+Made For You 6 - BL+

Chapter 6: A Stirring Performance



As Elliot had learned within the past year and a half, back when his parents first began to grow hostile towards each other, there were two definite extremes when it came to living with his parents: the calm (before the storm) and the storm itself.

Luckily for him, he had come back home to the calm.

Unfortunately, the remnants and evidence of a previous storm were scattered all about the stairs, just as he had predicted a good hour or so ago. Each piece of expensive glass, once a blushing pink vase but now each with their own individual shape, lay in chaotic patterns and designs.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” he mumbled sardonically under his breath. Was it really too much to ask that they clean up their own messes? Elliot dropped his book bag by the door and proceeded to relieve himself of his shoes. There was a soft mewling off to the side. A second later, a large and fluffy cat brushed up against his leg. She mewled again until Elliot took notice of her, his mother’s cinnamon-coloured cat. She purred gently and gazed up at him with welcoming gold eyes, her front paw reaching out to paw at Elliot’s leg.

Elliot picked up his book bag again and headed for the living room with the cat trailing after him, still mewling softly, persistent in keeping its existence acknowledged. Upon entering the living room Elliot came across his mother, dozing off in a chair in front of the TV. Glamorous actors, each as generic as the one before and after it flashed across the screen; and while the volume was fairly low, Elliot could make out the dramatic hitches and tones of their impeccable voices. Exasperated by this usual scene, Elliot approached his dozing mother and shook her by the shoulder, rousing her to complete consciousness.

“Did you feed Muffin yet?” he asked his sleepy mother, who sat and rubbed irritably at her eyes.

“Did I what?” she yawned, squinting at him through sleep-hazed eyes.

“Muffin,” he emphasized. “Did you feed her yet?”

“Oh.” His languid mother shook her head and curled back up in the chair, already half asleep again. She waved her hand to bid Elliot to go away, and he did so gladly without looking back. It was bad enough that his parent’s couldn’t—or rather, wouldn’t—clean up their own messes, but they wouldn’t even feed the family cat when they were supposed to.

“I hope their incompetence isn’t hereditary,” Elliot grumbled under his breath. He made his way for the kitchen with Muffin at his side, who now stared up at him with expectant eyes. Elliot opened up a nearby cupboard and pulled out a can. Muffin immediately began to mewl again, walking around and in-between his legs lovingly, making sure to brush up against him as much as possible. Great; now his pants were covered in cat hair. Not that Elliot really cared. He was far too tired to really care about anything at the moment. After opening up the can of cat food, he bent down and reached for the cat’s bowl. He yanked open a draw and pulled out a spoon, then proceeded to scoop out the cat’s food.

“Here you go.” He dropped down on one knee and placed the bowl in front of Muffin, who practically face-planted into the bowl the moment Elliot’s hand was out of the way. Elliot’s eyebrows rose at the same. Damn. She must’ve been really hungry. That wasn’t his fault, though. His parents really should’ve known better. The world didn’t consist of just the two of them.

Elliot stayed down low to the tiled floor and absent-mindedly stroked Muffin’s back while she ate. The poor thing. He remembered back when his father had first given the cat to his mother, how happy and pleased she had been. She used to smother it with love and cuddles on a daily basis. Then, about a year and a half ago, right after their very first hostile argument, she just started to ignore it. Wouldn’t touch it, wouldn’t feed it, wouldn’t even look at it. And, oddly enough, Elliot’s father didn’t want anything to do with it either, the very thing he had once looked after with so much love and care with his wife…

Now they hardly lived in the same house. They worked all the time, sometimes flying over to other states for important business meetings. When they were in the area, if they didn't have time off, then they did their best to avoid staying home, coming home at late hours, leaving at the crack of dawn. They might as well not even be there at all.

It had taken all he had to convince his friend’s years ago that the situation didn’t require outside intervention. An occasional fight every now and then didn't need outside intervention, and the thought of such always filled him with dread. Even if a select few knew about what went on and offered comfort, no part of him wanted that aspect of his life boil over and into the lives of those he cared about. Even when his friends suggested living in the dorms of their school, Elliot couldn't bring himself to do it. What a waste of money it would be when he lived close enough to the school to walk. And who would take care of Muffin? His parents were hardly home anyway, so it was mostly quiet. It was fine. He had two feet. He could stand on his own.

