Eight Grade Gay

⁠♡ He looks lonely

AEGLECREST DI MARCO HIGH

"I got some tea to spill," I announced once Dior slid into the seat beside me.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his desk,

"Spill it," he urged, his tone smooth as silk.

I told him all about what happened yesterday, from meeting Kaylo to teaming up with him in swim class out of the blue. Dior listened closely, never taking his eyes off me like he was hanging on every word and soaking up each new detail.

"He has balls. Don't get me wrong." Dior started, "However, there is something about that kid that makes everyone's skin crawl. It's unsettling"

I remained silent, nodding my head in agreement.

"But he has not accepted that he has killed anyone to date," I interjected softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think he's not as he seems. Somewhere deep down, I feel he's just pretending. If he's truly as dangerous and hot-tempered as he appears, why isn't he seen among the students, pulling off bullying and other harmful stuff?"

We both fell silent.

He shrugged his shoulders not trusting enough with what I said, and I'm not exactly going to defend Kaylo either.

There were some things left unanswered, we could find answers by digging deeper but for now, it's better to leave things unasked. Putting pressure on Kaylo or not taking things slowly will lead us nowhere in life. His life is like a puzzle and every piece is still hidden and there's more that has yet to be revealed

"Do you believe in him?" Dior's voice sliced through the silence, heavy with skepticism and doubt, mirroring my own conflicted emotions.

I met his gaze who were searching for clarity amidst the shadows that danced in his eyes.

It reminded me of the subtle hesitation Kaylo had when his hand was inches away from a gun.

At that moment, I found my answer.

"Somehow yes, he feels different... he has this presence that draws you towards him, you have no control over where and how you are going to walk. It's overwhelming." I paused, a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I struggled to make sense of how I found myself entangled in his world without even realizing it. "I want to know him," I admitted, my words tinged with longing. "The real him. The guy behind the mask. I want to know who he really is."

Even though I had some small doubts that stayed in the back of my mind like ghosts. I believed in the possibility of redemption.

In the power of second chances.

Across from me, Dior sighed, fatigue etched into the lines of his face as he rubbed his temples, his expression clouded with uncertainty.

"I don't understand why you find the Mafia kid to be interesting," Dior lamented, shaking his head in disbelief. "His family has killed many people. They are murderous." He muttered under his breath, his words a mixture of disbelief and disapproval.

"I know," I began, my voice carrying the weight of my conflicted thoughts. "His family's reputation precedes them, and their ruthless nature is well-known. I understand the risks involved, But Kaylo, he's different somehow. That day in the basement, he seemed... disquieted, There was no hint of pride in his eyes."

I spoke not only to convince Dior but also to reassure myself, to rationalize the inexplicable pull Kaylo had on me despite the danger.

"I suppose you're right, they are indeed unpredictable." Dior conceded, his words tinged with resignation. "You're just getting to know him," he continued, his tone gentle yet cautious. "It's not too late to learn more. Perhaps... perhaps you should try to approach him differently but effectively"