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Warning: Contains Boys Love and vulgar language.

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Chapter 17: Unity


The bell to end third period seemed to ring with doom. Long after its ominous echo had faded away behind the loud and relieved chatter of students, while Elliot was still meticulously packing everything away, Jacqueline approached him, already packed up and ready to go.

“Elliot, you okay?” she asked after Elliot made no motion to get up.

“Sure,” he said with a faint sigh. He got up from his seat with his book bag in hand. “Just…stalling.”

A thoughtful expression crossed Jacqueline’s round face. “Stalling? Why—oh, it’s Wednesday.” The corners of her lips pinched into a tight smile. “Club meeting today, right?”

“Naturally,” Elliot slipped the straps of his book bag over his shoulders, “and I have no idea what he has planned.” He recalled the odd ideas Cameron had conjured up in the past—no doubt the freckled boy had more hidden up his sleeve. And as much as he wanted to see the other boy, finding out what Cameron had planned made him hesitant to do so.

Jacqueline gave Elliot’s shoulder a pat, but the touch was light and barely there. “I’m sure whatever happens at the meeting won’t be as bad as you’re thinking,” she said while leading the way to the open doorway, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, her eyes glued to the floor.

“Probably,” Elliot agreed, trailing a few steps behind Jacqueline as they exited the classroom and entered the hustling-and-bustling hallway. He squeezed past a few students that blocked the hallway, grimacing when they barely moved out of the way. “It’s just…I don’t know. The club doesn’t bother me that much anymore, but…”

“I know. You hate not knowing what happens next,” Jacqueline finished the thought for him. She looked up and offered him a tiny but comforting smile. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see." She paused, as if considering her words, then said, "There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Elliot’s mouth pulled into a pout. “I’m not afraid,” he mumbled to himself, discouraged when the spoken words didn’t will his fear away. “But you’re probably right,” he said in a louder voice, picking up the pace as he walked. “You’re usually right about these things anyway...—”

"Naturally," Jacqueline said, stifling a small yawn with her hand. Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"Tired?"

“Yeah, a little," Jacqueline explained with a light laugh. “I didn’t go to bed until somewhere around one this morning—was up studying for that test we have on Friday. Oh well, that’s what I get for staying up late. I’ll just have to go to bed early tonight.”

"Oh, right." He'd almost forgotten about the test; his mind had been too wrapped up within other things.

After maneuvering around a few crowding groups, they made it to one of the cross-section hallways. Jacqueline wished Elliot good-luck with the meeting, and he thanked her, comforted by her kind words as she went on her own way to the Student Council room. Forcing his nerves aside, Elliot pressed on and continued down the long, seldom used hallway that led to the KISS fan club.

The hallway, being situated on the west side of the school, was still dim from the lack of direct sunlight. Elongated shadows covered the floor, as well as the orange and yellow lockers that were lined up along the white walls.

The clubroom door was the very last door at the end of the hallway. The door was wide open. People continually walked in and out—teenagers of all ages and creeds. Some looked serious about the club, and others appeared to think of it in more comical terms.

Elliot spotted Alison standing by the doorway with a clipboard in one hand, a speedily scrawling pen in the other, and a blank expression on her face. Her once azure-blue hair was now a pitch black, and it seemed to only make her natural expression all the more hard and unforgiving. Her hawk-like eyes spotted Elliot, and her wide mouth pulled back into its familiar and spiteful smirk. Elliot picked up the pace, and with his chin held high, entered the clubroom.

Like any other meeting, the room was swarming with activity, the air overcrowded with voices as chaos held order back. Deciding it better to sit and wait, Elliot took a seat at the back. He silently assessed the activity going on around him. The number of members had at least doubled since the last meeting he’d been to…

He looked around, but saw no sign of Cameron anywhere.

“Quiet down,” Alison’s voice boomed, overwhelming all the rest with its natural authority. “Take your seats. Meeting starts in a minute.”

The tempest of voices hushed into a low hum as most took their seats. Elliot leaned back into his chair, arms crossed, eyeing the room with closer inspection now that it had sorted itself out. His shoulders tensed. Where was Cameron? Why wasn’t he at his own…

“Sorry I’m late!” a male voice shouted. The lean body it belonged to slid through the open door at the very last minute, panting heavily. A good number of the people in the room—including Elliot—all turned to stare at Cameron, astounded by the boy’s sudden appearance.

Once Cameron had regained his breath, he beamed at the members in the room. He waved sheets of flimsy paper in one hand back and forth. “Don’t worry; I have a good excuse for being late.”

Elliot relaxed in his seat, his muscles going lax at the sight and sound of the other boy. All previous doubts and worries about being there in the first place were hushed the moment he saw the other boy’s carefree and trusting grin—even if it wasn’t directed specifically at him.

“Okay! Meeting time!” Cameron proclaimed, grabbing everyone’s attention as he approached the wooden desk at the front of the room. He hopped up on it and swung his legs underneath it. He held out the sheet of paper in his hand for everyone to get a better look at it. “Can anyone guess what this is?”

A few murmurs circled around the room, but no one answered the question. Elliot remained quiet, attempting to read the fine print on it from where he sat. He could recognize format on the paper—it was a permission slip. They had the exact slips at The Student Council room.

“Aw, it’s not that much of a guessing game if you don’t try,” Cameron chastised with a shake of his head. He flung his hand, along with the sheets of paper, in front of Alison’s face. “What does it say, Alison?”