Elliot rose up and left the cat to its belated meal. He made his way up the staircase to the top floor, careful to go around the many shards of glass scattered all about the middle. He walked past the master bedroom, where he could hear the soft humming of the radio inside. Most likely his father reading again while listening to a local station; off in his own world. Elliot walked on past towards his own room. His book bag dropped one final time with a loud and obtrusive thump by his doorway, followed by the tiny click of the door shutting behind him, officially severing him off from the rest of the house.

He was ready to just plop down into his bed and sleep the rest of the day away, and it wasn’t even eight PM yet. It had been a long day. Increasingly long. It had been just one more thing after another. His fight with Jacqueline, the after school meeting with Cameron, the damned rain shower, his parents finally (and unfortunately) coming home, the long sit in the car with Cameron...all topped off with a hungry cat.

Some day.

Some fucking day.

Elliot did admit that it could’ve been a lot worse. He could’ve had to walk home and then try to ignore his parent’s latest verbal war all afternoon. That would’ve been pleasant. The last time he tried to wait an argument out before asking them if they were hungry for supper or not, they had argued over could make Elliot’s favorite meal the best. Fights were distressing enough, but for him to get caught up in the middle with them fighting was even worse. In fact, in direct comparison, he preferred that they ignored him while they argued. As much as he hated being invisible, there was an exception when it came to the blood relatives of the household.

With that thought noted and set aside, Elliot unbuttoned his uniform shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. He opened the laundry hamper by his dresser and tossed his shirt in, followed by his dress pants and black tie. He opened a drawer in his dresser and pulled out a beige T-shirt and a pair of comfortable flannel pajama bottoms. Once he was dressed, he left his room to go clean up the mess on the stairs. Not that he should’ve been the one to clean it up. It wasn’t his mess.

But that was how things usually go, he thought bitterly to himself as he retrieved the vacuum from the downstairs hallway. The gentle hum of the vacuum covered up the sounds of exaggerated drama from the living room, and he was just fine with that. Everyone just expects me to clean up after them. No one else even offers to do it. They don't even say thank you, either. It’s as if they just expect it to be gone by the time they come back to the scene of a crime. Like magic. Hmpf. They wouldn’t be able to do anything without me.

When he had deemed the crime scene clean and safe for walking, Elliot turned off the vacuum and put it back into the hallway closet, then walked back into the living room and turned off the TV (it wasn’t as if his sleeping mother was actually watching it). After making sure that everything else was in check and that there were no other secret messes to be cleaned, Elliot finally retreated back into his bedroom. After a long day, nothing felt better than those first few seconds when his head hit his comfy pillow. Thankfully, it was a peaceful and quiet night. The rain outside that had been heavy and foreboding just an hour ago was now soft and light, even soothing and relaxing. Maybe things were looking up?

Elliot closed his eyes and snuggled into his cozy bed, willing himself to forget anything and everything as he drifted off to sleep.


~+~+~+~+~+~+~  


A week had passed, and Elliot cursed himself for having thought that things were “looking up.” Nothing much had changed in the last week, so one would think that nothing could get worse, but life always seemed to have a way of proving Elliot wrong every now and then. The problem was that things weren’t changing. Life was still a strange blur. Elliot had never been much of a daydreamer, but it seemed like his head was always in the clouds these days. It was getting harder to concentrate on things, and that made it harder to follow in his school and Student Council work.

Nope, nothing had really changed. Except now there was stress at both school and home.

Joy.

What was even worse about all of this was that he didn’t understand why he was daydreaming. He didn’t even understand half of the things that would cloud his mind with its alien haze. About a month ago, back when school had first started, he had been on top of things. Top in his grades and at his work. His house was always clean and his things always organized. But as of recently, he was feeling less and less motivated to do much of the work. Oh, he still did the work—he wouldn’t dare to let the Student Council down with negligence—but before, he would’ve taken on extra jobs and have done them all with all of the grace and intelligence that he could muster, and then some.

Now he was finding it hard to find the will to even care about making sure the budget was split evenly between all of the clubs and the school activities, or whatever else was going on during that week.

But this wasn’t him! He liked working for the Student Council! He liked being depended on. He liked having a purpose and a meaning. He liked his school and how kind everyone was to him…so why wasn’t he excited over anything anymore? Why was concentration so hard to obtain? Why did things suddenly feel so dull and boring that his mind had to constantly turn elsewhere? Things didn’t just happen without a reason. Something had to have stirred something inside of him. Something had to have started all of this.

But what?

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like feeling so restless and bored with things that he normally enjoyed. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t like him at all.

