It's Complicated

Four

WARNING: Homophobic slurs towards the end-ish. Brief description of anxiety attack and abuse.

Archer's POV

I walked into the choir room and scanned it. There wasn't many people, and the room seemed kinda barren. However, there were music-related posters everywhere. I looked for the director, but he was no where in sight. I was just about to find a spot when I locked eyes with her. The girl from the gym. Her eyes were big and dazed. I wondered if she had been staring at me when I walked in. I was feeling brave, so I walked over to her.

"Do we know each other?"

She shook her head, eyes almost captivated in mine. "No."

"Well, my name's Archer."

"Madison."

"Nice to meet you, Madison." I smiled at her. She seemed distant, so, in hopes of bringing her back, I asked another question. "Are you a soprano?"

"Uh.. Yeah. You?" That seemed to work. She never broke our gaze. I was surprised by this. My parents always said I had intimidating eyes, and even they couldn't look into them for a long time.

"Nah. I'm an alto."

"Cool. I don't remember you from last year. Did you just move here?"

"Yeah. My little brother was having trouble learning at his old school, so we moved."

"Well, welcome to California." She was still focused on me and only me.

"Thank you, bella ragazza." I prayed she didn't know Italian and walked away. I don't know why I walked away; I guess I just like playing hard to get. It was kinda rude. I thought about going back, but that would've been even more awkward, especially if she asked what "bella ragazza" meant. I did want to keep talking to her.

Choir was great. The director was the nicest person on Earth and not to mention I could briefly see Madison. I was kinda sad when it ended. I walked over to the small lockers to put away my binder. As I turned around, we briefly made eye contact before one of the counter-tenors walked up to her. I wasn't necessarily jealous, it was more of I just wanted to talk to her. And her talking to him was restricting me from doing so. I passed time by just looking at her. Luckily, she ended the conversation quickly and walked over to me. A smirk plastered onto my face.

"How's your friend?"

"Fine. His name's Garrett by the way."

"He's right about you being a good singer." I felt my smirk widen and my face become a little warm.

"Me? You're the good one here."

"Oh whatever. You're just saying that, Miss I-Can-Break-Glass-With-My-Voice."

"I'm serious. And I cannot even sing that high."

"Oh so a B7 isn't high? Hmm I never knew that..." I stared off pretending to be in thought. She rolled her eyes.

"It's not. Plus, I can barely even make it to a Ab."

I made a face at her, not convinced. "That was not an Ab, it was at least a Bb. At least."

She dramatically sighed. "Fine. You win."

"I always do." My smirk turned into a grin. We just stared at each other for a while before she blurted out, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Me?" I blinked. Should I tell her? Maybe I should wait.

"No, Garrett. Of course you. Who else would I be talking to?" I tried to act natural and just pretended to think about it before answering.

"True. But no, I don't. I don't really know anyone so it would be hard to just show up to a new school and magically have a boyfriend." That would have to do. It would eventually come up again, but for now she doesn't have to know. But why was she wanting to know if I was single?

The bell rang and we walked out together, then said goodbye and went our separate ways.

I made my way to the cafeteria and got in line. As I was waiting, someone pushed passed me and said, "Fag." I tapped on his shoulder. He was a a couple inches taller than me, but I didn't care. I wouldn't deal with homophobic people. "Excuse me, is something wrong?"

"Just you." I looked at him, perplexed. "Why am I a problem?"

"You're a fag. A nasty fag."

"So what?" He suddenly grabbed my arm and held it tightly. My breath hitched, and my stomach churned. "You're gonna get out of my face before this becomes a problem."

I stared at him, memories flooding back to me. My anxiety rising. I knew I had to get out of there. He hadn't beaten me, but his actions and words were too familiar to me. My breathing was going out of control, and my heart rate increasing rapidly. Tears welling up in my eyes. He tightened his grip on my arm one last time before shoving me away. He grinned, and he and his friends started high-fiving each other. "Nice, Eli! One less fag at this school,"one of them said. They all cheered him on as I ran as fast as I could out of there.

I found the girl's bathroom and collapsed against the wall. Tears were streaming down my face. He acted so much like him. It didn't help that he also kinda looked like him. I put my head in my hands and wished for it to all go away. Why did he have to come back? Didn't he know I never wanted to see him again?

Then, someone walked in.

And I froze.