an: pic is kal
---
It is 6:35 in the afternoon on a Friday. Kal just finished soccer practice and was planning to grab a bite at the nearest diner when Abel Wentz walked up to him and said something that had him gaping. It seems as if he waited hours outside just to specifically talk to Kal, and that by itself is odd – but the fact that he stands before him now, impassive, cheeks red only from the cold, tired eyes unblinking and devoid of any emotion – that's the strangest part of it all.
Clearly, he must've heard wrong. Because no says that kind of thing to someone like this. Not with empty eyes and an expressionless face.
This has got to be a joke.
"What?" he asks – demands, more like. Kal's shoulder hurts. It hurts a lot. He fell on it badly while chasing for the ball during practice but not hard enough to dislocate or sprain it. That's what the nurse said anyway. If it won't heal completely within two weeks he'll be benched in their next match.
Abel doesn't look away. He doesn't blush or stutter or even blink. "I love you." he repeats, as nonchalant as the last.
The thing is, Kal's never one for tact. He's unsympathetic and most of the time labelled as a dick. And he can't really refute that idea because he kind of is, maybe. Possibly. He's not a great person, but he isn't so horrid either. But today is a bad day. And this just completes the cake, the cherry on top so to speak.
Something inside Kal snaps.
"Don't fuck with me." Kal grits out, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wants to grab Abel and push him against something. Break his nose. But his shoulder hurts and Kal doesn't actually want to hurt Abel, because he kind of likes him.
Which is why this is a problem.
"I'm not." Abel says, kind of slowly. The kind of slow people used when talking to a toddler. The I-know-you're-stupid-so-I'll-talk-like-this slow. As if it'll comfort him or make him understand better.
But that just makes him even more mad, because Abel is making fun of him.
"Who put you up to this?" Kal asks, face forming a scowl. "Look, I don't have time for bullshit. Find another gay kid to play tricks on because I'm not falling for it."
"No one. I – what?" Finally, a semblance of something flickered on Abel's eyes. "I'm not playing tricks on you. I love you."
How convenient, Kal thinks bitterly, I come out of the closet and the guy I had a crush on confesses to me. No one's that lucky. Kal may be dumb, but he's not this dumb.
There's no one around, not that he can see. The last remaining people in school were some of his teammates who's probably already left minutes ago and a few staff walking around. There's probably a camera in the bushes recording all this. The past few weeks were hell and he wouldn't be surprised if this is another one of those cheap tactics of fuck him over.
Kal pushes past Abel without a word. Better to ignore all this. He'll go buy something to eat and return straight home just as planned.
"Kal – " Abel chases after him. "I'm telling the truth. I'm – I'm telling the truth!"
He stops, turns, and says, "What do you expect to come out of this?"
"Nothing." Abel says. "I just wanted to tell you."
"Why?"
"Because..." Abel pauses. He looks pensive and sort of subdued. "I'm going to die tonight."
A horrified shiver went up Kal's spine. The nonchalant statement sounds so out of place coming from Abel's mouth. If Abel is aiming for a reaction he certainly got it, because Kal just barely stopped himself from shouting at him. Instead, he says, "Stop kidding around. It's not funny."
Abel nods. Kal wanted so badly at this moment to read Abel's mind because he showed no shred of emotion other than indifferent calmness. "Right. I'm sorry for bothering you."
"You're fucked up." Kal can't stop himself from saying.
"Right." Abel repeats. "Will you at least me kiss me, before you go?"
Kal's hand moved at its own accord. He clutched the front of Abel's shirt, his right hand raised in a fist, ready to punch his pretty face. He's making fun of me, Kal can't stop thinking. He knows I like him, he's making fun of me.
Abel doesn't flinch. His hands lay limply at his side. He doesn't even try to cover his face. "Please," he just says – breathes, more like. "Please."
Kal falters. He loosens his grip and for a second contemplates, thinks of pressing his lips to his. But he doesn't. He pushes him away, roughly, and Abel stumbles back.
"Don't talk to me ever again." Kal says.
"Kal," Abel begins. There's a hint of panic in his voice but Kal's already walking away. "Kal, please listen to me. Kal –please – p-please—!"
Kal continues to walk. Doesn't stop. Doesn't think. He reaches his car, starts the ignition, and drives away.
Kal makes the mistake of looking back and he sees Abel standing right where he left him with tears running down his face.