What was wrong with him?

“Is something up, Elliot?”

Elliot snapped out of his thoughts, mentally cursing himself for having zoned out again. He stared up into the calm cobalt eyes of The President. He held a clipboard in his hands, his finger tapping expectantly against the wood. Elliot looked around the Student Council room and realized with dismay that they were the only two there. Everyone else had already left early, as there were only a few minutes before lunch was over and afternoon classes would start. He connected the two together: the empty room and The President paying him a visit. Elliot looked back into the other’s eyes. He knew that look. He was in for a talk.

Elliot heaved a sigh. “Why do you ask?”

The President dropped the clipboard onto Elliot’s desk with a loud clang and immediately directed his finger at a line with a sharp preciseness that could cut through steel. “See this here? You made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Elliot repeated indignantly. He snatched the clipboard into his hands and double-checked the line where The President had pointed his accusing finger. He zeroed in on the mistake, then slowly lowered the clipboard back onto the desk. “A mistake…”

“Yes.” The President crossed his arms and smiled down at Elliot, but it was not a comical smile. More of one a parent would give their child after having caught them doing something they shouldn’t have done. “Care to elaborate on why you’re daydreaming on the job?”

“I’ll correct it,” Elliot said, hastily changing the topic while reaching for his pencil. How embarrassing for The President to take time out of his own to come visit him about this. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did it usually meant a lot more than just a “check up” on things. “It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t. I’m confident in your abilities, but that’s not what I asked.” Elliot mentally cursed when The President took an empty chair nearby and sat himself down at the other side of his desk. Sometimes he was just so damned persistent, even though he didn’t look like the type.  “I asked why you’ve been daydreaming on the job?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s certainly something when it affects your work,” The President said. “I believe the last time you made a mistake with budgeting was the last time you broke up with someone, correct? How long ago was that, a year?” A smirk spread itself across his wide and thin mouth. “So, what’s up?”

There was no escaping this and they both knew this. When The President approached someone about their personal life, he rarely if ever let it drop. As intrusive as this could be, Elliot also had to admit that it was also helpful in some ways. This sort of intrusiveness was never because of sheer curiosity or deviousness. It was always out of sincere concern. And somehow, after all had been said and done, The President always had an answer. Whether it solved anything or not, he always had a response to make the person feel better in the long run. That was why he was a good leader. That was why he was The Student Council President in the first place. That was why Elliot trusted and respected him as both a leader and a friend.

The President arched an eyebrow. “So?”

“Half of the problem is that I don’t really know what’s up,” Elliot finally responded with a half-sigh. He raked his fingers his hair with discouragement. “I just can’t seem to concentrate on anything right now.”

“Hmm.” The jet-black haired adolescent leaned back in his seat, his arms still crossed, but in a much more relaxed and casual way. “Parents home again?”

Elliot nodded. His home and school lives were usually kept separate, but The President was one of the few people to know about his parents and their childish bickering. In fact, he’d been the first person Elliot had ever talked to about the situation, so it didn’t feel unusual or insulting for the older boy to mention them so casually. “Yeah. It’s not too bad right now, but I don’t think that’s what is making me all day-dreamy. It started before they came home last week.”

“I see.” The President rubbed his right index finger along his bottom lip in thought. “What happened to make you ‘day-dreamy’?”

“I really don’t know.” He wished that he did, though. Not knowing things was more than just annoying. It was tiresome, too. “I don’t know what started this in the first place, but whatever it was, it makes me feel bored and restless with things. I just don’t feel much like doing anything that I used to do.”

“Routine isn’t a bad thing. Routine is safe and secure. It makes one feel at ease,” The President mused, still rubbing his bottom lip. “But change is a necessary thing. In order for anything to improve, there has to be change. That includes keeping oneself from feeling restless and bored with life.” Almost immediately after saying so, he smiled. “I believe we’ve already had this conversation a few weeks ago, haven’t we?”

It took a moment for Elliot to remember, but he mumbled something in agreement and nodded his head.

“Tell me, did you start to feel this way three weeks ago?”

“…Somewhere around there, yes.”

“Ah.” The President lowered his hand and smiled triumphantly, as if he had found a grand treasure. “I think I understand now.”

“Understand what?” Elliot recognized the look of an epiphany that crossed The President’s sharp and angular face. “What? Tell me, what’d you figure out?”

