness takes over again, and I start to doze…

33. leon

orig posted 08/09/2016

“Chels,” I say. I nearly have to shout over the loud, loud music. I loosen the tie around my neck, suit coat heavy on my shoulders, Jesus Christ I’m sweating so much. I don’t want to be here, I really don’t, and I’m trying to get her attention, but she’s just not listening.

Finally, I tap her bare shoulder, and she whirls around. She looks great, with her updo, the crystals shining in her hair, glitter around her eyes. She looks like she’s having fun. “What?” she shouts, still dancing.

“I…” I don’t belong here, fuck, I dropped out a while ago now, and it’s a miracle I was let in. Then again, I was her “date”, and I only came because…I hadn’t seen her in ages. She could’ve asked anyone else to prom, especially after I fucked off, but no, she asked me. But why?

Why…

I swallow hard. “I need some fresh air,” I say finally. “It’s hot in here.”

“Okay,” she replies. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” I shake my head, already backing toward the double doors. “You…just have fun.”

“Hey, wait!” She tugs on the sleeve of my tux, a cheap rental that smells like it’s been sitting in someone’s basement for a hundred years. “You’re not leaving are you?”

Would it matter if I did? Would it really? I hold back though, shake my head, and pull out of her grip, striding toward the door. The inside pocket has a pack of cigarettes, which I grapple for along with a light, and I storm out of there. Eyes follow me as I leave. Oh look, there goes Leon Donovan, don’t you know what happened to him? I hear he’s dealing drugs, I hear he’s doing drugs, his mom kicked him out, I hear he’s sucking dick for cash…

Ugh…

Thankfully, the air outside is fresh, and not dripping with humidity. I rip off my suit coat and toss it on the school lawn, loosen my tie and unbutton the first three buttons. I sit down on the curb–my hand shudders as I try to flick the lighter, and it takes three tries to get enough friction to spark a flame. The smoke gives me some relief, but…

God, I should’ve just backed out. This reminds me of every reason I dropped out to begin with. There’s nothing here, this doesn’t matter, this big party that took a big chunk out of my last paycheck with the tux rental and everything…what’s it for? They’re celebrating their graduation, my friend the valedictorian, this matters to her, sure, but she’s got her own friends, her own crowd, she’s in there having fun with them…

She doesn’t need me…

“Hey.”

That voice. I look up, barely keeping the cigarette in my mouth. “Leigh…”

There’s a dissonance between the skateboard under their arm and the clean, pressed dress shirt they’re wearing, but it works, somehow. Their hair is tied back in a low ponytail, rare for me to see, and they have eyeliner carefully drawn on their eyes. “What are you doing here?” I mutter, taking another drag.

They smirk at me before joining me on the curb, skateboard discarded on the lawn beside my tuxedo coat. “I had a feeling this would be right about the time you’d be getting worn out,” they say. Their voice is so smooth. They bite their lip, then reach for the cigarette just as I’m about to pull it out of my mouth, our hands brushing. They take a drag, then hand it back.

“R-really,” I reply.

They snort. “No, I just…got lucky,” they admit, smoke filtering through their nose. “Thought maybe I could sneak in and make it…a little more bearable.”

I shake my head. “They take invitations at the door, and check ID. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” they giggle. We’re sitting close, thighs right flush, and they lean on my shoulder. Their voice softens. “I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

There it is again, that jolt in my chest, the one that makes me feel like my heart’s skipping a beat. You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to do this for me, but…you do anyway.

Leigh, if I came here on my own, if I had wanted to come, I would have…brought you. And I probably wouldn’t have needed the fresh air.

Just their arm linked with my own is enough to chill me out…

34. leigh

orig posted 08/29/2016

Aside from the movies that one time, this is our first date.

I mean, but could you call going out to an Applebee’s a date? We’ve been out wandering all day and ended up in Cleveland Circle, and we were starving, so we just popped in here. I’m surprised he lasted all day with me–coming from a guy who sleeps half the day when he’s not working, it seems like a feat. But, looking at him now, eyes glazed on the other side of the booth, it’s easy to tell.

He sighs and sits back in the seat, but then he sits up and leans forward again, stirring the ice in his soda with his straw. He’s gotten nervous again. It’s kind of cute. I guess he really does like me, doesn’t he? Otherwise, he wouldn’t act this way. With everyone else, he seems pretty indifferent. I smirk to myself, hiding it by sipping my own drink with my straw–I get to be the one to leave an impression on him.

“Hey,” he mutters. Our eyes meet, but it’s brief. “So…how do we get home from here?”

“Oh, just take the bus,” I reply. “The 86 will get us to Harvard, then we can transfer to the train from there back to Davis, then walk home.”

He nods, then chuckles down to the table. “Good, because I wouldn’t have known…”

I begin to play with my bangs. “You have a car, so you probably don’t take the bus much, yeah?

“Right.”

“Maybe…” My voice lilts as I speak, and I can see it draw his attention. The fidget of his hands, the widening of his eyes. “…for our next date, you could take me out for a drive?”

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and covers it, leaning back. He takes his time gathering the words to speak. “Next date, huh?” he replies, barely audible with the noise around us. “So…is this…going to be a regular thing?”

“It can be, if you want it to be.” I desperately hope I look suave on the outside, because I have to duck my hands under the table so he can’t see me fidget. It works, though–it works because I see him smile through his fingers, just a little bit. Even in the low light, I can see a tinge of pink through his near permanent five o’clock shadow.

I can hear the sincerity when he speaks. “Yeah.” He swallows, then nods. “I…would.” And then, he looks right at me before he speaks again–his lips barely move, but I can tell what he says: “Leigh.”

I think if Ray appeared out of nowhere to make fun of me for liking him right now, I’d probably punch him right in the gut. I slide out of the booth and slip over to his seat, right beside him, a giggle bubbling in my throat. “Hey…” he mutters, but lets me sit flush, and he lifts his arm to put it around my shoulder. He’s warm, he smells like deodorant and cigarettes, but it’s fine, it’s him and I…

I’m happy.

Happy enough to ignore the waitress’ raised eyebrow as she brings us more bread…

35. leon

orig posted 09/11/2016

In the end, Chelsea let me leave. She got a ride home from one of her friends. I took Leigh home in my car.

Pretty…pretty shabby, isn’t it? Driving back from prom in a shitty sedan, back to the house. The radio isn’t on, and they’re quiet. I think they might be tired, even though they didn’t get the real experience of the crowd. They snuck in late, even though I swore they wouldn’t be able to get in, they danced a bit. They got along with everyone seamlessly…how do you even do that? How…

Even Davis is quiet as we pull around Highland, through that nasty triangle, and down to our place. Their head is lolled against the window, and every streetlight that passes illuminates their face, the freckles on their cheeks, the blond of their hair. I wrap my hand around the back of the passenger seat as I spin the wheel around in the driveway.

Ease on the brake, I swallow hard as I shift into park. Even now, I don’t want to disturb them. I swallow and cut the engine. It’s silent, save for some crickets in the yard.

Oh, that’s why they’re so loud–I forgot to put my window up.

I roll the crank as I watch them breathe evenly. I take in the creases in their shirt, from the top of the collar, buttoned a little down their chest, the sleeves rolled up. My hand slows.

They didn’t have to come for me. But, they did. They didn’t have to come with me to Mom’s to try and recover my shit that got left over there. But, they did. Chelsea was my date, they didn’t have to dance me when a slow song came up…

…but when she was nowhere to be found, hiding out with other girls in the bathroom, they came up to me, and they did…

Fuck. It’s getting late. I sigh loudly and tap their shoulder. “Hey. We’re back,” I say.

“Hnn? Oh…” They yawn and stretch, rubbing their eyes with the back of their hand. “Right…fuck.” They stop halfway, looking at the back of it. “Damn it, my makeup…”

They sure did smudge it, at least one eye, and they go to finish the job, leaning over to look in the rear view mirror. “Whatever. I’ll just…wash it off,” they mutter. That’s all they say, before reaching in the back to get their skateboard and open the door. I’m in a trance as I get out, my tux suit abandoned in the backseat. Leigh…

They’re halfway up the stairs when I manage to say something. “Hey.”

They stop and turn. “Huh?”

“Thanks…” Ugh, and now I’m stuck. I wanted to say more, but I can’t piece it together, it won’t come out right, so I don’t say anything at all. I can feel my body anticipate them getting frustrated with me–tense shoulders, eyes at the ground. I can hear Mom’s shrill snap in my mind, “use your words”, I can feel Chelsea’s foot tap in my head like a metronome–

But, they come down to me, and they take my hand. “Sure,” they say with a little chuckle. “Hey, I know. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

Their hand is warm in mine, which feels frozen into ice. “Yeah, but…” How can I tell you how much…that this is more than anyone’s cared to do for me? Maybe even ever? How do I tell you that you’re the first person in a long fucking time who’s cared so much…

…and you’re the first person that makes me get what it means to fall for someone?

In the end, I can’t say anything else, but they still smile at me. They pull me into their chest, and hug me right there on the stairwell. And they hold me there for what seems like ages.

It’s late, but I could stay here a little longer…

36. leigh, nsfw

orig posted 09/21/2016. sexually explicit.

It’s 1 AM, shit. I’ve got to be at work by 6 tomorrow. I needed to be asleep an hour ago at least. The house is dead quiet, not even Zoe’s creaking around downstairs.

I sit up in my bed and run a hand through my hair. I could drink something, but that’s risky. If I fall right asleep, I’ll probably wake up with a headache, and I really don’t need that on a Wednesday. Especially when I have the rest of the week ahead of me.

I could jack off. It’ll wear me out and hopefully put me to sleep…

I close my eyes. I used to do this sort of thing when I was younger, too. Raised as a guy, friends with other guys, they tried to sneak me magazines when I was barely a teen. Girls in next to nothing, airbrushed and perfect. It kind of bored me, to be honest. There were prettier girls in our classes. Prettier boys.

Nn…

I have some old fantasies that I turn over on nights like these–I’m older, I’ve had a lot more partners at this point, but this time…I see Leon in my mind’s eye. God, I’ve really got it bad for him, don’t I? I saw him the other night shirtless and…fuck, he’s strong. He’s not super in shape, but it’s clear he used to be. Broad shoulders, thick chest, that tan skin…

Hah, I’m hard already…I reach down and start to stroke myself. What would it be like to kiss him? Run my hands all over that body, clutch his back…catch him in the shower, hot, wet, and naked…his jeans don’t do much for him, but he probably has a nice ass, too. And those gray eyes, gray like a storm…

I hold my breath so I don’t make any noise, and rip the covers off me so I don’t make a mess. I’m warm thinking about him hovering over me, hearing nothing but quiet moans, the sounds of us kissing…here on my bed, he doesn’t have one of his own…

…He sleeps on a sleeping bag. He couldn’t get his mattress before his mom kicked him out. What even for? Despite the look about him, he doesn’t seem like he would cause much trouble. He reminds me of Ray in a way–minds his own business, doesn’t stir the water…wants to be left alone. And yet, while Ray is more content in himself, he…

Leon…seems so lonely.

I’ve lost my hard-on. Damn it. My thighs ache a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t ignore. I roll over and sigh, wrapping myself in blankets. I’ll have to come back to it some other time…

Leon…

Maybe I’ll stop by the record store tomorrow. If I’m not dead after my stocking shift…

37. leon

orig posted 10/13/2016

I opened today. I was thinking of cutting my hours after spring vacation, but you know what? I don’t want to. That’s what I said over February vacation, and Christmas vacation…nope, still don’t want to.

Anyway, I’m out, now. I’m still…getting used to the world during school hours. I still get that creeping feeling like I’m supposed to be somewhere else. I thought it might fade, but…not yet. It’s almost quiet. College students around are still in their classes too…isn’t it close to finals for them?

Why do I care…

I walk to the parking lot behind the store and lean against my car door before getting into it. The air’s just starting to warm up, finally. Spring around here is always so short–it just seems to go right into a humid, Northeastern summer just as soon as the frost thaws. But, right now wearing my jacket and sweatshirt is still comfortable as I stare into the midday sky. It’s actually…nice out.

I actually…don’t feel so bad today.

I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket and fish one out, along with my lighter. It’s too late to go back to the school, obviously–not that I want to anyway. What am I going to do there, learn about equations and formulas I’m never going to use? Study some old ass book that I’m not going to think about the instant we finish it? Christ. I just…don’t see the point. Not anymore. Chelsea’s always insisted that school’s important, it’s the right thing, you should keep going Leon, it’ll be worth it in the long run, but…really?

She’s the type that has goals, she’s going to go out and be somebody.

As for me…

Well, as for me…

Who knows.

The rattle of plastic wheels draws my attention, as someone skateboards up the parking lot, past me and around the corner to the street. They coast as they pass, long blond hair breezing in the wind. They’re wearing a vest from Market Basket…I think I recognize them…

But, they’re gone before I can think too much about it. I haven’t even lit my cigarette yet, it’s just hanging in my lips. I stick it behind my ear and sigh–maybe I don’t need one right now. I’ll just…go for a drive. Time it so I get home when I’m “supposed” to, so Mom doesn’t bitch at me for skipping class. Can’t wait ‘til that’s over.

I turn 18 in a couple weeks…I’ve got some money saved. So, soon. Hopefully. Today, that’s an optimistic thought…

38. leon

orig posted 10/16/2016

I’m trying to nap, but I keep getting woken up by someone fucking knocking at the door. It keeps happening, God, so I just drag myself out of bed, throw on some pants, run down the stairs…

“Trick or treat!”

A chorus of kids are at the door, all in a bunch of different costumes–there’s a witch, Spiderman, a Frankenstein…and Zoe’s wearing a witch costume herself. The only tip off was the hat, otherwise it looks like her normal wardrobe.

“There you go, kids,” she says. “Happy Halloween!”

They cheer and run off, and she sits back down in her chair beside the door. Now, she sees me and smirks. “Hey, man. You want to do this for a while?”

Give out candy? Fuck, I forgot it was even Halloween. I should’ve known, there were really young kids out on the streets when I got out of work, with their little treat bags. I never…did much for Halloween that I can remember. Maybe when Aunt Sal was still around…but Mom keeps the house dark now, one of the only houses on our block that doesn’t give out candy.

But…I’m not there anymore. I’m here, and…

“Hello?” Zoe asks. “You still in there?”

I never answered her. “Not really,” I mumble, and cruise down the rest of the stairs into the kitchen. I could go for a snack, I guess…

“Aww, come on, be a sport!” she whines, following me around with her giant bowl. A quick look into it says it’s full of Kit-Kats, 100 Grands, and Snickers. I reach back to grab a 100 Grand, and she slaps my hand. “You can’t have any unless you give some out!”

I groan. I really, really don’t want to get roped into this. I just want to sleep a bit. TV’s on in the living room, I can hear it, so there’s no escape in there. “I don’t want to,” I say, opening the fridge.

“God, you’re lame sometimes,” she huffs. Fine, I’ll take it. The doorbell rings, and she rushes to it, leaving me be. I pull out an opened Gatorade and drink it until it’s half gone–grape’s not my flavor, but whatever. No one labels their food, so I guess it’s a free-for-all…

A different voice calls me. “Oh, hey.”

Ah, it’s Leigh. They were the one watching TV, then. They’re hanging in the doorway, twisting the bottom of their hair between their fingers. “Hey,” I reply, simply.

And they…they smile. “You’re not going out?” they ask.

“Nah. I was trying to sleep but…” I snort. “It’s not happening.”

They nod. “Yeah. I got invited out to a Halloween party in Allston, but I don’t think I want to. My ID hasn’t been getting me into 21-and-up places lately…”

“Oh.” You know, they seem so…I dunno, innocent, I guess? Like they don’t cause trouble. But then they have five fake IDs that they rotate to get into bars around. They’re almost 21, but almost is the key word, so…there’s that.

They bite their lip. “Um…’Great Pumpkin’ is on right now. If you…wanna watch with me.”

I guess I’m not getting any sleep, so I’ll watch an old holiday cartoon with them. I shut the refrigerator. “Sure.”

“Cool.” I can tell they’re repressing a giggle, the way their voice lilts. There’s a flush on their freckled cheeks, and they dart out, back down the hall. I run a hand over my face, hiding a smirk of my own. I tend to…do this to them.

I don’t know what it is about me, but…it’s all right. Hell, my own heart’s going a little.

39. leigh

orig posted 10/21/2016

Payday today, and you know what that means: time to get a little something for me. It’s a long skate to Davis from here, but it saves on bus fare. Saves on the bus fare so I can use it to grab a couple albums on the cheap from Ray’s work. He sorts through the discount stuff and points them out…I’m not picky, I just want to listen to something new.

I spin in too fast in the parking lot and almost wipe out, but I flip my board up before I lose it, catching it in one hand. Pretty slick, if I say so myself. I’m feeling really good today. Not to mention my super remembered my pronouns without prompting. I might treat myself to some ice cream, too…

I swing through the door of the record store. “Hey!” I greet automatically, not looking up at the counter. I assume it’s Ray up there–he usually works the Friday afternoon shift. “What’s up?”

“U-uh…”

Oh, that’s not Ray. Now I look up–it’s a guy about my age, I think, anyway. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a bit. Loose brown hair, wearing a chain and a t-shirt a size too small for him…and gray eyes. Oh, shit! It’s that kid who always comes to my aisle at work…! Fuck, what was his name…he told me once, but…

Last time he came through, Mare was bagging with me, and I tried making small talk with him. He’s not a talker, so it didn’t go anywhere. When he left, she gave me a look. “You think he’s cute,” she said to me. So…what if I do?

But at any rate, this was unexpected. I can’t remember if I’ve seen him here before. “O-oh, sorry! I thought you were my brother,” I fumble, my voice cracking. Damn it. I clear it, try to sound casual. Fuck, why am I even nervous? I was caught off guard, that’s all…

He cocks his head. God, it looks like he doesn’t get enough sleep. “Your brother…?” he asks slowly. “Er…you mean…Ray?”

“Yeah! That’s him.” I manage to get to the counter and grip my skateboard with both hands. “Is he, uh…in the back, or something?” I ask.

He grunts some kind of reply, looks at me for a moment, then ducks his head before walking through the open back door. Damn, damn, I didn’t know he worked here! I’ll…have to come by more often. I listen as close as I can: “Yo. Your, er…um…” “What?” “U-uh…hang on…”

He emerges, eyes wandering. “Um…what’s your name again?”

“Leigh.”

“Oh yeah.” He turns around and yells back. “Leigh’s here.”

Okay, now there’s only a few reasons why he did this, and my heart skips for the obvious one–I already said Ray’s my brother. He could’ve just said “your sister’s here” or “your brother’s here”. But he asked for my name. So, that means he’s not sure of my gender.

Which is excellent.

Ray comes out around him, while the kid hangs back in the doorway, eyes on me. “What’s up?” Ray says.

“Got anything new for me?” I ask, bouncing on my toes.

“Not really. Couple of tapes you might already have.” He glances at me. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Yeah! It’s Friday, man.” I can’t help but giggle along with it, and…I think I see him smirk behind Ray. God. You know the other thing? He asked for my name…”again”. That means he remembers me. Or maybe I’m over-analyzing it…still.

I tilt my head so I can fully meet his eye. “Hey, you come to my work a lot. What was your name again? I feel like you told me…”

His eyes widen, as if he’s surprised I’ve remembered him too. “Uh, it’s…” he stumbles, scratching the back of his head. “It’s Leon.”

40. leon

orig posted 10/21/2016

Fuck, it’s God damn pouring. I stare outside in the safety of the record store, shaking my head. I don’t want to go out in this. I didn’t bring my car. I’ve been walking more since it’s only ten minutes and it saves on gas. But, now I wish I did…

The lights snap off, leaving me illuminated only by the streetlights in the plaza. “C’mon, kid,” Dave says with a grunt. “I’m taking off, you’ve gotta get out of here.”

Ugh, I have keys, you could just…leave me here until this lets up. But no, you’re going to act like a manager for once, just for today, just for this one time. Christ.

I roll my eyes and he does the same right back. “Yeah, yeah, don’t gimme that–”

“Have you looked outside?” I exclaim. “I’m not going out in that shit.”

“Don’t you have a car?” He smells like cigar smoke in his cut-off Metallica shirt as he sets the alarm. He pauses as he squints out the window. “Looks like someone’s enjoying it…”

I follow his gaze–there’s someone skateboarding into the plaza. They do a grind on the rail up to the ice cream shop next door, and land it with a yelp of glee. If that’s who I think it is…

They run right up to the door, and now I can confirm–with the running eyeliner, stringy bleached hair, and a wilting flower behind their ear, that’s…Leigh. “Leon!” they shout, knocking on the glass door. “Get out here!”

“Isn’t that Ray’s sister or something?” Dave grumbles, and jerks open the door. “The hell you doin’ here? We’re closing up.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m here for him,” they dismiss, and grab me by the arm, immediately dragging me into the pouring rain.

“What the fuck!” I shout. My hair’s already soaked and I haven’t been out for more than ten seconds. Has it rained like this all year? Jesus…

But they spin me, and they’re laughing, laughing. I can hear Dave laughing too, but it’s distant, he’s probably making a run for his truck or something. Like a decent human being. But…not us, apparently. Not us, who are dancing in the rain at 11 at night…

I manage to stop them for a second. “Leigh…!” I sputter, water tasting bitter from draining down my face. “What…God, what are you doing here?”

“Dude, I just came here from work, all the way from Somerville Ave.” They’re breathless and utterly soaked, but the halogen lights reflect off their green-blue eyes, it makes them sparkle. “Fuck, I love it when it rains like this…”

“I…see.” My jeans are soaked now, and it hasn’t let up. Cars are kicking up tidal waves in the puddles on street corners already. It’s like I’m in a swimming pool…

They drop their skateboard and takes my other arm. “Hey, hey,” they say, their voice getting hushed. “I wanna…I want…”

They bite their lip, and they’re looking at mine. Oh. Kiss in the pouring rain, like some kind of cheesy romance flick? They giggle a little, as if they know how ridiculous it is…but still…

Still, they lean forward and kiss me on the lips, pressing their chest against mine. Their lips are warm, and the rain is cool…I hold them by their hips. Even the downpour can’t keep my face from warming up, and my heart’s racing…

Ah.

They break it and bump their forehead against mine. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” they whisper. I can barely hear it through the downpour, but…I can feel it. God, Leigh…

…how’d you draw me in like this?

“Yeah, well…” I manage to say finally, after we stay standing there for another minute. “I’m going to need a fucking towel when we get home.”

They laugh, and I can’t stop staring at their smile…

41.

orig posted 11/04/2016

At around noon, Leigh leaned back against the counter of their register at the supermarket, sighing heavily. “Fuck,” they said.

“I hear you,” their co-worker replied, playing idly with the rack of plastic bags at the end of the aisle. She combed a couple fingers through her bushy, dark hair and pushed her glasses up against her face. “How much longer have you got?”

“Four more hours,” they groaned, pacing in the cubby between the register and their own racks of bags. And it’s been slow. Noon on a weekday, you’ll get some people coming through to pick up their cheap salads from the salad bar, or something similar from the deli. But that’s it. They leaned their head back toward the other end of the store, where a few self-checkout aisle were. Plus, now with those self-checkout thingies up, if people only have a couple things, they’re going to use those first. I’m not worried about job security, I’m just…bored.

Their coworker, the name tag on her vest reading “CHRISSY” with a sparkling flower sticker next to it, scrunched her nose in disgust. “Ouch,” she said. “I’m done in less than an hour. I could ditch early, since I didn’t take my break.”

“Lucky you.” Leigh sighed again, twisting a lock of their bleach blond hair around their fingers. “Feels like I’ve been ringing up TV dinners and punching in vegetables for a hundred years.”

Chrissy laughed. “Grocery hell,” she remarked.

They nodded, sticking their tongue out. “Grocery hell.”

“Hey, are you off this weekend?” she asked, leaning over the aisle and tapping her bright pink nails on the rubber conveyor belt. “My friend’s band is playing in Allston. You wanna come?”

“Is it over-21?”

“Yeah.” She waved her hand. “Don’t worry, I can sneak you in.”

Leigh sucked in air through their teeth. “Jeez, I probably shouldn’t. I’ve gotta get a new fake. And stop crawling around Allston Village. Remember last time?” Last time when I got thrown out by a bouncer three times as big as I was? And he had some strong words about me, too…

“Ooh, yeah, that’s right.” She shook her head with disdain. “When do you even turn 21?”

“February.”

“Fuck, that’s almost a whole year.” She put her hands on her hips. “If we were, like, 10 years earlier, you could’ve gotten away with it…”

“Yeah,” Leigh huffed. “Maybe it’ll change again?”

She shrugged, then suddenly straightened up with a grin. “Hey, look. It’s you-know-who.”

What? Leigh jerked up as well, scanning their eyes down the aisle to spot Leon with a basket full of groceries. Oh…it’s him. He works with Ray, and now he’s just started living in the house. They swallowed hard, hiding their hands at the scanner. Behind them, Chrissy chuckled, and they shot her a look. Shut up!

With a deep breath, they put on their standard Customer Service smile and began scanning his things once the conveyor started to move. “Hey there!” they greeted. “How’s it going?”

Leon glanced up, his gray eyes meeting their blue-green, and they bit the inside of their cheek. “…All right,” he replied finally, then tucked part of his stringy, brown hair behind his ear, revealing a silver cuff.

He’s not a talker. But, at least we’ve moved past that awkward “I think I’ve seen you in town” phase, now that I’ve talked to him at the record store a few times. And since he’s living with me and Ray. “Are you all settled at the house? I heard you moved in,” Leigh continued, continually sneaking glances behind Leon to make sure there weren’t any other customers in line. So, I can take my time. “I’ve been working like hell lately, so I haven’t seen you around–”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he replied, moving forward to the credit card machine. Before he got there, however, he ducked to the display of cigarettes, locked behind a glass case at the base of the register. “Could I…get a pack of Marlboros?”

“Sure.” As Leigh finished scanning a box of macaroni and cheese, they automatically grabbed a key from under the register and unlocked the case. “Reds, right?”

Chrissy cleared her throat while she bagged. “Leigh,” she said.

“Huh?” They jerked up, head cocked, while she looked at them pointedly. After a second, realization dawned on them. Shit, that’s right. “Ah, sorry…”

They set the key down and swiped their bangs out of their face. “I gotta see your ID first. I know, I never ask you, but this time…” They sighed. I got in trouble last week because our manager was watching, and I forgot to ask. “Anyone under 50″ he said. You’d think I remember, but honestly, not enough people buy cigarettes from me, and booze gets sold next door…

Leon blinked, then nodded, digging for his wallet. Leigh found themself babbling as he produced a driver’s license from his worn, leather wallet. “Yeah, it’s just…I know I’ve checked you before…” They skimmed the dates among the identification information. He looks younger even in this picture. Let’s see, 5-8-1977, that’s…

Their eyes flicked to the sticker taped to the side of the cabinet, which also said 1977. “Wait a sec,” Leigh said slowly, mouth dropping. “You’re just 18?”

“Y…yeah?” Leon tugged at the back of his neck, dark circles visible under his eyes.

Leigh tilted their head, staring in disbelief at the ID. “That’s…but you’ve bought cigs here before,” they continued, tapping their thumb on it. “Like…from me. Months ago.”

“Are you kidding?” Chrissy exclaimed. “Leigh!”

“Dude, I didn’t–!” They whirled on her, then handed the ID back over to Leon without looking. “Maybe it was…fuck, I really…”

“You, uh…” Leon started, his voice low and gravelly, enough to clear his throat. He wouldn’t look at either of the cashiers, instead focusing on the glass case of cigarettes in front of him. “Awhile back, you checked me, said it was okay…” He sighed. “Sorry, it was a late night, and I just…”

With anxiety creeping into their fingertips, they gripped their hands into fists where they couldn’t be seen. I…think I remember that. I must’ve been tired, especially if it was during an overnight. “W-well, it d-doesn’t matter now,” Leigh dismissed with a shaky laugh, shaking their head so their hair was curtained in their face. “It’s cool, I-I’ll just…get that. Yeah.”

They grappled for the keys again, and opened up the case, fumbling to grab a pack of cigarettes from near the front. In the process, they knocked over a couple other boxes, and felt their face heating up as they fixed them. Shit, shit. Whatever, like I said, doesn’t matter now. Doesn’t matter. I’ll ask for ID all the time now. Take a deep breath, Leigh.

“I…” Leon mumbled, staring at the ceiling. “Wasn’t…trying to get you in trouble. Usually I get ‘em from a place that knew my aunt and my mom.”

“Ooh,” Chrissy followed up, testing a bag for weight before setting it down. “So, you’d get one for them, and one for you?”

Leon nodded, finally sparing her a quick glance. “Not much better, but…Mom didn’t seem to care whether or not I smoked…”

He trailed off, giving Leigh enough time follow their own advice and catch their breath. Yeah, Ray and I used to sneak cigs too. He doesn’t really smoke much anymore, but I kept the habit. They scanned the cigarettes into the computer. “O-okay, with that, it’s gonna be…$43.40,” they said.

Leon nodded, and thumbed through his wallet for cash. He probably thinks I’m an idiot, they thought, but their tongue felt looser in their anxiety. “Say, uh, if you’re…if you’re still 18, are you still in school?” they asked.

“Nope,” he replied, forking over three $20 bills.

“Ah.” Right, he usually comes here…whenever, it seems like. School’s not out yet. They counted out the bills and punched in the number, and let the cash box pop out against their hip. “W-well, maybe I’ll see you tonight? At the house?”

“Maybe,” he replied. Leigh focused on counting change rather than his face, forcing their eyes forward. “I’m working late, so…”

“That’s cool.” They pooled the change in one hand and the bills in the other. “So there’s sixteen, and sixty…” they said, emptying it into his hand.

“Thanks,” Leon replied, and they finally got to get a better look at him. Even with his unshaven face, sunken eyes, and messy hair, he still offered them a small–if shy–smile. And it lingered, even after he took his change. Leigh held their breath. God, he’s scruffy. But, he’s cute.

I’m a mess. A gay mess.

“I’ll, uh,” Leon said, shuffling over to gather his bags. “I’ll see you.” He nodded at Chrissy, then offered one last look to Leigh.

“Yeah!” Leigh found themselves waving. “Bye!”

They watched him as he left, jeans and belt riding low on his hips, up until Chrissy tapped them on the shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered.

“What?” Leigh whispered back as he exited the automatic doors.

Chrissy snickered. “Okay, first of all, it’s a good thing you didn’t get fired for not carding him before,” she remarked.

Leigh winced. “Fuck, I know that!” they hissed in reply.

