Sunflowers and Tulips

Braedon's POV

[A/N: Okay, guys. Y’all need to read THE WHOLE CHAPTER in order to understand. I know you guys like more talking, but seriously. Read EVERYTHING]

The hot water hit my back and I hissed involuntarily from the stinging pain of it. I looked down to the floor of the tub, resting my head against my chest, and watched the stream of water swirl around and go down the drain. The rain of shower water unknotted all my tension in my back and I sighed in relief, even though it hurt like a bitch.

My greasy blonde hair was matted down against my head, getting into my eyes. I swiped my bangs away to the top of my head, making sure that there was no way they could fall into my face until I wanted them to. I really needed to get my hair done and coloured…maybe it would look cool. But, what colour should I get? Brown, red, black, even blue or purple? Probably not. Dad would kill me if I got my hair dyed and so would James, or as I like to call him, Girasole.

Girasole…he was always in my mind, seeping into my thoughts and filling my vision of his beautiful face. It’s like he’s purposely doing it. He’s purposely plaguing my mind with the image of his raven-black hair, emerald-green eyes and muscular frame. You would usually suspect that the teen who has black hair and green eyes would be the small, petite boy who’s adorable, but no. It has to be a blonde who has blue eyes. Great.
I quickly grabbed my fruit-scented shampoo and lathered my hands, making pink-tinted bubbles appear. My hands reached to my hair where I scrubbed the roots and pulled on the strands. A shiver ran down my spine instantaneously and I lightly moaned; that always felt good ever since I was little. But just to clarify (mainly to myself): it was not that type of moan. The moan I made was more like when you get a back massage and it feels really good. Yeah. That moan.

People would say that I was—and still am—a pervert. I deny it, but at times like this I think that it’s true. It’s not the fact that I lost my virginity when I was fourteen or I’ve slept with almost every girl in the high school, is it? No. It can’t be it! I mean, I’m not a whore or anything. I’m just…okay. I’m a whore. I’m actually surprised that I am the school whore because I’m just the kicker of the football team. A scrawny blonde who doesn’t really matter. But then again, I am pretty hot if I do say so myself. Ha. I’m a disgrace cocky bastard.
But, I do have emotions. Like, I actually care for people and the environment and what’s around me. My favourite thing in the whole world is to go to my neighborhood park, sit on the swings, and just think. The park isn’t all that much, considering I live in a trailer, but it’s still peaceful in the evenings when I just need to get away, and that’s quite a lot. Don’t get me wrong, being around my dad is amazing, but I’m a teenager who can’t stand being cooped up in a small trailer all night doing homework. I get it all done before I go out, of course, but there’s just this feeling that I get every time I go there. The feeling that something important happened/will happen there. I mean, I know what happened when we were ten under that slide, but I know that there’s something more there. Something more…personal.

Oh well.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a fluffy blue towel from on top of the toilet. Water dripped off my body, creating a puddle around my feet. Instantly, my long hair started to curl because of the insane humidity in the small, cramped bathroom. Truthfully, I liked my hair kind of curly, but because it’s so thick, it turns into a puff ball. It’s not even like Ray Toro’s afro or anything. It’s like Hair from Hell. I sound like a freaking girl right now…great.

After I wiped my body, I started to towel-dry my hair, looking into the partially-fogged mirror. It really sucked knowing that a person with such a small frame (namely me) had to look into the mirror everyday just to see bones slightly protruding from their skin like they were skeletons. Sure, I eat a lot. But no one really knows my true secret. Or secrets. Not even Girasole, which is what killed me the most.

Even though I tried to wipe my body off, water drops were still everywhere. Not that I cared or anything, I just didn’t like having my clothes wet. So, I opened the bathroom door and let the steam escape onto my floor in my bedroom. In case you’re wondering, it’s a pretty small room, but I didn’t mind. I actually liked it. Less room to clean, less room to store useless junk. It was…home.

My mind instantly went back to Girasole. His body. His muscles. His…smile. That perfectly white smile that told me he was here for me no matter what. The perfect row of teeth that made me every girl swoon. His black hair that swept across his face and stuck up like sex hair, no matter how much gel he tried to muck it down with. The way his green eyes sparkled every time he got a treat. Like it was his last one ever. His giddiness when I took him to the park. That childish/playful attitude that defined him. He was, in a sense, a kid, and he always will be. Even when he has children of his own.

And what would his children look like? Would they be perfect like him with little white rows of teeth, black hair that stuck up everywhere, and wide green eyes filled with innocence that you couldn’t destroy even if you tried? Could they be just normal like me? But that’s impossible. First of all, I’m not gay. Second, gay people couldn’t have kids unless you adopted, right?

But…it would be nice to have kids with him, or just be with him. To hug him tight and press my face against his chest and take in his sweet scent while his muscular arms enveloped me and held me close. To have my hands feel up his shirt and stroke the perfectly toned muscles that he worked so hard to get. To have him whisper “I love you”s into my ear while we made love, roaming each other’s bodies with our hands and lips. Defining the true meaning of love with just one look in his eyes.

I could easily feel blood rushing to my dick, but I didn’t need a boner. Not while I was getting ready. Instead of taking care of my “problem”, I just turned to my bed, debating whether or not to just jump in it and forget about going to the movies with…him. I shuddered thinking about the risk: go to the movies with Girasole and try to get over my humungous crush thinking about him, or stay home to think about what he could be doing at the movies with another person.