The President shook his head and waved his finger with disapproval. “Now why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m sick of wondering what the fuck is going on, that’s why,” Elliot growled. This was one side of The President that irritated him the most, the way he so casually withheld things from him with a smile on his face. It was torturous, and he swore that The President derived some sort of twisted joy out of this. “C’mon Kenneth, tell me.”

The President frowned with obvious displeasure; but as far as Elliot was concerned, he deserved it. He knew how much The President hated it when anyone called him by his first name, so much so that he avoided its very mention at all costs. The only people in the school who knew his real name were Elliot and the teachers, who had all been persuaded into calling him other names besides the dreaded one. However, if The President was willing to play this cruel game, Elliot was certainly eager enough to play it, too.

The President blew a few strands of jet-black hair out of his eyes and frowned at a wall off to the side. “It’s quite obvious, Elliot. A kindergartner could figure out the basics to this.” Elliot scowled at the low insult, which somehow seemed to cheer The President up a bit. His frown curled back upwards into his previous smirk. “As we were talking about earlier, you were stuck in a routine. We all were, but things this year are different. You became too aware of your routine, and now you’re bored.”

“That I get, but what started this?”

The President reached out with a curled thumb and index finger, and without warning, flicked his finger out at Elliot’s nose, who flinched and mumbled an, “ow!” instantaneously. “Silly Elliot. I can’t tell you everything,” The President huffed. “Besides, what makes you think I know what's going on in your own head?" The President shook his head and sighed. "In any case, you’ve probably already realized what it was that stirred your restlessness in the first place. At least subconsciously. I bet you could figure it out if you really wanted to.” He crossed his arms again and cocked an eyebrow mockingly. “Or does your pride make you too stubborn to acknowledge what the source of it all is?”

“No,” Elliot said the moment The President’s words left his mouth. Elliot knew that he was a prideful person, he wasn’t scared to admit that, but he was damned if he was going to let a characteristic like that keep him from knowing and understanding things. “No, of course not!”

“Heh. Good. So, what do you think it is?”

Unlike a second ago, Elliot didn’t seem as confident about the answer to that. While he wanted to understand and know what was happening within his own mind, actually knowing the answer was at times a little tricky. Or maybe not so much tricky as it was just fruitless. He had a few theories as to what might be the cause of this unwanted restlessness. Just a few, but they seemed too incredulous to be true.

…Then again, maybe there were even some things that a person who wasn’t prideful couldn’t—or even wouldn’t—admit to themselves….

“Any eloquent and in-depth answers, Elliot?” The President inquired, as if aware of how jumbled Elliot’s thoughts really were.

“Shut up,” Elliot mumbled. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. This was stupid, all of it was. What did it matter what made him feel so restless and bored? All he wanted was a solution to the problem right then and there.

A tense moment passed them in silence. Elliot stared at The President indignantly and the other boy remained cool and collect. The latter shook his head and got up from his seat. It looked like he was about to leave when he abruptly stopped.

“I heard that the members of the KISS fan club are acting as cheerleaders for football try-outs after school today,” The President arched an eyebrow coyly, “and you’re not taking part in this. Is this true, Elliot?”

Elliot cringed at the thought. “Yeah,” he answered. Although he had seen earlier plans from the redheaded Club leader last week (the same day he had spent the afternoon with him, a mental voice added in his head), he wasn’t too entirely sure on every detail of it was. “I saw the plans ahead of time at an unofficial meeting, so I don’t have to take part.”

“Hmm.” The President stroked his chin. As if a light bulb turned on above his head, he grinned at Elliot and said, “Do you feel like going with me to see the event?”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. “No.”

“It’ll be fun,” The President attempted to entice Elliot, though it came across a lot craftier and less good-natured than it would’ve from someone kind-hearted, like Jacqueline. An image of a cartoonish and sly fox stroking its chin menacingly popped into Elliot's head. “We could go get some coffee afterwards,” The President added at the end.

“I went to the after school meeting to avoid this catastrophe,” Elliot pointed out, getting up from his chair to better meet The President’s gaze. “Why would I go to it of my own free will?”

“To break the routine.”

Elliot glared at The President. Playing dirty again, was he?

“Kenneth…” he warned lowly.

The President was still grinning, even with the mention of his name, although he did flinch at its sound. “It’s clear that you want a solution to feeling restless and bored with life. So, come with me after school and watch them cheer on the foot ball tryouts.” Before Elliot could retaliate against The President’s logic, he quipped, “But if you find my company alone to be a little less than inviting, you could always bring Jacqueline along if you want. The more, the merrier.”

