Skylar watched, helplessly transfixed by the way Christian's mouth brought to life the long,complicated ideas presented in his genetics textbook. He knew he had to pay attention - his first quarter grade depended upon it - but Skylar simply couldn't bring himself to focus on the worksheet in front of him. It was just his luck - apply for a tutor, because he knew he'd fail without one, and end up working with the most beautiful boy in school. Concentration would come just within his reach, and then Christian would do something amazing, like wet his lips, or brush a few stray strands of hair away from his eyes, or furrow his elegant eyebrows together in a most appealing way, and Skylar would be lost. In fact, he was so absorbed in watching Christian finger those very eyebrows, swirling and plucking at the fine hairs, that he didn't even realize he'd been asked a question until Christian's boot-clad foot nudged his own under the table.
"Um...what?" Oh yeah, there's that charm kicking in.
Christian frowned. "You weren't paying attention at all, were you?"
Sheepishly, Skylar shook his head. Christian began again with a sigh.
"Okay, so Trait A is not expressed in the first generation..." Desperately Skylar tried to keep up with Christian as he explained the problem, but all he seemed able to catch were a few choice words which, when put together, made absolutely no sense to him. "Expressed", "offspring", "crossing"; Skylar knew that these words should be triggering some sort of realization in him, but they quite simply...weren't. He stared hard at the chart in his textbook. It was a senseless mess of circles and squares in weird colors, attached or not with little lines.
Christian could almost see Skylar scanning his memory bank for some scrap of useful information, to no avail.
"Look," he prompted gently, "the trait's only expressed in the male offspring. That would make it...?"
"Gender biased?"
Christian couldn't suppress the wry little laugh that escaped him. He covered his face in his hands, shook his head, and then peeked out at Skylar from between his fingers. "It's definitely time for a break."
* * *
"I'm stupid."
"Shut up. You're not." They sat on the back porch, Skylar stretched out on the dark green wicker sofa, Christian curled up in his wool coat on the thin, bristly carpet. The October night was chilly, and the occassional gust of frigid wind warned of the harsh winter to come. Briefly the boys considered going inside, but in the end they decided another moment cooped up inside Skylar's mother's exceptionally pastel living room would drive them insane (Actually, Skylar just liked the way the candles he'd lit streaked Christian's normally dark hair with all the colors of autumn and threw his angular face into the most interesting shadows. Christian, on the other hand, was fascinated by the little shivers that shook Skylar's hands as he embellished his words with sweeping gestures.)
Skylar shook his head. "You give me much, much too much credit." He raised his fingers to his mouth and gnawed restlessly. "I'm not much in the academic department."
"I've heard you're an amazing writer." Christian took a sip from the mug of tea Skylar had made him. It was too sweet and yet somehow still too tangy from all the lemon Skylar had put in it, but it was delicious because Christian imagined that was what ::he:: would taste like. Tart attitude and cigarettes and all the sugary things he'd watched Skylar consume during lunch for the past three years, would he get to sample all those things if he were to plunge his tongue into the deep recesses of Skylar's mouth?
Skylar chuckled. "Who told you that?"
"No one," Christian replied honestly. "I made the decision for myself. I read some of your stuff - 'Sacrifice' was really cool, I loved how at the end Gabriel was all like -"
"How did you get ahold of that?" Skylar's voice was sharper than he had intended it to be, slicing through the air between them and cutting Christian off mid-thought. Skylar cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I mean...how...? I haven't been published or anything, and I've never given copies of that story to anyone except..."
"Mr. Harrison," they said in unison.
Christian blushed a little bit. "I had him for Lit and Composition this year, and one day I was there after class to take a make-up test. I just sort of found it." What he didn't mention is that he hadn't been there to take a test, but to help 'straighten up' the classroom, and he hadn't 'just sort of found it' at all. He'd had to wait for Mr. Harrison to leave the room to go make copies, then do some serious rooting admist the drifting piles of paper on his English teacher's desk, until he found the smudgy sheets of legal paper that bore Skylar's unique, mind-trippy hand-writing. Christian didn't even allow himself to think of how he'd gotten a sample of Skylar's script to begin with...
Skylar was silent for an eternal two minutes. The tension didn't hang between them so much as it crackled, and Christian was for a moment absolutely sure that he'd fucked up any chance he'd ever had with this amazing boy. Nervously, his eyes followed Skylar's hands as the pushed through the wild spikes and cowlicks of his blue hair, desperately in need of a dye job and a good washing. Finally, Skylar heaved a great sigh.
"Well, what did you think of it?" Christian let out his breath in a huge rush - he hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. "It was wonderful! I mean, it was so realistic, and yet kind of hazy and surreal and just...wow. I'm impressed. I mean...I just...I'm gushing." He pressed his palm to his forehead and laughed. Breathe, breathe, just breathe, he told himself over and over again.
