The Queerest [🗸]

my day with riya khatri

Then, she's gone, shoes clicking down the hall, ponytail swishing behind her.

It shouldn't feel like I lost a friend, because Ella McConnell is definitely not a friend and never has been— but it does feel like I lost something.

My eyes flick back to my locker as I hear the thudding of footsteps behind me, followed by heavier steps that I recognize all too well. Ryder, of course. Hard not to memorize his loud-ass footsteps that nearly seem to shake the ground with every step.

I exhale. The last thing I need to be dealing with right now is my ex-boyfriend. To even use that term to describe him sounds extremely fucking weird, but it's the right term to use. 

I'm not sure what I expect as I turn around, my eyes flitting to his. Maybe I expect him to say something snarky like Ella did, maybe I expect a laugh or a chuckle or something along those lines.

Instead, he gives me a blank stare before moving on, and making his way down the hall after Ella.

Something hurts, but I can't pin why it does. After all, I'm not a big fan of either Ella or Ryder, and I'm more relieved that I'm not with Ryder anymore than I am anything else. Still, they did provide some sort of security for me. Maybe that's why it was so hard to let go.

I lean against my locker, eyes fluttering shut. I'm happy I did let go, seeing as it was really overdue, but it doesn't make much feel any better.

Coming out is never easy, but fuck did it seem better for my cousin when he did. 

James had come out to my dad's sister—my aunt, his mom— and her husband just a month ago. I tried to gauge my parents' reaction as they informed me of the fact, but they essentially emitted neutrality.

Based on what they told me, it feels like James made coming out appear to be a walk in the park, but I wonder how many people had made his life living hell once he did.

"Hey neighbor."

My eyes fly open once I hear another voice, my eyes catching onto a dark haired beauty, her lips teasing at a smile.

"Riya," I say softly, and I don't realize how defeated I sound until the words actually leave my lips.

Her smile softens as she takes a few steps forward, her eyes searching mine. She glances over before tucking a curl behind my ear. With it there, she absentmindedly tugs at it. "You okay?"

I smile, one of those watery ones, then I shake my head. "No," I say, almost inaudibly.

"Shit," Riya says, finger still lightly tugging at my hair. I shift over to the side, allowing her eyes to catch onto the locker and the word written onto it. Her lips part.

I exhale a soft laugh. "I didn't think it would hurt that much, seeing that." A hand runs through my hair. "I mean, I literally called myself the word like a week ago, and I felt so powerful doing that." A shaky exhale. "Now they're using it, and it feels gross and fucked-up like all that power I felt is just gone. I don't feel powerful."

My hands run through my hair before rubbing at my eyes. "I feel shitty, instead."

Remarkably, I manage to get halfway through shitty before my voice breaks. 

"Hey," Riya says, and it seems like she has no clue what to do when someone's crying, because her hands hover around my torso, as though she's debating whether or not touching me will make me feel worse.

Her small little hey, though, is what causes those tears to trickle down. It's always that little hey or that little are you okay? that breaks me.