“Second,” she continued with a devious grin. “You so like him, oh my God.”

“Yeah, I know that too!” Leigh’s face scrunched up as they backed into the register.

Chrissy’s giggle turned into a sharp cackle, met with a vigorous shushing by Leigh. “Look at you! You’re all red! God!”

“Stop it!” But, Leigh found themselves laughing a little too, even as they covered their face. Ugh, it’s been a while since I’ve had a crush like this…!

“And you’re telling me he’s living with you now? You’ve got it made.”

“Yeah, if I can even catch him at the house.” They bounced on their toes. “Dude, I’ve got the next three days off after working all week, I’ll definitely be able to try and hang out…”

“Good luck,” Chrissy said, reaching around them and shutting the cigarette case. She paused as it clicked. “Fuck. I just had a bad thought.”

“What?” Leigh asked.

She bit her lip. “You told me that he keeps coming to your aisle specifically, right?”

“Y…es?“

“You don’t…” she said. “You don’t think he’s just doing it because he knows you won’t card him for cigs?”

Leigh pursed their lips. “That was a bad thought,” they replied. “But, I don’t think so. He like…barely gets them here. Like, so little that I can count the times. He mostly gets cheap groceries…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chrissy crossed her arms. “Besides, I don’t think that’s really it.” Her lip curled up again. “Did you see how he was looking at you?”

Leigh’s eyes widened. “R-really?” Their heart skipped in their chest. “You think he might…”

“He might,” Chrissy repeated, then nodded back at the aisle. “Here, we’ve got people coming through.”

Leigh nodded, and struggled to keep their composure as they began ringing in the next customer’s items. Great, now I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my shift. “Hi there, did you find everything okay?” Well, at least it’s a decent way to spend the next three or four hours…

Leigh burst through the door of the shared house, throwing their skateboard into the closet with a clatter. “Zoe!” they hollered, kicking their shoes off right after. “Are you here?!”

“Basement!” she called from the stairwell, then made her voice warbling and eerie. “Come into my dungeon~.”

Leigh chuckled as they bounded down the stairs. Zoe’s “lair” was covered with red string lights and black chiffon, along with candles and dragon figures everywhere. It really is a dungeon. Zoe’s the resident goth queen and landlady. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, with a bottle of black nail polish in her hand. “Hey, whatcha need?” she asked, shaking the bottle. “You want me to do you?”

“Uh…” They held their hands out in front of them, blue nails chipped in more than one place. “Yeah, but later. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oooh,” she said. “Is this business, or gossip?”

“Gossip.”

She grinned, scooted over, and patted the side of the bed opposite her. “Sit. Let’s gossip.”

Leigh stuck their tongue out and jumped onto her bed, the springs squeaking beneath them. They readjusted the flower tucked in their hair and folded their legs into a pretzel. “Okay,” they stated, clasping their hands in their lap. “It’s about Leon.”

“The new guy?”

“Yes.” They leaned forward. “He’s only 18!”

Her eyes widened with a big nod. “I know, right?” she said. “I was really surprised.”

“He doesn’t look it! Or sound it!”

“I know.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “Like…Ray said that he had a guy who wanted that room, but I didn’t expect…a kid.” Her eyes, heavy with eyeshadow, flicked up to Leigh. “No offense.”

Leigh only shook their head. Yeah, I wasn’t that much older when I moved over here. I just…didn’t want to stay with Mom anymore. Tired of the misgendering bullshit. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when Dad was around, but…boy, I was tired. “It’s cool.”

“See, you were already out of school. When he called me up to meet, he was like, ‘yeah it has to be after 2 because of school’. I almost didn’t let him.” She twisted her mouth. “But, he ended up going for it. Skipped class, with a huge wad of cash for first month and a deposit.”

“Cash?”

“Yup.” She shrugged with her arms and shoulders, then slapped them back on her knees. “I’m not going to say no to that. He has a steady job, he works with Ray, and he always pays his rent on time. So, he should too.”

“Shit.” Leigh combed their fingers through their hair, then began to braid a small section of it. “You know, I don’t think he even goes to school anymore. Most of the time when I see him at the store, it’s a weird time of day–”

“You know him?”

“Kinda? I see him around a lot…”

She raised an eyebrow, purple lined lips smirking. “Oh~?”

Oh no, I’m too damn obvious already. Great! “I-it’s nothing!” Leigh insisted. “Plus, he’s there sometimes when I go to visit Ray…”

“Ah, yeah.” She looked off onto the carpet, her expression fading from amusement to something more neutral. “You know…I thought he was just going to be some jerk kid, but I don’t think…I think we should go easy on him.”

“Huh?” Leigh said. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” She ran a hand up through her purple hair, fading to brown at her roots. “Like, he was supposed to move in a couple weeks later than he did. But I guess his mom kicked him out.”

Kicked out? “Really? But all of his stuff was in–”

“Yeah, it was boxed up, but, like…” She hesitated. “He didn’t have much. He doesn’t have any furniture. He doesn’t even have a bed. Remember, he sleeps on a fuckin’ sleeping bag.”

“He does? Oh my God…” Leigh cupped a hand over their mouth. “Shit, that sucks…”

“Yeah, and he really keeps to himself. I think he only leaves to go to work.”

“God, you know so much,” Leigh marveled. “He hasn’t been here that long.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got to know things. I’m the landlady.” She winked. “I gotta make sure he’s not just a trashy straight dude destroying the queer palace we’ve got going on.”

Leigh snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Oh, that’s something. “Hey, do you think Leon’s queer?”

“I knew you were going to ask me that,” she chuckled. “I think it’s too early to say. I’m going to place my bets that he’s…not straight.” She tapped her finger to her cheek. “Just a hunch.”

“Cool.” Yeah, I had a…feeling, too. I mean, I didn’t want to trust my own, because I have a crush on him–and crushing on a straight person is the worst mistake. One that I’ve made…way too many times.

Zoe caught Leigh’s attention again by waving her hand at them with the bottle of nail polish. Wordlessly, they held out their hand for her to take, and she inspected it. “Ah, we’ll need to take this off,” she said, and reached behind her. “Yeah, but you wanna bang him, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Leigh exclaimed. “Don’t say it like that!”

“What does your brother think?” she continued with a smirk and a bottle of nail polish remover. “Does he approve of you crushing on his coworker?”

“Oh God, he doesn’t even know,” they huffed. The strong smell of acetone made them wheeze as Zoe rubbed their nails one at a time with a cotton ball. “Please keep it that way? For now?”

“My lips are sealed,” she said. “Still, I thought you’d go for someone a little more femme. He seems a little scruffy.” She sighed as she blew on their nails. “Oh well, he’s got that kinda punk vibe about him, and you’re kinda into that, so…”

“Zoe…” Leigh groaned, making their hair fall in their face. One thing I was always grateful for, is that Ray never teased me about crushes. Although if he finds out

(if I even get a chance with him)

he might. They fell into deeper thought as warmth faded from their face. Leon sounds like…he’s had a rough time. Maybe I should make a point to…ask him to hang out. I always see him alone…and if all he does is go to work and come back to hide in his room…

Maybe he needs some friends.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Zoe asked, carefully pulling out the brush from the nail polish bottle.

“Stop! I’m not!” Leigh insisted.

“You were!” she retorted with a snicker. She carefully painted their pointer finger. “It’s cute. Having crushes is nice…”

Leigh only giggled in response. Yeah, it is.

42. leon

orig posted 11/05/2016

“Your name?” the teller asks.

“Leon–” I start, then sigh and correct myself. “I mean…Joseph Donovan.”

I look back behind me–Zoe’s behind me, nodding. She didn’t have to come with me, but in the end, I’m glad she did. After I gave her cash for my first month and the deposit, she wanted checks. But, I didn’t want to be under me and my mom’s joint account anymore, especially after she kicked me out. I prepared for the idea that she’d take the money I had been making once I wanted to move out, so not only did I pull out half of it, I started putting less and less into it and just cashing my checks.

“Damn, that’s smart,” Zoe had said to me before we left. “I wouldn’t have been able to think that far ahead.”

Yeah, well, I guess that’s one thing I’ve got going for me…

So, we’re at a bank in Davis, someplace local–Mom always used Bank of America, for whatever reason–to get myself squared away. Some student checking, even though I’m technically not a “student”. The teller is tapping away on the computer, and then she pulls out a receipt and slides it out in front of me. “Sign here,” she says.

I check the details–the address, my social, everything else is there. Hate that most places I still have to use “Joseph”, because it’s on my license, it’s on my social security card, it’s everywhere. But, it’s legal shit, so I’ll have to deal. As long as I don’t hear my mom yelling Joey, Joey, you stupid bastard, why haven’t you done this? Why haven’t you done that?

You’re such a waste of space…

I pause in the middle of my signature. Fuck. Her voice is shrill in my head, the same after years of the same bullshit…I used to try to anticipate when she would come home, until her habits became more erratic. I still jump when I hear a car door slam, ready to–

Zoe’s at my back. “Hey, you okay?” she asks.

I come back to myself, finish the flourish at the end of my signature. “Mmhm,” I mumble, and push it back to the teller. I don’t look at her or Zoe, stuffing my hands in my pockets and staring at the ground.

“Okay, so your debit card should come in a little under a week,” the teller says, jotting something down on a business card and sliding it over to me. “Your account number’s on there in the meantime. The checks you ordered will probably come in a little later. Anything else?”

I look back at Zoe for a moment, then shake my head. “No,” I say.

“All right, then you’re all set.”

I take the card, mumble a thanks, then spin on a heel and join up with Zoe, who reaches up to put her arm around me. “You did it,” she says. “That’ll make your life a ton easier.”

“Sure,” I reply. Easier for her, sure…yeah, and for me too, so I have a place to keep my money besides a shoebox. It was a miracle Mom never snooped around my room and found that when I was still living over there…

“You don’t work today, right?” she asks. “Wanna get lunch? My treat.”

“Uh…sure.” I don’t get why she wants to be friends with me, she’s just the landlady. But, it’s different since she actually lives with us. A glorified housemate. She seems on decent terms with everyone that I’ve seen. So, I guess I’m not an exception.

It’s still…a little weird.

I’m not used to people wanting to be friends with me, or helping me out…

I feel myself smirk at my shoes. It’s all right.

43.

orig posted 11/06/2016

At quarter past 7 on a school night, Chelsea spotted headlights turn into her parent’s driveway. She closed her U.S. History book and walked up to the window, squinting out it. Who’s coming by at this time? Mom and Dad are already home…

“Who’s that?” her little sister asked, sitting two feet from the TV, cartoons flashing in bright colors.

“Leon…?” she muttered.

The car door slammed, and his figure emerged from his beaten black sedan. He kept his head low in his leather jacket, jogging up to the door. God, he hasn’t come by here in ages, Chelsea thought, wandering to the front door. Not really since the beginning of this school year…

She anticipated his entrance, and when she opened up the door, he was in the process of knocking. “Oh,” he said, quickly stuffing his hand in his pocket. “H-hey, Chels…”

“Hey,” she replied, trying to get a glimpse at his face. Something…doesn’t seem right. “You weren’t at school today.”

He shook his head. “No, um…” He sighed and sniffled. “Nope.”

Chelsea, put her hands on her hips. “Leon,” she sighed. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, then stared up at the sky. God, it’s like pulling teeth to get him to talk sometimes, she thought. He’s always been like this, and it’s not bad, but…it gets frustrating. She studied him a little closer–his eyes looked more heavily lined than usual, and glassy. But…I’m kinda worried, too.

“Sweetie?” Chelsea’s mom called from the kitchen. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Jo–it’s Leon,” she called back. I keep messing that up. I’m not really sure why he wanted to be called that instead of Joey. Maybe because it sounded older?

(”Hey, I remember you!” 14 year old Chelsea exclaimed on the first day of student council. “We had Language Arts together last year! You’re Joey, right?”

Wide eyed, he scratched the back of his neck in his gray sweatshirt and nodded. “Mmhm,” he mumbled. “And…you’re Chelsea.”

“Yup!” She plopped in the seat beside him, organizing her pile of books carefully on the desk in front of her. “I’m glad there’s a familiar face around here…”

He nodded, then drummed proceeded to drum his fingers, nails chewed down, on the desk. Ten minutes later, just before the teacher addressed the group, he leaned over and cleared his throat. “C-could you…” he started, clenching his fist. “Could you call me Leon?”)

At last, Chelsea huffed and scooted out of the doorway. “W-well, don’t just stand there, you can come in–”

“Mom kicked me out,” he blurted out. It sounded like all one word, hurried and frantic. “I…”

“What?” Chelsea exclaimed. Still, she pulled him by the arm inside, making him stumble. “What do you mean, she kicked you out? What happened?”

“W-well, I…”

Chelsea’s mom stood up from the table. “Oh, Leon! Is everything okay, hon?”

He stared like a deer in headlights, frozen right where he was, even with Chelsea trying to drag him. Of course, Mom. He’s overloaded already. “No,” she answered for him. “Something bad happened at home…” I feel like I’m always filling in details about him, whether they’re right or not…

She pulled him over to the couch by the TV, and sat him down. Her sister paid little attention to them, still engrossed by her cartoons. “I just…I…” Leon began to mutter. “Sh-she found the shit–” His eye caught her sister, and he coughed. “I mean, the stuff…she started sneaking in my room again…”

“Oh, God,” she commented, clasping her hands in her lap.

Leon did the same, staring blankly at the floor. “I got off work, and all those boxes were on the lawn, she started…started screaming at me…”

“Oh my God…” she said again. He’s told me a few things about his mom, and the couple times I went over there…he gets so stiff around here. Shit like this must be why…

His shoulders moved with his breathing, and his knuckles looked pale with how tightly he was squeezing him, even with his more tan skin. “So…” he tried to continue, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m gonna…need someplace to stay, for at least a bit–”

“Sure, yeah.” Chelsea sat up and leaned over to the kitchen. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” she called.

“Have you been listening?”

She stepped out and leaned against the arch of the doorway while nodding. “He can stay for a couple nights if he needs to,” she replied, trying to catch Leon’s eye. “Can I get you anything.”

He shook his head. “No…no thanks, Mrs. Lawrence,” he replied. With a sigh, he rested his head in both hands, raking his fingers through his messy, tawny brown hair. He spoke low enough so only Chelsea could hear her. “Think I’m gonna have a smoke though…”

“I’ll come with you,” she whispered.

“No,” Leon said. He stood up with his hand in his jacket. “I’ll be back in a sec–”

“Well, too bad, I’m following you.”

Finally, for the first time that night, he managed to meet her eyes–gray muddled by red rimming the edges. Lines were drawn across his forehead, under his eyes, even around his lips as he stared at her, chin quivering. Leon, you’re usually so…stoic. I’ve never seen you afraid.

It makes me afraid.

His gaze flicked back to her mother, still standing in the doorway, and he only nodded, gesturing with a jerk of his head as he made his way back to the front door. Wordlessly, Chelsea followed, shutting both sets of doors as she exited behind him.

Leon took three steps down the walkway and stopped. As soon as Chelsea stood beside him to meet him there, he pulled out a cigarette with a shivering hand, as well as a lighter. He struggled to get enough friction to flick the lighter, and she reached for it. “Here,” she murmured, taking it from his hand. “These are always such a pain…ugh…”

The metal wheel was rigid against her thumb, even when it was calloused from gripping pens and field hockey sticks, but after a few tries, a small, yellow flame erupted from the top. “There!” she said triumphantly. “Here, lemme see your…your…”

The cigarette was at Leon’s side, between his fingers, but his other hand had gone to cover his face clumsily with one palm. The flame quickly flickered out, but she abandoned it. Oh… “I’m…” Leon stuttered, his breath hitching hard. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“Hey…” she said, and tenatively wrapped an arm around his side in an awkward half-hug. Leon…

(at least he said it before you did)

No, no that’s not–

(he doesn’t go to school and when he does he doesn’t pay attention, he smokes and who knows what else he does–)

No, no. Fuck, those gossipy girls are getting to me. Even though his jacket reeked of cigarettes, she hugged him with more purpose as his chest hitched, as he shivered in place. Just because of…all those things, he’s not bad, he’s just…he’s been having a bad time. And hasn’t told anybody, not even…

Not even me.

She sighed, even as she felt his hand wander to her back. A breeze echoed through the still budding trees, masking another shudder from Leon. I suppose…you’re always going to keep to yourself. Even when you do come to school, you don’t talk about anything. I’d listen if you’d talk–

“Chels…” Leon managed to say. “Sorry…sorry ‘bout all this.” His voice warbled only barely, and he patted her back. “I-I’ve got a place lined up, I’ll just ask if I can…move in sooner.”

“You can stay as–”

“I won’t bother you with my shit any longer than I have to.” The sentence came out as a long sigh, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“Don’t say that,” Chelsea retorted. “Don’t.”

He gestured for his lighter, and she handed it over without a word. This time, he managed to flick it on in the first try, lighting the cigarette at his lips and taking a quick drag. “I’d…sleep in my car, but it’s…” Leon gave a dry chuckle. “There’s barely any room, with all the boxes…can’t even see out the back…”

“God,” she said. Even with only the lamp at the driveway illuminating the yard, she could see the piles of boxes through the window of his sedan. “Hey, I’m…glad you came here, instead of…I dunno, doing that.”

He shrugged and sighed, world weary. “I-I…couldn’t think of anyplace else to go.”

Leon pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it away from her, tilting his head. “You’re one of…my only friends,” he muttered.

And as she stared at his tired, worn face, expression so fragile that the slightest word or touch could shatter it, Chelsea had no reply.

44. leon

orig posted 11/14/2016

I splash my face with water as it burns gently. Shaving is such a chore. I’ve had to do this since I started high school, and my face hair grows like fucking weeds. Not that it amounts to anything…it’s just stubble. I tried growing a beard junior year, but…no dice.

But it’s about time I make an effort, even though by tonight, it’ll just be sandpaper again. I’m…fuckin’ tired. I don’t know if work will make me feel less tired, but I’m going to try. I stare at my eyes, dark circles lining beneath them. Fuck. Okay.

I sigh and towel down my face. Time to go.

As I exit the bathroom, I nearly run right into Leigh, who has a mug of something in their hands. “Oh, shit!” they exclaim, balancing themselves so they don’t spill their drink–it looks like tea. “Fuck, sorry…”

“’S’okay,” I mumble, backing up. They’re wearing a tanktop, skinny jeans, and a few necklaces, one of which sits nearly at their stomach. It’s a glass bead that looks like it has flowers in it…

“Oh, my God.” Their voice draws me back up to their face, as they stare at me in disbelief. “You shaved?”

“Uh, y-yeah…” I rub my hand over my chin and shrug. “Gotta do it sometimes…”

They’re still staring in…awe? Or something. “You have such a baby face, oh my God…I didn’t realize it before.”

They reach over and rub my cheek, a little smile on their face. Their hands are cool, and the rings on half of their fingers are even cooler against my face. I don’t know what to do besides just…stand here. No one’s ever done that before, but at least I didn’t flinch this time. Leigh’s not shy about touching, and that goes for anyone in the house. The first time they grabbed my arm (excited about…something, I can’t remember now), I…well, I flinched, and they noticed.

Ah…

But, I don’t this time, and they draw away after a second. “Oops, sorry,” they apologize, beginning to go red in the ears. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fondle you there…”

I chuckle and shake my head. It’s…whatever.

They pick up their longest necklace and play with the charm with one hand, the other holding their tea. “Y-your face is–um, I mean, it’s smooth, y’know. Did a, uh, a good job!” They’re fumbling, chuckling, the freckles on their cheeks standing out. “God, I’m such a dweeb, sorry…”

“It’s…okay.”

They bite their lip and sigh. “Welp, I’m going to g-go, see you!” They chirp this, offering me a bright, yet embarrassed wave as they nearly sprint back to their room. I can’t help but watch them as they scurry away, almost in a daze.

That was…kind of cute.

I think…they’re cute.

Oh.

45. leon

orig posted 12/03/2016

Ray finally kills the blender, just before it gives me a headache. It’s full of a vague pink liquid, and he pours it into a tall glass. “Want some?” he asks.

I stare at it and cock my head. “What is it?”

“Protein shake.”

I shake my head. Yuck. My old football coach tried to get us on that, and it’s gross. And expensive–at least the shit he was trying to feed us. Like hell I’m going to buy a gallon tub of powder that I’m not even going to use. I squint as he chugs down at least half of it in one go. Jesus.

The door clatters open. “Ray? Ray…” It’s Leigh, calling as they stumble in the entry way. I hear the clatter of their skateboard being thrown, and when they peer in the kitchen, they’re holding their face around their nose with one hand. “Hey, I need help.”

Ray puts down the glass and strides over. “What’d you do?” he asks, yanking down their hand. I inhale sharp–their nose is covered in blood, and still oozing down their face. “Dude…”

They held up their other hand, which was skinned at the palm. “I fucked up,” they said.

“Well, get into the bathroom!” Ray groaned, spinning them around and pushing them down the hall. “Shit, you’re dripping–Leon, can you get that?”

I nod and rush for some paper towels. Good thing there aren’t any carpets here, or else this would be worse than it needs to be…I mop up the spots of blood on the ground, leading up to the bathroom, and stand on the other side of the hallway, looking in. Ray’s grabbing tissues to sop up their nose, and Leigh’s got the faucet running. “Accident?” Ray asks.

“Mm,” Leigh replies. “Just dumped trying to do a trick in the square…”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“No one tried to fuck with you, or anything?”

“Not today.”

Ray sighs with relief. He looks tough at first glance–broad shoulders, tall, strong chest. I was intimidated when I first started working with him last year, but when you compare him and Leigh…they have the same face. I mean, sure, they’re siblings, so…duh. Ray is only intimidating when he has a sour look and doesn’t talk, but then he starts going on about how he saw some cool bird nesting out in the park and…well, there goes that. And he cares a lot about Leigh…I never paid attention to him talking about them, or how often they came into the record store until kind of recently. I was just floating through things, I guess.

“Leon.”

I jerk up. “Huh?”

Ray gives me a look I’ve come to recognize–very mild impatience. “Get some ice. Put some in a plastic bag or something…”

I wander to the kitchen and pull out an ice cube tray, twisting it to crack it. Shit, I should probably get a baggie out first, where are they? I’m still getting used to how everything’s laid out here. I still think it’s kind of weird that we all just share everything. Share food, share supplies, share a common living space…hell, even when I was living with my mom, I was buying my own food…

But, that’s only because I overheard her bitching about how I was such a burden to take care of on the phone with her friends…

I sigh heavily, zip up the bag of ice, and carry it back. That’s over, that’s over now. I hope. Part of me is waiting for the police to come and drag me back over. I threatened to run away when I was younger, and that’s what she came back at me with. But I’m 18 now, so…could she? Maybe. It’s nothing I really want to think about.

I find myself in the bathroom, and I hand the ice directly to Leigh. “Thanks,” they say, holding it right against their nose. “Hey, you think if I do that again, I can break it enough to get a nose job?”

Ray rolls his eyes. “You don’t need a nose job.”

“But it’s so big,” they complain with a frown.

“It’s not even! It would look weird if it were smaller.”

I mutter an affirmative without really realizing it. Leigh does, though. They look right at me with those blue-green eyes, Jesus, it’s such bright flash of color, and lately it’s been making my heart drop. “You think so too?” they ask.

“Uh…” I stumble. I should’ve just left while I could. “Yeah, I, uh…I mean, I think it’s fine…the way it is, y’know…” I sigh. Why does anyone let me talk? “Your nose…”

A smile creeps up, covering the left side of their face. “Yeah?” they say, a little quieter than before. “I’ll keep that in mind–ack!”

Ray jabs them and gives me a warning look. “I’ve got this,” he mutters. “Go do whatever you were doing.”

“I was…” I start, but realize that I don’t have much to back it up, and I don’t want to pick a fight. “Okay.”

I shuffle out and upstairs. I take it slow to listen to their banter a little more–”What’d you do that for? He wasn’t doing anything!” “You were making eyes at each other.” “No, we weren’t! Bro…”

My heart’s racing as if I bolted up those stairs. So I guess…it’s not just me, then. I could really use a cigarette, but if there’s one thing Ray gets intense about, it’s his sibling…and I don’t want that glare again quite so soon.

46. leon

orig posted 12/06/2016

Mom’s tipsy, so I’m driving us home on Christmas day. Streets are quiet, and so is the highway. Not everyone wants to get out of dodge so early, it seems.

She’s leaning her head against the window. “You should’ve cut your hair before we left,” she grumbles, arms crossed.

I tug at the back of it, ending right at the base of my neck. “I did.”

“No, I mean actually cut it. It doesn’t cost that much to go to a barber.”

I sigh. Sure, it’s not that expensive, but for one, I like my hair longer. If it’s too short, it just makes me feel like I’m in middle school. Aunt Sally used to cut my hair herself. And you won’t put up any money to get my hair cut, will you? Especially now that I’m working…

“Well, at least you shaved,” she says, shifting back in the seat and crossing her arms.

My patience has already worn thin from the entire day already, and I grind my teeth. “Why do you care,” I mutter. Instantly, I regret it. Anxiety makes my hands tense on the wheel, and I crave a cigarette. Christ, after the screaming kids running around that tiny apartment, and Gram constantly just…fucking scrutinizing every move I made–I’ve got nothing left.

She doesn’t get too uppity this time though, she doesn’t scream. “Because you’re a reflection on me,” she states. “I fucked up, so once a year, I have to look like I repented and am doing what she expects me to do.”

Mom’s not usually this candid, and I chalk it up to alcohol. Fucked up, huh? Had a kid way too young out of wedlock and got sent away to my aunt’s–well, great aunt, technically. Sometimes, I think that under different circumstances, if Gram weren’t so conservative or religious or whatever, I probably wouldn’t even exist. Maybe it’d be better on everybody.

Ah, damn it…

I pull off the highway and scratch under my collar. I’m wearing some fancy sweater, the same one I’ve worn for Christmas the last four years. It’s getting tight now. I scratch harder than I mean to–I really need a cig, and I fish in my jacket pocket while I steer with one hand. “I know you don’t like it either,” Mom says while I push in the lighter in the console. “It’s just one day, then things can go back to normal.”

Yeah, she’s got a point. I did pity her a little bit watching every strained conversation she had with Gram. They still don’t get along, after seventeen years since I’ve been around. We suffer together, I guess…it still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t think she got me anything for Christmas. Hasn’t for the last couple years, so…

The lighter pops, and I stick the cigarette I found in my mouth and light it, cracking the window to let out the smoke. “Jesus Christ, Joey, do you have to?” She curls up, even though the air outside is refreshing compared to the stuffy heat. “You shouldn’t be smoking, it’s a bad habit.”

“You do,” I mumble.

She frowns. Then, she holds out her hand. “What?” I ask.

“Give me one,” she says.

I don’t have much of a choice. I pull it out and hand it over, and she doesn’t bother cracking her window as she lights it and takes a drag. “Merry fucking Christmas,” she mutters, turning as much of her body away from me as she can.

My shoulders heave as I sigh. Dated Christmas music plays through the radio speakers, but it’s better than the silence. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

47. leigh

orig posted 12/12/2016

Whew. I wipe my forehead with the bottom of my shirt and pull the hairtie off my wrist to tie it up. We’ve just finished moving in the new guy living between me and Ray. It’s his coworker, and the guy who comes to my lane at the store a lot. Leon.

There wasn’t a lot of stuff to move. Some boxes of clothes, and some personal stuff…but no furniture. Not even a bed. That’s kinda shitty. Zoe has the last box while Leon sits in the middle of the room, staring up and out the window. I lean against the hallway wall, and Zoe barely notices me. I can be invisible when I want to be.

“Is that all you have?” she asks, plopping it next to some others. “You have a bed or anything?”

He shakes his head. I don’t think he’s said more than three words this whole time moving stuff. For once, he’s not wearing his leather jacket I see him in all the time–it’s in a heap beside him.

“Dude, you need a place to sleep,” Zoe sighs. “You’re not going to want to sleep on hardwood floors, for Christ’s sake.”

He shakes his head again, and his brow furrows very slightly, thinking. The girl that was living here before–well, it was a couple, but that fell apart. One of the girls already moved out and the other was so melodramatic about the place…a lot of drama. I think I remember hearing Ray pitch to Zoe that Leon was quiet…

And he sure is. He still hasn’t said much, and Zoe’s getting impatient.

“Well, fuck, just…” she huffs, slapping her thigh. “You can sleep on the couch if you need to. It’s only Clover on the main floor, so–”

“Where can I get a sleeping bag?” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

“A-A sleeping bag…” He sighs, very heavy. “Mall, maybe…?”

“Er…sure? Cambridge Galleria might have one. There’s a new Target out on Somerville Ave. close by…” She eyes him. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “I’ll save money to buy a bed. Pick up some more hours.”

“Don’t you have a bed at your old place–”

“No.” He interrupts immediately, louder than his voice has been this whole time, then rubs his eyes. “I mean, yeah, but…no. I’m not…I’m not fuckin’ going back.”

He reaches for his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He looks tired, and yet apprehensive. And he won’t quite meet Zoe’s eye, talking more at the ground. “N-no smoking inside, right?” he mutters. “I’ll just head out…”

“Hey, are you all right?” Zoe asks, kneeling down beside him. “C’mon–”

She takes him by the shoulders and shakes him a bit. He jerks his head up, and…he flinches. Fuck. He does look at her now, and before his face becomes neutral, adrenaline makes it drawn, eyes too wide, jaw too tight. What’s this guy been through?

Zoe had something to say, but she’s seen all this too, and she pauses to stare at the ceiling, reorganizing her thoughts. “Hoo, okay,” she breathes. “Here, c’mon. Let’s go. Let’s get some fresh air…”

She picks him up by the arm to drag him out, and he lets her, a far-away look still on his face. Zoe gives me a look with raised eyebrows, that “oh fucking boy” look. Leon doesn’t look at me, doesn’t look at anyone, his feet dragging all the way down the stairs. I can hear her say something else, echoing along the stairwell, but I can’t decipher it. Jeez…

I fidget and wait until I hear the door slam before I move. I hope he’ll be okay…

48. leon

orig posted 12/19/2016

Sun’s just going down. I’m having my evening smoke.

Sky’s painted with yellow, orange, and pink at the very horizon. It’s kinda pretty, even with the cloud of smoke hazing in front of my eyes and drifting skyward. And it’s pretty quiet on the street, which makes it even nicer.

I like the quiet.

My cigarette’s about down to the filter, so I snuff it out on the railing and toss it into the pail sitting on the porch. It’s filled with sand and more cigarette butts–looks like the whole house used to smoke, but Zoe never wants it inside. Numbers are dwindling, though…makes me wonder if I should kick the habit.