He knew that The President was joking. Elliot loved the other’s company, even when the other was teasing him or was being his usual devious self, and The President knew it. But it didn’t matter who else would go along to the tryouts after school with them. He didn’t want to go; he wanted to avoid the club’s activities as much as possible. It wasn’t even just the thought of the club existing that irritated him now. It discomforted him, too. There was something (or someone, his voice added for the second time that afternoon) about the club that made him apprehensive.

…But The President had a point. It’d change things up. It’d break the routine for a little while. Maybe then he would be able to concentrate on work again if he did this?

“…Coffee afterwards?” Elliot finally caved. Damn President and his irrevocable logic.

“Great.” The President’s slapped a hand on Elliot’s back, patting him in a friendly gesture of both encouragement and comfort. “I’ll see you after school, then?”

“Yeah.” Elliot shook some of his dirty-blond hair out of his eyes but it fell back into place. He hoped that the afternoon wasn’t imminent with future displeasure. “See you there.”


~+~+~+~+~+~+~  


It was an understatement to say that their school had a lot of money behind it. A person wouldn’t need to step inside of the front doors of the school to see the wealth and superiority; but there was more to this school besides its more than decent funding. The technology there was up to date, the staff was well informed and trained, and the education was top notch in comparison to the rest of the state’s high schools. The same could be said with their athletics. Not only did a good portion of the school’s fat budget go to the supplies necessary for the teams, but also to the fields. The grass was always well kept, as were the goal posts and the metal risers at the end of the field that faced the backside of the school.

But, this was a high school, and as such it was filled with adolescents. Just because a lot of money went into this school and a lot of them did well in both academics and athletics didn’t mean that they were always the most respectful or tidiest group of people. Some of the garbage, while not obvious from afar, were hidden underneath the riser seats and stuck in hidden, secret places.

Disgusting.

Elliot supposed that even the most clean and wealthy of places had its hidden unsightliness. Their school was no exception. He found a spot relatively clean in retrospect to the rest of the risers and took his seat, crossing his arms with minor impatience. The tryouts had yet to start. Potential players were still getting ready for the warm-ups to come. Two coaches, one male and one female, were off talking at the other end of the field, waiting for their future players and rejects to appear.

Off near the coaches, Elliot spotted The President crossing the field, his hands buried into his pant pockets. Beside him Elliot spotted another familiar face, Jacqueline, who waved eagerly from afar. Elliot waved back, though not quite as keenly, and went back to crossing his arms and leaning back. He tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, seeing as this would probably take a while.

“Afternoon, Elliot. Guess who I found on my way here?” The President called up as he stepped onto the risers, the long metal rows shaking and ringing slightly under each step. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d invited her or not, and since she wanted to see the tryouts too, I took the liberty of bringing her along.”

Elliot curtly nodded in The President and Jacqueline’s direction. “Hi.”

The President and Jacqueline climbed up the rest of the way to get their seats beside Elliot; they both sat at his side. Jacqueline sighed happily and seemed quite content and pleased to be there, while The President sat with a calm and intrigued grin on his face.

“This ought to be fun,” Jacqueline mused as she settled herself in comfortably. “Do you think that the people trying out have any idea what the Club is planning?”

“No,” The President said. “But half of the fun is the surprise.”

“Hmpf,” Elliot snorted skeptically. “Some surprise. I wouldn’t be shocked if some of the players tried to tackle them because of it.”

The President patted Elliot’s shoulder. “So negative, Elliot. Learn to lighten up a bit. It’s all in good fun.”

He knew that The President meant well but he couldn’t help but disagree, even just a little bit. Surprises were all well and good, but when it came to the odd red-haired leader and his eccentric ideas, he couldn’t be too sure on what would happen; and the anticipation of waiting to see all of this and get it over with was tormenting. They must have been there for ten minutes already. What was taking the club so damn long?

“Ah, look!” Jacqueline beamed from ear to ear, pointing out to the line of people who were running out of the doors that led from the gymnasium inside to the field outside. All of them wore their school’s official colours: royal blue and grayish white. “Whoa. They all look huge."

Within a short amount of time a good majority of the people trying out were already running around the field for their warm-up; but like most things in life it was a competition, and many of them were giving it their all. Unfortunately for some, their all wouldn’t be enough. It became pretty clear within the next few minutes who was really ready for the sport and who needed more work.