Alison’s eyes darted over the text as the room fell into quiet anticipation. She cleared her throat and said, “It’s a permission form.”

“Exactly!” Cameron lowered the paper and turned back towards his silent audience. “But a permission form for what?”

Oh God, Elliot mentally groaned, his apprehension returning. Here it comes. Brace yourself.

“…An event?” a female voice piped up from the back row, almost too quiet to be heard. Cameron heard her and pointed a finger in her direction.

“Correct!” His eyes danced with excitement as he leaned forward. “And guess whose acting as cheerleaders for tomorrow’s football game?”

No pause was needed—the entire room exploded into hysterical whoops and cheers. Elliot tensed in his seat, his ears ringing from the sudden loud noise all around him. His expression scrunched up when he considered what Cameron had said. Hadn’t they already done something like that before?

The freckled boy raised his hands and motioned for the club members to quiet down again. “But wait, there’s more!”

Elliot wanted to bang his head off the wall. Figures. He’s going to say something that will blow the audience away, and it will make everything just that much worse. Making a complete spectacle of ourselves isn’t humiliating enough, is it?

“Not only are we acting as cheerleaders for tomorrow,” Cameron continued, the entire room holding it’s breath as they waited for the inevitable conclusion. He leaned in forward, and so did the audience. “But…we’re also a part of the clean-up crew after the game.”

The room burst into a series of protests and groans. Elliot blinked. Well, I wasn’t expecting that one.

“Hey, it’s not all bad!” Cameron shouted over the whining and complaining. “We get to miss most of third period tomorrow so that we can prepare for the game. And we miss fourth and fifth period. I talked to The Student President just before this meeting, and I have permission slips here for everyone. They’re signed and everything!”

At least half of the groans quieted down, but a few here and there still clung tenaciously to their grumbles about the extra work at hand. Elliot frowned at the few who still mumbled their unfounded complaints. Ungrateful idiots, he scoffed. Acting like they’re going to lose a finger over this.

Up at the front of the room, Cameron handed Alison half of the slips, then they split up, Alison taking the right of the room while Cameron took the left. Elliot swallowed a growing lump in his throat when he realized he was on Cameron’s side.

Idiot! Why are you freaking out? He mentally snapped, unaware of his right index finger tapping nervously against his arm. Relax.

“Remember guys, we’re not meeting here tomorrow. There’s a room we’ll be using near the gym instead—there’ll be a sign on the door,” Cameron shouted over the noise. He handed a slip to a girl who sat a few seats away from Elliot. She smiled up at him and fluttered her eyelashes. Despite Elliot’s inner twinge at the scene, he couldn’t help but smirk when it became obvious that Cameron was oblivious to the subtle flirting.

Cameron paused when he reached Elliot at the very back of the room. He flashed Elliot a grin and slid a permission slip into Elliot’s hand. “It’s a pretty big event. Think you can handle it?”

Elliot accepted the slip, folded it in half, and slid it down his pants pocket. “I think I can handle it,” he replied, a flurry of butterflies in his chest accompanying the lump in his throat. His breath caught in his throat when Cameron flashed him a bright grin.

Cameron nodded, pleased by the response. “Right on.” Then he turned and carried on his way, handing more members their permission slips as he repeated the previous announcement.

Filled with excited butterflies that seemed to fill him from head to toe, Elliot relaxed in his seat, and finally allowed himself to breathe. He began anticipating what would happen tomorrow.


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A light frost dusted the tips of the dead grass Thursday morning and sprinkled icy designs on windows and cars. Even with the sun out, half of it hiding behind thin clouds, the frost remained for the better part of the morning. The cold alone made the walk to school just that longer, as Elliot couldn’t ignore the way the frosted grass gleamed in the sunlight, or how he breathed short-lived clouds every five seconds.

Unfortunately, the school had yet to turn the heat on, and it was only around the end of second period that Elliot began to feel perfectly warm again. By that point, he’d occupied himself all morning with his school work and the permission slip he’d gotten the day before. He’d even fiddled with it on the way to third period, only vaguely aware of the off-glances Jacqueline gave him every now and then as he did so.

By the time they’d reached third period, Jacqueline asked, “What is that?”

“It’s a permission slip,” he explained, running his fingertip along the deeply engraved crease from it being folded and refolded at least a hundred times. “You know the football game today?”

“Yes?”

“I get to leave class early for it,” he said, torn between exhilaration and fretfulness over said event.

“No fair,” Jacqueline said with a mock-pout. "I can't make it. My fourth period teacher hates sports and thinks it's a waste of time. Sounds like fun, though.” Noticing Elliot’s expression, she added, “Ah, but there’s a catch to going, isn’t there? What is it this time? Are you taking part in a choreographed dance?”

Elliot made a face; a tiny laugh slipped out of Jacqueline. “So there is,” she teased, although her voice sounded off; a little too energetic than usual.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her expression. But he shook off his paranoia. “Are you done teasing me yet?” he asked instead.

Jacqueline chuckled. Even her laughter sounded a tad off. “Sorry. It’s just…well, it should be interesting, whatever it is you have to do.” She glanced up in time to see the teacher enter the room. She bit the corner of her lip and said, “Have fun...”, then returned to her seat a few desks back.

Elliot swallowed and wondered whether or not if he would have fun.