The quiet is broken by plastic wheels on concrete…I see Leigh cruise down the hill and into the gravel driveway, kicking up their skateboard into a jog as they come in. “Hey!” they say. They’re beaming… “How’s it goin’?”

“Good,” I reply. Every second it gets darker, but their bleached hair stands out like a beacon, as well as the spark in their eyes.

They prop their skateboard on the stairs and jump up to where I am, leaning on the opposite railing. “Did you work today?” they ask.

I nod. Dave let me open the store on my own today, which was pretty cool. Well, it would be if it weren’t because he had a “wicked hangover”. “Early,” I elaborate.

“Ohh,” they say, tucking their hair behind their ear. Their lashes flutter, just enough for me to tell that they’re wearing mascara. It’s nice on them… “I always liked doing early shifts. It’s quiet, huh?”

“Yeah.”

They chuckle. “I mean, so are graveyard shifts, but in a different kinda way. I guess as long as it’s consistent…” They tilt their head from shoulder to shoulder. “But, when you’re doing work like me, scheduling can get pretty erratic. Kind of annoying…”

I grunt a reply. Yeah, that’s how it was for me for a little bit, especially through my first summer working at the record store. Luckily nothing too early, but I’m a pretty big fan of routine too. Since I’ve been working more full-time, it’s gotten more regular…and that means more money, money I can save…

I feel like I should be saying some of this, but I don’t…I have whole conversations in my head, but don’t say a word. I used to tell Mom about my day like this, but then she didn’t actually listen to me. And then she used to give me hell when I started shutting up about it, like I thought she wanted–

Ah.

Sometime in my spacing out, Leigh came right up in front of me. Their hand rests on my arm, stroking the inside. It tickles just a little bit, and I try not to squirm. “It’s getting dark,” they murmur. “Wanna head inside?”

“Mm, yeah,” I manage to say. C’mon, just a little more. “Was just…having a cig, anyway…”

“Ah, yeah, I had one before I left work,” they say. Despite asking to go in, they don’t move. They look right at me. “Hey.”

“What?”

“…Kiss me.”

It’s a whisper, but it’s accompanied with a shy smile–one that makes me want to return it on instinct, one that makes my face feel warm. So, I kiss them.

And we kiss…

It’s warm, it’s soft, it’s easy and I don’t have to think about anything…

Anything at all…

49. leigh

orig posted 01/09/2017. for "OC kiss week 2017", prompt: "good morning kiss".

I fell asleep right here, still on his chest. The rain’s stopped, but it still looks awful gray out there. Shit, what time is it? Ah, just past 8. I don’t work ‘til noon, but I don’t want to sleep ‘til then. As for him, he hasn’t had the morning shift for some weeks now…

God, he’s cute when he sleeps. He looks so peaceful. When he first moved in, he used to nap and sleep any chance he could get. Seems like he enjoys the day a little more now. He’s been out of his mom’s place for a little while…

I sit up a little bit, but the movement on his smaller bed is enough to stir him. He’s not quite awake…is he? I can’t tell. So, I watch his face a little longer. The house is quiet, the streets are quiet. Everything’s quiet. It’s Sunday, after all…

As soon as his begins to rise and fall in that steady rhythm, I reach out and run my hand through his hair. I don’t think he specifically takes care of it, but it’s soft anyway. Isn’t that how it is? I’ve been trying to get my hair to be that soft ever since I fried it with bleach, and yet…oh well. The instant I feel a snag in my nails, I pull away. He gets pretty nasty bedhead…

Ah, I think I’ve stirred him…

His eyes are just barely open, gray slits. He doesn’t move, and we just stare at each other for a few minutes. It feels like forever, especially in the drowsy morning.

But, he does smile–just a little, just enough.

As I return it, I bend down and kiss his warm, dry lips. “Good morning,” I murmur against them. I kiss him again, and again. Mornings are best for short, warm kisses. Long, heated makeouts, full of tongue, are best for the night…

But, it’s still early. Too early to be thinking about that. His hand rises to push me down by the crook of my shoulder, and he kisses my forehead. “What time is it?” he mumbles.

“A little past 8,” I reply.

His arm drops over his chest and he scratches it idly. “Too…too early,” he yawns. “I’m gonna…go back to sleep.”

I giggle. “Okay, well, I shouldn’t stay. I’ve got work at noon, and if I fall back asleep, I’ll definitely be out past then.”

He nods, and I make an effort not to crush him as I get out from the inside of the bed. Note to self–maybe have him reposition the bed, so we can both get in and out. That is, if we’re going to make sleeping together a habit. That sounds like a good idea…

But, for now, I’ve got to prepare for work. It’s early, but I need as much mental prep as I can get. So, I leave him in bed as I walk backwards out of the room…

…but he keeps his eyes on me until I’m gone.

50. leon

orig posted 01/10/2017. for "OC kiss week 2017", prompt: "emotional kiss".

“Hey, hey,” I say as we’re out of my mom’s driveway, already down the street. “If you need me to drive–”

Tears are streaming down their face. “No! No,” they sniffle. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it–!” They swallow hard and readjust the rearview mirror. “I-is sh-she…she isn’t following us, is she?”

I crane all the way back as far as I can see. The road is empty behind us. “No,” I reply. My eyes glance down at the truck bed. We didn’t get a ton of my stuff from my place, but we did get the important shit–the mattress and the bedframe. The old clothes and other shit was just extra…but then, of course, she had to come home…

Fuck. For a long time, I thought I was her only problem; I was the only one she would yell at and belittle. Part of me was prepared for it the instant we got here–that she would come in while we were still here. But I didn’t think…I didn’t think she’d start going at Leigh…

We pass the high school, and they abruptly brake and turn into the parking lot. It’s empty–it’s past 5 in the summer, who’s going to be there? They jam their brother’s car into park and turn off the engine. It’s so quiet, so fucking quiet, nothing but Leigh’s hitching breathing…

…oh, and I guess mine too. I’m not crying, but my chest hurts…

“I-I’m fine, God, I swear!” they insist. “I-I just…fuck, I haven’t been called th-those things i-in s-s-so long, a-and I didn’t th-think w-we’d run into her…”

“Hey…” I unbuckle my seat belt and scoot into the center. “I…I figured she’d come back. I’m…really sorry, she was really…”

The truth was, she was as mean to them as she usually is to me. But to me, it’s normal. Only when it was turned on them did I…did I…

“Leon,” they say, wiping their face with the back of their hand. It’s smeared with dark makeup, and when they look at me, I can see it running down their face. “You…th-thanks for standing up for me.”

For some reason, this doesn’t click. I stare for a second. “What?”

“Your mom’s a bitch,” they say with a dry laugh. “I-I mean, you just stood there and took it when she was yelling at you, fuck…” They shake their head. “And then you have it in you to stand up to me?”

“Y-yeah…” I slump down in my seat. Suddenly, all the shit she said back there comes flooding back. Stupid, useless, good for nothing, terrible waste…fuck, I choke on my own breath. “I-it’s…it’s…”

They sigh loud. “It’s gonna…it’s gonna be okay.” They lean their head back against the seat. After a second, they fuss to unbuckle their seatbelt and lunge over to me and…hug me.

It takes me a second to respond, but God…

It’s weird to think of it this way, but…it’s a relief.

“You don’t have to go back there ever again,” they say. It’s minute, but I feel them kiss the side of my head. “We don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything…we can go back to the house, move this bed in…and it’ll be okay.”

I nod. We sit there, hugging in the slowly creeping darkness of the deserted parking lot, in a borrowed pickup, for a while. I don’t know…I don’t know how long. They stroke my hair. I think they kiss the side of my head again.

I’m not crying, but I can’t keep my breathing even.

I don’t want to let go.

51. leigh

orig posted 01/11/2017. for "OC kiss week 2017", prompt: "surprise kiss".

Let me tell you the worst thing about working at a 24-hour grocery store–the night shift. No, that’s being a little too generous. It’s the graveyard shift. That midnight to 6 AM shift. It takes the fucking life out of you, so I try not to get myself scheduled for it…

But, rent’s due next week, and I’m a hair short. No one wants the graveyard shift, so it’s always up for grabs if anyone wants extra hours. So, that’s where I stand. At an empty register. In a basically empty store, listening to Raspberry Beret for the 8th time in an hour…but I was smart today–I brought a Thermos full of coffee to help me slog through. Hopefully it works.

I should’ve brought something to read, or a notebook just to doodle, something, anything. Makes me wish I had a Game Boy to fuss around with. On good nights, I’ll get only a couple people running through, and they won’t be weirdos, and the only thing I sacrifice is my sleep schedule and the soles of my feet. Crossing my fingers…

There are only a couple of us at registers, and the other cashier shouts at me from across three empty aisles. “Yo, Leigh!” he shouts. “You wanna go stock?”

“No thanks,” I call back. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go stretch my legs then. Radio if it gets busy.”

“Oh, yeah.” Like it’s ever going to get busy at this hour…

But, I do get someone in the aisle. And holy shit, it’s… “Leon?” I say, my heart jumping in my throat. “H-hey!”

He smirks as he unloads his basket. “Hey,” he replies, then sighs. “Ray said you’d be here tonight…”

“Yeah. Picking up some extra hours. But what are you doing here?” I’ve been here long enough so that my hands are on autopilot, aligning the barcodes just right to scan in without a fuss. “It’s late, dude.”

“Just closed,” he says, then shakes his head. “God, I hate closing…”

“Yeah, that must suck.”

“I’m just…” He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t mind sweeping up and shit, but like…”

He trails off, fidgeting, and I wait while I have to punch in some produce. Produce? That’s unusual for him, he usually gets the cheapest things he can get to survive…maybe Ray or Zoe put him up to it. It’s the last thing, and I grab the total. “43.30.”

I start to bag, and then he finally finishes his train of thought. “I’m not…good with adding up the register,” he mumbles. “I-it just takes me forever.”

“Aw, it can be hard to keep track of. Took me a while to get the hang of it, let alone doing it quick.” I set the bag at the end of the conveyor belt. “You’ve got a calculator you can use there, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Thank God. It’d really be a nightmare without it.”

He nods, then realizes suddenly that he has to pay me, and fumbles for his wallet. We haven’t been dating for long, but it’s funny when he still gets flustered around me. I bet if it weren’t on a chain, he would’ve dropped it. I cover my mouth to hide my smile.

He hands over a wad of bills–a bunch of it is in small bills and singles, he must be getting down on his spending money. He usually pays in larger denominations. Funny how you pick up on people’s habits like that, I knew it even before we got close…

I feel like I knew so much about him even before we were formally introduced, before I even knew his name. Comes with the territory of customer service, but I made a point to remember. Because he was cute, and I knew there was something more behind those tired eyes, there had to be…

Shit, stop daydreaming, Leigh, you’ve still got your whole shift ahead of you. I open the register and grab some coins for change, but when I look up, he’s at the end of the aisle, edging onto my side of the counter. I walk over to meet him. “There’s 70 cents,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you sometime–”

He looks around us quick, but without any other warning sign, he lurches forward and kisses me on the lips. One…two…three seconds where my heart stops completely. When he withdraws, his face is bright pink. “U-um, sorry,” he stammers, so low I can barely understand him. “I-I just…yeah.” He bites his lip, then stuffs his wallet in his back pocket and grabs his bags. “S-see you at the house…”

I cover my mouth as I watch him back out and make a break for the exit. Leon’s a lot of things, but a risk taker isn’t one of them. Still, still… “Hey! Wait!” I call after him.

He does stop and spin toward me. I’m breathing hard like I just ran a friggin’ marathon. “Love you!” I shout.

This makes him burn even brighter, and I get to see him smile before he shakes his head and continues his escape. God, he’s cute. I can’t wait to tell Zoe about this when I get back. It’ll probably mean she’ll tease him and call him “Romeo” for about a week straight, but…

Jesus, you’re full of surprises, Leon…

52. leon

orig posted 01/12/2017. for "OC kiss week 2017", prompt: "heated kiss".

Three taps on my door. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Their headphones are around their neck, and they have another pair on their arm, with their Walkman in their other hand. “Check it out,” they say, fiddling to plug something in. “I finally got a splitter!”

I nod. “Cool.” That’s one of those things that makes it so you can plug in two sets of headphones, I think that’s what they said. They rush over and sit right beside me on the bed, resting the Walkman on their thigh. Usually, we listen to whatever weird tape they picked up at the record store over their stereo, but we tend to do it late at night, when…well, Ray’s trying to sleep. So, this’ll make it easier…

They untangle themselves from the mess of wires they’ve gotten themselves into. “Here, these are for you,” they say, handing me over a thin, black pair of headphones. “I just got these at work, so they’re probably not great, but it’s just to try.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. They’re a little small for my ears, but it’s not a huge deal. “What…what are we going to listen to?”

“I just grabbed a Cure tape,” they say, pressing the rewind button. The tape hitches instantly. They squint through the tiny viewfinder on the front. “Ah, it’s side B, but that’s okay.”

They press play and scoot back on the bed, bouncing a bit. They giggle just a little, and it’s endearing…I scoot back with them as the hiss settles into my ears. Soon, it’s replaced with jangling, chorused guitars and equally processed keyboards. “New wave isn’t bad,” I can barely hear them say. “I can dig it.”

I just nod–it’s hard to hear them since the sound is so present, so it’ll be harder to hear them talk about all the little things they like about these albums. It’s one of my favorite parts of listening to things with them…

“Well, show me, show me, show me how you do that trick,
The one that makes me scream, she says,
The one that makes me laugh, she says,
And threw her arms around my neck…”

When I look over at them, they’ve already got their eyes on me. Maybe…maybe that’s not the point of this…

They smirk before scooting closer and drawing me into a kiss, long, smooth, and slow. As soon as I respond, though, they pick up their pace, open mouthed, and work to press themself up against me. I’m waiting for the Walkman to unplug itself and fall onto the floor, especially with the splitter rigged up, but they manage to pull me down on the bed without unplugging anything. And we kiss, and kiss, and their hands wander on my chest,

under my shirt, rubbing and grabbing…

Ah, Leigh…

I have one hand at their side, and reach one to their neck, thumbing right behind their hair, at the back where I know it’s sensitive. They sigh into my mouth, and kiss me harder, tongue and all…

“Why are you so far away she said,
Won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you,
Yeah, I’m in love with you…”

I hear them moan a little louder, enough to cut through the headphones, and they pause to rip my shirt off. It unfortunately strips my headphones, but they don’t seem to care as they pounce on me…

53. nsfw

orig posted 01/13/2017. sexually explicit, viewer discretion advised.

Leigh gripped the back of Leon’s hair, sweat tacky at the back of their neck. “Mmn, c’mon, c-c’mon…”

Panting, Leon raked his hands down their back, settling along their hips as he continued to thrust into them. God damn, God damn, he thought, burying his face in the side of their neck. I’m so…so close…

With a hard swallow, Leigh began breathing in his ear. “Ahh, Leon…” Their whining pitched up, especially as Leon could feel them picking up the pace with their hand at their cock. “I…I…haaaah…”

You’re driving me wild, Leon thought. He started kissing at their neck, feeling a growl in the back of his throat. I wanna hear you, hear you…

(I want to make you happy)

Leigh, Leigh…

“O-oh, shit, aahn–!” Leigh suddenly spaced themselves back, just enough so Leon wasn’t breathing in their body heat, so he was able to see their face; their eyes, squeezed shut. “I-I’m–!”

The rest didn’t come out as words, but as a whining sigh, nose turned up toward the air. Leon found himself focused less on himself and more on Leigh, basking in ecstasy, as short-lived as it was. His own gray eyes wide, he smiled. But, in less than a few moments, it was over, and their body relaxed, collapsing against him. “Ohh, man…”

Leon could feel their heart, hard and fast, against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around their back. Leigh. He idly stroked their hair and kissed their head. Leigh.

You are…you are…

Leigh stroked his cheek with one finger, the only part of their body that could move. “I can finish you,” they murmured, then chuckled. “D-don’t think my ass can take too much more, though…”

He stayed silent. It doesn’t matter. I don’t… Leon felt his erection waning, even with the tightness and warmth surrounding it. I don’t have to. I just…want to be close, for a while.

I still don’t feel used to it.

With a long sigh, he shook his head and continued to play with their hair. I was supposed to be alone. I had one family member I trusted, then she died. I had one friend, but I knew her ambition would…blow me out of the water. I knew…I’d be left behind.

I was supposed to be alone. I had to fend for myself.

“Leon?” Leigh asked.

It’s all I knew. Leon closed his eyes. I still feel…alone, a lot. I don’t know if I mind it anymore or if I’m just used to it. But, now I’m in this house. In the dark, all he could hear was the sound of Leigh’s slowing heartbeat and their mingled breathing. Upon further listening, the faint garble of TV could be heard from the main floor. This place where there’s always someone there…

And then, there’s you…

“H-hey, you’ve gotta pull out,” Leigh said, tapping his shoulders. “I’ll stay right–”

Leon exhaled sharply and bit his lip. Damn it. With a nod, he pulled out as slowly as he could, then as soon as they sighed with relief, he yanked them back into his lap and clung to them. His arms wrapped around their entire back, head hidden in the crook of their neck. I’m still…still…

“Hey…” Leigh’s voice was gentle and soothing, even as they fidgeted around him. “Just…gimme a sec to get this off me…okay.”

Hands stroked Leon’s back momentarily, shaking him with a chill. “You’re all right, you’re okay,” they chanted, showering his head and cheek with gentle kisses.

I’m not, Leon thought, bracing to keep tears locked behind his eyes. But here…it almost feels like I could be. I was alone, and it hurt, and I was so tired…hell, I’m still tired, and some days I wonder if I could ever shake it.

But Mom’s not here. I got out of that hell.

And now I’m in this house. With all these…kinda weird people.

And I’m here with you…

I never thought I’d fall in love…

Leon gasped for breath, and his internal grip shattered, staining Leigh’s shoulder with tears. “Oh, baby…” Leigh sighed, continuing to stroke and kiss. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. I wish I could talk, but I’m not going to…get anything out. Not like this, not when I’m fucking crying like this…

Leigh gave a final kiss to his cheek bone, then pried themself away just enough to try and get a look at Leon’s face. He kept pointing it down, but Leigh was not deterred. “I’m right here,” they said, cupping his face in their hands. They used their thumbs to wipe the continual tears.

Leon cleared his throat. “Y…yeah,” he managed. “I-I’m…so glad…you…y-you are.”

Even in the dark, he could still catch their smile, right before they kissed his nose. “I love you,” they said.

Leon tipped his head against Leigh’s. “I…” he started to stammer. I love you, too. I can’t say it right now, but…I really do. Instead of trying to speak anymore, he tilted his head and kissed them, the taste of salt riddling both of their lips.

It was long, but quiet.

As they parted, Leigh stayed close to his face. “You’re okay,” they said, like a secret barely loud enough to breach the air.

Leon’s hands shook as they loosened their grip on Leigh’s back. With you around, I just might be, he thought.

54. leigh

orig posted 01/12/2017.

It’s past 1 AM by the time I finally get home. The front steps are barely illuminated by the streetlight, and adrenaline spikes in me when I realize there’s someone there. “Ah, shit!” I exclaim.

It’s just Zoe, though. The end of her cigarette burns red as she takes a drag. “Welcome home,” she says. “You’re out late. Thought you worked in the morning?”

“I did,” I reply, and sit next to her on the steps. I pull out a cigarette of my own while she hands me a light. “You’re up pretty late too.”

“Oh, I’m always up late, honey,” she says with a chuckle. She blows smoke up at the sky, then adjusts her flyaways with the same hand that’s holding her cigarette. “That’s when I get my best work done.”

I laugh as I take my first smoke. She’s got her own little lair down in the basement. Makes me wonder why she didn’t take the main floor as her room–I mean, she owns the place. Then again, she says she grew up here. Maybe that’s always been her room. It’d explain why she doesn’t let anyone smoke in the house. Unless it’s weed, and that’s only in the basement.

“Out with friends?” she asks me.

“O-oh, yeah,” I reply.

It’s a half-truth, and she catches it in my voice. “Uh-huh,” she says with a smirk. “More than friends? Out on a date?”

“N-not exactly…” I shift and tap the ash off my cig on the railing. “Just met up with a hook-up, to hang out and mess around.”

She’s intrigued now–she loves gossip–and keeps her eye on me. “Oooh. Someone you’ve known for a while?”

“Yeah, we went to high school together. She and I were friends, never dated, but we bonded over queer stuff together.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. Didn’t really have too much else in common, so dating would’ve gotten us nowhere. She’s pretty, though.” She is. Now I’m remembering the heat of the moment, even though it’s been hours by now, and my face warms. “W-we have fun. We’re pretty compatible…in that way.”

Zoe chuckles and sticks her hand out to high-five. “Well, congrats on getting laid,” she says. “Oh, I wish I had someone around like that. Most of my high school friends have all gotten married, had kids…let alone the tiny pool of gay girls I knew.”

“Yeah.”

She crushes her cigarette out on the cement of the steps and hoists herself up to stretch. “Oh, who needs it, though,” she grunts, arms high in the air. “You go on dates ‘round here, and women my age are talking about ‘settling down’. Man, I’m happy with my cool job, and big house that I can populate with queer kids.” She sighs. “Need to get me a new vibrator though.”

After a pause, she shrugs and smiles down at me. “Well, I’m gonna head back in, unless you need some company.”

I shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Cool. Night, Leigh.”

“Night.”

Now, it’s just me and the dark. I get what she means–it’s cool to be kind of loose and free, without anyone tying you down. Lot of options. And if you want to coast, just be alone, that’s cool too. But, to be honest…I’m a little tired of the dating scene. Had a couple of close calls with people who weren’t cool with my gender. And even with my hook-up, we talked about a girl that she’s been trying to date for a while. She wants to finally make a move.

I kind of…want to find someone to. I want someone to make a move on. Ray would tell me not to worry about it, of course he would…hell, so would Zoe. But I really…want something more than a casual fuck, or a quick makeout in a bar. But who? I mean, maybe I could finally try and start talking to that cute guy who keeps coming to my aisle at work…doesn’t he work with Ray, too?

I yawn, just as I’m at the end of my cigarette. I forgot how tired I was…I’ll leave it for some other time…

55.

orig posted 02/08/2017

At quarter past eleven, Ray slammed the door of the record store, just in time to see Leigh grind their skateboard on the rail. “Oh, shit!” they cried, bending forward in order to land properly. Ray crossed his arms as they flipped up the skateboard into their arm. “Yo!”

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Ray muttered reaching into his pocket for a pack of gum. He popped out a square and crunched on it, mint flooding his tongue. He offered it to Leigh, who declined, instead grabbing a cigarette from their jacket. “Or that.”

They rolled their eyes as they lit up, blowing smoke up at the street light. “This is the only one I’ve had today. I’m cutting back.”

“If you wanted to cut back, you’d stop.”

“Yeah, but nicotine gum and shit’s expensive.”

“So are cigarettes.”

“S-still!”

Ray snorted as they rounded the corner into the quiet square. A bus cruised down through the Davis train stop, then turned the corner, it’s diesel smoke lingering in the stagnant, summer night. Same shit, different day, Ray thought. You’ll rationalize anything…

“God, today at work, there was this old lady who had a pocketbook full of coupons,” they started. They rested their skateboard over their shoulders, arms hanging off either side. “Half of them were expired, but she made me weed ‘em all out, checking the dates–”

“Jesus,” Ray muttered.

“And she only saved like…fucking five bucks, all told, and then she paid with a check…” They blew their bangs out of their face. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I can respect a coupon hoarder. There was this mom that came in once who really had her shit together, all organized, she knew how to work the system, but this…was just a nightmare.”

“I believe it.” Just as chatty as ever, too. I swear they used to tell Mom as much about my day as well as theirs back home.

Leigh skipped ahead of him, glancing behind him just before the record store vanished from sight. “Was the other guy not there tonight?” they asked.

Again? God damn. “He worked earlier today,” Ray grumbled, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

It took effort for Leigh to beat down a smirk, but still showed in the strain of their lips. “I-I just was wondering–”

“Dude.” Ray rolled his eyes. “Don’t.”

“What? What’s wrong with him?” Leigh frowned. They kept watching the sidewalk behind them as the walked backwards, occasionally stealing glances to contest Ray. “He seems nice! Not…not too chatty, but…nice?”

Yeah, and I see that smile you’re trying to hide. I’ve been fighting your crushes all my life, it feels like. Ray kept his face firm. “You can do better,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Kid’s a high school dropout, basically. Deadbeat punk. Don’t bother.”

“Aw, Ray!” Leigh pouted, and their next step jostled the flower pinned to their hair out onto the ground. They crouched down and snatched it up, tucking it behind their ear. “You’re just being a jackass now.”

Ray only shook his head–

(”Dude, can’t you see what he’s doing to you?” Ray exclaimed outside Leigh’s door. Their backpack was sprawled out on the floor, and among the books and school papers, was a bag of white pills. “You never used to be into this stuff before this guy…”

“Shh!” Leigh yelped, waving their hand. Their fingernails were chipped painted black, and they had black pen doodled on their pale arms. “It’s not what you think! Keep it down! If Mom or Dad hears–”

“Fuck, Leigh,” Ray cursed. “Just fucking…think for once, all right?” He hesitated: once, then twice, before he snatched the bag away. “I’m taking this.”

“What? No! I’m holding onto it for him! I wasn’t doing anything–!” Leigh scrambled forward, but Ray kept it well out of their reach. “Ray! I wasn’t!”

A voice called down the hall. “Boys? Everything okay down there?”

“It’s fine, Dad,” Ray replied, staring daggers at Leigh. He lowered his voice down to a whisper. “I. Don’t. Care. I’m throwing this in the dump. Tell him it’s my fault, I don’t care.”)

–as Leigh sighed, blue-green eyes downcast at the sidewalk. You’re my little sibling, Ray thought. After watching Mom and Dad wear you out so much, someone had to make sure you didn’t get into trouble. I get doing shit to spite them–why do you think I didn’t join the army like Dad wanted? But there’s a line, y’know…

…between sticking it to them, to the mold they tried to make you, and just being stupid.

As they walked down the hill that eventually lead to their apartment house, Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well,” he said finally. “Don’t want to see you get fucked up again.”

“Yeah, well, I can take care of myself, thanks,” Leigh huffed. “I’m not sixteen and an idiot.”

“Now you’re twenty and an idiot.”

“You’re twenty-three and an idiot.” They tossed their cigarette on the pavement and stuck out their tongue. “So there.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Speaking of which, it’s Saturday night and you’re not out sneaking into clubs, what’s the deal?”

Leigh laughed. “Maybe I want a quiet night at home?” They swapped their skateboard from one arm to the other. “Nah, haven’t been feeling it lately. Just like…I dunno.”

They bit their lip and shrugged. They’re hiding something, Ray intuited. I know they like dressing up and going out, maybe finding someone to hook up with. So, what’s different?

They made it to the house, and Leigh was first with their keys. “Seriously, what’s your beef with Leon?” they contested again. “He’s always nice to me.”

Ah. That’s why. “Well…” Well, what is it? He just doesn’t seem like their type. He always seems a little crabby, always tired, never see him outside that leather jacket. Scruffy. Kid smokes too much for a teen. Did we ever smoke that much?

Ray continued to stew in his mind, and not answer Leigh, even as they unlocked the door and walked into the main hallway. Then again…maybe I’m not giving him enough credit.

(Leon idly punched numbers into the calculator. “If I…put another hundred…” he muttered.

“What are you doing?” Ray asked.

He rubbed his forehead and shoved the calculator away. “Nothing.” He gripped the counter, fingers gripping underneath. “Just…trying to budget.”

“Budget?”

“Budget?” Dave called from the back. “What, you gonna buy yourself a new leather jacket or something?”

Leon’s hand flinched on the counter, showcasing chewed down fingernails. “Just…” he sighed heavily. “F-food and shit. Nothing…I’m gonna have a smoke.”

Before Ray could ask anymore, he blistered out from behind the counter and was out the front door like a shot. While he was gone, a slip of receipt paper was still beside the calculator–a scrawl listing a mess of numbers with labels. “Food”. “Move out money”. “Bank”.)

“Hey.”

Ray shook himself from his thoughts. Leigh was already halfway up the staircase. “You can say that you’re just being a dick,” they snickered. “I’ll buy the overprotective brother act. For now.” They pointed at him, silver rings flashing. “But only for now.”

Maybe I am just being a dick, just because it’s Leigh. “Sure,” Ray conceded. “Just–”

“I know,” Leigh said. “Be careful, all that shit.”

“Mmhm.” You’ll just do whatever you want anyway, that’s how you’ve always been.

(”Hey…what’s wrong?”

“I…thought about what you said. I-I…I broke up with him.” They wiped smearing mascara off their face. “I-I mean, I’m upset but…only because he was yelling at me, y’know…”

They managed a watery smile. “Thanks.”)

But when it counts…you tend to do the right thing. “Hey, Leigh.”

They leaned against the banister. “Yeah?”

“I was just being a dick. I guess…he’s not too bad.“

They smirked. “Uh-huh.”

“But still.”

“Yup.“

Ray paused, then jogged up the stairs to meet them and gave them a quick, one armed hug. They’ll be okay. “Love you, sib,” he muttered. Took me a little while to get used to that one, but…

He could feel Leigh beaming into his shoulder. “Love you too, man.”

56.

orig posted 02/11/2017

With every step Leon took, his feet seemed to drag heavier and heavier. It was like he was wading through cement, heavy on his feet and over his shoulders. Christ, he thought, eyes fixated at the ground. Moving out was supposed to make things better. And yeah, things are. For the most part. But why do I still feel so…heavy? Is it because the last thing Mom said to me was “you selfish bastard, if you want to leave so bad then fucking go”? With half my shit on the lawn? Is it because I have my own room, but I’m in a sleeping bag?

What is it? Why do I still just want to fucking sleep all the time…

He managed to lift his head up as he approached the house, and saw that all the lights were on. That’s one thing different about this place. Someone’s always around. Lifting his feet to climb the stairs was difficult, but manageable, and he could hear commotion from just outside the door. Wonder what the hell is going on…

With a deep breath, he opened the door, and the cacophony escalated. The hallway was lit with warm light, reaching into the kitchen and out to the far side of the living room at the very end. Music blasted from a radio in the kitchen, and the TV bubbled underneath it like a boiling pot. Noise, Leon thought as he shuffled off his torn sneakers. So much for going to bed early.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Zoe peered out from the kitchen. “Oh, Leon’s home!” she said, waving a wooden spoon in her hand. “You’re just in time! Dinner’s going to be ready in like…uh…”

She dashed back into the kitchen, and Leon followed. The stove was covered in pots, but she somehow managed to plop an egg timer right in the middle of things, twisting it before it started ticking away. She threw open the oven door, wafting hot air out of it, and shoved a casserole dish onto the top rack. “Twenty minutes!” she finished.

