Chapter Text
Before I had transferred to the school, I had sat in solitude, every single day, without fail, for years on end. Watching the grinning faces of the groups of boys and girls, who’d sit near me as if I was nothing but an irrelevant observer, was hell on earth. Every single day was a vicious cycle of envy and longing that’d continue to rot me from the inside.
And yet, everything changed when I met him.
With an air of upmost confidence and his mouth pulled into a friendly smile, Blue Tie had struck up a conversation with me. He’d said “Hi,” in that smooth, boyish tone of his, and it suddenly felt as if my years of loneliness had not mattered, because I had him now. His amiable aura was infectious.
He introduced himself, and invited me to sit with him and his friends during lunch. I agreed, instantly, as if I had been put under some sort of hypnosis.
His band of friends was of a formidable size, though I had expected so— how could someone like him not be immensely popular?
Despite the group’s large size, though, there were not many memorable members; most of the boys paled in comparison to Blue Tie’s, and it honestly felt like the majority of the boys were just clones of him; envious of his charisma and charm. The only two notable members were named White Shirt, a tall, broad-shouldered guy, and Tomato, who always seemed to be red in the face somehow. They seemed to be the 2nd and 3rd most important members of the gang, respectively.
Blue Tie started to speak for me, announcing my presence with an excited expression, his dark eyes crinkled from smiling.
“Hey, everyone. This guy— Turkish Quandale— he’s new. Thought I’d let him sit with us. Said he’s from—where’d you say you transferred from, again?” He turned to look at me, cedar hair falling over his face.
“Orange County.”
“Yeah, Orange County,” he repeated.
I was bombarded with questions from people I didn’t even know the names of, being swarmed from all directions with queries. A warm wave of contentedness— one I had never felt before— washed over me, and I had felt that I finally had started to belong somewhere, and it was all because of Blue Tie.
I don’t know when my feelings of admiration turned into something else.
The way he sounded when he laughed at mediocre jokes was sweeter than thick, golden honey. I found I could not draw myself away from gazing at his face— looking at his slightly tanned, smiley face became an addiction.
And I felt disgusting for it, of course, when I realized that my feelings weren’t those of simple appreciation. Was I really that pathetic, that desperate and touch-starved, that I had fallen for the first person to show me attraction? And for another boy, at that?
When I first came to the realization, I didn’t know what else to do but bury my head in my pillow and cry; soaking the thin material with my tears. What would my parents do if they ever found out I was like this, like some horrific aberration. What would he do? Oh, how I dreaded the wretched thought! My first ever friend would forever alienate me, and I would be nothing again!
No— I would be worse than nothing! If he found out, he’d surely tell everyone, and I’d be viewed as an abomination; a laughing stock of the highest degree!
Jillian, a girl in our math class, was turning 16 over the weekend, She was good friends with Blue Tie, and had invited the entire group to her Sweet 16. We were buzzing with excitement over it the entire week— White Shirt particularly. For one, I think Tomato had a crush on Jillian, and White Shirt was eager to try and set the two up together. He was also excited over the prospect that some people would be sneaking drinks into the party.
“I’m so fuckin’ excited, you guys don’t understand!” He exclaimed, at lunch, the day before. “D’you guys hear, Jill’s sister’s boyfriend— this guy called Jason— he’s gonna bring vodka in for everyone!”
He looked at Blue Tie, grinning from ear to ear.
But the way he looked at him made me ill.
I knew full well that White Shirt had known Blue Tie the longest, and yet it didn’t make their closeness any less gut-wrenching. I felt bad; who was I, a newcomer, to judge their friendship? And yet, I could not help but
excuse myself, locking myself in a bathroom stall. I could not stop the tears silently falling, catching them in my light brown hands.
When it was time to go to Jill’s Sweet 16 the next day, I tried to dress myself as best as I could. I had got a new haircut the evening before, and I had picked out a crisp black shirt. I wanted to impress Blue Tie— though I knew full well he would never reciprocate my feelings, I still would like for him to just respect me, and see me as somehow a better friend than White Shirt.
I leave for the party, a wreck.