Then, I felt a pair of eyes on me. Watching me. I turned around, only to see the shocked face of the one person I shared my first kiss with under the slide. The face that belonged to my best friend: James. I jumped into my bed and pulled the covers over me, terrified. A blood-curdling scream erupted from somewhere, but I didn’t realize it came from me until I said yelled, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, GIRASOLE!? I’M FUCKING NAKED!” He just stood there, frozen.

“I…I’m sorry. I d-didn’t know you were ch-changing,” he stuttered, trying to get over the fact that he saw me naked. Oh god. Maybe he saw me. My “mini-me”. My dick. Oh god. What if he saw I had a boner? Would he think I was jacking-off? I mean, yea, I was about to. But that’s beside the point. “You w-were late.”

My embarrassment quickly turned into anger at the thought that he saw everything, not just my dick. If he did, I would kill myself. He couldn’t know, he just couldn’t. “GET OUT. GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!” I screamed, kind of harshly, and he slammed the door shut, running away.

I sighed angrily, cursing my stupidity of forgetting to lock the door because of course Girasole would barge in like he owned the fucking-damn place. I guess I was angrier at myself more than anything else. But, I was still mad at him for not knocking.
I’ll hold a grudge for about 5 minutes before I forgive him, because that’s just how it goes. He pouts that fucking adorable pout of his and I let him do whatever the hell he wants. The funny thing, though, is that he doesn’t even know he controls me like that. He’s legitimately upset because he thinks I’m really mad at him. Of course, I’ll be upset for a little bit, but I can’t say no to his pout. It’s irresistible.

Quickly, I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of blue jeans. Not literally blue jeans, but the original Levi’s jeans that hugged your ass in all the right ways, but still left you to your manliness. My belt was just a plain leather belt, and I slipped it through the loops with ease. I usually dressed in skinnies or something, but I started to think that it was wrong with my hair to do that. It seemed…too preppy-bright to be wearing skinnies like I want to. That seems kind of emo-ish (I seriously hate that term), but I say in order to wear the skinnies, you have to earn them instead of just having money and having your daddy pick them out. To earn them, you have to be bad-ass. Like me. And even though I have blonde hair, I have to say that I did earn those skinnies and I looked pretty damn good in them too. That goes to show how much work you have to do in order to fit in them. I looked around the room, found an old Escape the Fate tee, and slipped that over my head. I wouldn’t worry about my hair right now. I still have about an hour until we actually have to leave for the movies; Girasole just likes to be early to see the previews.

Faint voices seeped under the doorway, but I ignored them. What’s between my dad and James is between my dad and James; not me. It’s really none of my business. My dad is like a father to Girasole, so he’s probably having a manly one-on-one talk with him about using steroids or something. Whatever.

I walked to the door and opened it, only to find Girasole again. But this time, it looks like he was hesitating to even touch the knob. He smiled, looking relieved, but I hadn’t gotten over what happened and instead of returning the favour, I glared. His all-too-perfect teeth disappeared behind his plump lips, forming a pout. I looked away, and said, “Move, please.” He stepped, more like shuffled, out of the doorway and down the hall, with me following right behind him. My eyes went from glaring daggers to the back of his head, to looking at the toned features of his back, and eventually down to his ass, which (due to his incredibly tight jeans) gave me a perfect view.

“Hey, boys! Are you guys hungry? Y’all can eat before you go.” Dad said, smiling that kind of smile that said “Haha…I know something and you don’t.” It annoyed me.

I shrugged. “I might not go.”

James froze in his tracks and turned around, facing me. I looked down because I knew if I looked up, I would see if his eyes were brimming with tears and if his nose was red like it always is when he cries. “You…but…w-we always eat here then go to the movies on Saturday. It’s a tr-tradition.”

“Well. Maybe I want to break tradition,” I coldly said. To be honest, I hated being so mean. And I don’t even know why I’m still mad at him. Yea, he walked in on me and almost saw one of my biggest secrets in the world, but he didn’t mean to.

He literally fell to the ground in a heap and started to bawl. “But…but I’m your b-best friend!”
I kneeled down to his level and took his chin in my fingers. This really sounds so cliché, but I always have to do this when I upset him. He really gets hurt when I get mad at him. So much it sometimes affects him physically. “I want to break tradition…and go eat out before the movie.” I whispered, looking into his glossy eyes.

People always said that the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul. I disagree. The whole entire person is the window to a person’s soul. Body language, the way you speak, where your eyes are, it tells me everything I need to know. And now that I’m looking at Girasole, whose lips are trembling because he still hasn’t stopped crying and whose eyes are darting back and forth, trying to do the exact thing I’m trying to do. I know he’s upset, torn, and angry (more at himself, probably), but he shouldn’t be. I love like him too much to be mad at him forever, but of course he takes things too seriously. Drama King.

“R-really?” he spluttered, looking confused.

I nodded my head and sighed, saying, “C’mon. Let’s go and we’ll talk in the truck.” He nodded and got up (with my help, of course). “See ya later, Dad!”

“Bye, Daniel,” James choked.

We walked out the door and into the bright, sunny day. The car-ride will be…awkward, to say the least.