He got up just as the final bell to begin third period rang and handed the permission slip to the teacher. He explained the situation, and the teacher nodded, looking it over. He gave Elliot his consent, then put the permission slip into a nearby drawer. Elliot went back to his seat, and waited for the hands on the clock the strike the appropriate time.

Time dragged, as was the natural law when it came to waiting and expectation. But it certainly didn’t feel natural for a half an hour to feel like forever.

The clock finally struck half past eleven. Elliot packed his things, got up without a word, and left in the middle of his teacher’s seminar.

Remembering what Cameron had said the day before, Elliot walked down a more unfamiliar hallway than usual—the lonely hallway that led to only one section of the school: the gym, along with its changing and locker rooms.

Normally, a lot of the younger students hung out around there; freshman, sophomores, and sometimes even juniors. But in the later high school years, more students focused on the sciences rather than a class filled with dodge ball and running laps. However, that section of the school was now crowded. Although most of the people were inside the large gymnasium, a few football players and cheerleaders spilled out into the hallways in their own selective cliques. Upon closer inspection, Elliot noticed quite a few people that he didn’t recognize. Many of them were all geared or dressed up—football players and cheerleaders from the rivaling school, clad in their own school colours: a fiery red and bleach white.

Passing by the unfamiliar clutters of people, Elliot stumbled upon the hallway that belonged solely to the locker and custodian rooms, as well as the one room that bore a sheet of white paper taped to the door that read: KISS members changing room.

An obnoxious boy that stood nearby sneered at the sign. “Do you think that really means what is says? What a joke,” he snickered. The young herd of boys around him laughed in response.

Elliot pursed his lips and resisted the urge to storm over there and tell the boy off. It’s not a joke, his mind retorted. What right did that boy have to mock it when he had no idea at all? The boy knew nothing about the club.

With his head held high, Elliot strolled in through the open door…

…And almost turned straight around and out when he took his first look at the impending doom ahead. The room was filled entirely with black and white, and the room was filled with the unmistakable smell of paint.

So much paint! If you’re fast, maybe you can…

“Elliot, over here!” Cameron called out to Elliot from across the room. He waved his hand for Elliot to come over.

…Too late.

Taking a heavy breath, Elliot slowly made his way across the room—past the scuttling people, stepping over strewn book bags and boxes of assorted face paint—and over to the freckled boy. Cameron sat on a wooden bench, his hand coated in the same white paint that was spread all over his face.

Elliot took one look and nearly did a double take at the boys appearance. “You look weird with paint on,” he commented. “Especially when your freckles are all covered up like that. Kinda freaky.”

“Ha-ha,” Cameron said with a snort. “Laugh all you want—you’re next.”

Elliot eyed the tubes of paint and made a face. “Oh, goody…”

Cameron smiled up at him, then scooted back on the bench and patted the spot beside him. With a sigh, Elliot dropped his bag onto the dirty floor with a careless thud and sat down beside Cameron, his lips pursed into a displeased pout while the other boy squeezed some fresh white paint onto his fingers.

“Just relax, and let me work my magic,” Cameron said, pressing his fingertips onto Elliot’s cheek. Elliot gave a slight jump at the coldness of the paint but gradually relaxed as it warmed up a bit as Cameron rubbed it over his skin. Elliot closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, relaxing against the other boy’s ministrations.

Cameron chuckled. “Should I make another black heart for you?”

Elliot didn’t need his eyes to be open for him to see, and even hear, the wicked grin on the other boys face. “Don’t even think about it.”

Cameron laughed again. “Joking, joking. I’m not that mean.” His fingers left Elliot’s cheek, but before Elliot could mourn the loss of warmth those warm fingers returned, this time pressing along his nose and forehead. Elliot opened his eyes and studied the determined expression on the other boys face as he worked the face paint into an even coating.

“You know,” Cameron said, his voice holding an unusual tone of nostalgia, “I remember when I first did this for you.”

Perplexed by the abrupt shift in mood, Elliot said, “How can you not? It was only three months ago.”

Cameron smiled. “Almost four; tomorrow’s December. And that’s not the point—I just meant that I remember it well. You were all pouty—not that you aren’t now, it was just worse back then—and I was trying to persuade you to just lighten up a bit. You were so uptight about everything. Still kinda are, actually.” Cameron covered the last of exposed skin on Elliot’s forehead, his smile disappearing. “So much has happened since then…”

Elliot nodded in agreement. “It feels almost like it was forever ago.” And yet it’d only been three-four months. Not that long ago at all.

Cameron chuckled. “Wow, I feel so old now. Minus the cane and back problems.”

Elliot snorted. “Give it time.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jynx me. But enough about that. It’s time to pretty you up—er, not that you’re not already pretty,” Cameron said with a sheepish grin. He coughed when Elliot raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh relax! I was joking. Um, sorta. But you know what I mean, right?” Cameron groaned at his clumsy wording. “Never mind, forget I said anything.” He squeezed a trail of black paint onto one finger, then cupped Elliot’s chin with his free hand.

Elliot asked in a guarded voice, “You won’t put anything weird on, right? It’s bad enough I’m doing this. I don’t need a unicorn drawn on there or something.”

Cameron shook his head. “Relax. I give you my word as a Boy Scout that I won’t draw anything horribly obscene. Now hold still.”

Elliot inhaled deeply, and allowed Cameron’s finger to trace cool and unknown shapes and images on his skin. He looked around the room while Cameron did so, watching the other members doing the same to their own, or their friends', faces. He studied their happy and silly faces, and tried to wrap his mind around the concept of what they were doing—looking absurd was fun? He couldn’t understand it, but nonetheless, the sense of unity was almost overwhelming.