Jacqueline seemed amazed at the stamina of the runners up front. “I don’t think I could ever run for that long, or even that fast…”

The President shook his head. “It’s really not all that difficult. With a little practice, anyway. Besides, just about any human could run for that long and fast if they had the motivation to do it.”

“Oh no, not me. I’d probably pass out the first two minutes if I sprinted like that.”

Elliot groaned and began to tap his fingers impatiently against his arms. His tapping finger became more insistent as his impatience grew. They should’ve started by now. Where were they?

“Anxious?”

“Hmm?” Elliot turned and met The President’s curious glance. With an exasperated sigh, he slouched in his seat and shook his head. “No. Of course not. I just wish they’d hurry it up already. I don’t want to waste any more time here than I have to.”

The President nodded, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“Oh!” Jacqueline pointed towards the still open doors of the school, her excitement sparkling in her eyes as she clapped her hands jubilantly. “That must be them now!”

Elliot sat up straight in his seat and stared intently at the doors, where he could make out a few people standing at the doorway. They half-hid behind the doors, waiting for the perfect moment to run on out and make their entrance with only their long shadows extending across the paved ground giving away their position. A moment later, a long orderly line of dressed up club members raced out of the doors and right into the exact middle of the field where everyone could see them, carrying with them their iPods, MP3's and some speakers.

From where they sat, it was a little hard to pick out which members they could recognize from afar, and it was certainly no help that they were all dressed up in what was usual attire for them. It almost didn't surprise Elliot anymore, seeing a group dressed up so strangely. The thought made him shudder.

No matter where Elliot looked, he couldn’t recognize any of the people there. The distance and the wardrobe helped nothing. And it most certainly did not help when the music began, or when they all began to link arms and dance…

“Oh my God!” Jacqueline’s hands rose to her mouth but could not conceal the wide grin that spread across her face. She sounded as if she was a little embarrassed by the display out on the field, but no one could deny the joyful amusement in her voice. “Look at them go!”

“I’d prefer not to…” Elliot grumbled almost inaudibly under his breath, shielding his eyes with his hand as he lowered his head, mortified for the people out on the field.

By that point, a good half of the people running around the field had stopped running around the track and were talking to the people who had stopped as well, pointing and talking, not sure what to make of the scene. Elliot lowered the hand from his eyes and peered up at the group in the middle of the group. He expected to see people to be jeering at them—he half expected to see people laughing at the group. What he did not expect was to see people laughing with them. He hadn’t expected people to be cheering them on with their inane spectacle.

And he certainly did not expect people to be dancing, too.

“…But why?” His jaw clenched. “I don’t get it. Why?”

“Because it’s fun,” The President answered the question for Elliot. His voice was low and private, meant only for Elliot’s ears, which was not hard to manage as Jacqueline was too caught up cheering on the club members as they broke out into Michal Jackson’s “Thriller”*. Elliot gritted his teeth and tried to glare at the club members out on the field, tried to direct his frustration out on them; but when he saw the smiles and heard the distant laughter as people acted as silly as they felt like, he found that he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. There was no anger or frustration. There was…nothing. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The next thing he knew he had lowered his head and shut his eyes with only the sound of The Presidents calm and cool words in his ears. “It’s because it’s interesting. It’s different, it’s new, and it makes people happy. Do you finally get it, Elliot?”

He didn’t say anything in response. The President seemed to accept that with a sympathetic nod then left him to his silence, already engaging Jacqueline in an upbeat conversation about the wild antics going on before them. The President’s words rang in his ears, an echo in his mind of something he wished he truly could deny and pass off as deceptive and meaningless.

He couldn’t.

Elliot raised his head again and stared at the group in the middle of the field. He didn’t frown, glare, or even scowl. For once, he just watched. He still couldn’t see the exact appeal of dressing up like that and jumping around like some kid on a sugar high…but, piece-by-piece, he could slowly feel his mind wrap around the idea of change. He wished he hated it, wished with all of his might that he could once again reject it as venomously as he could have before.

But he couldn’t. Not anymore.

Elliot inhaled deeply to help calm his shaken nerves, then continued to watch the club member’s dance. Maybe if he watched them long enough, more answers and explanations would become even clearer?

He watched their decorated arms flail in strange patterns in their air and their legs kick and push them into fluid and swiftly coordinated movements. Nothing. He still felt nothing. He watched them twirl and jump all over the place, chaotic yet somehow organized. Nothing. Those old feelings of resentment were gone and there was nothing left but a bitter residue that he could no longer feel the way he used to just a few minutes ago. Elliot closed his eyes for a good long minute before reopening them. How could he possibly deny all of this? He wasn’t blind to those smiling and delighted faces. He wasn’t numb to the dream-like atmosphere of mirth.

