Yes, I’m Gay

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he’s still tapping away on his phone, expression unreadable.

Timothy calls again and I turn my phone off before the call even rings out, my pulse racing. I shove it into the drawer beside the bed, like it’s burning me. 

I look at my mother, breathing a sigh of relief. 

~

The next day I linger at the hospital, not wanting to return to school. 

I resume the day after. Nothing new’s happened with my mother, and I feel hopeful. 

My first class of the day is English Lit. I can’t find Jasmine anywhere. 

Dr. Albert’s lilting voice is lulling me to sleep when he is interrupted by the sound of someone knocking the door, the rattle making him jump. 

“Come in,” he says, and his voice squeaks on the words, hands fidgeting by his sides. This man is so weird.

The door opens and the headmaster walks in, a boy behind him. The boy is struggling to push some of the hair falling into his eyes away. 

When he finally gives up, he shakes his head to let his hair fall back and reveals the most beautiful set of eyes I have ever seen in my life. They're the lightest blue.

“Hello, all.” The headmaster says, “This is Alexander, and he's just joined us from a top school in England.” He looks around the class for a second, before his eyes land on mine. “Liam, you'll be his buddy for the week. Show him the works…” 

The headmaster leaves, patting Alexander's shoulder on his way out. 

He says “Hi,” his voice a low rumble, looking around the class. 

I can't concentrate on Dr. Albert for the remainder of the class, my eyes keep drifting to him, trying to determine what the tattoo hidden behind his shirt collar might be. 

~

The class ends before I completely realise it. Alexander turns around first, looking at me like he has something to say. 

I say hello, stretching my hand out to him. He takes it, enclosing mine so gently. “Sorry, what's your name, again?” 

He hasn't let go of my hand, and I say, “Liam,” but my words are muffled by the sound of laughter coming from across the room. 

Timothy, and about three other boys, are pointing at Alex, making gagging sounds and shouting something. For a second I can't make out what they are saying, and I look at Alexander, confused. 

Timothy's voice comes through, and I’m sure I see jealousy in the way his eyes rake over Alexander. Sizing him up.  

I pause, looking between Alexander and Timothy, then shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Um…” 

Alexander's eyes turn to slits, his face twisting in hate. But he says nothing. His hand is still in mine. 

“He's a faggot, Liam,” Timothy's voice is loud enough for the whole room to hear. He comes closer to us, Jo and Peter walking a little behind him, like goons. “Tried to suck Jo's dick in the locker room earlier, bro.” 

“What the fuck?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think of stopping them. My heart is beating too fast. I stand up, pulling his hands out of mine. I feel the lie like a stain on my shirt everyone but me can see. 

Do I look believeable? To everyone? 

How can Timothy say that, after the things we've done? How can he be so cruel, so fake?

I look at Alexander for a long second. He says without remorse, without shame, “Yes, I'm gay, but no, I didn't try to suck Jo's dick.” 

He eyes Jo, and Jo takes a step back. 

For a split second I envy the assurance he has.  

Timothy pulls me away, barely giving me enough time to grab my books. 

“God, I can't believe he just admitted that.” he sneers, his voice too loud as he puts his arms around my shoulder. He can't hold my eyes. 

He just sighs and continues walking, not letting go of me. The last few minutes keep replaying in my head, Alexander's eyes haunting me. 

Timothy keeps steering me, silent.

The janitor’s closet. An image of his body above me clouds my mind, his hand on my head. I shake my head forcefully.  

“No, Tim,” I say—and I like how strong my voice is when I say it. Determined. 

His eyes droop, and he looks around before touching me, running his hands across my

chest. My resolve doesn’t weaken. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

I push his hands away, scared someone's seen us, but the corridor is surprisingly empty. 

“Why?” He takes a small step back. 

“I just—um… have you seen Jasmine today?”

He shakes his head no, turning around before speaking. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk about this?”

He doesn’t wait for my reply, heading in the direction of my dorm. My breakfast starts trying to climb back up my throat. 

“Wait, Tim,” I say, and stop walking. He turns, and I start, “We have a class–”

He doesn't let me finish, “Let's just get to your room and talk there.” 

I nod and continue walking. 

We get into the room. I say it again, more to myself than him, “I don't want to do this anymore, Tim.”

“And why's that?”

I don’t want to tell him about Jasmine. “Sometimes I wonder if you even care about me.” 

He looks at me. An eternity passes, waiting for him to break the silence. 

“Come,” he says, beckoning. When I go closer, he pulls me, wrapping his arms around me until I'm straddling him. 

He presses his lips to mine, and I'm ashamed of how I lean in, my arms going around his neck. 

“I love you, Li.” His eyes are so earnest, his hand moves to my shirt as if to unbutton it.

I pull myself away from him, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“Look,” I move to the other bed as I speak, needing some distance to collect myself. 

“You can’t tell anyone this.” I wait for his nod before I continue. “Jasmine’s pregnant.”

I watch as his eyes widen in shock, before hardening. His lips turn up with a grimace. 

I cough awkwardly, “So you understand why I can’t do this anymore.” 

He rises from his place on my bed, walking up to me and raising my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. His palm circles my neck, like a caress. 

Then he bends down, his breath hot against my ear. “If you try leaving me, I’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve been doing with me.”