“Okay, I’m done.” Cameron released Elliot’s chin and grinned at his masterpiece.

Elliot reached up to touch his face, then thought better of it and didn’t. “It’s not bad, right?”

“Nope. Actually, this looks loads better than the last one I did. It’s very adorable.”

Elliot’s heart stopped beating in his chest. Cameron’s amused grin sent off alarm bells in his head. “You…you didn’t…!” Elliot spun around wildly in his seat, seeking a mirror. He caught sight of one from across the room, and stared into it long and hard, his lips pursed as he studied his reflection. Then he slowly turned back around to Cameron, his eyes half-lidded with bemusement. “…This is worse.”

“What?” Cameron blurted with astonishment. “How is that worse? That’s adorable!”

Elliot pointed to his face, to where he knew a few black whiskers and a nose were painted on, as well as large black shapes surrounding his eyes. “You call a kitty-face adorable? What am I, a three year old? I look stupid!”

Cameron shook his head, laughter erupting from deep within. “Silly Elliot. There’s a member of KISS called ‘The Catman*’, and that was his design. I thought you’d want an official look, so I gave you that one. It looks good--I think it suits you.”

Elliot shook his head, uncomfortable with both the design and the heavy layer of paint covering every inch of his face. It felt weird to move, much less speak. “Right. Because I already love to dress up and play kitty-cat.”

“Whatever, man,” Cameron sighed, but his persistence still shone right through. “You look good. Now, do me.”

Elliot coughed and fought to regain his breath. The bluntness of Cameron’s words had taken him by surprise. “E-Excuse me?!”

Cameron held up the tube of black paint, oblivious to his own double entendre. “C’mon, it’s only fair.”

Elliot eyed the tube of paint and Cameron’s white face; it clicked. “O-Oh. You meant…” he cleared his throat, the back of his neck aflame from embarrassment. He didn’t think it was possible to feel that mortified over a few words, but it was.

Cameron blinked. “What did you—Oh! Whoa…uh, oops. Wrong subject,” he said with a nervous laugh. He looked just as mortified as Elliot felt. “Sheesh, Elliot. Get your head out of the gutter. You’re such a guy!”

“Oh, and you’re not?” Elliot quipped. Cameron made at face at Elliot, but it didn’t last long—he fiddled around with the tube of paint.

Elliot rolled up his sleeves and took the tube of paint from the freckled boy. The paint was cool against his skin when he squeezed some out on his fingertip. His gaze darted between the paint and Cameron’s face. His mind went blank.

“I’m not exactly the artistic type…” he admitted after a long pause.

The confession didn’t deter Cameron’s expectation. “Just go with the flow,” he said. “Do whatever comes to mind.”

But what if nothing comes to mind? Elliot wanted to ask, but he silenced the question. Instead, he mumbled, “Whatever you say.” Pushing past the indecision, he pressed a finger to Cameron’s cheek and got to work. Although, with no set course of action, and his ‘creative genius’ strained from over-thinking the simplest of ideas, his finger barely moved. Elliot frowned as he worked. Hand him a sheet full of formula’s, patterns, or set structure, and he excelled with flying colours. Unleash him with a tube of paint, and the most he could come up with was a smiley face…

And, oddly enough, it didn’t look all that happy.

Seeming to catch on to Elliot’s inherit discouragement, Cameron puckered out his lower lip and said, “C’mon Elliot, just let go. It’s not that difficult.”

“Says you. I don’t know what to do,” Elliot grumbled with frustration.

“Don’t think about it—just do the first thing that comes to mind.”

“But that could be anything!”

“Amateur. It’s supposed to be anything,” Cameron teased. And then he had Elliot’s hand in his. He took the tube of paint from Elliot and squeezed a large gob of black paint all over his hand. Elliot tensed and made a face as Cameron spread the paint all over his palm and the back of his fingers.

“Now go crazy,” Cameron said, watching Elliot with hopeful eyes. When Elliot didn’t move, Cameron repeated himself. “I said go—”

Elliot silenced Cameron by pressing his whole hand against the boy’s face, fingers spread out and palm flat over Cameron’s cheek and nose. Cameron’s jaw hung open while Elliot rubbed his hand in against Cameron’s stark-white face before pulling back, leaving a large and somewhat disconnected handprint in its wake.

Cameron blinked, stunned, then turned to look at the mirror resting against the wall opposite them. He smiled. “Cool. Kinda tribal.” He turned back to Elliot. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but this works, too. Awesome job.” He waggled his eyebrows. “See what happens when you just let go?”

Elliot held in a groan. More teasing? Nevertheless, some small part of him felt far too relieved that Cameron liked the random idea to be annoyed. He watched Cameron admire the handy work before standing up and clapping his hands. “Okay guys! Wash your hands, and meet up outside! Time to get ready.”


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After washing up, the whole group met outside by the backdoors of the gym. While Cameron, Alison, as well as the football and cheerleading coaches went over regulations for the day, Elliot stood apart from the group, arms crossed and shoulders hunched against the brisk late autumn air.

It’ll be winter soon, Elliot thought as the blanket of brittle brown leaves crackled under his shoes. A chilly wind brushed against him, and he resisted a slight shudder. Even though he wasn’t one to understand sports all that well, he certainly couldn’t get why their school insisted on playing such a sport all year round. And the lack of snow during the winter was no excuse, as far as he was concerned.