How could he deny any of this anymore?

“Wow, look at that one go.” Jacqueline’s voice cut through his soul-shaken thoughts and Elliot returned to reality. He glanced quickly at his friends and looked off in the general direction that they were staring at. His eyes caught sight of one particular dancer, who seemed completely involved and caught up in the fluid movements of their dancing.

“Yes, they certainly do seem to be enjoying themselves,” Elliot heard The President agree pleasantly.

Now that they had pointed the one member out from the rest of the group, it became a sort of chore to drag his eyes off of the one member. Before, the whole group had seemed to sort of blend in together. But this member—this one member—obviously stood out from the rest when one really looked hard enough. Every movement to their imaginary beat was driven by such intense fervor that it was hard to not become captivated and even inspired by the energy of it. Elliot felt something stir inside, something that he felt he should've recognized but he couldn't place a name to the feeling.

“Wow. I wonder which member they are?” Jacqueline said with admiring awe.

Elliot wondered the same thing.

For the first time in week, he wasn’t zoning out into his own world and thoughts. For the first time in a few weeks, something (or rather, someone) had caught his attention and was keeping it. This might be it, he suddenly realized as he remembered his conversation with The President from earlier that day. Maybe this was the person responsible for stirring these strange feelings in him that disturbed his everyday life?

He had to meet them and find out who they were.

He had to know.

But no matter how much he studied the individual, the costume and make-up made it extremely hard to decipher the identity. Who ever they were, they sure had a pretty flexible and slender figure. When they lifted their arms high above their heads and bolted into a run across the field, Elliot’s eyes watched the straining muscles in the member’s body, a little taken back by how fit and energetic the person was. And while the costume was eccentric it seemed to compliment their slim and lithe body. Elliot looked away, shocked that he had just caught himself eyeing and admiring the person’s body, but his eyes kept falling back to the same person, again and again, no matter how much he tried to keep himself from staring. There was something about them; not just their slim physique but also their very raw and free energy that had aroused and captured Elliot’s interest and curiosity. Watching the person dance and move so freely…it reminded him of a bird. It was absurd to think that the person, who was clearly on the ground, could be compared to a bird. However, when he watched them move and twirl...they seemed so free. They were above and beyond, like a bird.

The said person jumped off the ground after a good sprint and landed on their hands quickly before pushing their body off of the ground, completing a well-formed cartwheel. Jacqueline clapped her hands and cheered, as did many of the other members out on the field who called for another cartwheel. Elliot bit the corner of his lip, amazed and awed by how easily the dancer had performed the stunt, as if it were a natural thing.

The member quickly bowed and took off to perform another, but this time when they landed on their hands they slipped and without warning slid roughly into the ground face first.

“Oh!” Jacqueline was the only one to practically jump out of her seat, hands clapped over her mouth in shock. “Are they ok?”

A few of the people around the track who hadn’t continued their run had burst out into fits of laughter. Elliot noticeably tensed at this, his hands gripping themselves on his knees into two fists as he watched the person who had slipped slowly rise, a little dirty but seemingly okay. The member looked around at all of the intently concerned, as well as laughing, faces. To Elliot’s surprise they seemed to be laughing, too. They got up, stretched their back, then waved comically towards the laughing spectators. Elliot’s hands lost their tense grip but he still couldn’t believe his eyes. The dancer was laughing at themselves…? Even though people were laughing at them for having screwed up?

With dignity still intact, the member went back to the clubs performance. Elliot remained quiet for the rest of the performance, but his eyes still rested on the enigmatic performer, only vaguely aware of how uncomfortably tight his pants were becoming.

He had to find out who it was.


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After the tryouts and the clubs performance were over and done with, the three of them got their things together and began to head for the middle of the foot ball field, where the small group of dressed up club members hung around. Jacqueline was talking to The President excitedly, obviously impressed by the performance, but Elliot was still lost in his own world, bewildered and confused at how anyone could laugh at themselves so lightheartedly…

“Hey!” Jacqueline called out to the group just a few feet away and waved her hand. A few people looked up and waved back, calling back out to the white-blonde and initiating an animated conversation with her.

