*Henry’s POV*
I’d had a long day. To long. It wasn’t even finished-no, now I had to take Oliver to my house and start on our project. Why did I take photography again? Oh yeah, because I love taking pictures and I could tell anyone who asked that I did it for the girls.
“Are you ready?” the voice made me jolt, which is shocking consider it’s the voice of a child, even if it did belong to a teenager. Shutting but not locking my locker, I turn and peer down curiously at the little dark haired boy. He was wearing the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen.
Pink skinny jeans. And when I say pink skinny jeans, I mean in your face neon, ass gripping, leg clinging jeans that look strangely good on him. A dark purple sweater, it’s hood on his head… except it wasn’t a normal hood. It was shaped like two bunny ears, perky and adorable. To bad this wasn’t all on a girl.
“What in god’s name are you wearing?” I glower. I had to walk home with this?
Oddly, he just smiled. “I’m gay Henry, I don’t do anything in god’s name” then he adjusted the strap of his back pack over his shoulder, shrugging it up more comfortably. He really was a strange boy, scruffy black hair with cat-like green eye’s and a happy-go-lucky little smile. Gays…
“Okay then.” I mutter. He leans against the locker next to mine well I grab my books, including the photography one. It’d be nice to have some pointers to look at while taking the shots that’s decide a large portion of my grade. “Why can’t we go to your house again?”
He pops his lips. “it’s for your own good Henry. There are more gay germs at my house” he wriggles his fingers around to make a point, making my homophobia. I couldn’t help it, the whole gay thing made me feel all weird and unsettled inside. Of course I hated them for that.
It was strange though. I could easily tolerate a conversation with Oliver, or any other gay guys, and lesbians were fine with me. It’s just when I’d get a glimpse of them kissing, or holding hands that my stomach would twist and I feel increasingly ill.
*Flash Back*
Life was good. I was sixteen, in Mexico, and it was summer vacation. I’d made a great friend to, this guy named Tony. He was into surfing as well, though neither of us was very good, and he was American, so I understood what he said.
We’d been strolling along the board walk eating taco’s when his eye’s had found another white guy in the sea of tanned people. He’d pointed him out, and we’d come to the conclusion that this other guy must to be vacationing.
He was. His name was Mike.
Thing’s had been fun. We’d spent the day together, enjoying ourselves, and then suddenly it was night time. There had been a bonfire party.. And drawn like flies that’s were we’d ended up, under the flickering light.
“That’s cool” I told the pretty Mexican girl I’d been chatting with.
Then I noticed that Tony and Mike were absent. “One sec”
Wandering away a little, I began hunting down my friends. I saw a figure.. or was that two figures? I couldn’t tell. It was in the shadow of the flames and the flickering orange light was reflecting of whoever was there. I stepped closer, also into the shade, and gasped.
Tony and Mike were all over each other, hands tugging each other’s hair, lips dancing together in the firelight. I stared, frightened and mesmerised, knowing full well that I shouldn’t be seeing this. But I was. And I couldn’t look away or make a sound.
