“Taylor, what a fucking pussy.” That’s Dean talking, and we’re actually at his house, ‘hanging out’ before Karl’s party. I’m in his bathroom attempting to wash my sticky hair in his sink while the rest of the guys talk trash about my best friend. “I know,” I over hear Frankie answer Dean, “If he’s gotta problem with Brian, or us, just send him to me and I’ll REALLY show him how to take it like a man.” They all laugh. Martin picks up where Frankie left off. “Ha, but seriously dude, you know my friend who goes to school with him? James? Say’s Taylors a TOTAL slut – whoring himself to anyone. I actually heard,” he whispers for some bizzare reason, “he fucked the gym teacher for cash.” Is it possible to feel your blood boil? Because, I fucking feel it. Justin is the farthest thing from a whore there is. My God, in ninth grade I had to literally explain to him what rimming is because he is so naïve. And junior year was when he got his first kiss from his crush at the time; a boy named Harley. You should have seen Justin’s face whenever that loser so much as talked it him, it was pathetic. He would blush and follow Harley around like a love sick puppy, paying attention to every Goddamn thing he did or said. And it got worse! Pretty soon all I was hearing was “Harley this” and “Harely that” and “Ohhh Brian I think he’s sooooo cute!” Give me a fucking break! Harley is not only a loser, but not even good looking! His ears stick out, his teeth are too white and I hate his haircut. What the fuck did Justin see in him? Plus, we didn’t know if the guy was a queer – which explains exactly why I was so shocked when Justin came running up to me after school hypervenilating with excitement; boucing up and down announcing that Harley had asked him out. I’m not going to lie. I was so fucking jealous. Yeah, I know it’s SO hard to believe I could EVER be insecure but for once, I was. I was worried this….Harley….would become the center of Justin’s world and I would be forgotten. But that afternoon, after the supposed date, Justin showed up at my front doorstep in tears. As it turned, out Harley was dared to kiss him and that just broke Justin’s heart. It broke mine too. Do you know how many HOURS I spent holding him as he cried? Convincing him that no, he wasn’t ugly, stupid, lame, or worthless? That he fucking deserves to be loved? “….nah, I say we fucking beat the shit outta ‘em…” Wow. Hold up. My brain needs to come back from dur-doo-dah land and focus on the present. No one, is beating the shit out of Justin. “Whadda say Brian?” Dean comes into the bathroom, firmly patting my shoulder, “Wanna kick Taylor’s ass till he bleeds?” “Or find a sick faggot to FUCK him till he bleeds? Give him what he really deserves.” Martin snickers, causing a chain reaction in all the boys but me. Now it’s really hitting me. If they – Frankie, Dean, Martin – knew the bane of my existence was cock, they would hate me. HATE ME “Kinney, you in?” Martin is eyeing me, almost as a challenge. I fucking hate this. I should really just leave. “Um, what about Karl’s party? I don’t wanna waste my time on Taylor.” I try to reason. But I think I just made things worse. “Ohhhhhhhhhh,” Dean grins, play punching me in the stomach, “Someone has a wittle crushie wushie on wittle Justin Taylor….” “Shut the fuck up, I’m not a…” not a what, Brian, I say to myself. Not a faggot? Well too fucking bad, because you ARE. “Not a what?” They’re all making kissy faces at me. Bastards. How do I respond? I do what I do best; walk past them without showing any trace of emotion – including anger, which is about the only thing I am feeling besides it’s cousin, rage. They must be in shock, as no one says anything as I go, and once outside I take off running down the street for the bus stop. I know where I need to go. I need to apologize to Justin which is really going to suck. He can be such a drama queen, pulling the most immature shit when he’s pissed off. Clambering onto the bus, I close my eyes. Today has seriously gone downhill. Nearly falling out of my seat as the bus comes to a screeching halt, I watch, slightly laughing when this bum climbs on. He’s obviously all liquered up, and he’s talking to the bundle of roses in his hands like they’re his dog. I wonder how much cash that bum would take for his roses? Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Brian Kinney does NOT do romance. Plus, that would be leading Justin on, wouldn’t it? Right? Wouldn’t it? Right? Right. Ah, fuck it. “Er….” ew, he smells like fucking piss. I hope his roses don’t. “Can I, uh, give you a dollar for those flowers?” He looks up at me with a crazed look, one of his eyes is clearly unfocused. “Meezhops is not for sale, are you Meezhops?” Ooookaaaaaaay. The roses are named Meezhops. I attempt a negotiation. “How about three dollars for – Meezhops – I promise to take good care of, erm, it.” “Five.” He shoots back, cluching Meezhops to his chest. “Four.” “Ten.” Ten!!! “Alright, four.” I toss four crinked bills onto his lap while he kisses Meezhops goodbye. I am SO happy the next stop is mine. Justin better fucking appreciate this. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Skipping every other stair up his front porch I know no one is home, except for Justin. I can see the light on in his room. Quietly I open the front door, creeping in and up the staircase to where he is. Hand on the doornob, I twist it slowly, creaking the door open to see him with his Ipod in his ears, curled up on his bed reading. “Hey sunshine!” I yell, pouncing on him. “Jesusfuckingchrist! Brian!” I feel him tremble from the surprise. Once the shock wears off, a very, very, pissed off expression sports his face. I figure now is the best time to present the flowers. Smiling, I hold Meez – erm – the roses in front of his face. “You got these for me?” He says in a small voice, filled with wonder. I nod. “Yeah. I’m…I’m sorry for ditching you. I deserved that coke.” “Yeah,” he sniffs, “you did.” “So are we even now?” I press, wanting the drama to be over. Justin sighs. “I want to know why you did it though. Do I embarrass you, Brian? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” “No!” I reply furiously, “Never. But those guys…they’re fucking jerks Justin, fucking homophobes. I mean, you’re kind of obviously gay and I didn’t want them to…” “Hurt me?” “Exactly,” I agree, even if the real reason is I didn’t want them to know I am gay. Justin looks signifigantly happier now, staring at his roses with an incredibely pleased smile. “Thanks for the roses, Brian, that was so sweet of you. But you won’t believe what I have planned for Valentine’s day!” Flashes of horriffic hetero rituals race through my mind. What does this little twink have planned? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Reviews please!!! And I promise I'm working on Knocked Up...