Elliot’s eyes immediately searched out for the one member that had caught and kept his attention for the majority of the performance and for the first time in a week, and within a second he found them. He walked over a few pairs of outstretched and relaxed legs until he was standing beside the performer, who was lying on the ground on their stomach, resting. Elliot’s light brown eyes followed the lean curves of the performers back and up over the gentle swell of their bottom before he caught himself and cleared his throat, reminding himself to stay calm and to keep his thoughts from drifting into less than pure waters. Without wasting another second, Elliot lightly tapped their side with the tip of his foot. The performer nearly jumped at the abrupt contact. They rolled over onto their back and stared up at Elliot with wide and curious eyes. Elliot’s mouth opened to say something...but he froze.

The other seemed to be frozen on the spot, too. His face was covered in black paint in strange patterns. The same paint surrounded his unmistakable blue-green eyes; although his eyes were wide, they softened as he welcomed Elliot’s presence. He pulled off the black-haired wig and shook his rusty orange hair free. Elliot stared at the shoulder-length hair, in shock. It occurred to him that he had never seen Cameron with his hair down before. It looked much more…endearing.

“You came?” Cameron broke the silence, his usual goofy grin spreading on his lips. “You should’ve joined us out here. It was tons of fun.”

Elliot blinked, his mind processing the sight much slower than cold molasses.

“It’d been even more fun if you’d joined us.” Cameron sat up on the ground and stretched his arms high over his head, back arching into an eye-catching arch as he did so. “Hey were you guys the people watching us out on the risers?”

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, anything, but it was as if someone had stolen his voice. The performer had been Cameron? He should’ve known. No one was as enthusiastic and carefree as Cameron was; Elliot had never seen anyone that keen and energetic. When he had seen all of that in the performer, he should’ve known…!

Cameron’s smile grew and he scratched the back of his neck as an eyebrow arched itself. “Aw what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He laughed, but when Elliot didn’t do or say anything, his smile and laughter faded away. “Hey…are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Without so much as any forethought, Elliot turned around and began to hurry away from the group of club members. He could hear Cameron call out his name in that same perplexed and concerned voice, but Elliot wished he didn’t sound so worried. He wished Cameron hadn’t had smiled at him with that friendliness of his.

He wished that he hadn’t been checking him out, like he would some attractive girl…

Wait.

Checking him out…?!

Something inside snapped at that thought. He clapped a hand over his mouth and his footsteps became longer, faster. Oh God. He had been checking out Cameron. Like he would a girl! But that wasn’t right. He was straight. Heterosexual. Why in the world would he check out a guy? As his legs carried him faster and faster across the field, so did Elliot’s heartbeat begin to beat and drum seemingly everywhere in his body. He could hear it, feel it, everywhere as the knowledge set in. The very person who had stirred the feelings of unrest, and who had caught and kept his fleeting attention was...Cameron?!

The more he thought about it, the faster the rushing stream of thoughts came, eroding at any common sense that he clung to so desperately. The world seemed to be spinning out of control, and he wasn't sure if he could keep himself up on his own feet. Oh God…Oh God, oh God, oh God…!

A hand grabbed him roughly and yanked him out of his thoughts and halted his hurried pace. Elliot flinched at the sudden touch. A suggestion of who grabbed him entered his mind, but Elliot pushed it away violently. Please don’t let that be him. I wouldn’t know what to do if it was him…! With his free hand fisted and shaking, Elliot turned to ram his fist into the person who had dared stop him. Another hand shot up and grabbed it before it could make its brutal attack.

To his relief, it was only The President.

“Elliot, where are you going?” The President’s voice was tranquil, but it held its usual paternal firmness when he knew something was up. An eyebrow arched when he took in Elliot’s current state. “Elliot, you’re pale. What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, unable to deny it. When he raised his head again, he kept his eyes as focused on The President as he could. If he looked back…if he looked back, it would confirm the fact. Maybe if he didn’t look back, maybe if he just left, he could pretend that this afternoon had never happened. He could pretend that he didn’t feel as sick and perplexed as he did, and he could pretend that the image of Cameron, dancing freely and gracefully, wasn’t burned into his mind.

The President watched the conflicting emotions fight for dominance, then let go of Elliot. With a sigh he patted the younger boys shoulder and began to lead him away. Elliot flinched at first but slowly relaxed and allowed himself for once to be led. If he couldn’t be stable on his own right now then surely it’d be all right to lean on The President, who was always calm and stable, just this once.

“Come on. Let’s go get you some coffee, and then we can talk.”


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To Be Continued