Not to mention that the paint on his face felt like it was frozen stiff. Thankfully, the weatherman had called for a warmer afternoon.

“Elliot! Over here!” someone from the group shouted, the voice too indistinguishable for Elliot to put a face or name to. With a reluctant sigh, he turned and joined the ambitious group.


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The main part of the work was simple enough—all they had to do was help everyone set up the field for the anticipated game. The work carried on throughout the entire lunch period, and it was only a little around the end of said lunch period that the metal risers began to fill with people—students from both schools, and even families of the team players. The opposing teams warmed up along the sidelines, the tension between the rivaling teams rising with each minute that passed. Before long, the field was filled with high-pitched whistles, cheers from both the crowd and the organic smell of cold dirt and leaves of an ending autumn. Both sets of cheerleaders had already begun their chanting.

Excluding Elliot, of course.

He stood off by the side of the risers, now accustomed to the natural chilly air, as calm as he could get around a large crowd of people. He took it all in. He watched the crowd grow steadily larger in size, and the teams rile themselves up, facing each other in aggressive groups. The first whistle for the game to start pierced the air, and the game exploded to life.

“You look very lively standing there, Elliot.”

Elliot glanced over at the sound of his name and rolled his eyes at The President. The taller boy stood off to the side, hands buried in his pockets, smirking at him coolly.

“What, not going to burst into a cheer for me?” The President pressed further, eyes dancing with good-natured mischief. “Nice make-up, by the way. Setting a new fashion trend?”

“Shut up,” Elliot said with a snort, not really bothered by the friendly teasing. “You know why I look like this—and you know how I feel about this.”

“True. You certainly look like you’re enjoying it.”

“Ha-ha. Good one.”

The President drew nearer. He examined the crowd, his cool cobalt eyes settling where Elliot’s were currently locked. “Why aren’t you out there, rooting for the game like everyone else? Wait, nevermind. I already know the answer.”

Elliot smirked at his friend’s sardonic remark as he watched the action play out in front of him. Regular cheerleaders shouted and danced with flushed faces on the sidelines with their pompoms. The KISS members were spread out, doing their best to get the crowd to participate with their own wacky, unorthodox chants and behavior. Elliot spotted Cameron off with a group of awkward looking teenagers, attempting to get them to do the wave with him and failing. He almost smiled at the freckled boy’s fierce determination.

“It’s a pretty nice day. A little cold, but still nice,” The President said, squinting his eyes against the sun that peeked through a thin blanket of clouds.

Elliot nodded in agreement, still watching Cameron attempt to persuade the group of teenagers to join in the fun.

“Anyways, I’d better go get a seat now. I’ll see you later, Elliot.” The President smiled at Elliot with barely concealed slyness. “You’d better get out there and participate—unless you’re too scared?”

Elliot jolted out of his pondering thoughts and back to life. “What? Scared?” he demanded. But The President had already meandered off. Elliot scowled, perfectly aware of how ridiculous he must’ve looked, but too frustrated to care. He wasn’t scared. How could he be? He was out there, dressed up and everything. Wasn’t that enough?

“Elliot!”

Elliot turned, his scowl dissipating instantly upon the sight of Cameron calling over to him. The freckled boy waved for him to join him, the awkward teenagers long gone. Determined to prove The President wrong—him? Scared? Ha!—Elliot marched over to the other boy as if this were an ordinary day, and his face didn’t bare an unusual mask.

Once he’d crossed the distance, Elliot asked, “What is it?”

“Just came up with a game plan,” Cameron explained while rubbing his arms—he looked pretty cold, but his words remained crystal clear. “Well, so to speak. This crowd seems pretty dead right now. Up for a little cheering?”

God, no, his mind retorted. “Yeah,” he answered instead, his determination strengthening his resolve to prove everyone else wrong. Besides, what was a little cheering? He could do this. He was sure of it.

“Great!” Cameron pat Elliot’s shoulder and pointed to the top of the risers. “Go up and stand there. When you hear us cheering, join in. Then just go with the flow.”

Go with the flow? None of that sounded easy to swallow, but Elliot bit his tongue and nodded. He left Cameron without another word and headed for the metal risers. He climbed up the steps, careful not to step on anyone’s feet or hands. A few of the rival students, and even some from his own school, eyed him and whispered to the people sitting beside them. Elliot bit his tongue again, resisting the urge to shout at them, “This is just temporary!”, but he knew that would change nothing.  He inwardly cursed his ridiculous appearance and climbed up to the top.

Once he was in position, he crossed his arms and waited, staring down at the game below. Jersey-clad players scrambled all across the field, most of them bolting after the one player that hugged the leather ball to his chest. A few in the crowd cheered, and even screamed for victory, but Cameron was right. The energy levels were oddly low for a sports audience.

There was a shrill whistle, and the players reformatted themselves on the field. Just as the game jumped back to life again, a loud whooping was added to the mixed chorus of sounds. Elliot spotted a young duo in the middle of the risers—Cameron and someone he didn’t recognize—and they were both clapping and cheering unabashedly. Then the left of the crowd broke out into harmonious cheers, then the right, followed by the bottom section. Elliot’s jaw set itself as the club members fulfilled their desired roles; the crowd took the bait and began to join within the unity of cheering, too.

Guess it’s my turn…he thought, his hands flexing at his sides. His throat went dry at the thought, and even though he wanted to fulfill the task and prove that he could do it, he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth and join in.

