|{TJ James}|
The day after TJ's encounter with miss pompoms went by swiftly, without a Harlem related incident at that, and TJ was eternally grateful for it.
So did the day after that.
But by the third day TJ found himself subconsciously looking out for the male, he found that he'd unintentionally gotten used to Harlem's hovering presence lately, however unpleasant it usually was.
As much as he'd love to bask in his lie to the athlete regarding not being curious about what had happened at that party, he was.
He wondered what had happened between them exactly, he wondered what it felt like to have sex with a guy, and he wondered if he liked it.
How had it started? Who spoke to who first? Up until that night he and Harlem hadn't said a single word to each other, so how and why had TJ followed him home? These were the questions that had been running through his mind lately.
He would never admit it to anyone, but a part of him wished he could remember that night.
It was now four days since TJ last caught a glimpse of Harlem, and he had no idea how to describe how that made him feel.
'Strange' would be the most accurate word of choice.
He stood by his locker exchanging books between classes, all the while discreetly checking the hallway for any sight of the male.
"Who do you keep checking for?" Sia asked, walking up to him.
"No one." TJ lied smoothly.
She gave him a look that made it clear that she didn't believe him, but thankfully dropped it. "Anyway, who you taking to the dance?" Sia asked, casually resting her back on the neighboring locker.
"Homecoming?" TJ snorted. "I'm not going."
"Why not?"
"It's lame, and stupid." He offered, replacing his books carefully, he hated wrinkles on his shit. "Who you taking?" He asked just to be polite, he wasn't actually interested.
Sia hesitated, then shuffled nervously for a bit. "Zaya." She answered.
TJ gave her a curious glance, that was the last fucking response he was expecting.
Sia sighed and began a rant. "We've been talking for a minute and I really like her bro. I know you don't like her or whatever, but I do, you can't help who you love. She's mad cool when no one else is around and she makes me smile and challenges me the way no one else does, and I can't just..." she trailed off abruptly when she caught the disinterested glare TJ was giving her.
"I ain't ask you none of that." TJ said, shutting his locker and zipping up his backpack, before turning to face his sister. "Just thought she fucked with that nígga is all."
Sia looked guilty immediately, but only for a second. "Don't judge nigga, sometimes your soulmate is just with the wrong person." Sia said defensively.
TJ rolled his eyes. "I don't care about your morals Sia, or lack there of." He hesitated for a bit, trying to psych himself up enough to ask the question that was bugging to be asked.
"You seen him around lately? Harlem i mean. He's been missing his sections and shit, you know anything bout that?" He inquired, trying to sound as neutral as possible.
Sia smirked knowingly, then pointed behind TJ and said, "ask him yourself."
TJ glanced over his shoulder and spotted Harlem strolling over to them. He quickly fought and suppressed the part of himself that wanted to smile so badly, he locked that urge deep down and threw away the proverbial keys.
"Hey." Harlem greeted in a nearly unrecognizable tone, it could even be mistaken for nice.
TJ said nothing. He merely nodded at his sister who wanted to make sure he was okay before she left them alone.
Now alone, he turned to Harlem and said, "you missed two sections."
"Yeah, sorry bout that. I'm ready now if you are." Harlem responded.
TJ was incredibly confused by this new found politeness, and he didn't trust it. He nodded and followed Harlem to the diner close to school that they used for their sections. The booth they frequently used was empty so they sat down and started. Harlem barely said a word, other than to ask TJ questions here and there.
What the hell was going on with him?
TJ was tempted to ask, but at the same time he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Whatever it was that caused Harlem to start acting like an entirely different person was none of his business.
——
The following week went pretty much the same. TJ would go to class, sometimes the same ones as Harlem, they'd ignore each other and then meet at the diner, in that same booth and do their work, silently.
Sometimes they'd both ask each other something, and the other one would respond with a one word answer and get back to work.
Harlem would randomly buy them both some food and milkshakes, ignoring TJ's insistence of buying his own shit.
He would smile at TJ occasionally, throwing him off a little. Flirting with him at unexpected times and shit.
But all in all, the guy that TJ had been tutoring for the past two weeks was a total stranger. Something must've certainly happened to him.
——
"What is that?" Harlem asked one faithful evening, pointing at TJ's sketch pad. "What you always scribbling on that thing?"
TJ shrugged, but kept quiet. Only to look up and found Harlem looking hurt.
Seriously, what the fuck was going on with him? "I like to draw things, it calms my spirit." TJ replied.
Harlem flashed him a grateful smile, "what type of things?" He asked.
"Random shit. Shit that pop into my mind, or things that I find beautiful." TJ answered. He was honestly surprised at how it seemed like they were having an actual conversation for the first time. "My papa thought me how to channel my anxiety into art when I was very young, he thought me to love it." He added, he had no idea why he was being open like that, that was undoubtedly a rare occurrence.
Harlem studied him closely. "Are you two close? You and your papa." He inquired.
TJ looked up at the boy opposite him and smiled for the first time that day. "Yeah he's my favorite person in the world. He's compassionate and kind, and patient."
TJ honestly didn't know what he'd do without his papa. People started to call him strange, odd, and weird from a very young age. But his papa would always tell him how special and gifted he was, and that anyone who thought otherwise could eat shit. His papa had made sure to instill tremendous amount of confidence in TJ, which he was so fucking grateful for.
"You're adorable." Harlem commented wryly.
"Shut up."
Harlem grinned, then pointed at TJ's sketchbook again and asked, "can I see?"
"No." TJ responded, without further explanation. After all he had no idea how long this decent guy facade was going to last, and the last thing he wanted to do was give the boy ammunition to hurt him....or attempt to at the very least.
But as days went by TJ found himself looking forward to seeing Harlem. The more time they spent together, the more TJ discovered that underneath that douchbag mask laid an actual human being. Which scared the living shit out of him because he wasn't sure how genuine Harlem was being.