As she bounced back up, her purple flyaways fell in her face, and she blew them away triumphantly. Leon blinked. “Uh…’kay,” he mumbled.

Leigh sat on the counter beside the radio, kicking their feet against the cabinets below them. “We’re all having dinner together, in the dining room,” they clarified, tucking their hair behind their ear.

“That’s right! No excuses!” Zoe exclaimed. “This is a family night! See, Leigh’s been helping me–”

“Well, if you’d let me help you,” they contested, rolling their eyes. “You just kept saying ‘no, I got it’–”

“See, but you are going to help!” Zoe whirled and pointed the wooden spoon at them, before placing it on their lap. “You’re gonna do the dishes.”

“What? Now? Fuck, I don’t want to…” They huffed and tossed the spoon into an already overflowing sink. “Can’t Ray do it? I stayed extra at work to pick up the shit you needed.”

A faint voice called from down the hall that turned everyone’s head. “Whatever it is you’re going to try and make me do, I’m not going to do it,” Ray said.

“Damn it!” Leigh hissed.

Zoe chuckled. “That’s some fucking expert sibling senses there,” she said, patting Leigh’s shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s on you.”

They pushed themselves off the counter and smoothed down their shirt, a loose, pastel pink t-shirt. Pink flower to match it too, Leon thought idly. They’re always wearing flowers… “W-well, I can set the table–”

“I’m setting the table~!” Clover darted into the kitchen, nearly knocking Leon over with her momentum. She whirled around and touched his shoulder lightly. “Oops, sorry! Hey there, what’s up? Did you just get home?”

Leon flinched from the touch, but tried to mask it by shoving his hands into his back pockets. “Y-yeah,” he managed. Everyone’s so friendly and touchy around here.I feel wicked out of place sometimes.

If he looked uncomfortable, Clover didn’t notice, bouncing to the cupboards above the sink. “Let’s see, five plates…or bowls?” she asked.

“Bowls,” Zoe said. “You’re chipper today.”

“Just turned in a term paper! It’s out of my hands! I’m free!” She balanced a stack of bowls in one arm, while Leigh reached out to give her a high five. She managed with a hearty smack, then pulled open the drawer below for silverware. “For now.”

“Honey, I don’t think you’ll ever be free at the rate you work,” Zoe commented, then spared a glance at Leon. “Hey, champ, why don’t you give her a hand and set up some glasses? Same cupboard.”

Leon nodded without a sound and moved on autopilot. Champ, he thought, gathering five glasses in his arms. There wasn’t a single matching glass in the cupboard, so he assembled ones of similar sizes and cradled them out of the kitchen back into the hallway. I haven’t been called “champ” since…like, third grade.

The dining room was diagonally across the hall from the kitchen, where the dining room table was beginning to take shape–two places set on each side, and one at the head of the table. Clover organized the bowls and silverware carefully, making sure everything was aligned on the worn, fabric placemats. “You work right? You’re not going to school,” Clover asked.

This lady asks ten questions per second. “Yeah,” Leon answered, trying to match her meticulous placing with the glasses. Not going to school anymore. I’ve got my own place to pay for, like I have time for school…like I ever cared anyway.

(”Leon! You have to graduate! You have to!” Chelsea yanked on his jacket in the parking lot. “What are you gonna do if you don’t?”

Leon didn’t look at her. “What I’ve been doing,” he muttered. “Don’t need a fucking degree to work at a record store.”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t want to work there all your life, do you?” she huffed. “I mean, don’t you want to…go places? Don’t you have dreams?”

His chest suddenly felt hollow, the smoke from his cigarette lilting in front of his face. “No.”)

Leon spotted Clover staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t further engage her, instead heading straight back into the kitchen with his head down. “What are we, uh…” Leon started. His sentence fizzled as he felt Zoe and Leigh’s eyes on him. “What are we drinking…”

At the sink, Leigh turned off the faucet and soaked their hands in the soapy water. “Uh…what do we have for juice? That’s not orange juice.” They stuck their tongue out.

Zoe opened the fridge. “Got some Arizona fruit punch,” she grunted, pulling out the gallon jug. “Hey Ray! What do you want!”

“For what?” he called from the living room.

“To drink!” she yelled back. “And come on out, we’re almost ready!”

The layer of noise from the TV ceased. I think I just want water, Leon thought, and meandered back to the dining room. He stopped short at the table. Shit, I don’t know where everyone’s sitting. Fuck.

Ray strode in behind him, pulling a shirt over his head. He automatically walked around and sat at the seat beside the head of the table, sighing. His short, dark hair seemed wet, artificially spiked on his head. Leon’s eyebrow twitched. What were you doing? There’s gotta be some reason why you’re not helping.

Ray caught this. “What?” he grumbled. “I mowed and weed-whacked the lawn.” He peered around Leon to get a view into the kitchen. “Yo, Leigh, I’ll put those away after.”

“As usual.” There was a sigh in their voice. “Thanks.”

Ray nodded and handed Leon back his glass. “Do you mind getting me a beer? Just the can’s all right.” He slouched in his seat. “And you can sit anywhere you want except the head of the table. That’s for Zoe.”

“Sure.” Leon grabbed his glass and one that was directly across from him to make his own, and spun back around. Okay. Don’t need this one. And I’ll get water from the tap.

Back in the kitchen, Leon had to reach over Leigh’s head to return the glass, brushing against his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Um, I…”

They glanced over their shoulder, blond hair turning with them. “Oh, do you want some water? Here, gimme a sec to make it cold…”

Leon found himself staying close as they ran the tap, as they took the glass from his hand to fill it up. In the meantime, he studied their face, their long nose dusted with freckles, their striking aquamarine eyes. Not something you see too often, he mused. Then again, gray eyes aren’t too common either. Mom doesn’t have ‘em, apparently my father didn’t either, but it’s somewhere from her side of the family–

“Here. There’s some ice in the freezer, if you want some.” Leigh pushed the glass back into Leon’s calloused palm, and he nearly fumbled it. He managed to keep a grip on it by the tips of his fingers, the nails chewed down. They smiled at him briefly before returning to scrubbing a pot. Ah.

He was nearly out of the kitchen before Leon remembered what he was sent there for. Right. Ray wants a beer. Back to the refrigerator, he pulled a can from the bottom shelf. “Oh, might as well get me one. I had to deal with some grade-A shit today,” Zoe commented.

Clover pattered back to grab the jug of juice while Leon took another can and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll have juice too!” she said. “I’ll just take this out…”

The egg timer rang just as Leon returned to the dining room. This is…new, he thought, placing the beer cans in their respective places and his water glass at his own setting. Well, not totally new. It’s like Christmas at Grandma’s, but…less formal. Somehow just as noisy. He stared down at his empty bowl, letting his focus wane. I wasn’t really hungry, but……here I am, I guess. I’m already here, I don’t think Zoe would let me escape.

“Okay, okay!” Zoe entered the dining room, armed with pot holders and her casserole dish, Leigh tagging along close behind. “Embrace the aroma of white American cuisine!”

“Mac and cheese?” Clover said, taking a seat next to Leon. The piping hot plate was filled to the brim with cheesy noodles, along with a layer of shredded cheese and breadcrumbs. “I should’ve known…”

“Straight off the Velveeta box,” Zoe stated proudly, but stuck her tongue out at the same time. “I am no chef, folks, but this is gonna taste better than you think, I promise.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Leigh said. They took a seat next to their brother, still in clear sight of Leon. They immediately reached over and poured themself the pink juice at the center of the table. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Yes! See, they get it,” Zoe confirmed. She twirled a spatula in her hand once before jamming it straight into the middle of the casserole dish. “Help yourselves, but it’s gonna be hot.”

Ray took the spatula first, spooning himself out a steaming helping. Automatically, he passed it over to Leigh. “Looks good,” Ray muttered. “Thanks.”

“Yes, thanks for cooking, Zoe!” Clover exclaimed.

She beamed from her seat. “Sure thing,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Family dinners are good every once in a while, huh?”

Leigh giggled as they blew on their first bite. “Yeah, some family we are,” they remarked.

Family, Leon thought as he was passed the spatula from Clover. They’ve got a point. Thought that was just for people who were related…like Leigh and Ray…

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Zoe asked. “Who wants to start?”

She glanced pointedly at Ray, who had his mouth full, and intended to keep it that way. Leigh, however, was eager to pick up the slack. “Me!” they said. “Well…kinda boring, actually. Just…work, y’know. I was stocking all day…”

Leon let the conversation wash over him as he passed over the spatula and picked at the noodles on his plate. After a moment, he decided to actually eat one. It isn’t bad, he thought, chewing slow. Better than a box mix by a long shot.

(”Joey!” his mother shouted. “You left your dishes in the sink! Christ, if you’re going to cook, clean up after yourself!”

Jostled awake, he stared wide eyed at the sheets, body tense. “Joey? Joey! Get out here and clean this up! Now!”

The clock beside him read 11:24 PM. Moonlight filtered through his window. His heartbeat mimicked her pounding footsteps down the hall, and her beating on his door. “Joseph Leonard! For fuck’s sake…”)

“Leon?”

He shook his head and glanced up, dazed. Zoe had her head cocked in his direction, but as soon as his attention was garnered, she returned to her bowl. “Your turn.”

“Wh…what?” he said.

“Tell us how your day was.” She shoveled a mouthful of noodles in her mouth. “You know the routine.”

I don’t, actually, he thought, chewing his lip. Mom hasn’t asked me about my day in years. And then, she was barely around when I was, which nixed most interaction. Unless it was her yelling at me. Which she wouldn’t spare me on no matter when…oh, God damn it. He winced to himself. I’m not there anymore, I’m not there anymore. It doesn’t matter anymore.

I can breathe a little bit.

Which he did. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Nothing special,” he sighed. “Just…I dunno. Standing at a counter for six hours.”

“Yeah, that’s the life,” Zoe replied. “Dave’s your boss, just like Ray, right? Did that old stoner try to pass any weed off on you today?”

“Nope,” Leon replied. “Not today.” I can breathe. No one’s going to yell at me, or berate me, or call me Joey…

Zoe hissed. “Damn. I need to buy some more sometime.”

“Go buy it yourself,” Ray interjected. “I’m sure he’d be overjoyed at a customer…”

“Hey, so you won’t let us smoke in here, but you get stoned in the basement?” Leigh challenged, pointing their fork over at her. “What’s up with that?”

“My house, my rules,” she said. “Smoke in the basement doesn’t get upstairs. I don’t want this place smelling like an ashtray. Especially if my folks decide to haul their asses up from Florida to ‘check in’.”

Ray shook his head and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t jinx it,” he muttered.

“Trust me, I’m not trying to,” she replied. “Okay, I’ve got to tell you about this shitty tramp stamp I had to tattoo…”

Zoe continued to ramble, gesturing as she spoke. In the meantime, Leon scanned the table. Clover was eagerly listening, giggling in all the right places, while Ray was only half paying attention. Leigh seemed to be engrossed as well…until their eyes flickered over to meet Leon’s. He wasn’t quick enough to go unnoticed, and they winked at him in response with a small smirk.

Leon’s fork twitched in his hand, and he tried to resume eating. Even with the promise of moving out…I never expected I’d get anything like this. I didn’t know people lived like this. It’s…it’s all right. He found his eyes continually wandering back to Leigh. Better than I thought.

Laughter took over the table, and Leon found himself joining in with a small chuckle. Suddenly, his appetite came back to him, and he began to eat a little faster. Funny. I don’t feel so…heavy anymore.

Things are getting better. That’s good. That’s something…to keep looking forward to.

57. leon

orig posted 02/14/2017

It only took me about five minutes to get ready. I changed my shirt. Wait, maybe eight minutes…after I changed my shirt and went downstairs, Zoe turned me back around and made me pull out a button-up. Guess it ain’t half bad…light blue with vertical stripes. “Brings out your eyes,” she said. Sure.

I pace in the hallway. It’s been a half an hour. I’m getting hot with my leather here, and I don’t want to start sweating. I knock on their door. “Leigh?” I say.

“Just a sec! I’m almost ready!”

Yeah, you said you were almost ready a while ago…I don’t know why they’re making such a fuss out of this particular date. I mean…well, I guess it is Valentine’s day, and we’re not going to Applebee’s this time. We’re going into Boston, for crying out loud. Leigh’s got someplace in mind…I set aside $200 to get us through the night, and it better not cost too much more.

I pace in the hallway. I don’t know what everyone else is doing…well, Ray’s working. He took my shift so we could go out. Given Zoe fussing over me earlier makes me think that she doesn’t have a date. No one’s caught Clover in the last few days–she’s either at school or in her room, so–

Their bedroom door flies open. “Okay. God, sorry! I’m ready.”

Ah.

They’re wearing a slouchy, pink sweater with a dark plaid skirt, chunky boots…a couple different necklaces on their chest, a choker…and of course, a flower in their hair. Pink, this time. Their eyes are done in heavy makeup, eyeshadow and everything. It’s a…it’s a good look. They look like they could be on a magazine cover…

“Well?” they ask, posing. “How do I look?”

“A-ah…” I swallow, looking them over. “I, ah…you look…a-amazing.”

They giggle, then jog up and hug me. With their chest pressed right against mine, I feel that they’re wearing a bra. “You look good too! Did you shave?” They stroke my face for a second, then kiss my cheek. With a smile, they then rub their thumb where they kissed. Ah. They’re wearing lip gloss.

“W-well, are…are we ready to go?” I manage to say.

“Ready when you are!” they chirp, and cling to my arm. “Ooh, I can’t wait to show you this place! It’s right by the Pru…”

I’m in kind of a daze as we walk down the stairs, and I can only half pay attention. I saw them earlier today…no makeup, just in a t-shirt and sweats, playing the Playstation on the couch with their hair tied back. And even then, I just hung out in the doorway until they noticed me. God. I’m…they’re just so…

I’m smitten.

We go out to my car, ice crunching under our feet, and I unlock it. They pull open the door on the passenger side, and gasp. “Oh–! Leon?”

I’m already in the car, seats stiff from the cold. “Yeah?”

They slide in and hold out a bouquet of roses. Oh, shit. Zoe was out shoveling when I came home, and I forgot all about them when she asked me to help… “Are these for me?” they ask.

I nod. “Y-yeah. Sorry, I…”

“It’s okay!” They shove their face into the roses, inhaling deep, then pick one out of the center. “Good thing we were going back out again, though, or they would’ve froze…”

They twist the stem to snap it, then replace the flower in their hair with one of the roses, pinning it in place. They pat it, then turn to beam at me. “Thank you,” they say…

…then lean over the center console and kiss me on the mouth. I cup their face in my hand until they break away. “Happy Valentine’s day,” they say quietly.

I nod. “Mmm.” Happy Valentine’s day. Another holiday I didn’t really care about turned into something more…because of you.

58. leigh

orig posted 02/21/2017

She’s been just sitting in the dining room since she got here. Chelsea, she said her name was? She’s been by here before, looking for Leon, but now she’s actually here to see him. But, guess she didn’t get his schedule, because she’s here early…

I peer back in. Okay, so she’s got some reading that she’s doing. Is that…school work? Isn’t school already over? Jeez, I didn’t think there was anyone else like Clover out there. Those two would probably get along really well. “Hey,” I say, leaning in the doorframe. “Can I, uh…can I get you anything? Something to drink, or…?”

She looks up at me and smiles, polite. “No, it’s okay!” she chirps. She tugs at the pages over her book. “Um…how long ‘til he gets back though?”

“Should be around anytime now,” I reply. I walk in and around the table. Yeah, she was his date to his–or her prom, rather. He stopped going to school by that point. He was…pretty stressed about the cost of everything, but he…did his best. They’ve been friends for a while, I guess.

She’s giving me a look–trying not to stare while still staring. “So…this is just…a house, right? It’s not like…an apartment or anything.”

“Nope, we all just share everything.” I reply. “Sometimes we even have dinner together!”

I chuckle, and she does too. “Th-that’s kinda cool.”

It’s not any real question she wants to ask, though, and I can tell by the way she’s still fidgeting. If I had to guess…she either wants to ask something about me, or about Leon and I. All I did at the prom was barely introduce myself, that’s about it. I’m trying to stay loose, be prepared for whatever.

…And it takes another few minutes, with me sipping on some juice, before she does finally ask something else. “Um!” she starts, brown eyes darting. “I-I’m sorry, but are you…are you Leon’s…”

I hold my breath. You can do it. I try not to tap my nails on the glass in her hesitation. Get it out… “Are you dating Leon?” she blurts finally.

Looks like my gender–or lack of–has won again. At least for now. Small victories. “Yes,” I say, emphatically. Maybe a little too much. “I mean, we’ve been on a few dates, and so I guess–”

I’m interrupted by the door opening. That’s most likely him. I bite back the rest of my sentence as he wanders by. He pokes his head in, sees me first, and gives me that…that soft smile…God. I’m gay.

Chelsea turns around too, and he starts–shoulders jerking, and I can even see his pupils dilate. “Chels?” he says. “What’s…what’s up?”

“Hey!” She jumps up from her chair, her place in her book lost. “I just…haven’t seen you in a while! I, ah, wanted to…to make sure…you were doing okay…!”

She trails the more she speaks, and even though Leon only nods, his shock fades in place of a more gentle look. “Ah…” he starts, scratching at the back of his messy, tawny hair. “I…’preciate it.”

From the basement, Zoe yells. “Hey! Was that Leon? Leon! Someone’s here to see you!”

“I know!” he calls back, then shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Ah, I met Leigh, here. Your…” She stares at me again, studying. “B–”

“Partner. Datefriend.” I catch her before she makes any assumptions. I stand up myself and rush around the table, taking Leon’s arm. I see him turn pink in the corner of my eye. “C’mon, let’s go into the living room…”

59. leon

orig posted 03/05/2017

Lately, Ray and I haven’t been sharing shifts, but today we do, and we walk home together. I remember being pretty intimidated by him when I first started working with him…but he’s really just quiet. And he helped me out when I needed to move, so…I really owe him one.

Halfway home, he stares up at the trees and whistles. “So, are you planning on going back to school anytime soon?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

He gives me a side-eyed look. He’s never been impressed by the fact that I dropped out, even though he’s never said it to my face. I can tell by that look, and the sigh that comes after. “Well, if you want to pick up some extra shifts, I’m thinking about taking some time off.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Just want to get away. Might just take a drive, find a place to camp or something.”

I mutter an affirmative in reply. Camp? I didn’t know he was into that sort of thing. I really only see him at work and at the house…oh yeah, he goes to the gym too, doesn’t he? Works out. Drinks those disgusting protein shakes. Silence sets back in, but only for a minute. “Have you ever been camping?” he asks.

I shrug. “No.” Mom was never into that kind of thing. Not to mention I only ever remember her working, working, working. Always complaining we never had enough money, then buying herself new dresses and getting expensive perms. Yet this pair of jeans I’m wearing I’ve had since I was a freshman…

Ray must be in pretty good spirits, because he’s talking more than usual. “It’s nice. Being out in nature. I was a Boy Scout years ago, we did a bunch of that shit. Wilderness survival, all that…” As soon as we turn on our street, he turns around and walks backwards about a pace ahead of me. “I miss it sometimes, and…”

He trails off, and his pace slows to a crawl, until he stops. His eyes widen, then he squats down to the pavement. “Hey…”

I stop too, and turn around. A cat’s followed us. It’s white, with black and red blotches all over it. There’s a collar on it, so it belongs to someone, but it still comes right up to him when he holds his hand out. It pushes his hand under its head and purrs. Ray chuckles, petting it through to its tail. “Where’d you come from, kitty…?”

I’ve never his voice go that high before. The cat meows in reply, as it circles around him with its tail in the air. I don’t know if I would’ve pegged him as an animal lover…

Oh, it’s coming over to me…

We never had pets around…again, couldn’t afford it. I think Mom’s allergic anyway. Chels has a cat, although her siblings have made the poor thing go into hiding. I bend over to give it a scratch behind its ears, and it seems pleased. Good cat. I pet around its neck and glance at the collar. “Peanut” is its name. It must live around here. Soon, it wriggles out of my hand to rub against my leg.

“Leigh’s usually the one who has a knack for finding strays,” he remarks. “Zoe’s always really loud about saying no, but…”

He stands up and crosses his arms. The cat seems content with the attention it’s gotten, and walks past us and across the street. “But what?” I say.

“Bet you anything if one of us brought a black kitten home, she wouldn’t be able to resist,” he finishes with a smirk. “She’s got that whole goth witch thing going on…”

I snort and nod. “Yeah, she’d…she’d probably cave.”

The small smirk lingers on his face, even as he starts walking again, and I follow. Hell, there’s even a little smile on my face too. Funny how little things like that can lift your mood, just a little. And I’ll take all that I can get.

60. leon

orig posted 03/14/2017

Knock, knock, knock.

I roll over. I don’t want to get up. I tried earlier, like around 10, but…nope. Couldn’t do it. I squint at my alarm clock. 2:30. I can sleep for another hour, hour and a half before I can start getting up for work…

Knock, knock, knock.

Fuck. “What?” I groan.

“Hey, kid.” It’s Zoe. She opens the door with her arms crossed. “Wake up.”

I shake my head and roll over. With a sigh, she comes over to my sleeping bag and prods my back with her foot. “You can’t sleep all day, come on. Get up.”

“Don’t…” I swat at her, but reluctantly sit up. My head feels so heavy, and I stare out into the doorway. It’s not like I’m getting any fucking good sleep anyway, on this sleeping bag…but it’s what I’ve got to do. No way in hell am I going back to Mom’s.

“There you go.” She squats in front of me and cocks her head. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” I mumble.

“Uh-huh.” I can tell she’s trying to hold back a snicker, but she reaches out and pulls at my hair. “You trying to grow it out or something?”

I don’t really say anything in reply to that. My hair’s already getting past my shoulders again. I don’t really like it that long, but I can’t afford to get it cut. So, I do it myself. And I haven’t had the energy. Fuck that. The only thing that’s getting me to work is…well…

I don’t even know anymore…

I thought I’d feel better being out of Mom’s place, but I still feel…like dead weight. Sure, it’s better. Maybe it’s too soon. After all, I didn’t get to leave on my own terms in the end, fucking threw all my packed shit on the lawn and told me to get out…damn it. Damn it! I just…

…hate feeling like this…

Suddenly, Zoe grabs me from under my arm and drags me to my feet. “The hell…?” I mumble, stumbling up. I panic for a second–thank God I was wearing some sweatpants before she just dragged me out of there. Then again, she doesn’t have too many boundaries.

“Come on,” she says. “I’m taking you out for coffee. And a donut. Sugar will perk you right up.”

“What?” I try to wriggle free as we’re out the doorway. “I need to get dressed…”

“Oh, you’re fine. You’ve got pants on.” I notice that she’s just wearing sweatpants herself. “Fresh air, that’ll do you good, too…”

“Zoe…” My protests are weak as we’re down the stairs, and she only lets me go once we’re at the coat closet. Well, I’m already down here. I sigh and pull out my sneakers while she shuffles on some flip-flops. This is my landlady…

…trying to cheer me up. But, why? Why…

She leads the way outside, inhales deep and smiles. “Mm, I’m gonna get an iced coffee,” she says. “Perfect for a hot day.”

I shield my eyes from the blinding sun, and pat where my pockets should be. “Shit, I forgot my wallet,” I sigh.

“I’ve got you covered. My treat. But only this time!” She whirls around and waggles her finger. “Next time, you’ve gotta take me out. Okay?”

I raise an eyebrow. “O-okay.” That means there will be a next time, huh?

I shake my head, even though I don’t feel as heavy as I did before. What a strange woman…

61. leon

orig posted 03/20/2017

“And if you carry this over here…there.”

She hovers over my paper, pointing to my crummy math. I pencil in some numbers, trying to follow her. I think I get it. Enough to do it again, though? I don’t know. Nonetheless, when I arrive at an answer, she claps in glee. “See? Just like that!”

I sigh and lean back in my chair. “Shit. I don’t like math,” I sigh.

She chuckles. “I don’t think it’s anyone’s favorite. Some people have a knack for it, and some don’t.”

“I sure don’t.”

“Don’t you work a cash register? There’s gotta be some math there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not…this.” I point to all the formulas in the textbook open on her kitchen table. “You can do all the math you need with a dollar calculator at work…”

She shrugs. “Sorry.”

I don’t know what she’s apologizing for. If anything, it should be me who’s apologizing. She was the one who skipped out on something or another to help me with this shit, all because I happened to stay the whole day at school. My only day this week. I really only came because I don’t work today, and it means that I don’t have to be at home…

The front door opens, and her mom’s there with her little sister and brother in tow. “Oh, hi!” she greets, ushering the younger ones in. “Hey, Joey.”

I flinch. There are a lot of reasons why I don’t like that name. It sounds like a little kid’s name, for one. And every time I hear it, especially from someone older, I just hear Mom’s voice. Screaming at me. For nothing. I hate it. I hate it so much. I was jumping at teachers calling my name in class. That’s so…

…fucked up. I’m so fucked up.

It’s Chelsea who corrects her. “Leon, Mom,” she says. “We’re doing homework.”

“Oh, good!” she says, pleased. “Well, we’re going to be having dinner in about an hour or so. You’re welcome to stay.”

I nod slowly, but my mouth has other intentions. “Actually, I should…should get going,” I say, just as slow. Why? Why am I saying this? My last shred of self-preservation says that it would be much better to stay here, get a home cooked meal, get washed out by the family chatter of the Lawrences’…

…but the overwhelming part of me that wonders what’s even the point of all these numbers scribbled on some useless piece of paper…

“Are you sure?” Chelsea asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, getting up. “I’ve got…stuff to do.”

I stand, even though my legs feel like lead. I watch myself stuff my homework and math book back in my backpack, zip it up, and heave it over one shoulder. What stuff? What do I have to do? But I’ve already said my goodbyes. I’m already out the door. I’m already at my car. I’ve already pushed in the lighter in the dash, cigarette in my mouth.

I already have my head on the steering wheel.

God fucking damn it.

62. leigh, nsfw

orig posted 03/21/2017. sexually explicit, viewer discretion advised.

I’m not necessarily used to getting head.

I usually end up being the one who gives it. It tends to be worth keeping the gender illusion I put on, especially for one night stands. But, he isn’t a one night stand, not by a long shot. And he’s pretty generous.

I massage my hand into his hair while he sucks me, lolling my head back. I hum in the back of my throat. It feels good, really good. Especially when he grips the sides of my thighs like that. And like this–if I can sit up, if I can open my eyes–there we go, I can watch his shoulders, his broad back. He’s not necessarily in shape, but you can tell he used to be. Football, was it?

Ah, my train of thought is cut off when he gives himself a break to just lick the tip of my dick, ah ah…

“Mmn…”

I’m cut off again by the tape I put in my stereo clicking to a halt. “Shit,” I mutter, reaching over in vain.

He lifts his head up fully. “I can get it,” he says, standing up. He’s only wearing his underwear, boxer briefs that are a little tight on him, but they hug his ass nice. He twists his neck and rubs the back of it. “Want me to just flip it over?”

I shake my head and beckon him over. He has a flush in his cheeks, and God, I love that little look of question on his face. It’s cute. He wanders back to the edge of the bed, where I’ve been sitting, and kneels right back between my legs. “I, ah…” he mutters, absently taking my cock in his hand. He strokes slow. “Want me to…um, keep going?”

“H-hhnn…” It’s hard to talk when someone’s touching me like that. Really hard. I can’t even put together what I want to say, but should I really say anything besides yes, yes Leon, please suck me until I come? Oh, God. “Mmn, y-yeah…”

He smirks. It’s something very subtle, not like anything else I’ve seen on anyone else. It’s just a quirk of his lips, a breath of a chuckle in the back of his throat, and a little shake of his head as he looks down. And it lingers, just a little bit. It’s good. It means he’s in a good mood. And knowing that…

…well, it’s a little sexy too.

Oh, but what else is sexy is when he rakes his hand through his hair, to get it out of his face, before his mouth is on me again. I gasp, and quickly cover my own mouth. I use my other hand to cup his face, a thumb on his scruffy cheek. Our sound buffer is gone, and Ray will definitely be pissed if he hears us.

So, as much as I want to moan, I’ve got to be quiet…

63. leon

orig posted 04/04/2017.

They walked me home from work today, all excited. When we got in, they held my hand, dashing upstairs, and said “wait, wait here, I’ve got a surprise for you.” What kind of surprise? I can’t even imagine.

Well, it’s been almost ten minutes. I pace around my room, making a point to listen in, since their room’s right beside mine. I can hear…struggling of some kind. They want to surprise me, sure, but…I don’t know.

I take my time wandering out of my room, as the door squeaks shut behind me. Measured steps to their room. I knock on the door. “Leigh? You all right?” I ask.

“F-fine!” they insist, with some grunting. “I just…just gotta…ugh.”

I lean my head against the door, hands in my pockets. “Do you…need some help?”

“No! I just–I just want to…” I can hear a snapping sound, and they groan. Then, their voice pitches up to a weak whine. “O-okay…maybe I need some help.”

I bite my lip to keep from smirking, and I let myself in.

They’re only wearing underwear and thigh high socks…both of them a peach pink, lace adorned on the edges. They also have one of those…oh, shit, what are they called? It’s even lacier than the rest of the underwear. I think it’s supposed to hold up the thigh highs…

“I can’t get this garter-belt to work,” they say. That’s it. Garter-belt. They tug on the ribbon, yanking it to meet the edge of the sock. “I’ve done it before, but…”

I walk over to them and get down on my knees to get a better look. There are no hooks but…oh. I’ve seen this kind of fastener, one where you clip the fabric through it–Mom used to have these to keep the mattress pad on the mattress. I tug on the ribbon and slip the rubber nub beneath the fabric of the sock, then force the hook over it…oh, come on. It slips. I try again.

“See, it’s harder than it looks,” they sigh, bending over me. “I was gonna have this all ready, and now all the magic is gone.”

I snort, then shake my head. I don’t really care. They like to dress up all…all sexy like this. I’d say it’d be to impress me, but…I don’t think that’s the real case. They know I don’t need…that kinda thing. Maybe they just like doing it. And that’s cool too, but it sure is a lot of effort…ouch, my fingers are starting to hurt trying to get this damn thing in.

Finally, it catches. That’s one. There are four more. Fuck. I run my hand back through my hair and sigh.

