tragic

2- theo-suspicion

the classroom^

I observe Noah's reaction from the corner of my eye as his head snaps around to face me. I don't understand what possessed me to do this. Typically, I excel at keeping to myself, adept at pretending I don't notice the bruises that mar his body. This is my fault. I could intervene and stop those who torment him whenever I choose. But that would mean admitting I care about him, which I do, although it's a secret I must protect at all costs. You see, where we're from, football reigns supreme, and the consequences of revealing that the star quarterback is gay? I can't even fathom it. I've seen what Noah has endured ever since he was outed, I shudder at the thought of facing something similar. My internal struggle is real.

'Why is he still looking at me? Do I have something on my face?' A fleeting thought crosses my mind as I continue to watch Noah from my peripheral vision. His mouth hangs slightly open, his plump lips on display, as he sits there, appearing almost helpless. He seems to be searching for something to say, perhaps an unusual occurrence for him. After all, it's not every day that someone tells you they don't believe you when you claim to be okay. Yet, I couldn't help myself. The evidence of his distress is right there, in the form of the significant bruise on his neck. Why doesn't he stand up for himself? I've seen him at the gym numerous times. He's strong enough to put an end to the torment he endures, to confront the idiots who taunt him. I turn my head and glance at him directly, causing two things to happen: his mouth snaps shut, and he quickly averts his gaze back to the front of the class. 'Okay,' I think, turning my attention back to my phone, shutting out the world.

Later, I spot Noah leaving the school's doors as I'm on my way to practice. I decide to check on him, running over and gently gripping his shoulder. His entire body tenses immediately, and his face drains of color as he inhales sharply. "Woah, are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I ask, my worry overcoming the fear of being seen with him. "Noah," I say again, looking into his brown eyes. "Y-yeah?" he stammers, his composure gradually returning as he brushes off my hand that rests on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" I inquire, my gaze scanning his face for any signs of distress. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he retorts, his tone laced with irritation, glaring at me from behind his glasses. "Well, for starters, you have a massive bruise on your neck," I point out, watching as his hands instinctively rise to his neck. His eyes widen in shock, as if he hadn't noticed the prominent discoloration on his pale skin. "And you seemed like you were about to pass out a little while ago," I conclude. "Yeah, because you scared me, and I thought you were Alex or one of your other friends," he almost whispers, starting to walk away, effectively ending the conversation. Could one of my friends be responsible for that bruise? Actually, I wouldn't consider them my friends; they're nothing but obnoxious jerks. If they've harmed Noah to this extent, they're far worse than I had initially believed. I stop in my tracks, turning to face the locker room entrance. Rage courses through me as I consider charging in there, demanding answers about the bruises on his delicate skin. But I halt my impulsive move, realizing that such a confrontation could expose my concern for Noah. I can't risk jeopardizing everything I've built.

"Calms down, Theo," I soothe myself, my agitation momentarily quelled as I enter the locker room.

After practice, I'm drenched in sweat and dirt, sitting in my truck. The AC blasts, providing a cool relief as I reflect on the events of the day. "I can't keep fixating on Noah," I decide, the resolution firm as I drive home. "Does Noah have someone who genuinely cares about him?" I ponder as my mother greets me with a hug. "Go shower; dinner will be ready soon," her caring voice nudges me, her nose wrinkling at my scent. In my room, I close the door and shed my clothes, tossing them in the laundry basket by the closet before stepping into the attached bathroom. I stand under the spray, awaiting the water's warmth. Reaching my hand in, I test the temperature before stepping in, letting the warm water cascade over me. Thoughts of Noah dominate my mind—his lips, his eyes, his tender skin. "Shit," I whisper, noticing my body's reaction to thoughts of him. I reach down, my hand finding my hardness, fingers curling around it. Slowly, I stroke, imagining Noah's lips encircling me. "Fuck," I moan as I release onto the shower wall, an epiphany striking me. 'I care about Noah.'

**** Thank you for reading Chapter 2! How do you feel about Theo so far? *****