His own cowardice left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

Elliot glanced all around the crowd, staggered that people could easily join in, and that he couldn’t. He spotted Cameron in the middle of the crowd, laughing and cheering with another member of the club with abandon. An alien surge of admiration and jealousy passed through him. How could Cameron summon up all that courage and just get out there and do it? Didn’t he ever once consider how ridiculous he might look?

As if sensing someone was watching him, Cameron turned his head. He noticed Elliot a moment later, and instead of grinning at him, he gave Elliot a baffled look. He shifted around and began a curved trek to where Elliot stood.

“Hey,” Cameron greeted upon reaching up. “What’s up? How come you’re not cheering?”

Elliot swallowed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, sounding lost. But he knew why. He could feel his fear collect inside, holding him back with persuasive claws—he truly was scared.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Cameron mock-huffed. “C’mon, let out your inner man.”

Elliot coughed. “My inner what?”

“You know, your inner man.” Cameron grinned cheekily, then slapped him on the back. “C’mon! Let out all that testosterone into one ferocious roar.”

Elliot shot Cameron a strange look, unable to grasp the concept, even when it sounded so simple.

“Maybe I should show you how,” Cameron said. “Observe.” He cupped his hands around his mouth, and without warning, he let out a wild cheer that sent startled shivers exploding through Elliot’s nerves. It was a free sound, something unrestrained. The freckled boy stopped cheering and grinned at Elliot. “Like that. Just let go, and give it your all.”

Not that again. ‘Just let go’. How the hell do you ‘let go’—what do you let go of? Elliot wondered, befuddled by the odd concept. But with the way Cameron looked at him, he knew he had no choice but to at least try and attempt something. Elliot looked down at his hands. He raised them up, cast the other boy one last look—searching for encouragement. Cameron winked and gestured for him to go ahead. Elliot took a deep breath, cupped his hands around his mouth, and after one last pause to kiss his dignity good-bye, let out a loud whopping cheer.

Although it must not have lasted longer than a few seconds, it seemed to echo forever in his own head. At first, he’d just been determined to do it and get the stupid task over and done with, but the thrill and liberating feeling that accompanied the experience startled him. Once his courage failed him, his fear overwhelming again, Elliot snapped his mouth shut. His ears and neck went warm from embarrassment. Beside him, Cameron was laughing with enjoyment.

“Again,” the other boy demanded. “C’mon, again!”

Elliot frowned, his wariness getting the better of him. But he raised his hands again, the strength summoned with more ease. There was no hesitance when he let out another boisterous cheer. And then Cameron was joining him, clapping his hands shouting for their team’s victory. For a brief moment, Elliot felt something swell inside him, a sense of elation he’d never experienced before.

Elliot ceased cheering again, his throat dry. He noticed Cameron’s ecstatic expression, and the shy but amused expressions of the few who glanced at them. Elliot was reminded of that unity he’d sensed back when the members had been doing their make-up. He remembered that shared happiness. All it took was one look around for him to know that he’d just gotten a taste of that evasive feeling—and he liked it.

“Holy shit, could you idiots keep the noise down?”

Elliot’s eyes immediately shot down below him. Two levels down sat a young boy, no older looking than him, that sneered up at Elliot with a fiery expression. Elliot vaguely recognized the boy--he'd seen him around the hallways of their school at least a couple of times.

Elliot narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?” he demanded over the noise around him.

The boy rolled his eyes with impatience. “I said keep it down. There's loud, and than there's loud. You two sounded like fucking banshees,” the smug-looking boy retorted. A few of the guys and girls sitting around him snickered at their friend’s remark.

Elliot glared down at the boy, his jaw set and glare unyielding. “No.”

The stranger got up from in his seat, now turned around and facing Elliot full-on. “No?” he repeated, his sneer twisting into a much fiercer expression. And then the boy stalked up the levels of seats.

Cameron fell quiet and was now watching, having just noticed the crackling tension between the two.

Now beside Elliot and at eye-level, the sneering boy said, “You know, I don’t much appreciate your attitude.” He did a once-over of Elliot’s overall appearance and scoffed. “Don’t much appreciate your girly make-up, either. Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

“He’s ‘The Catman’,” Cameron piped up in a somber voice that didn’t suit him or his answer.

The boy broke out into a cackling fit of laughter. “‘The Catman’? Right, right. Well, whatever you say.” He pat Elliot on the shoulder, the gesture anything but friendly. “Just keep it down, okay wierdo?”

“No. Not okay.” Elliot took a step forward, taking in the hostility that flickered across the others face as he invaded the other's space. “Where do you think we are? We’re at a football game. If you wanted peace and quiet, you should’ve stayed home and knit sweaters with your mom.”

Anger flashed in the other boys eyes. He stepped forward, his mouth pulled into a thin, grim line.

“Garrett, just leave him alone,” a timid, masculine voice from down below called out. Elliot glanced over at the sound, only briefly catching the messy auburn hair and worried hazel eyes before he noticed the other curious faces within the tense vicinity.

“Shut up, Theodore,” the boy—Garrett—snapped without looking away from Elliot. He snapped his hands out, much too quick to dodge, and shoved Elliot backwards. “Think you’re tough, don’t you? With your lame uniform and your pussy make-up.”

“Hey guys, quit it,” Cameron said, shifting so as to step in between the two to keep them apart. “C’mon, you know that saying, ‘make love, not war’?”