“Sorry, sorry,” they mumble, a hand covering their mouth. Their freckled cheeks start to bloom in a flush from embarrassment. Their nails are painted dark blue, and it’s a contrast to their pale face. “Just…”

I rise to my feet, my hands brushing against their bare hips. My fingers fidget in the lace of the barely fastened garter-belt, and I lean my forehead against theirs. “‘Ss’okay,” I mutter.

They take their hand away from their face and rest it on my shoulder. Whatever they had in mind before, I think…I think it’s gone now. Because it’s quiet now, and we’re just…here, like this.

It stays quiet.

64. leon

orig posted 04/20/2017.

It’s the last day of school.

I’m just here to clean out my locker. All the seniors already graduated. I watched Chelsea give her valedictorian speech. I wasn’t up there, of course. Christ, I think I spent maybe a total of…three months at school? If that. No way was I graduating. Mom’s probably screaming about my report card. Let her.

I already dropped off my textbooks with my teachers, so all that’s left is some…random crap. Papers and shit. I shove it all in my backpack–I’ll sort through it later. At the very back, there’s an unmarked envelope. Opening it reveals a wad of bills, all 20′s. Shit, I forgot I was saving some money here, too…

I stick that in my back pocket, then shut the locker door. It makes such a…loud sound, in this empty hallway. Very final. I guess it is. Bye, Somerville High. See you never.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder. Down the hall, light shines from the doors to the outside. I shove it open and get assaulted by the June sun. Summer’s sure here. Hopefully the AC in my car will hold out for another season. Speaking of cleaning shit out, I ought to clean my car soon…it’s getting messy. I throw my backpack in the passenger seat, and as soon as I put the key in, I crank down my window to get some fresh air inside. It’s hot as hell…

Pulling out of the parking lot, I instinctively throw the blinker up, then have to slam it back down. I’m going back toward Davis, not to my Mom’s. I don’t ever have to go back to her place again. The thought shakes me with relief…there’s no traffic out here, but I still have to stop and wait. I don’t have to deal with Mom yelling at me anymore.

And I get to live to talk about it.

I focus enough to drive, and push in the tape hanging out of the deck. It’s been sitting here for weeks, that Bush album–it’s good to drive to. I switch between that one and a Pearl Jam tape, but I’m probably going to have to dig that one out from…somewhere in here. I glance down to the cupholder, where there are two cassette tapes. Well, one of them is empty–it’s probably for this one–the other one I don’t recognize. I stop at a light and pick it up.

It’s just got a woman standing in front of a barber shop on it. I have to open up the tape to see what it actually is. “Drop Nineteens - Delaware”. Huh. This…definitely isn’t mine. I drop it when the light changes. It must be Leigh’s, they’re the only one I’ve had in my car lately. Well, besides Chelsea, but that was once in a long time.

Leigh…wonder if they’re home.

I catch my face in the rearview mirror, and it has a smirk on it. It catches me by surprise. I adjust it so I can actually see behind me…not that it matters, I’m at the house…

I hope they’re home. It’s weird, to look forward to something like that…I don’t know if I ever have…it’s not bad.

It’s kind of nice.

65. leigh

orig posted 04/22/2017.

“Don’t let the days go by…
Should’ve been easier on you
I couldn’t change, no, I wanted to…”

He drove out far enough to find a lookout. I don’t know if I’ve ever been out this way, he just kind of went on I-93 and got off when things started to look dead.

Despite my experience, I’ve never done something like this. It’s pretty basic–you know like in Back To The Future, when Marty takes his mom to the Night Under The Sea dance or whatever? They talk about “parking”. Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Except we got in the backseat…

He does this thing when he’s kissing me…he keeps tucking my bangs behind my ear, but then they just come back out. They’re not that long right now, but it’s sweet to feel his fingertips against my face. Even though the tape’s going, it still feels so…quiet. I can hear the stretch of his leather jacket, the sound of our lips, our breathing, the creak of the car as we shift around in it…

Mm…

You know, people like to comment on how good of a kisser someone is, but kissing really isn’t that hard. I think it’s something that’s gotten hardwired over thousands of years, and so we just know how to…do it. Still, he picked it up pretty quick, for never having done it before. When we first made out, his stubble scratched my chin, but we’ve gotten the hang of it now. It feels good…

He pauses to breathe, looking out the window past me. Then, he reaches over and cranks down the window, just a crack. “Getting warm?” I mutter with a impish grin.

“Little bit,” he replies. “J-just…stuffy.”

You can see the stars out here, even with the streetlight right above us. It’s a beautiful clear night, even if it’s a bit chilly. I scoot closer to lay my chest against his, hug around him. Yeah, he feels warm. I inhale him, the smell of leather, cigarettes, deodorant, and detergent. It’s all mundane, but mixed together with the faint scent of him, his skin, that unique smell that everyone has to their own gives me a headrush. God, Leon, you sure…you caught me.

I nestle my head into his shoulder. Being here…is good. It’s simple. It’s quiet. So long as the cops don’t come. I mean, we’re not fucking, like he’d ever want to out here…so it’s safe, right? In the end, we’re just a couple of kids, barely adults, trying to get away…

Although, even though he’s younger, I think he’s been an “adult” longer than I have.

Doesn’t matter now…

I tilt my head into his neck, and offer a few kisses there. I brush his hair out of the way, and give some more. I hear him sigh–he’s quiet even through this, except for a few gentle noises–and I respond in turn…

66. leon

orig posted 05/02/2017.

When I get home, Zoe’s sitting on the couch surrounded by snacks. A bag of chips, dip, a bottle of Coke…a bottle of chocolate syrup? Ah. In one hand is a pint of ice cream, and in the other is a can of whipped cream, and she sprays an incredible amount on top. Then catches my eye. “What?” she says. “This is the best idea I’ve had in my life.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. It’s time for me to go.

I turn in the hallway, but of course, she calls after me. “Hey, where’re you going?” she says. “I’ve got plenty of snacks here–come watch Friends with me!”

“No.”

“Leeeeeon!”

I continue climbing the stairs, one heavy step at a time. The sound of the TV fades out to quiet. Good. I’m tired. When am I not tired?

Ray’s door is open, and the room looks dark from here. Of course, he took the shift right after me. But, there’s light coming from Leigh’s room. I knock on the door. “Huh?” they say. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” I reply automatically. Who’s me, though? Idiot. I clear my throat. “Uh, Leon…”

“Oh, c’mon in…”

I open the door. They’re lying on the bed with their headphones in, staring blankly at the ceiling. They’re in lounging clothes–sweatpants, a t-shirt that’s two sizes too big for them and only half covering their stomach–and they look just fuckin’…out of it. “What…what’s up?” I ask tentatively.

“Dissociating to Radiohead.”

Diss…what? I have no idea what that means. I blink, and finally I see their eyes flicker over to me. They must see my confusion, because they clarify. “Spacing out.”

“Oh.” I know what that means. I do that a lot. Sometimes I put on a tape and just let it play like that, too. Did it at Mom’s a lot, unless she complained about the noise. I should get a Walkman like they do…

Look at me, I’m spacing out right now. I don’t realize they’ve sat up until they’re already against the headboard, giving me that…that smirk that they do. Ah. They pull their headphones off and rest them around their neck. “Just got home?” they ask.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply. “Ray’s…he’s got the night shift.”

“Cool.” They pat the bed. “Wanna sit?”

“Uh…” I guess so. Why else did I come in here? Just to say “hey” and leave? That’s probably what I would’ve done, just left and gone back to my room, to fuckin’ stare at the ceiling, or go downstairs and have another smoke–

They pat the bed more emphatically. “Come sit.”

It’s a command this time, something my thick head can understand, something I don’t have to make a choice about…so I do it. I sit at the edge beside them. They fumble with their Walkman, rewinding the tape a bit. “Radiohead’s real…kinda spacey music. Thom Yorke has this high voice…sometimes it’s whiny, but it just floats in the air other times, so you can just space out to it…”

“Never heard of ‘em,” I mumble.

“Really? Take a listen, here, this is their newest album…” They mash the headphones over my head, messing up my hair. I adjust them so they’re actually on my ears, and listen. I guess it’s not…bad. But, the look they’re giving me, eager to hear what I think…that’s almost better.

We’re just staring at each other. I’m not really listening, and I find that…I don’t care.

67.

orig posted 05/06/2017.

Spring mornings, even as late as May, have a tendency to last forever. They always feel early, starting at five and even extending their welcome past ten o’clock. And on one such spring morning in May, Zoe Wilson sipped a cup of coffee while staring out of the kitchen window. The view was fuzzy without her glasses, but still bright, filtering sky blue and vibrant green into her vision.

The quiet was disturbed by heavy footsteps down the stairwell immediately outside the kitchen door. She smirked as the figure emerged, rubbing their eyes blearily. “You’re up early,” she commented.

“Huh?” they replied. They tucked their long, bleached blond hair behind their ear and squinted at the time on the microwave. “It’s almost 10:30…”

“I know. Early for you,” she said with a wink, readjusting her robe at her voluminous chest. “I didn’t expect you up ‘til 2 at least, Leigh.”

Leigh snorted and waved their hand at her, stumbling in their pajama pants and baggy t-shirt over to the cupboard. They reached with long fingers up for a mug, then wandered to the coffee machine to pour themselves a cup. “Whatever. It’s not that late.”

“Uh-huh.”

They pouted before pulling out milk from the refrigerator. “Well, how long have you been up? You’re not even dressed yet. You don’t even get to talk.”

“I own this place, I do what I want.” She stuck her tongue out and crossed her arms. “And I’ve been up since 9, thank you very much. I take my sweet damn time.”

“Fine…” Leigh stirred their coffee, adding a heap of sugar to it as well. “Your house, your rules.”

“That’s right.” Zoe tilted her chin up, allowing her purple hair to shimmer in the sunlight. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to put another ad in for a roommate–”

“What? Who’s moving out?” Leigh asked.

“Well, you know one half of the drama couple already moved out,” she said. “Now the other half can’t pay rent. She hasn’t paid her last month, and has been remarkably absent.” She clicked her tongue and jabbed her thumb back. “She’s out.”

Leigh hissed in air through their teeth. “Ouch.”

Zoe tilted her head to the side. “Yeah…” Her voice grew soft for a second, but then hardened. “I’d feel bad, but she’s not a kid. She should know better, and she knows the policy. I think she’ll move back into wherever she was before…”

“Honestly…” Leigh started, hiding behind their coffee cup. “I’m kinda glad they’re gonna be gone…they fought a lot.”

“No shit,” Zoe sighed. “Even Clover was starting to complain, and that’s when you know it’s bad.”

“Yeah, Ray was fed up with it, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoe redirected her attention out the window. “He didn’t mention it to me. If that were the case, I would’ve gotten ‘em out sooner.”

“Why’s that?” Leigh asked.

“Your brother’s handy, so I give him a rent discount and whatever else he wants so he sticks around.” She took a long drink of her coffee. “Besides, he doesn’t seem like the type to settle down.”

“Ray doesn’t date.”

“See, that’s what I mean.”

They stood in the kitchen in relative silence, broken only by the sound of birds twittering in the bushes outside. “Ahh, shoot,” Zoe sighed. “Are you working today?”

“Yup. I go in at 4.”

“‘Til when?”

“Midnight.”

“Yikes.”

“It’s whatever. I’ll live.” They waved their hand. “You?”

“I’ve got the day off, but I’ve got errands to run.” She rubbed her eyes, and attempted to squint out the window. “Y’know, I’ve never really shaken that feeling you get when you’re off when the rest of the world is working, or at school.”

Leigh’s eyes widened in agreement. “Mm, yeah,” they said. “Like, you’re not quite where you’re supposed to be? I get that school feeling too. Anytime I’m out at like…between 11 to 2, just dicking around…”

With another sip of coffee, Zoe smirked. “Isn’t it nice to not have to worry about school anymore?”

“Oh, definitely.” They nodded deeply. “I wouldn’t go back if you paid me.”

“Me too, kid.” She rested her coffee cup on the counter beside the sink, then rested her hands on each side of the sink basin. “I wonder what the kids in school are doing right now?”

At Somerville High, in the smoking corner outside, Leon Donovan stared up at the same sun, blowing smoke up into the air. I would give anything to not be here right now, he thought, warmth from the sun absorbing into his leather jacket. I would give anything to just go back home, shut the curtains, and go the hell back to sleep.

There was no one with him in the ash-scented alcove, and he stared out into the parking lot, picking out his black sedan in the sea of cars. No one is stopping me. I could just…go. His arm dropped from his lips, cigarette in hand as his vision glazed over. I could go.

Fuck, but I don’t know what shift Mom’s working. If she’s home, I’m fucking dead.

His jaw tensed, even when he forced his lips to stay loose on the cigarette filter. God, no. No, I can’t go home. Not ‘til after 2:30. So, what am I gonna do? Drive around? Get groceries? I shouldn’t spend more money, I’ve got to…at least try to save some money…

So…

The bell rang above him, and he instinctively spit out his cigarette and crushed it under his foot, joining a fair number of other cigarette butts on the cracked cement. Next period is algebra. Then physics. Then free period. Then, I can go home. He smoothed back his wavy, tawny hair with one hand, a sinking feeling in his chest. I didn’t do any homework. Whatever, whatever, I don’t fucking care.

I don’t care.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to go home. I don’t even wanna go to work. I don’t want to be anywhere. Fuck.

The bell rang again, and he felt his feet trudge backwards into the hallway. And now I’m going to be late. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. None of this does. I’ll just…

Leon pushed through the door, wandering through the halls on auto-pilot, even so far as to let his vision grow hazy at the edges. I’ll just…do this. For today. Get through today…survive…today.

He knocked on the door of the classroom, and watched the entire class stare up at the door. He winced and immediately stared at his shoes, up until the teacher let him in. “Late, Donovan,” she said. “I’ll let it slide today…” Her voice dropped. “Since you’re here for once…”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, rushing to the back of the class where he slipped into the corner desk. Yeah, just…get through today, he thought, immediately tuning her voice out as soon as she began to write formulas on the overhead projector. Leon stared out the window, letting himself drift. Then, tomorrow…we’ll see.

68. leon

orig posted 05/07/2017.

I took the morning shift today, and my feet are just starting to ache when Ray comes in. He’s got Leigh with him today, and they’re talking his ear off. “…And I really wanted to stay, but the bouncer was eyeing me and it was almost last call, so I just booked it outta there…”

Ray makes eye contact with me, and I nod, heading out to the back to grab my jacket. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of the day…I know I need a smoke, though. Hopefully that means I can go without eating ‘til dinner.

When I come out, Leigh is right at the counter, propping their head up with their hands. “Hey,” they say.

“Uh…hey,” I reply. Ray scoots around me with a grunt.

They bite their lip and adjust the flower in their hair. It’s a…tiger lily, I think. Orange. “You’re all done, right?”

“Mm.”

They tilt their head to one side, fiddling with the silver rings on their fingers. “Um…are you up to anything?”

“N…no.”

“I was…well, I wanted to…um…” They fidget more, and won’t look right at me. “God, I’m sorry, I–”

Ray groans from the back. “Dude, just ask him to hang out.”

Leigh’s face burns bright red, making the freckles stand out on their pale face. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Why do they wanna hang out with me? I’m not that interesting…I don’t even know why they’re so flustered. But…just as I’m about to respond, they giggle and wave their hand, embarrassed. “I-if you don’t want to, o-or if you’ve got plans, y’know, you don’t have to, I’m just–”

God, it’s hard to stop them from talking. But, I stutter enough to interrupt them. “It’s, ah…” I start, running my hand back through my hair. “It’s cool. S-sure.”

They brighten up, enough to bounce off the counter. “C-cool!” they exclaim. They move so sharply that the flower falls out of their hair and skitters across the counter, falling at my feet. “Oh, shit, sorry…”

I pick it up–it’s a fake flower, which I should’ve known since it’s got glitter in it, but ti’s still…pretty. I hold it by the stem and hand it over. “Thank you, I’ve got to clip it in better,” they say, snagging it from my hands. They fuss for a bit at the side of their hair, messing with some bobby pins, and so it stays. “There. That should do it.”

I nod, and slowly shuffle out from behind the counter, slipping my jacket over my arms. It’s been…a long time since someone’s wanted to hang out with me. Let alone someone new. Leigh’s not…new, I see them around town a lot…but…

…they want to be my friend.

And they’re…beaming at me. It’s alarming. “What?” I say.

“Huh? Oh!” They’re still pink, and stare down at their shoes. “It’s fine. Let’s go!” They take a deep breath and shout back behind me. “See you!”

“Bye,” Ray grunts from behind the counter.

They lead the way outside, long hair fluttering behind them. This is…this is different. I didn’t expect this. But…I think I like it? I don’t know. It’s too soon to say.

But I’m feeling something. So, that’s…good. I think, anyway…

69. leigh

orig posted 05/18/2017.

Despite living with him, I really…don’t see Leon as often as I could. I mean, he’s supposed to still be in school, but he’s talked about not really wanting to go. I already stopped at the record store, but Ray’s working, meaning he’s not.

The house is empty–typical for the middle of the week in the middle of the day. Zoe and Ray are working, Clover’s at class. So it should only be me. And…possibly Leon. I creep on the second floor, pacing past his room. The door is open a crack. I want to knock…I mean, it’s 2 in the afternoon, he shouldn’t be sleeping still…

I take a deep breath. Here we go.

I knock three times. Nothing. I wait. I hear…shuffling, the shuffling of sheets. He’s in there. “Leon?” I ask.

Everything freezes. Maybe he doesn’t…want to be disturbed. But God, it’s been a couple days and I haven’t seen him. No one has. I’m a little worried. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and push the door open with my fingertips, letting momentum carry it forward.

He’s buried in blankets on his sleeping bag. Only his messy hair is peeking out. The shades are closed, and even though it’s pretty sunny out, his room is cloaked in cool darkness. “H-hey,” I start. “You…you awake, man?”

He groans and rolls back over. “N…no,” he replies.

I can’t help but snort. No, huh? I shuffle a little closer. “Everything okay?” I ask.

He sighs, then shuffles himself a bit out of the sleeping bag, scratching his bare chest idly. He’s got impressive bedhead, somehow emphasized as he attempts to run his hand back through it. “Tired,” he mumbles.

He rubs his gray eyes–he sure looks it. “Yeah,” I reply, still quiet. “What…what are you up to today? Do you have work?”

He has to think about this…his brow furrows, and he shakes his head. “N-no, I have…had the last couple days off.”

“No school?”

“Nope.”

Yeah, figured as much. “So, do you–”

I trail off as he rests his head in his hands, tugging a bit at his hair. “Fuck,” he mutters, under his breath. Suddenly, I wonder–has he even left his room if he hasn’t had to work? To shower? To eat? To do anything? We’ve really only had a heart-to-heart talk once, before he moved in…and he talked about feeling like he was just “drifting”. Like he didn’t have any purpose.

Suddenly, I’m worried. Really worried.

“Hey,” I say, and I squat down by his side. “I was gonna make some lunch. I can make something for you if you want.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. Not hungry. Sh…” He stops himself and trails off, eyes widening briefly. What was that about?

Still, I have a bad feeling, so I insist. “C’mon, dude,” I say. Stay casual, right? I pull on his wrist, and to my surprise, he slips right out–he’s not wearing a shirt, but thank God he’s wearing sweatpants, or else I would feel really stupid. “Let’s get something, yeah?”

“I…” he protests, but it’s weak, and he doesn’t stop me from helping him to his feet. He looks dazed, like he hasn’t talked to or seen anyone in weeks. He blinks hard twice, then looks at me. His gaze darts a bit, but for a split second, he reaches my own eyes, and I have to bite my cheek. “Mm’kay.”

I smile at him, realize I’m still holding onto his wrist, and let it go. “Cool,” I reply, then shuffle away, keeping the door open to make sure he’s following behind.

He does, but he stops short at the frame. “Uh,” he grunts, staring down at his chest. “Should…get a shirt.”

“If you wanna, I mean, no one else is home,” I say. “It’s, ah…it’s just us.”

I’ve seen him shirtless before. I still have to keep my eyes up. Because I’m gay and I can’t help it. He looks behind him, swiveling his head back, then slowly turns back. Then, he shrugs and continues to follow me down the stairs. Good, good…you’ll feel better getting up and around, getting something to eat…

I bite my lip. Shit. I didn’t really have anything in mind to cook. What do we even have? He might have to settle for a grilled cheese. Smooth. As we’re halfway down the stairs, I glance back, and he’s right there. And he gives me a little smile. It’s so, so small, so faint and clouded by his 5 o’clock shadow, but it’s there…

…It’s a small victory.

70. leon

orig posted 05/22/2017.

In the locker room after practice, I pull out my jeans and fish out quarters from the pockets before I put them on. I should have enough to call Mom for a ride…will she even pick me up, though? She’s probably working…

I feel a clap on my shoulder. It jumps me. “Yo! Joey!” It’s Danny, we do most of our drills together. He’s about twice as wide as I am, and all muscle…if I can get a tackle on him, it’s a good day. He’s pretty cool. Except…he forgets that I go by a different name now. Today, he catches himself. “Sorry. Leon!”

The fact that he makes the effort when a lot of people don’t is…nice. I nod. “Hey,” I say, setting my pile of quarters on the bench behind me. Let’s see, where’s my shirt…

“Dude, are you ready for that test in physics tomorrow?” he asks.

I shrug. “Guess so.” Ready as I’ll ever be. Studying is so…exhausting. I’ve been slipping a bit lately, but I took decent notes for this one. I mean, last report card I took home, Mom barely looked at it…she doesn’t care. I’m starting to wonder what it’s going to take for her to…

…to…

“If you wanna compare notes sometime, man, I’d be up for it,” he says, bouncing on his toes. “Then we’re free for homecoming…are you going to the dance?”

“Dance?” I ask, my shirt half on my head.

“Yeah, homecoming dance. You know…” I see him grin once I get my shirt over my head. “I thought you were gonna be taking Chelsea?”

“Huh?” I blink at him. “N-no, I’m probably…not going.”

“What?” he chuckles. “I could’ve sworn you two were…y’know, something.”

Something, huh? I zip my fly and pull my backpack out of the locker. “We’re friends,” I say simply. Chelsea’s my best friend, she was the first one to connect with me last year, and she was around when Aunt Sally died…

“Oh, yeah? I see you guys together everywhere,” he says. Danny’s got a huge smile that makes it hard not to join in with him. My mouth tries. I think I need to shave again. We got the whole class about puberty in 8th grade, but God, I didn’t honestly think I’d have to start worrying about all this shaving shit now. “She’s cute.”

What am I supposed to say to that? “Sure.” I mean, yeah…but–

“See, you like her!” he continues to tease, and he gives me a light punch on the shoulder. “Go for it, man! Get out there!”

I shake my head, swiping the quarters from the bench. “N-nah. She’s my best friend, that’s all,” I say. I run my hand back through my messy hair, and look at Danny’s clean, close cut look. I don’t think I’m her type anyway…

I don’t think I’m anybody’s type…just a feeling.

Thankfully, he drops the subject. “It’s all right, I’m just messin’ with you,” he says. He eyes my hand with the quarters clenched in them. “Say, I can give you a ride home if you want.”

“Ah…” Yeah, what are the chances of Mom even being around? I pocket the quarters for the payphone. “S-sure. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem.” He backs out of the locker room as I’m shuffling my shoes on. “I’ll meet you out front.”

“Sure.”

I shut the locker slowly, so slow I can feel the lock click into place. I leave my hand resting on the cool metal and stare down at the floor. Now I hope Mom’s not home. Maybe I can study without her yelling at me about…something. Or, I could just put on a tape…or smoke in peace, without her yelling about how bad it is, even though she does…

C’mon, Leon. Don’t keep one of the only friends you have waiting…

71. cw

orig posted 05/28/2017. contains parental abuse, suicidal ideation; viewer discretion is advised.

Most mornings, Leon’s 7 AM alarm clock came and went without fanfare. He turned it off, and went back to sleep. But today, at 9 AM, he found himself hiding under his bed, still in his pajamas, holding his breath as he heard footsteps echo back and forth in the hallway.

I can’t believe she broke the fucking lock, he thought, chin against the hardwood floor. She swiped a credit card in the door and broke into my room. And then, she…

(“Joey! What the hell!” She stormed in and slapped him across the face, a rude awakening. “Why aren’t you at school?!”

“I…I…” He stammered, unable to breathe as the sting of the slap pulsed on his face. His heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. “I…”

“Get up! Get dressed, you lazy, ungrateful…” She trailed off as she threw the covers off him. “Don’t just fucking stare at me! I’m taking you to school!”

He forced himself out of bed, stumbling to his feet as his throat stung…)

The memory made his body tense, right down to his toes. I should install a deadbolt.

“Joey? Joey, you’d better not be in there…”

The skirt on his bed hid him completely beneath it, but adrenaline still coursed through him as her footsteps drew closer. Three knocks on the door. “If you’re in there…” His mother’s voice grew into a mumble as she jiggled the handle. Why? Why do you have to break in?

(In the car, he finally found his voice. “My door was locked,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t even have a lock on that door,” she replied.

“Still, wh-why…why did you–”

“Speak up.”

Leon flinched, but his annoyance trumped his fear. “Why did you break in?”

“I’m your mother, I don’t need a reason.”)

Leon clenched his teeth. That’s what you said. You’re only my mom when it’s convenient…

Clicking and swiping sounds could be heard from the door, repeated as she continued to fuss with the lock. It didn’t take long for the squeak of a twisting handle, or the creak of the door opening to reach his ears. “Joey? Ah…”

One, two, three steps to the foot of the bed. “Good. Fucking…” She sighed as she sat on the bed, mattress bowing dangerously close to Leon’s head. “One less God damn thing to worry about.”

I don’t know what you want from me, Leon thought, letting out the stagnant air from his lungs as slowly as he could in order to keep quiet. You always sound like you’d be better off without me–hell, I know that–but you complain when I don’t go to school, or whenever I’ve threatened to leave.

(“Well, maybe I’ll just get my own place.”

“You can’t do that!” The force in her voice buried the last of his confidence. “You can’t do that. I won’t allow it. You haven’t paid me back for the car, and…”)

I paid off the car a long time ago. Leon closed his eyes. I know what she wanted to say. “Everything else”. Like I owe her…

Like I owe her for being alive…

The mattress creaked again, and his mother got up and started pacing around the room. “What a mess,” she muttered. “Can’t even clean his own room, let alone pull his weight in the rest of the house…”

For Christ’s sake, you’re barely even here! Leon’s blood boiled, emphasized by his held breath. It’s a miracle that you’re even around in the morning twice this week! Just get out of here, go, go, go, go…

As if she heard his telepathic goading, she huffed and walked out, shutting the door behind her. I’m surprised she didn’t snoop through my shit. As if she hasn’t already, who knows…

Footsteps wandered into the kitchen, followed by the jingling of keys, and the slamming of another door. A minute later, a car engine revved, then pulled out of the gravel driveway, and sped down the road. Five minutes after that, Leon allowed himself to breathe, and scooted himself out from under the bed, dust all over his sweatpants.

He dragged himself to the bed and sat on the mattress, hunched over with his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he groaned to himself, shoulders beginning to quiver. How much longer am I going to be able to do this? She doesn’t want me to leave, because I’m extra income that she can pick at whenever she wants. But, she doesn’t want me to stay, because I’m just a burden, a mistake, I’m something she didn’t want…

His breathing hitched, and tears leaked from his eyes while he rocked back and forth. I’m a waste. I’m a fucking waste…

With a gasping breath, he doubled over completely, kicking at the foot of the mattress with his bare foot. Pain surged through his toe up through his leg, but he ignored it as he sobbed in his empty bedroom. I’d be better off dead. Better off fucking dead. He pulled an arm away from his face to blearily peer just beneath the mattress. Is it still…?

His kick rattled the mattress frame just enough to roll a refilled Gatorade bottle within arm’s reach. The contents were a sickly, dark green color, and had some dark pellets sunk at the bottom. Nyquil, crushed sleeping pills, bleach, and rat poison. He picked up the bottle and held it with one hand, nearly staring through it. That’d be enough, wouldn’t it? I made this…ages ago…

Still haven’t done anything with it…

(drink it drink it drink it)

(no one will find you until it’s too late)

Fear grappled him like a cold hand around his throat. “A-ah…” he uttered, beginning to shake. It’d be all over. I wouldn’t have to deal with…any of this. Anymore. No more school. No more Mom.

(just do it just do it)

(“…Hey, Leon!”)

(“It’s good to see you!”)

(“Hey, I keep seeing you around…what’s your name again?”)

Leon let the bottle fall from his hands, back onto the floor with a thud. “C-c-c-can’t,” he sobbed, rolling over onto his bed and burying his head in the pillow. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t even do that…I’m such a coward…such a waste of fucking space…

Worthless…

Maybe if I just…sleep…I won’t wake up.

He gripped at his messy hair as his crying slowed and his breathing regulated to a steady rhythm. His mind slowly quieted down as well, from ragged, internal screaming, to the fog he was quite familiar with. He never thought he would welcome it, but at quarter past 9 in the morning, it was almost soothing.

Leon adjusted his head to breathe fresh air, with some of his hair sticking to his tear-stained face. If I do wake up…I’ve got to do it before 3. Just so…I have enough time to get to work. I can…make it to work. Get some money.

(for what)

For…something better.

(but she won’t let you leave)

I…I know. I don’t care. I’m…tired. Again.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. She’s gone for now. Let me…please let me sleep. It’s the only thing I can do right, so let me do it…

Emotional exhaustion caught up with him, and to his relief, guided him into a blank, dreamless sleep.

72. leon

orig posted 05/29/2017.

TV dinners are pretty boring. I rotate between meatloaf, mac and cheese, and a turkey dinner one, just because they’re the safest. Tonight’s turkey. The microwave beeps, and I pull it out. I peel off the plastic film off the top and stir the processed mashed potatoes, mixing half of them with the stuffing and gravy. It’s food. And it’s pretty cheap.

I plop the fork into one of the perfect, circular turkey medalions and head out to the dining room, when I hear a voice. It doesn’t sound like the fuzz from the TV, but it’s not a language I understand. I took Spanish as a freshman, but I’ve lost a lot of that now.

…It sounds kinda frantic. It freezes me in the hallway. I listen closer–it’s higher pitched. It’s not Leigh’s higher voice that they sometimes put on, and it’s not Zoe…so it must be Clover. That’d explain it…she’s Asian, isn’t she? Korean, I think…

Suddenly, her voice rises, and speaks something I can comprehend. “Why won’t you listen to me?!”