---
When Monday comes, the first thing Kal does when he arrives school is search for Abel.
The weekend was nerve-wrecking. He barely slept, kept thinking of what Abel had said, his confession, of how distraught he looked when he left. That's the only time he saw an actual emotion on Abel's face, and he's known Abel ever since he transferred to this school. Granted, he never actually talked to him or stopped to get to know him, mostly because he's a coward and he doesn't know how to start a conversation with him without sounding like the most uninteresting person in the world. He really likes Abel, okay, he does. He likes him a lot. But Abel's so intimidating and unapproachable, sort of out of this league. No, certainly out of his league.
But after he confessed – god knows if he was telling the truth – Kal thought maybe he'll give it a shot. Try again. Apologize, maybe. Ask if he was serious. If he isn't, then whatever. Everyone's already mocking him for being a fag so it doesn't really matter at this point.
Halfway through the day and he still can't find Abel Wentz anywhere.
He checked all the places he knew for sure he hangs out in. The library, the gym bleachers, under the maple tree just outside the music room. It's not like Kal was keeping track of him before or anything but he usually noticed him around. Now, while actively searching for him, the dormant dread residing in the pit of his stomach increases as the minutes tick by.
Lunch rolls around. He isn't in the cafeteria either.
"What's up, man?" Vincent asks. He's one of the few guys on the team who didn't resent him for being gay. "You've been looking around all day. Are you searching for someone?"
"Yeah," Kal admits, training his gaze towards Vincent who was giving him a curious look. "Do you know someone named Abel Wentz?"
"Sure," Vincent says. "What about him?"
"Have you seen him around?"
"Um, yes?"
"Where?"
"Oh, I haven't seen him today if that's what you mean."
"Fuck."
"Why? Is he giving you any trouble?"
"It's not like that. I just wanted to talk to him."
"He'll show up eventually. Milton High isn't a very big school."
"Yeah," Kal says absently. The knot in his stomach grows tighter and tighter. He feels like he might puke. "I hope so."
Vincent continues eating, but Kal can't get what Abel last said to him out of his mind. I just wanted to tell you. Because I'm going to die tonight.
---
Practice finishes earlier than usual. They're out of the field by 5:30 and everyone's showered and gone home by 6. Vincent invites him over for pizza. The rest of the guys didn't even try to hide their distaste about the idea. That's fine, Kal didn't want to go out with them in the first place. He declines his offer and tells him he'll hang around next time. Vincent shrugs and leaves with the rest of the guys right after.
Kal is on his way to his car when he remembered he had to grab one of the books he's left in his locker. He walks back in, puts on his lock combination and opens the metal door. He reaches for his book and notices a maroon colored hardcover notebook that was never there before and checks its content.
He opens the first page. A note fell on the floor. He picked it up and read it.
Hello, Kal.
I left this notebook right after I talked to you on Friday. I hope you don't think of it as strange, that is not my intent. I just wanted you to have this before I go.
My only regret is that I should've told you I loved you sooner and showed you just how much I cared. Proved how true my feelings are. Because I do love you and I do care. I still want to kiss you. I've never wanted anything else in my life. I don't expect you to feel the same, but in a different universe, maybe I had the courage to ask you out properly, and maybe you agreed even if it's just to humor me.
I want to ask you of one more thing. It's selfish, but please, don't forget about me.
Yours, always, even in death, Abel Wentz.
Kal's hands are trembling as he read the note. He flipped through the notebook Abel left and his blood froze when he saw page upon page of drawings – of him. Him writing during class. Unwrapping a sandwich. Kicking a ball. Smiling – laughing? Of him with his eyes closed, head resting on his arms above his table. Shirtless after a match. Tons of beautifully drawn realistic portraits of himself.
He returns the note in between the pages and places it back in his locker, slamming it shut. He leaves without his book and drives away with nothing and everything in his mind, the letter and Abel's last words ringing inside his head repeatedly, too loud, too terrifying to even think about.
---
It's Tuesday and every senior student was called upon in the auditorium. The adviser, Mrs. Jackson, had a solemn look on her face.
"Class – quiet down – I have an announcement to make." She starts. "This morning we were informed by the administration that your fellow classmate, Abel Wentz, has committed suicide and was found dead in his room last Friday."
"Holy shit," Kal hears Vincent say.
He blacks out.