“Make what? Who the fuck are you?” Garrett sneered and eyed Cameron with disgust. “Whatever. You’d better fuck off if you know what’s good for you.” Then, before Cameron could react, Garrett shoved Cameron backwards, almost pushing him into a bystander.

Something inside Elliot, something that had been coiling up tight, snapped with all the suddenness of an elastic band. He lunged forward, returning the shove with an even harder one as he got right up close to Garrett. “Fuck off,” Elliot hissed, his hands balling themselves into matching fists. “Don’t touch him.”

Garrett got up close, his dark eyes on fire. Elliot could feel the heat of the other boy’s anger. “Make me,” the other boy growled.

His fist already shaking at his side, Elliot moved to strike the other boy. However, Cameron shouted for them to stop and jumped in-between the two, the spontaneity of the move surprising and halting them both.

“Lighten up, guys,” Cameron chuckled shakily, his voice lacking the courage he physically displayed. “No fighting.” He turned to Garrett. “We’ll quiet down, so no harm done, right? So let’s all just go back to enjoying the game, okay?”

Garrett just glared at both Elliot and Cameron. Elliot glared back, but when he caught Cameron’s eye, he saw the unease evident in the freckled boy's demeanor. Elliot’s anger softened, guilt taking its place for making the other boy uncomfortable. “Fine,” he said between clenched teeth. But only for him.

Cameron turned back to Garrett. “Okay?”

Garrett growled and looked ready to protest, but the boy from earlier—Theodore—had snuck up to the larger boy’s side. Theodore stepped in between the two boys.

“Just let it go,” Theodore pleaded in the same timid voice.

Anger flashed in Garrett’s eyes, like crackling lightening, and then he was storming down the risers, bumping past Theodore with enough force to make the leaner boy stumble backwards before rushing after him.

Elliot let out a long exhale, but it didn’t help release the tension that tugged at his muscles. Just the very thought of the obnoxious boy, the way he’d snapped at Cameron and pushed him around, made him want to chase after the jackass and return the antagonistic sentiments. And the anti-climax, suppression of his own anger, and Garrett getting off scot-free only worsened the negative feelings.

Cameron touched his shoulder, his soft touch grounding Elliot firmly in reality. “You okay?”

“No,” Elliot said with a shake his head, unable to look the other boy in the eyes. He knew how the other boy reacted to anger—he’d witnessed it—and he didn’t want to subject Cameron to that. But he couldn’t hide it, either.

As if picking up on this, Cameron moved in front of Elliot and pulled on his arm sleeve. His expression was alarmingly calm despite his gentle smile. “C’mon, big boy,” he teased. “Let’s go for a walk.”

He wasn’t sure whether that was a good idea or not, but without another word, he followed Cameron down the risers. His jaw clenched as they passed by the rude boy and his friends, but he resisted the urge to shoot a glare at him. Garrett wasn’t worth it.

They hopped off the risers and onto the dead grass and leaves. They slinked past random groups of standing spectators, cheerleaders, and club members, all of them were too enraptured in the game to notice them leave immediate sight.

They didn’t go that far. They stopped a short distance away, far enough away to be able to hear themselves speak normally, but close enough that for anyone to see them they would either have to go around the corner or look straight down—and the odds of that were slim.

Elliot kicked at the ground and glanced around, watching Cameron out of the corner of his eye. Cameron shuffled the dead blanket of leaves around into odd piles with his shoe.

“Pissed you off, didn’t he?” Cameron said while staring at the ground. His hands rubbed at his sleeved arms.

Elliot sniffed. “What do you think?” he answered as neutrally as possible.

Cameron chuckled, the sound out of place. “Sorry, stupid question. But even though the guy's an asshole, I guess he did have a point. We were pretty loud.”

Elliot snapped his gaze up, alarmed. “That’s not the problem. Asking us to be quiet is one thing, but he was a complete ass about it…but that’s not the real problem. Didn’t you see the way he looked at you? The way he treated you?”

Cameron looked up, puzzlement dominating his features. “Yeah. What about it?”

The other boy’s response nearly sent Elliot’s already burning blood aflame. “What about it? How can you say that as if it doesn’t matter? He was completely disrespectful. He treated you like shit!”

“…But,” Cameron started, “that’s nothing new. I’m used to that. It’s not that big a deal.” His shoe kicked one of the small pile of leaves he’d built. “Besides…you did the same thing when you first met me, remember?” he said in a tiny voice.

Elliot grimaced at the memory, his smoldering anger flipping around and stabbing him with guilt. “I know…” but admitting it aloud didn’t make the truth of the matter any more bearable. He turned away, ashamed of himself and the reflection of his old self that he’d seen in Garrett.

“I know…and that was horrible. I assumed things about you—I still assume things. I treated you horribly for the longest time when I first met you.” Elliot said, his throat unbearably dry as he forced the uneasy words out. “I don’t see how you can like me after how I treated you…” After everything I’ve said and done…I can’t see why you haven’t run off screaming yet.”

The dead leaves crunched under Cameron’s feet as he walked towards Elliot. When Cameron’s cold and shivering arms slipped around Elliot’s waist, he didn’t move, but didn’t relax into the embrace, either.