Oh, God. My mind repeats the phrase in Mom’s voice. I should just run upstairs, stay out of whatever the hell’s going on…but I stay put. I’m frozen. She huffs and speaks again. “Don’t call me any more!”

The phone slams down on a receiver somewhere. The hallway down to the living room is a straight shot to the couch, and I see her rush to it and plop down, head in her hands. I wonder who it was.

By the time I realize I haven’t moved, she’s already noticed me. “Leon?” She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Shoot, did you…hear any of that?”

“Uh…yeah.” My legs walk forward on their own into the living room, still with my TV dinner in my hands. I stop short in front of the couch.

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Just…that was my ex, she just–”

She huffs and shakes her head. “She just acts like I owe her something, like it’s all my fault! She’s the one who wouldn’t budge when I asked her to help me out! And she knew that I was taking a full class load, I don’t have time for a lot of stuff!” Her frustration strains her voice. “And she didn’t want to pay any rent to stay here with me, since she stays in a dorm during the school year…”

“That…sucks,” I manage to say. Even I know Clover’s really busy…I didn’t even know she had a girlfriend. Well, not anymore…sounds like it was getting pretty rocky. Like I’d know anything about that, though…

“I just…I don’t wanna hear from her anymore,” she says with a sigh. She rests her elbows on her knees, with her hands loose in front of her. “It’s over. We broke up a week ago. I’m done.” She scoots back on the couch and splays her arms out at each side. “Done! I don’t have time to mope…”

Her head lolls to one shoulder, and her face crumples a bit. “S-still…”

God, I’m not the one who should be here for this. Zoe would give better advice. So would Leigh. Hell, even Ray could have something to say. Not me, though. My TV dinner has stopped steaming, and I still haven’t budged from where I’ve stopped. I mean, all I can do is hope it gets better…

…that’s what I kept doing, and…it has. A little. Enough.

Her brown eyes flick over to me. To my surprise, she smiles. “Thanks for listening,” she says. “I didn’t mean to dump it on you…”

“N-no, ‘s’okay,” I mumble. I look down at my food, which looks less appetizing by the second. “I gotta…should go heat this…back up…”

“Hm?” She sits up and tries to peer at my tray. “Microwave dinner?”

“Yeah…”

She scrunches her nose. “I don’t like those. They’re too salty.” She waves her hand. “I bet if you asked Zoe, she’d–”

The basement door flies open. “What?!” Zoe calls. “Did I hear you say something about ‘too salty’?! Girl, you eat instant ramen–!”

“I only use a half a packet!” she yells back. There’s a bit of laughter in her voice. See, Zoe’s better at making people feel better. But still, Clover looks back at me with a shy smile. “Thanks though, Leon.”

Ah. “N-no prob.”

I nod, then I turn around and shuffle away, back to the kitchen. Back to square one, I open the microwave and set the timer for another thirty seconds. People usually complain about me not talking, not having anything to say, rather than praise me for listening…

It’s a cool change of pace, I guess…

73. leon

orig posted 06/06/2017.

There are freeze pops in the freezer, but Leigh insists we go out and get slushies from the 7-11 down the street. It’s so hot out, though. It’s too hot to exist. I think if I even considered wearing my leather jacket, it’d probably combust.

We buy two large ones upon their request. It’s only a couple bucks, after all. Blue raspberry. The throng of the city heat is impossible, so we walk to find some shade in the park nearby.

“Don’t you have any shorts?” they ask as we sit down underneath a tree. They’re wearing short-shorts that show off their thin, pale legs.

I sigh and shake my head. I’ve been living in one pair of jeans for the last four years, and never got around to buying something as frivolous as shorts for summer. Besides, these things are paper thin. I’ll get rid of them if the crotch wears out…

They take a long sip of the icy drink, too long, and hold their head. “Oh, fuck! Brainfreeze!” they exclaim with a wince.

“Gotta be careful,” I reply. I take shorter sips. It’s sickeningly sweet. I’m not going to be able to drink all of this. The only thing that makes it drinkable is the sour edge that trails each sip. And the fact that it’s cold.

Leigh composes themself and stares out at the park, at the people walking by. “God, it’s like a mirage out there,” they marvel. “It’s supposed to hit 100 today. One of the hottest summers in a while.”

“Mmm.” Yeah, sure seems like it. Didn’t it rain all last summer? I don’t remember…

“It rained a lot last year.” I was right. “Maybe this is making up for it or something.”

“Maybe.” I drink some more. I don’t think this is making me any less thirsty. I remember being a kid, Aunt Sally and I walking to the gas station down the street and getting Slush Puppies. That’s just frozen ice mostly…not quite the same as this. I got the “blue flavor” all the time…

“Hey, check me out.” They bump against my shoulder and look right at me. Their lips are slightly blue toward the crease of their mouth. “Is my tongue blue? Aaah…”

They stick their tongue out. I smirk and nod. “Yup. Totally blue.”

“C’mon, I gotta check yours.” Even their teeth are tinged blue as they grin, scooting closer.

I bite my lip and look away. They’re…ah. My face feels hot, and I choose to occupy my mouth with the plastic straw, chewing it instead of drinking it.

But, they won’t be deterred. “Leoooon! Lemme see!”

“Y-you know it’s gonna be…”

“Stick out your tongue!”

I sigh again, and I do so. They don’t take their eyes off my mouth. “There.” I say. “Told you–”

A wild spark enters their green-blue eyes, and they pounce on me, kissing me with enough force to bump our teeth together. I fumble to try and make something of it, but they also pushed me off balance, and I grab their shoulders to try and right myself. “H-hey…” I mumble, as soon as I can right myself.

They touch their forehead against mine, and slip their arms around my neck. “You’re cute.”

There are a lot of things I want to say. “It’s too hot to do this”. “People are going to stare”. “No, you’re the cute one”.

But my blue, sugar-stained tongue is too tied up to say anything, and it makes them smile more…

74. leigh

orig posted 06/15/2017.

You can’t really see much for stars out here in the city. Ray always talks about packing up his truck and just driving, maybe out to Vermont or something, where he can camp and get away. But, right now, I’m lying in the back of his truck in the driveway, staring up at the night sky. It’s pretty quiet for once.

Not for long.

I hear footsteps crunching against gravel, and the jingling of keys. Who else could that be this late? I get a head rush as I sit up. Sure enough, Leon’s walking up the stairs, twirling his keys in his hand before he heads up to the house. “Hey,” I call out to him.

I regret it immediately, because he jumps and drops the keys. “Shit–!” he hisses, picking them back up. He whirls around and squints, then sighs a bit and stuffs his hands in his pockets before he moseys over to me. His voice resumes its low mutter that I’m more used to. “You jumped me.”

“Sorry,” I apologize, hanging over the side of the truck. “Not used to anyone being out when you get home, huh?”

He shakes his head, then studies me further. “What are you doing out here?” he asks.

“Star-gazing.”

He looks up, dubious. “Can’t see much.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know.” I shrug, my rings clicking against the side of the truck as I drum my fingers. “It’s cooler out here than it is inside, though.”

He simply nods. I think he shaved today, by the looks of his less prominent 5 o’clock shadow. Or, I guess it’d be a midnight shadow by now. His lips form sort of a bow above his chin, and I…Christ. I’m gay, is what.

He won’t do anything unless I ask. “Wanna join me?”

With a blink, he glances back over. “S…sure.” He shuffles behind the truck and steps up into it, taking a seat next to me. There’s a space that he creates next to me, and while it isn’t too much of a gap, it’s still…there. It’s made up for the fact that he sits back on his hands, and one of them sits very close to my back.

And anyway, he’s close enough to catch his scent–of leather, cigarettes, and deodorant in a faint aura around him. With the hand further away from me, he pushes back his hair. “Yeah, it is a nice night,” he remarks.

“Mmhm.” It’s odd for him to make small talk. So, maybe he’s got some jitters too. I’ve noticed…ever since the whole fiasco when we went to pick up his mattress, he’s been a little different around me. Not bad different, just…I can always tell when someone has a crush on me. Always. And I think…

…I think he might.

A breeze blows through, rustling the trees. In only a tanktop, I shudder a bit. I was warm before, but now there are goosebumps on my shoulders, and I rub the side of my arm to try and dispel them.

He notices, and cocks his head. “You’re not cold, are you?” he asks quietly.

“Huh? Oh, no, I-I was fine, just the…” Ah, shit. Was he going to offer me his jacket? Like some kind of cliche? I think he was. And I just kept babbling. I’m still doing it. “…Y-you know, just the…breeze kicked up, ah…” I shake my head and giggle, waving my hand. “I’m fine! I’m fine…”

Leon’s lips part as he watches me fucking flounder, and he looks away, tugging the back of his hair. “’Kay,” he murmurs, with a chuckle. “If you say so.”

He sighs, but I can spot him sneaking a look back at me. “Um…I mean…this jacket, with my sweatshirt…it’s a little…” Another heaving sigh, as if the speaking itself is an effort. But, he sits up and leans back against the truck. “Little much, yeah?”

He bites his lip, then shimmies it off his shoulders and puts it in the space between us. Then, he rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I-In case you need it.”

My voice is mouse quiet when I speak. “Thanks.”

Silence envelopes us. Despite the urge to just grab it, heart pounding in my chest, I let it sit there for a while…

75. leon

orig posted 07/05/2017.

Their hands are so gentle.

They comb through my hair, my messy as fuck hair, with their fingertips, slow and steady. I know their nails are longer, with a fresh coat of black paint, but they still don’t snag. I can’t run my own fingers through my hair without snagging. They look so…focused. Today, they’re wearing a daisy in their hair. It’s a little wilted–probably something they picked up on their way home…

“Your hair’s so soft,” they murmur.

I don’t wash it, I wanna say. Sure, I rinse it, when I can get into a shower…it’s harder now, when I’m not playing sports. When I’m not getting up in the morning. When I don’t wanna get up. Still, they’ll probably think I’m gross if I tell the truth. So, I don’t. “Mm,” I reply.

I don’t know what’s playing on the tape, but it’s definitely easy listening. Sounds like the shit you hear at K-Mart. Aunt Sally used to shop there and there alone, even though the closest one was in Malden. She’d take me, in the sedan I’m driving now, get me a slice of pizza at the Little Ceasar’s, then buy some new clothes. Mom rarely came with us, she used the excuse that she had to work…I don’t think she wanted to. Probably thought it was tacky…

I blink back into focus, and they’re staring at me like they asked me something. Shit. “Huh? Wh-what?” I ask, feeling like an idiot. Yeah, I’m barely fucking paying attention, all the damn time, stupid, stupid…

“Nothing,” they say quietly, with a little smile. “I was just…your eyes. I dunno if I’ve ever seen that color before.”

“A-ah.” My eyes are gray, a cool gray. A quick look might make you think they’re that light blue that’s more common, but…nope. I sigh and try to smile. It must look horrible. “I…get that a lot.”

It doesn’t push them away. They actually look more curious. “I bet,” they say. “Super rare…”

“I think…it’s from somewhere on my mom’s side. Like…my mom’s mom’s…mom?” I shake my head, trying to remember how that went. “Like…some weird recessive gene, or something…”

“That far back?” they say. They scoot a little closer to me, as if they weren’t close enough before. They smell…like flowers. Of course they do. It’s nice. “Do both of your parents have blue eyes, or something? That’s recessive…”

“Uh, Mom does,” I say. “I…don’t know about my dad. I don’t think so, though.”

I never met my dad. When I was ten, on my tenth birthday even, I saw a card in the trash addressed to me. It was ripped open and ripped in half. When I went to try to pull it out, Mom yelled at me for it. But, every month since then, at least I think, there’s a handwritten envelope addressed to her, with only a check in it. Fuck, what was the name on that…? Gonzalez…?

Good grief. I’ve lost myself again. But, I’ve spaced out while looking right at Leigh’s eyes. Theirs are…way cooler than mine. They’re like gemstones, so bright. Like an…a cyan, aquamarine, a blue-green…

They giggle. “What’s up?”

I must be showing that I want to say something. Can I do it? Can I say something worthwhile for once? I take a deep breath. “Y-your eyes…” I stutter. I feel stupid already. “…pretty. Th-they’re pretty.”

Despite my horrible execution, their cheeks grow pink. “Thanks,” they say, turning their head down. They fidget, but their gentle hands flinch toward mine…and I take one. I lace our fingers together, and they smile.

Maybe I’m not so much of a fuckup after all…

76.

orig posted 07/10/2017.

Leon stared up at the summer sky, with Leigh caught in the crook of his arm. Hot hot. I shouldn’t have worn my leather. But, I really feel naked without it. Especially since we’re out in town…

“God, I never come into Boston anymore,” Leigh babbled, staring at all of the buildings around them. “Seems like every time I’m here now, there’s something new.”

“Didn’t you…grow up here?” Leon asked.

“Oh, yeah. Mom still lives in the Fens.” They giggled and stuck their tongue out. “Right on Queensbury Street. There’s a new assisted living home that’s like a block down, and she jokes that she barely has to go anywhere when she gets too old.”

Leon nodded with a snicker, then used his other hand to wipe a sheen of sweat off his brow. They crossed the bridge over the highway, past the firehouse, where the road sloped down a hill. “H-hey, can we…?” he started to ask. Get to a place with some air conditioning was how he wanted to finish, but his eye caught a row of motorcycles parked on the side of the road. “Ah…”

“Hm?” Leigh clung to him, bumping their hip against his as his pace slowed to a crawl. They dipped forward to try and follow his gaze, and eventually caught up to the motorcycles. “Oh, hey! These are some sick bikes.”

Leon nodded. “Yeah.”

All of the motorcycles were sleek and pristine, as if they were freshly waxed. Most of them were black, with chrome revealing the engine and pipes on the bottom half of the bike, but others had decals and glimmering accessories. Of the few colored bikes, there was one with a deep purple finish, sparkles in its paint coat, that caught Leon’s eye. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a purple motorcycle before, he thought, edging to the curb of the sidewalk. Leigh hung back, relinquishing his arm in favor of holding his hand. I’ve always wanted to learn how to drive one…it’d be pretty cool. But, the money involved, plus I don’t even have a bike, so…

(driving through western Mass with Leigh at his back, arms wrapped around his waist…)

Leon bit his lip. Yeah, that’d be…pretty cool.

“Hey, look but don’t touch, yeah?”

The voice came from behind him, and Leon nearly jumped back into Leigh as he straightened his back. He stared at the boots of the man who startled him, avoiding eye contact. “S-sorry…” he muttered.

To his surprise, the man chuckled, and it invited him to look up. He was lean built, dark tanned skin, and long black hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a beard that looked a few days out from a shave, a strong, angled nose, and dark brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sun. As Leon blinked at him, the man gave a nod. “You ride, kid?” he asked.

“Uh, n-no…” Leon managed, gesturing weakly. “I…just, uh…”

“He likes motorcycles,” Leigh finished for him. Leon noticed their voice pitched just a hair higher. Yeah, that tends to happen, whenever we’re out and we talk to strangers. And especially since they’re in a dress, I guess they wanna…be more like a girl for today.

The man nodded and ran a leather gloved hand over the body of the bike. “She’s nice, though, isn’t she? I got her a few years ago, when we were riding in…hell, North Carolina?” He stared up at the sky, scratching the top of his head. “Something like that.”

“You travel a lot, huh?” Leigh said, hanging back just behind Leon.

“Yeah, all up and down the east coast,” he replied. He looked out over the highway. “Been a while since I’ve been back here. I grew up near Roxbury.”

Leon flinched, but it smoothed into him pushing back his hair out of his face. That’s where Mom grew up. Gram still has that house out there… He studied the man for a second, careful not to garner too much attention from it. He looks like her age, maybe…I’m not good at that shit though. I look way older than I am because my face can’t stay clean for more than a half a day…

However, he caught the biker’s eye long enough for him to cock his head and look him dead in the face. “Hey, you look…familiar,” he said. “You from around here?”

“N-not really,” Leon mumbled. “I mean, well, I’m from Somerville…”

“Somerville?” His eyes widened, and he tugged on the earring in his right ear. “I know a few people in that area. What’s your name?”

Do I just tell this dude my name? I’ve never seen him in my life, and he thinks he knows me. Leon hesitated, and glanced back at Leigh for some kind of cue. They had a hand over their mouth, focus in their eyes, but shook themselves out of it. “Hm?” they said.

Oh, what the hell. It’s not like I’m gonna see him again. “It’s Leon,” he replied finally. “Leon Dono–”

“Oy, Jake!” A group of men, all in leather jackets, were gathering around the row of bikes, and one of them called out to him. “¡Estamos listos para ir!”

The biker, Jake, didn’t take his eyes off Leon. “Yeah, yeah, sólo un minuto.” He stepped onto the sidewalk, a little closer. “Did you say ‘Donovan?’“

“Y-yeah…?” he replied, squeezing Leigh’s hand on instinct. Why is he looking at me like that? The hell…

He stared back out toward the Prudential Center behind them, looming in the distance. “Shit,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Kid…Leon, you still living with your mom?”

Leon shook his head. “N-no, I mean…” Mom kicked me out because I turned into a high school drop out, directly because of her, because I was getting tired of living. That’s too much for a stranger. That’s too much for most people. He swallowed the sentiment. “N-no, I’m living with…ah, some roommates out that way…”

The biker began patting down his pockets, until he pulled his wallet out of the back. As he flipped it open, one of the flaps dropped below, revealing a couple of pictures in an accordion: a picture of a baby in a pink dress, posed in a studio; a candid shot of a round faced woman laughing at the camera. “You got a pen?” he asked.

“Mm!” Leigh dove into their purse across their body and yanked out a stick pen triumphantly. “Ah-ha! I knew this was a good idea today.”

Jake snorted. “Yeah. Women always got everything you need in ‘em,” he said as he took the pen from their fingertips.

Leon and Leigh exchanged a look as he wrote on the back of a crumpled receipt. Sure, “women”. As Leigh gave him a coy smirk, Leon couldn’t help but return it in a subtle way. When your partner twists gender all around, saying shit like that ends up sounding a little silly…

“There.” Jake thrust the receipt and pen into Leon’s hand. “I travel a ton, but that’s the landline out in Connecticut. I’m not going to be back for another couple weeks, but–”

“Why?” Leon blurted out.

Motorcycle engines sprung to life, revving with a loud blare. “Hey! Let’s go! Vamonos, asshole!” another biker called.

Jake huffed and started walking backwards, shoving his wallet in his back pocket. “Shelley Donovan!” he yelled over the rumble. “That’s your mom, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Several of the bikers were pulling out and driving onto the road as Jake mounted his own motorcycle. “Did you know her?”

“For a while,” he replied, cranking the throttle. “Listen, call me if you wanna, and take it easy!” He turned to the last biker left in the line, and spoke rapid fire Spanish to him. “Necesito usar un teléfono público antes de salir de la ciudad…”

Leon stared as the biker walked his motorcycle out into the street, then as soon as there was a gap in traffic, blasted onto the road, leaving his ears ringing. “What the hell?” he muttered, still holding the receipt.

“That was weird,” Leigh said, taking back their pen. “What’d he write down?”

Leon unfolded the receipt. “Jacob Lopez: 203-555-3829. Call if you need anything” was scrawled down in messy blue pen. “He said he knew my mom,” he mused. But, he said he was from Roxbury, and Mom moved to Somerville when she was pregnant with me. So, that had to have been a long time ago…

“Okay, this is gonna sound weird,” Leigh remarked, “but like…you guys look really similar.”

Leon stared at them. “What?” he said. “No…”

“Not like, obviously.” Leigh took Leon’s face in both hands to square it in front of them. “But…it’s in weird little details. I dunno, I can’t describe it.”

“Details, huh…?” Leon’s lip quivered, in a ghost of a smile.

Leigh’s hands immediately dropped, and they used one to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear while their face bloomed pink. “W-well, I’ve looked at your face a lot…” they admitted.

Now Leon’s face felt a little warm, but it didn’t distract him from the words on the receipt. He flipped it over with his thumb, revealing it to be from a convenience store–a water bottle, beef jerky, gum, cigarettes. He knew my mom in Roxbury. Leigh thinks he looks like me. He thought I looked familiar.

…call me if you need anything, huh…

(a shredded birthday card in the trash can, purple envelope)

“Do you want to call it when we get home?” Leigh asked, voice softer.

“I dunno,” Leon replied. He reached to his pocket, pulling out his wallet by the chain and slipping the receipt inside. “He said he wouldn’t be around for another two weeks, so…”

“Right.” Leigh took his hand again, lacing their fingers together. “Leon…did you ever know your dad?”

He slowly shook his head. It’s been so long. So…do I even want to? He didn’t seem so bad. Mom never talked about him…

(”Shelley, that boy called again.”

“Damn it, tell him not to call here anymore! Mum’ll kill me if she finds out, and you know she will.”)

How old was I then? It’s one of the earliest memories I have…

Leigh’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. “It’s okay,” they chirped, beginning to walk down the street. “We can talk about it later, if you want.”

“Sure,” Leon replied. He forced himself to become aware of his surroundings–the pavement at his feet, the cars whirring past, the brick of the buildings, the deep red rose in Leigh’s hair. Later. Right now, I’ll…be here.

They giggled and skipped a pace ahead. “Hey, I wonder if that ramen shop is still around here. It’s on a side street, if I remember…”

Leon followed as close as he could, bumping shoulders with them. “You really want soup in the summer?” he asked.

“Well, it was really good! Besides, I think they had spring rolls…”

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, hey! Where are you today?”

“Boston. Listen…this is gonna sound crazy, but I swear to God…look, you remember how I told you I knocked up a girl when I was in high school, and her bitch mom drove her out of the city?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I think I finally just met him. My kid.”

“What…?”

“He’s the right age, what, I was sixteen…? So he’d be a teenager himself. Looks a wicked lot like his mom. Lot like me. Fucking…incredible.”

“That’s–”

“Calls himself Leon, for some reason. I swore she named him Joseph…hell, he straight up told me that his mom was the same girl.”

“…So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna wait, I guess. Gave him my number. Whether he calls it or not…hell, we’re heading out today, and I dunno when I’ll be back around here.”

“Are you going to be okay? You sound…”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll ride this out of my system. Just…it’s weird. Half of me thought I was just sending her money for no reason, that she ended up giving up the kid once he was born. I mean, I didn’t mean to get her pregnant, we thought we were doing all the right shit, but we were kids y’know–”

“Jake.”

“–and I would’ve…been there, best as I could, but no, she disappeared into Somerville, and then when I found her out there, she didn’t want anything to do with me. She was a mess, it wouldn’t have lasted, but for him, for…Leon…”

“Jake. Relax.”

“…Sorry. Just…fuck.”

“I know. We can talk about it later. …When are you getting back in town?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Okay. Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. Talk to you later.”

He hung up the payphone with a shake of his head. Was I stupid? I’ve been stupid before. All that’s left to do is wait and see…

77. leon

orig posted 07/17/2017.

House is empty, so I managed to wander down from my room out into the living room. I could come down here anytime, the others don’t mind, but…old habits die hard, I guess. So used to hiding out so I don’t get in the way. The TV’s droning, but I dunno if I’m really that invested in Family Feud. Zoe keeps mentioning she’s going to get cable again, once she pays off the PlayStation she bought on impulse. I could never do anything like that, but she says it’s the hottest new thing…

The door handle rattles, and I have to stomp the impulse to jump to my feet and run to my room. I wouldn’t make it anyway. At Mom’s place, it was just around the corner and down the hall, but here, it’s all the way down the hall to the door, then up the stairs and to the right…that ain’t happening. Instead, I lean forward on the couch and peer down the straight shot to the door.

It’s Leigh. They’ve got their skateboard in one hand and a huge pizza box in the other. “Hello?” they call, then catch my eye. “Oh, hey! Could you give me a hand…?”

I stand up and pace down the hall, taking the pizza from their hands so they can undress from the outside. Take-out pizza…fuck, I haven’t…had any in forever, despite how easy it is to get around here. I peek inside the box. It’s half cheese, half hamburg and mushroom. Not bad.

“Is it just you here?” they ask, a little breathless. There’s a flush in their cheeks from exertion, and I bet it’s because they skated home. “I got enough for at least a couple more…”

“Just me,” I reply. “Uh…Ray’s still on…”

“Yeah, he doesn’t get out ‘til 6,” As soon as they’re settled, they rip the pizza from my arms and take it down the hall, all the way to the living room. “But Zoe isn’t here? Or Clover? Well, she’s probably doing stuff…”

“Nope.” I shuffle in the middle of the hallway as they place the box on the coffee table, and pop it right open. Not going to eat in the dining room? We’re going to need drinks. And paper plates. But the words fumble in my throat. “Um…should I, ah…”

“Hm?” They perk up, hair half in their face. “Oh! There’s soda in the fridge probably. Plates in the cupboard…”

I sigh with relief and gather what we need from the kitchen. Soda…ugh, I forgot Zoe loves grape soda. Guess I’ll settle for water. When I stand up, my eye gravitates to the top of the refrigerator, where a stack of paper plates sit, half in the plastic. I grab those, along with some glasses from the cupboard, and head out.

In the living room, Leigh’s crouched in front of the TV, fussing with the VCR. “I got a couple movies,” they say. “They were 2 for 1, so…ah, there’s ‘Pretty Woman’ and ‘The Goonies’.”

Interesting choices. Leigh hasn’t changed the station on the TV, but the family is doing that huddle in the middle of the stage and the crowd is cheering, so this must be getting over. Meaning… “Do…uh, do you really wanna have dinner at 4?” I ask.

They shrug. “Dude, it’s Friday. We can do whatever we want, with the whole weekend ahead of us…” They change the channel, and the TV is shrouded in snow, as well as a loud static. I cringe, but they’re quick to pop the tape in, which quells the noise. “You don’t gotta work, do you?”

“Not tonight. Tomorrow.”

As I watch them settle back, using the couch as a backrest instead of actually sitting on it, I stare at the pizza, wafting fragrant steam up at me. I haven’t…done this in such a long time. Ordered pizza with friends. Leigh’s my friend, right…?

“What’s up?” they ask, pulling out a drooping slice for themself. “Are you hungry?”

“Huh? Oh, ah…” Am I gonna say what I’m thinking for once? Doesn’t hurt to try. “Just…thinking about how…haven’t done, like…a pizza party like this in a long time.”

“Really?” Leigh asks.

They cock their head, aquamarine eyes just staring right through me. They want me to elaborate, to talk about it, while the previews are rolling through the VCR. Could just fast-forward through them…but…

…I think they want to hear me talk. But, not in the same way that other people badger me to do it…

I bite my lip, swallowing a flutter that starts in my heart and goes to my throat. “Yeah, since I was on the football team…I think we had a party to celebrate the end of the season.”

“You played football?”

“For a bit, yeah…”

For some reason, it gets easier to talk, to hold a conversation, and we keep talking even when the movie starts…

78. leigh

orig posted 07/20/2017.

I had a dream.

I was back in high school. The halls were endless, but I was late to class, and I just…couldn’t get there in time. People kept trying to talk to me, get me to where I was going, but it was all rushed and confusing…

God, I hate high school dreams. I don’t know if I like them better or worse than work dreams.

I sit up in bed and squint at my clock. It’s still only 2 in the morning. I’d barely be coming home at this hour if I were out. It’s only me in here tonight…Leon closed, and it takes it out of him. He went right upstairs and crashed. I didn’t even get to see him.

Well, maybe now I can.

I slip out of bed, oversized t-shirt hanging at my knees, and creep out the door, down the hallway. I can feel where the floor creaks, and somehow step on every crack, isn’t that how it goes? I tip-toe one door over, to Leon’s room, and tap on the door to push it open.

He never got anything to prop his mattress up that we snagged from his mom’s, so it’s just sitting on the floor. It’s in the same spot as his sleeping bag was, right up against the window directly across from the door. It’s kind of a weird setup, I dunno why he has it that way. But, he’s snoring gently, curled up against that far window wall.

I bite my lip. This is dumb. This is clingy gay bullshit is what it is. But, here I am.

When I approach the bed, I squat to my knees, and they crack as I go down. I…don’t think he stirs. There’s just a sliver of space beside him, and he’s not facing me, so I take a deep breath and climb into the bed beside him. I snuggle right against his back, spooning him. He’s so warm. And solid–he told me he played football, and even though he insisted it had been a couple years, the physique is still there. I nestle my head right at his neck, making a small noise without meaning to.

That stirs him. “Mm…hm?”

“It’s just me,” I whisper. “Sorry, I just, ah…had a dream, and so…”

I trail off. He doesn’t reply to me, he just scoots over so I have a little more room, then his breathing settles into a deep, steady rhythm. If there’s one thing I know, this boy loves to sleep. I want to comb my fingers through his messy, soft hair…but I don’t. I ought to let him sleep, it’s 2 AM…

Maybe I should too…

I’m getting…drowsy…

79. leon

orig posted 07/25/2017.

I lean against my car and take the last drag of my cigarette. I can still remember when I first started smoking. It was after Aunt Sally died, and Mom was smoking more because of it. I had always been curious, and when she started leaving whole packs on the table, smoking like a chimney, I wanted to try. After all, it looked cool…

Ah. I cough, and it’s raspier than I expect it to be. I chuck my cigarette aside.

I stare up at the florescent lit sign of the grocery store. Leigh should be getting out soon. That’s what I’m here for–I’m picking them up. Pretty sure they’d want to just skate home, but I just got off work too, so might as well, huh…? I’ve seen them do tricks on their skateboard outside the record store, on the railings, even though Dave yells at them about it. They don’t seem to care, though…

They seem to…like hanging around me. That’s new. I haven’t had any new friends since…since…

I blink and shake my head, slowly coming back into focus. I stare at the automatic door as it slides open, slides close. Is that them? No, not them. My cigarette is still smoking on the ground, and I crush it with the toe of my shoe. These sneakers are from back when I was playing football, and they’re getting tight. And wearing out. I’d like to get some boots…it’d look cool with my jacket, but it’s expensive, and I have to keep saving, so that I can get the fuck out of my house.

Oh, shit. I hope Mom is out tonight. I really hope she is. I hope she doesn’t prod when she asks where I’ve been, up watching some shit on TV…what would I say? Stayed late at work, visited Chelsea, but it’s…it’s way too late. I drum my fingers against the car. She always suspects something. I mean, yeah, I’m skipping school, but I’m not doing drugs, I’m not stealing shit, I’m not going out and messing around with girls, or anyone…I’m not getting into trouble, I swear, I swear…

Oh, there they are.