Skylar laughed, too, and then fell silent yet again, but the tension between them had ebbed away. Christian no longer felt as if his chest would cave in from the pressure, and he eased himself over onto his side, facing the house and Skylar's couch. His eyes drifted shut, and though he was far too wired to sleep, Christian found himself more relaxed than he'd been in a long time. Skylar, on the other hand, felt as though his heart was going to pound its way right through his rib cage. Christian - beautiful, amazing, talented Christian - liked his writing! More than liked, actually. And he'd apparently gone to some lengths to get it, too (Skylar didn't for a moment buy the staying-after-school-and-just-happening-upon-it story; he'd seen Mr. Harrison's desktop and knew that the chances of just happening upon anything there were slim to none). So what was with Christian's sudden interest in his writing? Was the interest really so sudden? What else of his was Christian interested in perusing...? Hm...
Feeling incredibly giddy, Skylar willed the butterflies in his stomach to cease their flutterings. A weird sort of head rush, the kind that came from being in such close proximity to the love of one's adolescent life, began to build behind his eyes. Skylar decided that if there were any time to do something very stupid, this was it.
"I saw some interesting pictures of you the other day," he began slyly.
"Oh? What kind of interesting pictures?"
"The kind where you're shoving your tongue down Jason Simon's throat."
Skylar offered up a brilliant smile and had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the way Christian blanched. "I think that was during Julie Kurowski's party last month, right?"
Weakly, Christian nodded. "I...uh...oh, fuck." Okay, so, this was not happening. It couldn't be - it was some horrible dream, and he would wake up on Skylar's porch with a stiff neck and a sore side, the sour ghost of tea tainting his spit. Skylar would not make a big deal about the whole kissing-liking-wanting boys thing, would not say horrid, ugly things to him, would not throw him out and...
Skylar was still talking, saying something about the shirt he'd been wearing, and his shoulders, but the words all ran into each other and he couldn't make them out. A little too quickly, he sat up. The room tilted at a weird degree, and Christian was fairly sure he was going to be sick.
He must have turned green, for in a moment Skylar was on the floor with him, pushing his long hair out of his face and examining him with concerned grey eyes. "Hey..are you okay? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that was really dumb of me to say. Are you all right? Chris...Christian...c'mon..." Skylar took Christian's hands in his own and rubbed vigorously. Any and all euphoria he'd been feeling a minute ago had dissipated the moment Christian's skin had turned the approximate shade of pea soup. He'd only meant to catch Christian off guard, startle him long enough to...to what? Make his move? Molest the poor thing while he was in shock?
Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he squeezed Christian's hands, trying hard to dissolve the dazed, two-seconds-away-from-puking look on his face. Seeming to come back to himself, Christian realized precisely what had just happened. He pushed away Skylar's hands with the quiet firmness that comes with humiliation. "I think," he muttered, getting his feet under him, "I think it's time for me to go." He got to his feet, brushing away Skylar's pleading hands as they tried to pull him back down. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself, and looked around desperately for his bag. Where had he left it? Back in the living room...fuck."Thanks for the tea."
Christian headed for the door, determined not to embarrass himself any further. Okay, so maybe he deserved a little humiliation - getting drunk and hooking up with boys in front of the entire junior class was probably not the wisest decision one could make, not in suburbia, not when every other person there was carrying a loaded camera and your parents were over-zealous Baptists and ruining someone's life was so much more entertaining that sitting around at home on a Saturday night. Yeah, Christian figured he was bound to get into a situation like this eventually.
But did it have to be Skylar? Just when he thought that maybe, maybe there was a chance for him here... This was just his horrible, disgusting luck. "Christian..wait...please?" Skylar was at his arm, encircling his wrist with a grip easy enough for him to break free of, if he wanted.He didn't.
When Christian didn't resist him, Skylar dropped his hands to his sides. Christian was staring him down, dark eyes immensely angry, immeasurably hurt. "I'm sorry," Skylar said. "That was stupid. It didn't come out the way I wanted it to...I didn't mean it negatively or anything..."
Christian's eyes narrowed. "Just how did you mean it, then?"
"I don't know! Just...sort of...like this." And without thinking, because any thought would have stopped him dead in his tracks, Skylar leaned in close and brushed his lips hesitantly against Christian's. He half expected to be bitten, or punched, or left alone with the sweet smoky flavor of autumn dying on his lips. Instead, he was met with no resistance, no capitulation, simply a soft and stationary mouth. Skylar's own lips felt small and rough pillowed against the lushness of Christian's. Suddenly he was horribly unsure of how to proceed, and he pulled back. Christian just watched him with black, passive eyes.
"Is this okay?" Skylar asked. His voice had left him, and he spoke in a raspy half-whisper. Christian hesitated for a moment, seeming to mull over his options; go home alone, half-hard, disappointed, and in a foul mood; stay, and see what would happen.
"This is fine," he replied, slipping his arms around Skylar's slender waist.
A smile teased up the edges of Skylar's mouth, and he leaned down - down, Christian realized, having never noticed that Skylar was a good two inches taller than him - to capture Christian's mouth once more. This time, when Christian's mouth edged open at the encouragement of his tounge, Skylar felt it was as if the seas were parting just for him.