“I’m still here because you interested me,” Cameron answered, his breath hot against Elliot’s ear and neck. “Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole…but you fought so passionately for what you believed, despite what anyone else said or thought. I wondered why you fought so hard…and as I got to know you, that interest became stronger, and it developed into, well, all this.” Cameron chuckled; Elliot felt its gentle vibration against his back. “You may be stubborn, but you’re also kind—when you want to be. You totally have a hidden soft side, too—as if you could hide that forever. And even after I know all that, it doesn’t feel like enough. I want to know more.” Cameron paused. “Something about me must have interested you too, right?”

Elliot nodded his head, allowing the words to sink in. His heart swelled at the confession. His head was swimming from the presence of the other boy—his voice, his touch, even his smell. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the embrace, his anger dissipating bit by bit. He didn’t care who could possibly see them together. All that mattered was the other boy, and their slowly warming embrace.

“You did more than interest me,” Elliot admitted, his throat closing bit by bit at the confession, but unable to keep it from being said. “You got underneath my skin, and so damned easily, too…” He paused as he felt Cameron chuckle against him. “You opened me up to new ideas and possibilities…and when I’m around you, I just feel so much more…alive.”

“Wow, when you word things, it sounds amazing and significant,” Cameron mumbled, his voice right next to Elliot’s ear. “Mine just sound lame now.”

Elliot shot Cameron a look of disbelief over the shoulder, then rolled his eyes. “No, it doesn’t,” he insisted. He turned around in Cameron arms, and pressed into the hug—body against body, warm and inviting against the cold. He could feel Cameron’s heart pounding against him, just like his. “I can’t imagine my life without you anymore,” he said in a quiet voice.

A long pause. Elliot felt Cameron hold in his breath and then release it in a liberating exhale. “Me, too,” Cameron breathed, his voice barely audible.

Elliot swallowed, inexplicitly giddy by the parallel sentiments. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever made him this nervous and excited before. Was this really even possible? Regardless of how restlessly his heart fluttered, a longing filled him. He recalled how Cameron had said that he could willingly like him despite everything that it meant, and it strengthened that admiration and yearning. The thought of his life without Cameron made his swelling heart hurt; Cameron was far too important. And Elliot was through with the way things were right then and there—he knew what he wanted, and damn the world if it altered its perception of him.

He pulled back from the other boy, his mouth already opening to speak.

“Cameron…!”

“Elliot…!”

They both stopped, both of them taken aback that they’d spoken at the same time. They gazed at each other before the moment became too awkward to do so.

“Er, after you?” Cameron said with a sheepish grin, gaze cast off to the side.

Elliot blinked, then nodded and cleared his throat. “Okay…” Oh God, why did his courage have to fail him now? “I…” He frowned, disappointed in his own hesitance—he wouldn’t let his fear hold him back anymore—and then he forced the words out, his desire overriding his fear. “Cameron, will you go out with me?”

Cameron snapped his gaze back onto Elliot. The crowd behind him collectively cheered.

“Go out?” Cameron repeated. “You mean like, dating? Movies, dinner, flowers, chocolate, mushy-gushy-romantic dating?”

Elliot had to cough to keep himself from smiling at the others apparent befuddlement. “Kind of the idea,” he muttered, aware of how hot Cameron’s body felt against his, especially when a breeze brushed past. The moment seemed suspended high in the air as he painfully awaited Cameron’s answer.

Cameron remained unusually still and quiet. He wet his lips as he seemed to get tangled within every context of ‘going out’ known to man. “…So, by going out…you mean like boyfriends?”

Elliot was thankful that his face paint could cover his private blush. Boyfriends. That was a word that would take some getting used to...but he wanted to get used to it. It was a strange word, but he liked it. “Yeah,” he breathed, accepting the word and all that it implied. He felt so young. Like an inexperienced lover who was getting their first taste of sharing something special with another being. “Like boyfriends.”

Cameron abruptly lowered his head, but Elliot still caught the instantaneous glee that had glittered in the others eyes—the raw, lively delight that Elliot had never witnessed in anyone else before. Cameron nodded his head furiously, a large grin breaking out across his features.

Elliot’s heart leapt into his throat. “Yes?”

Cameron raised his head, nodding again with the same wild energy. “Hell yeah,” he answered, his voice breaking off into an energetic laugh. “Hell-fucking-yeah.”

A soft smile broke out across Elliot’s lips. The suspended moment fell back into reality with a soul-shaking crash, and with it came a multitude of emotions that overwhelmed him. But happiness overruled them all—the fear and anticipation could wait, if ever, to be realized. For now, he didn’t care. He was happy, and all because of two simple words, and the carefree smile that still sent his heart in a frenzy.

Ignoring the football game that still struggled for victory, and the crowd that spurned it on with its chorus of cheers, Elliot closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Cameron’s. He felt the other boy laugh, still smiling, as they remained wrapped up within themselves. Elliot marveled at Cameron’s warmth and the simple bliss that had heightened his spirits.

“We should probably head back, so people don’t wonder where we are," Cameron murmured. Elliot could hear the smile in his voice, hear the other boy's pure happiness. It made him smile, too.

Elliot nodded against him. “Sure.” After a moment’s reluctance, he allowed Cameron to pull away, both of them still caught up within the overwhelming giddiness. Cameron bit the corner of his lip and, after beckoning Elliot to follow him, began heading back to the field for the game. Elliot trailed after him, unable to keep a completely straight face for too long. For once, he wanted to throw his arms up and shout his happiness out to the world. But he settled for the odd grin here and there. He looked up at the sky. Never had it looked so bright and blue before.


~+~+~+~+~+~+~


To be Continued