Their hair is ponytailed back, and they’re trying to put on their jacket as they walk. As soon as they adjust it over their shoulders, pulling on both sides at the same time, they look up and see me. Immediately, their expression brightens, and they wave. I bite my lip and nod, pushing myself off the edge of my car. I don’t know if I’ve ever made anyone look like that, ever. What’s a guy, or a…what’s a person like them doing with some guy like me? I smoke like a chimney, I can barely fucking get up in the morning, most days I wish I were dead, but…

…with the way they can smile, I…

They run up to me, breathless. “Hey! Sorry, I got tied up with the night manager,” they say. I can feel the instinct for them to hug me, but the last time that happened, I think I flinched pretty bad, so instead, they lean in close but keep their hands behind their back. “Thanks for picking me up!”

“Sure,” I mutter, and unlock the car. They dash around to the passenger’s side and hop in, while I take my time. I start the car, and instinctively pop in the lighter. I just had a God damn cigarette…

But, Leigh has their pack out, and pops a cig between their lips. “I missed my break, I’ve been dying for a smoke,” they say. They crank the window down in preparation.

“Just had one,” I mumble. I put the car in gear and turn around in the parking lot. “D-didn’t mean to pop it in…”

“That’s cool, it worked out, huh?” The lighter pops as I’m about to pull out, and they grab it to light their cig. They’re careful to let the smoke out the window, even though the whole car smells like smoke, I smell like smoke, fuck, they sat down and I swear ashes wheezed out from the cushion. They smirk as they smoke, blowing it out the window…and glance over to me, still with the smile.

I inhale deep, taking extra long to look back and forth for the traffic that isn’t coming at almost midnight, and try my best to focus on driving…

80. leon

orig posted 07/30/2017.

“Hey, hey! Wait!”

The bell just rang for lunch, and I’m high-tailing it out of here while there’s a rush. Seniors get off campus lunch anyway, so who’s gonna notice? Chelsea, that’s who. She has AP Calculus right fucking next door to the class I’m coming out of, and before I can disappear into the crowd of people in the halls, she grabs the back of my jacket and stops me. “Hey!” she says again, breathless. “Where are you going?”

The flow of people weave around us, even as we’re nearly in the middle of the hall. “Gonna have a smoke,” I say. I can barely hear myself over the thrum of bodies and voices. That usually will shake her off, she hates the smell of the smoke.

But, it doesn’t this time. She’s got her hair tied back in one of those big scrunchies, bright pink, along with big ball earrings. She’s always been into that preppy, sporty look. “You’re gonna smoke instead of eating lunch?” she asks, peering around my back at my backpack. “Did you bring anything?”

I sigh. “No.”

“You should get something from the cafeteria.”

“I…really don’t want to.”

“Leon, c’mon.”

I grind my teeth, my fingers twitching on the shoulder strap of my backpack, while she tugs me along with her, down the hall. “I can get you something if you want. It’s just a couple dollars, so…”

I bow my head down to my shoes as she leads me into the cafeteria. Fuck. I mean, I guess I appreciate it, but I’d rather her not pay for anything for me…I have my own money. I just don’t want to spend it, especially if I’m going to try and get the hell out. Especially if I’m not going to be able to graduate this year. No way in hell am I going to go through another year of this bullshit…

She scans the tables for a place to sit, the sleeve of my jacket pinched between two fingers. “Hm, maybe–”

A classmate pushes by me and jumps in front of her. “Hey, Chels, I just got these page layouts done during study hall…”

“Oh!” She lets go of me in favor of spinning around and taking a look at the page spread her–friend, I guess?–has. Chelsea has a lot of friends. Or, people that she can talk to, that go to her for advice, go to her for just about everything…

I swear, she’s friends with everyone in school…valedictorian, involved in everything…

My vision starts to space out…

“Ooh, that’s cool! Maybe make the text a little bigger? Or not such a blocky font, it’s kinda hard to read.”

“Oh, okay! Are all the names right?”

“It should’ve said with the pictures…”

The second bell rings, and I take a step back. It’s like I vanished in the crowd to her. I don’t blame her. Having to drag me around just to get something to eat…this whole school year, I’ve pretty much expected that I’m low on her priority list. That’s…okay.

I mean, it’s not, but…she’s still my friend, and I’m not going to hold her back.

I slip my hand into my pocket, as she still hasn’t noticed me walking away, and feel the cigarette carton around my hand. As soon as I’m across the hallway, the din of students fading, I spin around and walk as fast as I can down the hall, down the other way toward the front exit. It’s easy to think “I’m free”, but…sure doesn’t feel that way.

Maybe I should’ve stuck around…but that means I’d have to stay at school. That means I’d have to drop a shift at work. And that takes priority.

As the sun hits me outside, I realize I should’ve gone out the back, to get to my car…

As soon as the crowd faded around her, Chelsea looked up from the yearbook spread around her. “Huh?” she muttered, whipping her head around so fast to make her ponytail bounce. “Where’d he go…”

“Huh?” the classmate asked, blinking behind thick glasses. “Where’d who go?”

Her mouth stayed open as she scanned the cafeteria, then out to the hall behind her. Leon. Where did you go? Did you end up leaving after all…? Her shoulders slumped as she pushed the spread back into her classmate’s arms. I’m not stupid, I knew you were going to skip…

Guess even I can’t stop you, can I?

“Chelsea?”

“Hm? It’s nothing,” she dismissed, putting on a smile. “Is it your lunch break too? Let’s find a seat…”

81. leon

orig posted 08/17/2017.

“I just really dig the heavy sound, y’know?” they say from the passenger seat. They’ve been playing with the ribbon tied around their throat, but they finally untie it and wrap it around their knuckles. “All the layers and shit…”

I nod, readjusting my grip around the wheel. We’ve just been out driving for a while now. They met up with me after I got out of work, and we’ve just been talking. Well, they’ve been doing most of the talking. I’m okay with that.

They have a…purse, or bag with them. It’s one of those really slouchy bags that ends up being a pile of stuff. Mom had one for a while. I keep one eye on them and one eye on the road as they dig through it. “Hey, but if you like that…you really should listen to…where is it…”

“I-it’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to–”

“Here it is!” They yank out a cassette in triumph. I have to pay more attention so I can remember where to go…right, turn here. In the meantime, they eject the tape I’ve got in there, and shove in their own. It makes a noise that makes me nervous.

“Go easy on that thing,” I mutter. “It’s kinda old…”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” they dismiss as they push play. The tape whirs to life, although the volume is still low so we can hear each other talk. “Was this your mom’s car?”

“No, my aunt’s. Great aunt.” I glance in the rear view at the worn back seats. I can vaguely remember being in a car seat back there. “It’s not much–”

“Yeah, but it’s still a car, dude,” they say, looking around. “I mean, don’t need it too much right around here, but it’s damn convenient. It’s nice she gave it to you.”

Ah. Not…quite. I dip my head a bit. “Yeah.”

But, they catch on. We haven’t known each other that long, but God, they read me like a book sometimes. “Hm?” They cock their head, the dandelion in their hair wavering.

Half of me is inclined to say “none of your business”, or just say nothing at all. But, at the same time…no one’s really ever cared that much. To ask me about shit. To ask me what’s wrong. I’ve been around a lot of people who are so wrapped up in themselves…

…Mom, my boss, even Chelsea sometimes…

…am I just as bad?

“Oh, shit, Leon, stop sign.”

Fuck. I jam on the brakes, sending both of us jerking forward. Now my heart’s going, and it seems like the only thing I can hear, even with the AC blasting and the tape going in the background. Even though this street’s deserted, with no one behind me, I linger at the stop sign, waiting. Leigh reaches out to me, a hand on my arm. “Everything all right?” they ask gently.

Yeah, I just need a second. I sigh, nod, then recheck all my mirrors before going through the intersection. “Sorry,” I mumble, then take a bigger sigh than before. “Just…it’s just that–”

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they say, playing with the ribbon again. “I didn’t mean to pry–”

“No, no…” I shake my head and wave my hand. “It’s not you, it’s…”

Great. Now I’ve made things awkward. I’m so incredible at making friends.

I glance over to them. They seem uncomfortable, just a little bit, but as soon as they feel my eyes, they look up at me. And give me a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” they say.

Ah.

It’s harder to keep my eyes on the road, but I feel myself smirking back. “Thanks,” I say.

The car gets quiet again. Until they look out the window and pipe up. “I haven’t been around here before,” they remark. “Is this the scenic route?”

Oh, yeah. I was supposed to be taking them home. “I guess,” I reply, with a chuckle in my voice. If it were up to me, maybe we could hang out at my place, but with Mom around…

…my car’s more like home than anyplace else.

82. leigh

orig posted 08/21/2017.

A week after our first date, we’re hanging out in my room again.

There’s nowhere to sit besides the bed, so he sits across from me. He’s got this faraway look in his eyes, like he’s really focused on something. He’s probably nervous. Hell, my hands shudder a little as I shuffle through my tapes, looking for something to listen to. I settle on a Ride album and pop it in. As it whirs, I face him and crawl a little closer. “You okay?” I ask.

Leon shakes himself out of his trance nearly immediately, which is surprising to begin with. Then, he looks right at me, like he’s got something to say. Surprising thing number two. “Um,” he says forcibly.

But nothing else comes out. He sighs to himself and shakes his head. Then, he runs his hand through his hair, pulling at it a little. “We’re…are we…?” he tries again.

I think the question he wants to ask me is “are we dating”. Or something like that, anyway. We kissed that once, after going out to the movies, and we’ve seen each other, but our schedules have been out of whack since then. But, here we are. My heart’s pounding–I’m gonna have to be the one to ask again, aren’t I? “Well, do you want to?” I say. My voice cracks, and I clear it. “D-date, I mean.”

He flinches a little bit–eyes get wider, face flushes. He’s cute. And his hair doesn’t look quite as greasy as it usually does. “I’ve…I’ve never…y’know.” He swallows and it clicks in his throat, and he makes a vague hand gesture. “Dated. So, I don’t, uh…I mean, if you…we…”

I crawl a little closer to him as he fumbles, and he fizzles out rather quickly. I can feel how warm his face is from a distance. But, he keeps eye contact with me. “It’s okay,” I say, smiling. Our eyes meet. “We don’t have to jump into anything right away.”

He nods, never taking his eyes off mine. “But…I do…” Leon speaks so slowly, slowly, and my eyes flick over his lips, the bob in his throat as he enunciates. “I like you.”

Jesus, even with his stumbling and slow speech, he sounds so honest. So raw. It warms the pit of my stomach. “Mmhm,” I reply. “I really like you too.”

I reach out to touch his knee, and he meets me halfway. His hand covers mine. I didn’t realize how cold mine were until I felt his touch. Closer here, I can tell that he shaved–from the look and the smell. I bet his cheeks are soft. I know his lips are, despite how chewed up they tend to look. “Did you like the kiss?” I ask.

I feel silly when I ask it, but he replies with a nod. So, I keep going. “Do you want to do it again?” I say.

His lips part, just a little bit, and he edges closer with a nod. He seems shy to take initiative. But, I’ve been around the block a few times–I’ve kissed a bunch of people. None quite as tender as him, though.

I lean forward the rest of the way, and we kiss again. And again. I keep things mild as I arrange myself in his lap, sneaking a look to the side to make sure we shut the door. Yes, it’s shut. Thank God–if Ray came by, he’d probably break us up immediately.

As soon as I’m settled, I push a little more, I kiss a little harder. I open my mouth more, and he follows suit. It’s a little clumsy, but I allow him to mimic me, to catch up. Kissing isn’t that hard, anyway. It’s who you’re doing it with that makes it better.

He starts to graze his hands at my hips, the touch gentle, and I decide to guide him a bit. With baby kisses at his bottom lip, I take his hand and slip it just beneath my thin, soft shirt. He jumps, and I crack an eye open a slit. Ah, he wasn’t expecting that. So, I keep my hand over his, just guiding him to hold my bare side, while his other arm wraps around me. I haven’t been with someone so new in a while. I mean, not everyone’s fooling around when they’re 15, and probably shouldn’t…

I arch my back a little and break the kiss just to sit up, our faces still close. His breathing feels heavy against my lips, and through a parted mouth, with a long blink from those cool, gray eyes…

…”Leigh,“ he says.

When I kiss him again, I sigh in the back of my throat, and introduce my tongue in his mouth. And in harmony, he follows…

83. leon

orig posted 08/24/2017.

“Leon, can you get the mail?”

Zoe caught me in the kitchen putting sugar in my coffee before she strut to the living room. I sigh, but it comes off as a yawn. I haven’t been up this early all week, and it’s 11 o'clock. I shuffle to the entryway, throw open the door, and paw at the mailbox. It’s one of those long, skinny ones bolted to the wall–really not big enough for five people living here. There are a handful of envelopes, and a magazine rolled up below on the hooks. I grab it all and head in.

Back down the hall, into the living room, I toss the pile of mail onto the coffee table in front of her. “Thanks, kid,” she says, grunting as she leans over. “Let’s see, spam, spam, spam…oooh!”

She squeals in glee as she grabs the catalogue. “Let’s see, do we need any useless junk from Miles Kimball?” She leans back and props it up over her chest, flipping through. “Any knick-knacks, do-dads…a microwave cleaner, some orthopedic shoes…”

From my left, I hear a giggle–fuck, I didn’t even know Leigh was here, they were so quiet. My heart stops for a moment, and the adrenaline rushes down to my toes. “Oh my God,” they exclaim in their fuzzy, pastel blue bathrobe. “You’re like an old lady.”

“Hey now, just because I’m goth, doesn’t mean I can’t get excited over this,” she says, sticking her tongue out while looking over her glasses. She returns her attention to the magazine. “Besides, I’m over 30, I’m allowed. I’m old enough to be your mom.”

Leigh grimaces. “I don’t think so,” they reply. “My mom’s like…pushing 60.”

“Really? How old was she when she had you?”

“She was in her mid-thirties or something…she’s never said it out loud, but I think I was an accident.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like. That’s what happens when your siblings are ten, fifteen years older than you.”

Zoe clicks her tongue, then looks over to me. I’ve just been standing here. My coffee’s gonna get cold at this rate. “How old are your parents?” she asks.

I blink out of my haze. “Uh…” I start. So, if Mom was 16, that makes her… “Thirty…something? 34?”

The magazine falls into her lap. “Really? God, I really am old enough to be your mom. Fuck.” She squints at me, clearly doing the math in her head. “She must’ve been young, right?”

“Sixteen,” I sigh.

“Jesus,” she says. “When I was sixteen, I was smoking pot under the bleachers and fantasizing about kissing Joan Jett. I would’ve died if I had a baby.”

Suddenly, I want to shrink into the floor. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but I remember hearing that same sort of thing from Mom talking to her friends. Or whenever she’d get into a fight with Aunt Sal. Not exactly those words but…the same sentiment. She didn’t have to have me…

“Oh, well.” Zoe’s voice brings me back. “Even if we’re the weirdos of our family, we’re all still here.”

I realize I’ve been vaguely staring in Leigh’s direction, and they’re tilting their head in concern. I’m fine…I try to convey this by straightening up and trying to make my face look neutral. I dunno if it works, but they stop staring at me. “That’s right,” Leigh concurs.

“Mmhm.” Zoe flips a couple more pages. “Hey, do you want some customized pencils? Put your name right on ‘em.”

Leigh chuckles, shifting their legs. “Yeah, so I can give one to my mom every fucking time she deadnames me.”

“Twelve pencils, eight bucks, can’t beat it,” Zoe replies. She points to me. “Do you want some? You’ve got that same problem too, right?”

“N-no, it’s okay,” I reply, taking a couple steps back. Even though it sucks, calling me “Joey” isn’t the same as calling Leigh…well, whatever their name was. “I-it’s not the…it’s not like that anyway, like…i-it’s just–”

She pulls a pen out of her hair to point at me. “I’m getting you a set. Glittery ones.”

“What? No…” I rub my forehead. I like pens, anyway, and like I really need the attention. “Really…”

“Ooh, get me the same set then!” However, Leigh is suddenly excited, bouncing in their chair. Their expression glows when they look at me. “Then we can match!”

“But you won’t be able to tell them apart,” Zoe replies.

“That’s why they’re labeled! Duh!”

“Duh!”

They have a laugh over this as I slowly back into the entryway. It feels like I’m smiling. I ought to go get my coffee…

84. leigh

orig posted 09/30/2017.

What an exhausting fucking day. Someone forgot to take down the sale display, and I had to deal with at least five obnoxious customers about it. Not to mention it was freezing skating home, because I forgot to bring a hat and I didn’t think we were going to get frost at the beginning of fucking October…

Oh well. The house is warm anyway. It’s late and quiet, but not terribly late, so I don’t bother to be quiet. I lean my skateboard against the wall, strip my jacket and shoes, and immediately rush into the kitchen. I’m chilled to the bone, so I grab a mug and fill it with water to heat in the microwave. Coffee this late will kill me, so tea it is. Zoe keeps a bunch of herbal teas around.

I hit a couple minutes on the microwave, then rub my arms. I think I have a blanket in the living room–

There’s a light on in there, which should have tipped me off that someone was up, but I still yelp and cover my mouth. “Fuck!” I swear, then take a deep breath. “Oh, Leon…”

He’s wearing that cozy looking flannel, with a book in his hands. The title says “Carrie” on the front. “H-hey,” he says. I’ve jumped him too, I can tell, as he sighs before relaxing his shoulders. “You were…at work?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s cold as hell outside,” I reply. I feel my tongue get antsy just being in his presence. God! Why am I like this? “I, ah, thought you’d be in bed already, or something…”

He shakes his head. “Can’t sleep.” He arranges himself to a corner of the couch instead of directly in the middle and shrugs. “I get weird…uh, bouts where it’s hard to get to sleep. Some nights.” He waves the book at me before dog-earring the page. “Zoe lent me this, it’s all right…”

“Oh, you can keep reading!” I say, waving my hand. “I was just, um, I was making some tea to warm up…I might take a bath or something.” I giggle on instinct.

There’s a pause, and it’s long enough for the microwave to go off in the space of it. I can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, as he chews his lip and looks off at the coffee table. “Yeah, I’ll, ah, I’ll go get that…” I say, pointing back toward the kitchen.

“Sure,” he replies, soft and low. “Hey, um…”

“Yeah?” I say.

He sighs loud through his nose, then reaches his arm out beside him, tapping his fingers on the cushion beside him. “Do you…want to sit, or something?” he mumbles.

I nod, a little too enthusiastically, probably. “Sure.”

Immediately, I settle beside him. God, he’s so warm right now. So’s the couch–he’s probably been here for a while. We sit side by side, flush, and after a second, I lean into him. He glances over at me, shyness in his gray eyes, but I see the soft smirk on his lips before he turns away and picks his book back up. “Your…your tea’s gonna get cold,” he advises, opening up to where he left off.

“That’s okay,” I reply, curling my legs up underneath me. “This’ll be warm enough.”

85. leon

orig posted 10/02/2017.

Sunset.

The wind blows the ash off my cigarette, and it falls square on the homework I’m supposed to be doing. Wow, look at me, doing homework for once. It’s questions on some reading for English. Wuthering Heights. It’s…okay, I guess. I don’t like the style that much. There was a book we read last year, that was written a lot plainer, one I liked better…

I brush the ash off my paper and it scatters on the porch. Mom’s got the TV blasting, and if I’m going to do this, fucking anything at all, I’ve got to have some quiet. But, I still find ways to get distracted. Like the cars passing on the road up ahead. Our driveway is pretty long, and it connects to a short private road before joining up with Broadway. And at the end of rush hour, there are plenty of cars to watch drive by…

Oh, fuck this. It’s getting darker, harder to see. I put my homework aside. This isn’t getting done. What difference is it gonna make, anyway?

I shake my head and take a drag, finally taking the cig out of my mouth and holding it between my fingers. Tomorrow’s Friday. And I work. So I don’t have to go to school. That’s what I’ve been telling myself, anyway. And lately, I’ve been able to pick up shifts most days, even if they’re small…

Funny, I can barely get up for school, but I manage to make it to work…maybe it’s because I’m actually getting paid. Maybe because that’ll add up to something eventually. Eventually.

The screen door swings open with a clatter, and it jumps me as I nearly snap my neck to look up and around. It’s Mom. “Dinner’s ready,” she says. “Are you going to eat?”

My stomach growls. My fingers twitch to take another smoke to quell it. “Uh,” I reply.

Her head leans forward, and she blinks at me. “Well? It’s going to get cold.”

There’s a sharpness in her voice that prods me to respond. “What are we having?”

“Chicken. Rice and vegetables.”

Ah. My vision blurs as I think. I don’t…really remember what I had to eat last? Did I eat something at school? After work yesterday? Today? Damn it.

When I come back into focus, Mom’s glaring at me again. “Well, don’t take all day. I’m not gonna wait up for you.”

She turns on a hell and lets the door slam behind her. “And put that damn cigarette out!”

I clench my jaw and chuck my cigarette past the stairs and onto the walkway. God, fuck you…now I really don’t want to go back in. She’ll probably find more things to pick at, more jabs, more condescending shit…

Can’t wait to get out of here…if I can at all.

The sun’s just about dipped beyond the horizon, leaving a dull blue in the sky, darkening the further I look up. I stare at the barely emerging stars, hardly visible this close to the city. Aunt Sal…I know you thought Mom would change when she got older, mellow out or something.

Can’t you see? She hasn’t.

And now I’ve got to deal with this shit alone.

86. leon

orig posted 04/08/2018.

I wake up. It’s dawn. I stumble around and make it to the kitchen. I’m hungry, and I want breakfast, but I end up just going back to the couch. Mom hasn’t left for work yet, I don’t think.

I’m at school. My history teacher pulls me after class and asks me a few questions. I can’t understand them, but she doesn’t seem angry. I think I answer her. I feel warm, and like I can’t keep my eyes open.

I stir. I’m still in bed. I think it’s still dark out…I’ll sleep some more.

I wake up. I feel just as groggy as I did before. I decide to walk to school. The air feels heavy, and I can’t lift my head up. I meet up with Dan before school. “I had a weird dream,” I say. “It felt so real.”

“Yeah?” they reply. “I’ve had those before.”

“Pretty weird.”

“Really weird.”

I can’t seem to look at his face. Everything’s hazy again. I can see the steps going up into the building, but I trip…

I wake up. What day is it? I wonder if I have work. I’m still warm, wrapped up, surrounded in pillows. I should remember, shouldn’t I? There isn’t a lot of light, so it’s not time yet…

I sit up, and some of the sheets fall off me. I blink and my thighs tense. Am I…horny? I think I kind of am. When I was playing football, the guys would pass around magazines of girls wearing barely anything, they’d drool over them. They were pretty, but it didn’t mean much. If it’s late, or really early, I could do something without waking anyone up, just to take the edge off…

…wait. Where am I?

I stir. I’m still so tired, and whatever pang of arousal I had is gone. I wanna sleep again. So, I do.

I’m in the back of the record store. I’m closing alone. It’s five minutes ‘til close and the bell rings for the door to open. Begrudgingly, I trudge to the counter.

It’s Leigh. I don’t feel so mad about it anymore. “What do you need?” I ask.

“I’m looking for something specific,” they say. “I need an album by Hashrigher.”

The name is incomprehensible. “Wh…what?”

“You know. They just released something new last week.”

I had to have misheard them. I’ve never heard of that band. We get weird new releases, sure, but this is something wild. “Do…do you know what it’s called?” I struggle to ask.

“It’s called…”

I really can’t understand that. It sounds like gibberish. Their eyes are so big and bright. “What?” I ask again.

“Come on! You know!” They say the name again, then they climb on top of the counter and stand on it. “I thought you knew this stuff! Joey!”

Uh-oh. Now I know I’m dreaming, because I know for a fact that I never told them that name. Can I control my dreams? They’re hovering above me, and their face keeps shifting. I hate saying this to their face, but it’s a dream, right? “Shut the fuck up!”

The illusion breaks. They’re Mom now. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she screeches. The lights flicker, and suddenly everything feels very dark. I can’t move!

“Fuck you!” I spit again. Oh, if I had the guts to say this to her actual face. “This is a dream! I’m waking up! And I’m waking up now!”

Leon nearly leaped out of bed, panting as vertigo struck him. He pinched his arm, hard enough to wince. Okay. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m actually awake. He looked around his room–it was somewhat dark, but the sparse layout and pile of clothes in the corner made him sigh in relief. I’m at the house… Downstairs, he heard the murmur of the TV, as well as running water. Zoe’s home, probably…or any of the others. Someone’s doing dishes. Oh, thank God. What a weird sleep…

What time is it?

Leon rolled over and fumbled at the foot of the bed. He picked up his dollar store alarm clock, complete with glow in the dark hands, and squinted at it. 6:20…and it has to be the evening, no one else gets up that early…didn’t I go to bed at like…midnight last night?

Oh, fuck.

Leon dropped the clock back on the floor and smeared his hand down his face. He had been sleeping for 18 hours. And I don’t really feel rested, either.

87.

orig posted 05/29/2018.

“Leon, dude,” Dave said, watching Leon stare motionless at his shoes with a broom in his hand. “What are you doing? We don’t have all night, man.”

Leon blinked and shook his head slowly. “What?” he asked.

“Sweep! I wanna get home and watch that Metallica interview on MTV!” he barked. He groaned and slammed a hand down on the register, using the other to scratch the back of his long, blond mullet. “Kids these days…hey, what are you still doing here?”

Ray walked out from the back room, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. “I was making sure I had food at the house,” he muttered. “Or if I had to run to the store.”

“Well, you can go,” Dave said with a gesture. “I’m making this guy close–ey!”

Leon’s pace had slowed again, except this time he jumped when he was yelled at. “What’s your God damn problem tonight?” Dave exclaimed.

For a moment, Leon looked very weary–the bags under his eyes pronounced, his unkempt hair falling into his face as he stared at the ground, continuing to sweep. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Ray twisted his mouth, then sighed heavily. “His life sucks, give him a break,” he said, just loud enough for Dave to hear him.

“Look, dude, I don’t care! I wanna get outta here before midnight!” He rolled his eyes and paced behind the counter, the register already balanced, keys splayed beside a tray of discount cassettes. “Since when are you and him buddies?”

“We’re not,” Ray said, staring straight ahead. “He’s just a kid though, so don’t yell at him.”

“You’re gonna tell me what to do?”

Ray’s eye twitched. “No.”

Dave sighed through his nose, then squatted down to open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet behind the counter. He pulled out a small bag filled with green shavings. “I’ll forgive you if you run some weed for me,” he said.

“Hmm,” Ray pondered flatly. “You will need to pay me three hundred dollars to do that.”

Dave choked on his own spit. “Hell no! That’s more than I paid for it.”

“Exactly.” Ray continued to stare straight ahead as he walked down the aisle. Leon had made some progress, almost making it to the door. When Ray looked at him a little closer, he saw his gray eyes were watery. Ah.

Leon glanced up. “’Night,” he mumbled.

Ray studied him. “Are you okay?”

Leon only shook his head, and the broom shook in his hands. He cleared his throat and continued sweeping, letting his greasy hair hide his face.

With a huff, Ray glanced behind him, then bent closer to Leon. “Don’t let him bully you,” he whispered. “He’s just a burnt-out guy who didn’t get to be a rockstar like he wanted to be.”

Leon shrugged. “Sure,” he said.

I don’t know how to get through to him, Ray thought, hand on the door. I mean, last time he said…

(”It’s Tuesday,” Ray said, shuffling through CDs. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Leon shrugged.

Silence. Ray tried again. “Do your parents know you’re–”

“Mom doesn’t care,” Leon interrupted suddenly. “My mom doesn’t care where I am, until it’s…it’s convenient for her. She doesn’t. If I jumped off the Tobin Bridge tomorrow, she wouldn’t even come looking for me.”

Ray stared at him. When Leon finally looked away from the front of the store and back to him, there was a fear lingering behind his eyes. “S-sorry,” he mumbled. “I…can I have a smoke?”

“Sure…”)

Ray pushed the door open. He’s not okay. I thought he just didn’t care before, but lately, it’s becoming really clear that he’s not okay. I’m kinda worried. But, I don’t know what to do.

“Night,” he said, loud enough for Dave to hear, and he stepped out into the cold, early spring night. Unless…

“Zoe.”

“Yo.”

“Can I come down?”

“Yup.”

Ray shuffled down into the basement, where Zoe was at her computer with a game paused on it. Red lamps lit the entire place like a darkroom, emphasized by black chiffon draped over just about every piece of furniture. She spun around in her chair, placing one finger against her cheek. “What’s up?”

“Is the middle room rented?” he asked.

“The drama couple just moved out, so no,” she replied. “I haven’t even put a new ad in the paper. Why?”

“I…” This could be a bad idea. “I might have a candidate. He’s a co-worker.”

“Oh?”

“He’s in high school.”

“Oh.” Her tone dipped from curious to disappointed. “High schoolers are risky, and I really only take them on a month-to-month basis. Plus, they usually can’t pay full rent, so–”

“I mean, he works with me. We get paid the same amount. I think, anyway.”

“Still, what if he blows his paycheck on candy bars, cigarettes, and video games?”

Ray stared at a candy wrapper on her desk. “Uh-huh.”

Zoe followed his look, then shrugged and snatched the wrapper away. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s my parents’ talking.” She tossed it into a wastebasket under her desk, then leaned back in her chair. “Well, is he queer? Do you know?”

“I dunno.”

“You know that’s my major policy. We’re a queer house here. I’m gay, Clov’s gay, Leigh’s gay and trans–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.” Ray gestured and his hands fell to his sides, slapping his thighs. “Listen, I was just trying to help him out, maybe. I think he’s having a rough time. You know what? Forget about it.”

The corners of Zoe’s mouth turned up, and her glasses seemed to flicker with the surrounding light. “Is it a crush?”

“No,” Ray replied, in the heaviest, most emphatic way possible. “I don’t date.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, okay!”

Ray turned on one heel and jammed his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. She’s always gotta make shit more complicated than it has to be. She’s always been like this. Shaking his head, he mounted the stairs and headed up. Oh well, at least I tried something.

He was halfway up when Zoe called to him. “Yo. You can give him my number.”

“What?” Ray said, stopping on the stairs.

“I’ve only seen you go out of your way for like…three different people, so you must mean it,” she said. “I’ll consider.”

Ray nodded. “‘Kay.”

With a sigh and a smirk to himself, he climbed the rest of the stairs back up into the entryway of the house. This is something, he thought, shuffling off his shoes. Maybe now, he won’t look at me like they used to. He doesn’t really look at me much, but I know the look. That desperate, “get me the fuck out of here” look that comes with being trapped.

(”Bro, I can’t do this anymore,” Leigh said quietly, twisting their hair between their fingers, rough enough so Ray could see it splinter and break. “I don’t care if I have to live on the street, if I hear her call me that name one more fucking time–”

Ray’s throat grew tight watching them, posture closing in, as their green-blue eyes met his own, brimming with tears. “Okay,” Ray managed to say evenly. “Just…save up some money, okay? Maybe look for work in Somerville, and we’ll figure something out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”)

He ran his hand through his short, fine hair. It’s not the same bullshit, I don’t think. But an out will help. It’ll help anyone.

It’s a start.

88.

orig posted 03/03/2020.

August was always hot, but rarely was it ever so humid and oppressive. Especially at ten in the morning, where Leigh sat in a tank top and boxer briefs blearily eating a bowl of granola in the dining room. They chewed slowly—the less they moved, the less heat they would generate, and the cooler they would be. All the curtains were drawn, so the only light that filtered in came through sheer maroon curtains in the kitchen and the front door. But, even with the dark, it was still hot, hot, hot.

Thumping from the staircase drew Leigh’s attention. Ray swung around the corner and poked his head into the dining room. “Morning,” he said, then squinted at Leigh’s bowl. “We have cereal?”

Leigh swallowed and nodded once. “Yeah. It’s some granola stuff.”

Ray stepped fully in the doorway, revealing his workout getup—long shorts, a ratty gray “JROTC” t-shirt, and sweatbands on his head and wrists. “If that’s Zoe’s special granola, she’s gonna kill you.”

Leigh slowly looked down at their bowl and sighed. This stuff’s pretty good too. “Well, fuck. Too bad.”

He twisted his mouth and shrugged. “Good luck with that. When do you work today?”

“Noon.”

“Wanna run with me?”

“What? No? God no, it’s fuckin’…” Leigh leaned back and squinted into the kitchen. “80? No way dude, I’m trying not to turn into a ball of sweat before I go.” They sat back in their chair, then idly pulled their long blond hair off their back and piled it on top of their head. “’Sides, when have I ever been able to run?”

“You skate.”

“That’s different.”

“Is…” Ray cut himself off, and glanced up the stairs. “Is it?”

Leigh cocked their head, letting their hair fall back around their shoulders. “What’s up?”

Ray glanced over, but said nothing, still listening. Footsteps were creaking the floorboards upstairs. Leigh’s mouth opened as they thought. If Ray’s down here, and the girls upstairs moved out, then that’s…

Their eyes widened. “Leon?” they mouthed.

The footsteps grew closer and clunked toward the stairwell. Ray nodded, just a jerk of the head, before backing up and out of the way.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Leon trudged down the stairs, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, and had a sheen of grease on the top of it. His gray eyes were slits, his cheeks and chin patchy with scruff, and the only thing in his gait that seemed to have any coordination was his iron grip of the railing. At least he was dressed, but Leigh had a suspicion that he likely slept in the jeans he was wearing.

“Welcome back,” Ray greeted. “You all right, bud?”

Leon swung his head over and stared at him. “What…?” He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Yup.”

Leigh bit their lip and exchanged a glance with Ray. Leon hasn’t left his room in two or three days, they thought. Zoe said that if he wasn’t out by Friday, then we’d need to have an intervention. They took another bite of granola, which was beginning to get soggy. Good thing…

“You’re lucky Dave doesn’t have anything better to do,” Ray said, then his shoulders slumped. “And neither do I. You wanna take my shift tonight and close?”

Leon blinked, then lifted his head up and grimaced. “Right. Fuck,” he muttered, then wiped his hand down over his face. “Yeah, I’ll take it. Sorry. What time?”

“Five. I’m going for a run, so I’ll swing by and let him know.” Ray stared down at his hands as he cracked his knuckles finger by finger. “Glad you’re up and about.”

He glanced up, gave both Leigh and Leon a thin-lipped smile, then turned on his heel and jogged out of the dining room and out the hall and outside. The door shuttered with a clatter, followed by the alarming buzz of cicadas chattering in the trees.

Leon stood where he was in a daze. Poor Leon, Leigh thought, their heart thrumming in their chest. He’s really been through it. I thought maybe being out of his mom’s house would perk him up, but he still has days where he doesn’t leave his room.

I want to help him…

Eventually, Leon meandered to the dining room. As he spotted Leigh, he blinked and stopped in his tracks. “Oh…hey,” he managed. “Didn’t…see you there.”

Despite the obvious fog of depression that clouded his demeanor, there was something Leigh found charming in his sleepy cluelessness. “Morning,” they replied with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”

He collapsed in a seat next to Leigh at the table, folding his arms and resting his head on top of them. “Tired,” he mumbled. “I’ve been…I’ve been sleeping, but it’s been so damn hot.”

“Yeah,” Leigh agreed. “Really fuckin’ hot.” They sighed and gathered up their hair again, twisting it into a loose rope before resting it on top of their head, just using their hand to keep it there. “We have to rotate using the AC at night, ‘cause it ramps up the electric bill. It was not my night last night.”

Leon’s brow furrowed, very slightly. “Does…every room have one?”

“No, but most do,” Leigh stared at the ceiling to think, and pointed with their other hand as they counted. “Lemme see, so living room, kitchen…my room, Ray’s room, basement…” They whipped their head over. “Does your room not have one?”

Leon shook his head into his arms. “Not even a fan. I was gonna go buy one at the corner store…thinking about it, anyway…”

“Shit.” They wrapped their hair rope around their face and positioned it under their nose absently. “Kay must have taken it when she packed all her crap up…Zoe’s gonna be pissed.”

Leigh let their hair go and reached over to pat Leon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you an AC up there—wait a sec, you’ve been doing that all summer?”

“Y…yeah?”

“Dude, you should’ve said something! We’ve got the schedule on the fridge!”

Leon began to shrink. “Sorry, I didn’t…didn’t think anything…didn’t want to make a big deal out of it…”

Same guy who slept without a bed for who knows how long, because he didn’t want to ask anyone to get it. Or help with a new one. You got kicked out of your parent’s house, you can ask for something! Leigh moved from just a shoulder pat to rubbing his back, and they scooted their chair a little closer. “It’s okay,” they said soothingly. “You don’t have to sleep in your own sweat all summer.”

Leon snorted, a half smile creeping on his face. “That’s gross,” he remarked. Then, he reached up and played with the stray lock of hair that hung in the middle of his forehead. “Ugh, I’m gross. I…need to shower.”

Leigh was inclined to agree, but didn’t mention it. Instead, they giggled. “I should too, before my shift.” They bit their lip and took a deep breath. “Mind if I join you?”

Leon sat up. “Sure, I mean…if there’s enough room—“ He blinked, then looked over slowly. “Wait. You mean…wait, in the shower?”

Leigh, despite being overcome by the fantasy of rubbing soap all over Leon, covered their mouth, a “just kidding” ready behind it. However, as they watched Leon’s face turn a brilliant shade of pink, they thought against it. Ah ha!

“Are you okay?” Leigh asked, feeling warm themself.

It took considerable effort, but Leon did manage to meet Leigh’s eyes, sheepish and shy. God, he’s so cute! He’s so cute, even though he’s greasy and depressed. I have to ask him on another date.Or I should really jump in the shower with him. Leigh’s face split into a grin, and their hand slipped off his back and rested itself on the table. It was an awkward position, but it was also almost close enough to touch Leon’s.

“I’m…good…” Leon uttered, still frozen. “Just…um…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you,” Leigh apologized. They found themselves leaning forward. “Ah, I just—“

Heavy footsteps interrupted them, this time from below. “You guys are so friggin’ loud,” Zoe complained as she strode through the hall, still in sweats with a sleeping mask on top of her head. “You know I need my beauty sleep.”

Leigh started breathing normally again. “Uh, it’s almost 10:30?” they said.

“It’s not that late,” she said, then peered into the dining room. “Oh, look! You’re up!” She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her pleasure quickly dissipated as she squinted at the bowl sitting on the table. “Hey, that’d better not be my granola.”

“I-it’s oatmeal,” Leigh lied.

Zoe pursed her lips, but let it slide and turned into the kitchen. “Leon, if you hole up for days at a time again, we’re gonna drag you out kicking and screaming.”

“O-oh,” Leon choked, still flustered. He managed to break eye contact to crane his neck over to the kitchen, one arm around the back of the chair. “Don’t…don’t do that.”

“She would have,” Leigh whispered. “She asked us to help her if you were still in there by tomorrow.”

Leon’s eyes widened. One of his hands was still on the table, and Leigh took the opportunity to rest theirs on top of his. Leon flinched, just a little, but didn’t motion to move.

Zoe took no notice, measuring coffee grounds to pour into the coffee machine. “Seriously, you should go to therapy. Or at least see a shrink to get some meds. That shit’s no joke.”

She ran the faucet to fill up the pot, then poured water into the reservoir of the machine and slapped it shut. “I can help you figure it out, any of us can,” Zoe said, leaning in the door frame. “There’s a clinic that just opened up in the Fens that’s supposed to be youth friendly. And gay friendly.”

“That’s cool,” Leon replied. “But—“

“Ah ah, don’t give me that,” she interrupted, waggling her finger. “After the shit I’ve seen in guys who ‘seem’ better than you? No way.”

Leon’s face crinkled, and he stared down at his lap. “Mm’kay,” he muttered.

Zoe nodded to herself, then glanced over at Leigh, then at their hands on top of each other. She smirked, then turned and went to tend to her coffee. Yeah, he does need some help, Leigh thought, idly rubbing their thumb against Leon’s hand. I’m gonna be there, though.

For sure.

Just as Leigh resigned themself to him not noticing their touch, Leon sighed and flipped his hand over, loosely holding onto Leigh’s fingertips. Their heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, um…” Leon said quietly. “Thanks.”

“Huh? For what?” Leigh asked.

He looked up. “For caring about me.”

Leigh’s eyes grew wide with surprise. Oh, Leon…

“And, um…” he continued, chewing his lip. “W-we can…I mean, if you…the shower…thing…”

He was so bashful that Leigh couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my God,” they exclaimed. “I don’t think we have time now, I’ve got to get ready for work.” They leaned over to rest their head on his shoulder. “Another time?”

“Mmm.”

Leigh could feel his heartbeat beneath his chin…and unfortunately smell the tang of sweat on his neck. “You still should though.”

“Yeah.”

Leigh squeezed his hand, and Leon got up from the table with a clearer look in his eyes. He even offered Leigh a quiet smile on his way out of the dining room. Well, that’ll carry me through my shift, they thought.

They giggled to themself. Good!

89. leon

orig posted 07/09/2020.

It’s almost 2 in the morning. I can’t sleep. I slept on and off all weekend, so of course, when I got home from work tonight, I wasn’t even tired.

There’s an eerie sort of feeling, sitting at the kitchen table with just the stove light on. It’s probably 30 years old, so it’s got this warm glow to it that barely even lights over to the sink. The only other light is from the end of my cigarette as I draw smoke out of it, as I crush the ash in the tray. Aunt Sally used to have old magazines with cigarette ads. “Take a load off with a smooth, relaxing Marlboro.” I snort to myself. This “smooth, relaxing” cigarette is only going to keep me up for another hour, even if it does stop the buzzing in the back of my head.

The only sound in here is the ticking of the clock as each second goes by. I like times like this, actually. I like the quiet. I like the loneliness. I think.

I hear a car pull into the driveway, and my heart stops in my chest. The adrenaline from the slam of the door is enough to make my stomach sick, and I cough on the smoke in the air. I can’t will myself to move, though. I hear the creak of the screen door, the jingle of keys in the lock, and in she comes, like a bat out of hell.

She wobbles as she stumbles in, walking on heels too high and probably one drink too many. “Joey? What the hell are you doing up? I told you not to smoke in the house!” she scolds. Always scolding, always immediate. I still can’t move my body, but I can turn my head. She’s got her hair all permed up, and her mascara is running streaks down her cheeks.

Mom tosses her purse on the table, kicks her heels off back at the door. She gets her jacket half off before she gives up, slumping at the table across from me…and puts a cigarette between her lips.

I raise an eyebrow. “Uh…”

She scowls at me. “Yeah, I know what I said,” she hisses, fumbling for a light. Automatically, I give her mine. She doesn’t thank me, but lights up and drops it on the table. She takes a deep, deep drag…and is kind enough to at least blow it off to the side.

We sit in silence. My heart is racing. It’s her house, as she always says, even if only through inheritance, and I’m only a guest…but I really wish I had this space to myself again. I’m afraid if I get up, she’ll bitch about how I don’t care. Though if I stay, she might find a reason to find something wrong with me. I quietly rifle through the things in the house that I could have, should have done today. It’s pointless.

Mom sniffles and wipes her cheeks, then her nose with the back of her hand. “I can’t fucking believe it,” she mumbles. “I wasted three months on that asshole.”

Ah, this again. I think her boyfriend record is maybe a year. Something close to it. Wonder what it was this time?

“Stupid!” she curses at herself. “We met up at the bar, and then I lost him for an hour. I found him again making out with some cute little blonde bitch outside.” She rolls her eyes and takes another smoke, puffs coming out when she speaks again. “Apparently we ‘weren’t exclusive’, so…”

I shake my head. Part of me does feel sorry for her. I don’t know what any of that is like, hell, no one’s even held my hand before. But I know I wouldn’t pull something like that on anyone, even someone as much of a pain as Mom.

Speaking of which… “Why am I even telling you this? You don’t care,” she spits, tears rolling down her face. “You won’t even say anything.”

“Mm’sorry,” I mumble.

“What?!” It’s sharp and loud, and makes me jump. My throat’s burning already, God, I hate this! “Speak up! Christ!”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say a little louder, a little clearer. “I-it sucks.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She mashes her cigarette into the ashtray, mauve lipstick on the filter. “I’m sure if I were ten years younger, I’d have nothing to worry about. But I’m getting old…”

She’s going to be 34 this year. If you ask me, that’s not crazy old, but what do I know? My shoulders shrink in. She’s gonna say it, I know she is…

“If I weren’t busy with you, maybe I’d find a decent man by now.”

Yup. It’s all my fault. You know, for being born. Sometimes, I don’t know if she even thinks of me as a real person. I’m just…some thing that she has to keep in her house. Like a pet, but worse, since she hates pets. Just like she hates me.

She doesn’t hate you, people like to say, or they would, I’m sure. But I know the way she stares at me, like she’s doing right now, full of regret. Shouldn’t have gotten involved with whoever my dad was, should’ve given up the baby…oh, if only I didn’t have a kid! I’d be able to do whatever selfish things I’d want! Not that it’s fucking stopping you from any of that.

Not that it ever did.

My throat is nearly closed from the invisible rope that Mom has put around my neck. “Go to bed,” she commands, sulking. “Leave me here to suffer.”

Loaded, again. If I stay, she’ll yell at me. If I leave, she’ll probably cry loud enough for me to hear her. She wants me to soothe her, to comfort her, to this and that when I can barely get through my own damn day. Almost stood in the middle of that stupid intersection in Davis again, hoping that the firetruck rumbling by would hit me, ever think of that?

No, no she doesn’t. I know she doesn’t.

So, I put out my cigarette in the ashtray, and I stand up. It makes enormous noise in the dead night hours. I leave without saying a word, shuffle to my bedroom…

…shut the door behind me.

I lean against it. I wonder what it’d be like to have a parent that acted like a parent. A parent who pretended they cared about me. I slide down the door to my feet. I don’t know if it would matter. Probably even the best of parents would find something about me to get mad about…I barely go to school, after all. That’s what matters, right?

To think, if she were any better, we could’ve had some kind of bonding moment back there…but no such luck. Not in my world.

I can hear her crying through the door, right on schedule.

90. leigh

orig posted 12/14/2020.

I love fall nights. They really fill me with energy. Me and some friends are going night skating tonight, should be a good time. But I have to get ready first. I really want my black hoodie. I’ve had it since high school, it’s been washed all to hell and is pilling on the inside, but it’s just heavy enough for tonight. Where the heck is it?

I feel like it’s not in my room. I knock on Ray’s door even though it’s open. “Yo, have you seen my black hoodie?”

He shrugs. Dude’s got a tiny little TV set in his room that’s all the way across from his bed. Twin Peaks is on. I don’t know how he can see it, but then again, he’s doing a crossword puzzle. “No, I don’t know,” he replies, not looking up. “I don’t know where your stuff is.”

I don’t know why I even bother. I roll my eyes and skip downstairs. Casey’ll be here any minute, so I’ve gotta find it…

I barrel into the living room and stop dead. Zoe’s on the recliner chair with a knitting project in her lap. “Shh,” she says, and points to the couch in front of me.

Leon’s there. He’s fast asleep. That kind of exhausted sleep where your mouth hangs open, and you look like a sack of potatoes melting into wherever you are. He’s in a flannel and his usual jeans, and looks so, so cozy…

“He said he’d been up all night,” Zoe whispers. The TV is on in here too, but it’s low and she barely speaks above it. “Conked out at around 4.”

I smile and lean against the entryway. My urge to run out in the fall air is being challenged by the urge to curl up against Leon on the couch. “His sleep schedule is so fucked,” I murmur.

“No kidding.”

“I hope he didn’t have to work tonight…”

“I think Ray would’ve gotten him.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. He likes him more than he lets on. He wouldn’t screw him over like that.”

I nod, and spot something under Leon’s head. There! My sweatshirt! He’s…using it as a pillow. I watch him stir just a little to hold the sleeve close to his chest.

Zoe snorts. “Hey, gaylord.”

“No! Well, yeah, but no!” I point. “He’s got the sweatshirt I was gonna wear tonight.”

“Aww.” Zoe resumes knitting. “Well, if you gotta get it, you’re gonna have to take a chance.”

I sigh through my nose and tip toe over. From what I’ve been able to tell, Leon sleeps like a log, so I might be able to pull this off. I crouch down beside the couch. The hood his hanging over the cushion, so I pull from there. Slowly, slowly…it does move his head, so he stirs again, and with that I pull it free…

…almost. Except for the part in his hand. I know my hands are ice cold, so when my fingertips brush his, he opens his eyes a crack. “Hmmn?”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I just…I just need my sweatshirt.”

“Huh?” He lets it go in his confusion, and I hold it up for him. Blearily, he looks at me, then it, and nods. “Mm’kay…”

“Go back to sleep,” I coax. I brush aside his hair from his face.

“Shouldn’t…what time is it…” he mumbles, his eyes closed.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He yawns, and his will wanes. Within a minute, he’s back to a steady breathing rhythm, lulled back to sleep by the clicking of Zoe’s needles and the drone of the TV.

“If you’re lucky, he’ll still be here when you get back,” Zoe says.

I rise and walk backwards, unable to take my eyes off him. “I’d like that,” I say.

When I do manage to break away to see Zoe’s reaction, she’s smirking at me. “What are you making?”

“Trying to make a wide neck sweater.” The yarn she’s using is black with a silver sparkle thread in it. “Would you be interested when this inevitably shrinks in the wash?”

“Maybe,” I say. I’m not really much for sweaters though. I look back at Leon. “I think he’d look nice in a sweater.”

“Pay for the yarn and give me $50 and I can make your boyfriend even cozier.”

Boyfriend…I feel my face getting hot. “I gotta go,” I say.

She giggles as I dash back down the hallway. “Ah, young love!” she says after me.

I’m in so deep. It’s a relief when I burst out the front door, the fresh fall air in my lungs. My timing’s good, because Casey is skating in a circle in the road outside the house.

“Hey!” she says. “Ready to go?”

I’m glad it’s dark enough so she can’t see how pink I probably still am. I grab my skateboard off the porch and toss it in front of me on the sidewalk. “Yup!” Before I hop on my board, I throw on my sweatshirt, which is now warm from him sleeping on it.

And it smells a little like him too.

91. leon

orig posted 10/21/2021.

I have slept. I’ve been sleeping. Ray’s going on vacation next week so he’s pulling shifts like crazy at work. It means I don’t work til Sunday. But work’s the only thing keeping me grounded lately. I have bad dreams about my mom all the time. But I still sleep. And sleep. And sleep. I don’t know what day it is.

There’s a knock on the door. “Leeeeoooon.”

It’s a gentle, sing-song voice. I can’t lift my head. There’s more tapping on the door, like nails against it. “Leeeooon, are you gonna come out?”

The door opens a crack. Leigh peeks their head in. “Oh man, Leon…”

Yeah, they see me sleeping in my jeans and a pile of dirty clothes like a nest…fuckin’ pathetic. Nonetheless, they find a place to sit, gingerly on the edge of the mattress. They rub their hand on my back and it’s cold. “Hey. You haven’t been out for a couple days. Are you okay?”

I groan. It’s only been that long? I bury my head in the pillow.

“Sorry I haven’t been here to check on you.”

Dude, you shouldn’t have to…it’s okay, I’ll just rot here until I figure out how to exist again…

They comb their hand through my hair, gentle even though their nails snag on some knots. I turn my head so one eye can see them. Their nails are painted some blue color today.

“You should come down and get something to eat,” they say. “The house is empty right now. And I don’t think anyone’s gonna be back tli late.” They peer up at the ceiling, taking inventory. “Zoe’s at work, then she said she’s going right to a party in Roxbury…Ray’s working til close, again, and Clover’s not back til August.”

I roll over. I’m stiff from lying down so much. “August?”

“Yeah, she went home for most of summer break this year. Her sister just had a baby, so she’s a new auntie.”

I rub my eyes and sit up. If no one’s here, I guess that’s fine…but to be honest, I don’t mind the hustle and bustle here. People coming and going. I was alone a lot at my mom’s place…both knowing when she’d be back, but never really sure when she’d just show up.

There’s a gnawing in my stomach. “I need a cigarette,” I say.

Leigh nods, understanding. Then, they perk up and pat my thigh. “Wait. I have a better idea. Come on.”

They grab me by the arm and hoist me up out of bed. I stumble and follow them, realizing that although I’m wearing my jeans, I unbuttoned them, and I’m not wearing a shirt. I grasp them by a belt loop and hobble down the stairs, trying not to trip.

“I know what you need,” Leigh says, breathless as they haul me through the hall, the living room, and Clover’s room. “Not a cig, but a bath.”

“Huh?”

I’ve never been in Clover’s room. I always thought it was part of the living room, the way there’s just a heavy curtain that separates it, but it’s a whole…thing. It barely looks lived in right now. Makes sense…she’s not here…I feel stupid already. I stare down at my feet as Leigh continues to lead me.

“Check this out,” Leigh says. “Look at the size of this…”

They flick on a light, and I have to shield my eyes. We’ve walked into…a bathroom? Attached to Clover’s room? It’s huge, with a double vanity, sparkling white tile everywhere…and a giant tub set in the back center of the room.

“Whoa,” I say.

“Apparently they redid this before they gave the house to Zoe,” Leigh says. “They were going to sell this place, so they redid the suite bathroom. I’m so jealous…we’re not supposed to use it.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. She wants to keep it a secret. Clover can ‘cause she’s right next to it, and like, I know Zoe takes long baths in there…” They glance over to me with a wicked grin. “I guess she doesn’t want ‘the boys’ using it.”

They say “the boys” with exaggerated finger quotes, and I snort. Then, before I really know it, they’re pulling my pants down.

“Whoa, whoa,” I say, my heart racing. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to take a bath,” they say. They don’t take off my underwear, thank god, but they do start to undress themself. Off comes the sweatshirt, the flannel, the t-shirt, skater shoes, jeans, down to their underwear. They’re wearing briefs, but a lace undershirt, too. I think it’s called a cami?

Suddenly, they look a little shy. “Is that okay?”

I feel very awake. I look past them and examine the tub a little more. “Does this have…jets in it?”

“O-oh! Yeah man, check it out.” They twist the knobs, and the jets on the side of the tub suddenly come to life, spraying hot water into the basin. “Look at this! You could fit three, four people in here, easy.”

They aren’t looking at me directly anymore, so I hold my breath and take my underwear off, then my socks, and step in. I hiss–the water’s too hot. “T-take it down a little,” I say.

“Oh shit, sorry.” They fuss with the knobs as I get used to the temperature, and eventually manage to sit down. I didn’t realize how cold my ass was until it was in hot water…but it does feel nice. Even just the steam…

I lean my head back. Leigh shuffles behind me, and then gets in the tub as well, sitting beside me. “Luxury,” they sigh. “This is how rich people live, with their fuckin’…big jaccuzis.”

I snort a laugh again. The water slowly fills, past my thighs and my belly button. There’s a jet right at my back that’s massaging it…maybe a little too hard. I shift over, closer to Leigh, and close my eyes.

“Is it nice?” they ask quietly.

“Mmm,” I murmur in reply.

The water is about to reach my chest, and Leigh shuts it off. “I don’t know how this thing works actually,” they say, with a nervous giggle. “I guess it’ll recirculate? But I’m not gonna keep the water going to find out and flood the damn place.”

When was the last time I took a bath? Probably when I was a kid. Aunt Sally probably gave it to me. Mom didn’t bother. No, I’m not going to think about her.

I can tell Leigh is looking at me. I open one eye.

They bite their lip. “I like it when you laugh,” they say shyly. “It’s like…it’s small, but it’s good.”

I like the way their eyes light up when they talk about something they know a ton about. Or even when they’re half-assing something. They have a really toothy grin usually, but when it comes to me, I see their soft smile a lot. Like right now.

They scoot closer, a ripple in the water. “Um…”

They reach up and touch my face. I definitely need a shave. That’s not what they’re thinking, though.

They close the gap, and we kiss. Every stress I had, every nightmare I tried to sleep through…it all seems like a dream now. I’m okay, here. Right here, right now. Their lips are soft.

We break, and press our foreheads against each other. “Zoe’s gonna kill me if she knows we were in here,” they whisper.

“So we don’t tell her,” I say.

“Cool,” they reply. They start to giggle. “Ah, shit.”

“What?” I find their other hand underwater, and I hold it.

“I want to kiss you again.”

So, we do.

92.

orig posted 11/18/2021. orig title "license".

Leon gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead. The hum of the engine idling was second only to the scratch of the proctor’s pencil against the thin paper strapped to the clipboard. “Well, I have to say, you’re the best kid I’ve had this week,” she said, peering over her thick glasses. “90. You pass.”

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping down in uncompressed relief. “Thank…thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“I will say, I think you would have done even better if you had just relaxed a little more,” she remarked as she handed over his sheet. “You were driving as if your life depended on it.”

That’s because it did, he thought, but chuckled politely.

“Pull around to the front of the lot over there, where the reserved spots are, and you can head back inside. The lady at the desk will take care of your paperwork.”

He did as was instructed, although his hands shook so badly that he could barely get his seatbelt unbuckled. The proctor left without him, and in the moment that he locked the car, breathing deep the fresh, spring air, he reached into his front pocket for his cigarettes. The windows of the DMV were straight ahead, and he could see the back of his mother’s permed hair, so he thought better of it.

He shuffled across the parking lot, through the sliding doors, where his mother didn’t look up from her magazine until he was standing directly in front of her. “Well?” she asked, snapping her gum. “How’d you do?”

He nodded to himself, jitters still coursing through his hands. “I passed,” he said finally.

She folded up her magazine and shoved it down into her purse. “Good job,” she replied. The sentiment was honest, but it was followed by: “now I don’t have to drag you along when I want to go out, like when you were five.”

Leon’s already weak smile faded. “Yup,” he said as he bit his lip.

It was six months worth, all told. Six months of driving school and driving hours, of taking his mother back and forth from errands, clubs, and occasionally dates. The last incident dredged itself up in Leon’s mind–four hours waiting in the car on a deserted side-street in Medford.

(Leon woke up from a doze by a man rapping his knuckles on the window. “Hey!” he barked, an arm firmly wrapped around his mother’s waist, “Shelly, who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s just my kid brother, he’s fine,” she insisted, fixing her lipstick in a compact. “He’s trying to put in hours for his licence.”

“Huh, you never mentioned having a brother,” he commented. “Seems a little young, don’t he?”

“He’s–he was–you know, he was an accident, you know how it is…” She turned away from him, leaning her rear against the car, and her speech became illegible.

Leon blinked as the adrenaline faded, forcing himself awake. It was nearly midnight; last time he checked the time, it was just before 11. The book in his lap had closed when he was startled, its place forgotten in its yellowing pages. As he came back into focus, he kept his eyes forward as his mother’s ass was pressed against the window…)

“Joey, sign there.”

He was brought back to himself again at the counter, staring down the paperwork to confirm his license. All the details were there: 53 Stanton Road, Somerville MA. Born May 8th, 1977. Blue eyes–that was close enough; they were really closer to gray, but there was no check box on the stock form for that. Brown hair. Five feet, nine inches. 160 pounds. Organ donor.

Donovan, Joseph Leonard.

He wrinkled his nose at the name. He hadn’t liked being called that for a while, but couldn’t really put a finger on why. Maybe it was the tiniest bit of change he could muster, some small thing he could control. “Leon” was cooler, in his mind. It was also a transformation of his middle name, so others could get the connection. He had tried asking people to call him that when he started high school, and, for the most part, it had worked. Now, it was only his mother who called him Joey.

And he flinched when he heard it.

“Hello, are you all there?” she scolded, pinching his shoulder. “It’s like you fell asleep. Initial up there, sign there.”

He nodded wordlessly, and signed the form.

Even when they returned to the car, the excitement settled back into misery in the pit of Leon’s stomach. “Now if anything goes wrong with this car, you have to pay for it, okay?” his mother said. She pulled down the blinder and touched up her lipstick in its mirror. “Bad enough I have to register the damn thing again.”

Leon shoved the temporary license in the blinder above his head in the driver’s seat. “I can register it,” he said.

“No, you can’t. You’re not old enough. You have to wait until you’re eighteen.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should just sell it.”

“No!” Leon blurted, twisting his hand on the steering wheel. “N-no, you promised I could…I’ll pay for everything, gas, repairs, whatever.”

She glanced at him from the side. “You’ll pay for the registration, then?”

“Sure.”

Mentally, Leon added up the paychecks he would need to cover everything. Then, he realized he had no idea how much that was. I’m going to have to get a better job this summer, he thought as he started the engine. No way is that envelope of money Aunt Sally left me going to cover everything…

“I hope so,” she said. “Or else you’ll owe me. Then, it’s bye-bye to the car.”

Leon shifted the car in reverse and wrapped his hand around the passenger side headrest to back out. “Watch it! Don’t touch my hair,” she snapped.

He bit his cheek. Maybe you ought to ditch the perm, he thought to himself. Does Mom even know about the money Aunt Sally left me? I feel like I can’t even think about it or else she’ll find it. She’ll snatch it if she finds it, and then I really won’t have anything.

Two more years. Then, the car can be in my name. Then, I’ll be an adult, legally. Then, I’m outta here.