The Boy with the Protest Sign

Ryan stared transfixed as a boy he vaguely recognized from his music appreciation class crossed the street and unfolded a sign which read 'Jesus Loves Me This I Know' in rainbow colored letters. Directly across from him, a group of people held signs and wore tee shirts with the words 'God Hates Fags' emblazoned across them.

The group was protesting a rather popular cafe near campus which had run an ad in the paper with a couple that happened to be made up of two men. The group seemed to protest everything gay-friendly on campus. Yet another reason why Ryan had no desire to leave the closet. Ironically enough, however, he had slept with one of the members only a month before.

The boy across the street though . . .

Ryan continued to stare at him. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him in the physical sense, except maybe his overly round ass. He was cute, with brown hair and brown eyes, but no one that would make you stop in your tracks. And he was oddly calm. Ryan though his own heart was probably beating faster. The people across the street were yelling, chanting, but the boy just smiled. Not even when the protestors began hurling insults at him specifically did he lose his temper. In fact, he did the very opposite.

He began to sing.

Into a megaphone.

"Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong . . ."

And then, unbelievably, he began to quote Scripture. Ryan wasn't aware he was moving until he pushed the front door open. A handful of people followed him out the sidewalk. They were interested. Ryan, a lifelong Atheist, was hypnotized.

The voice through the megaphone was over-loud, but incredibly warm, surprisingly. "'For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.'" The boy paused. "'For God so loved the world,'" he repeated, emphasis on the last two words. He stared directly at the group of protestors and this time his voice was harsh. "Fags included."

"Fags included!" a girl next to Ryan echoed, her fist in the air. Suddenly, she sprinted across the street to stand next to the boy with the sign.



The protest ended three hours later, with five more people joining the boy. Ryan was not one of them. But when the boy folded his sign and headed down the sidewalk, Ryan discreetly slipped out the door and followed him. The boy had a blue Pontiac with chipping paint, which he unlocked to put his things into. When he straightened up and saw Ryan--whom he recognized from the protest--on the sidewalk, his hand instinctively closed around the can of mace in his jacket pocket.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound polite.

"I doubt it." Ryan fought to keep his voice from shaking as he introduced himself. "I'm in your Music App class."

The boy nodded, still uncertain of what this was all about. "I'm Brendon."

"I-I was just w-wondering . . ." Ryan swallowed. He'd never felt so nervous in his entire life.

Brendon's gaze seemed to soften slightly. "Go ahead."

"How do you have the balls to say that shit?" Ryan blurted out, immediately regretting his choice of words the moment the other boy's eyes narrowed. That had come out all wrong. "No!" he all but yelled. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Nice to meet you, Ryan." Brendon said cordially, opening the door of his car.

"I'm gay!"

All time seemed to stop for a moment and Ryan couldn't hear a sound as he clapped his hand over his mouth. He looked like he'd just sworn in the middle of a crowded church. There was no color on his face and suddenly he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the sound of a car door shutting.

And then . . . hands.

Steadying hands on his shoulders and Brendon's kind face, gentle voice telling him to breathe. And, gradually, the sounds of the world became audible again. and Ryan realized he was clinging to the boy's wrists, desperately.

"That's the first time you've ever told anyone."

Ryan nodded, even though it wasn't a question.

"It gets easier each time." Brendon told him. "Now get in. You need a drink."



Brendon's idea of a drink, it turned out, was pulling into the parking lot of an abandoned building and handing Ryan a flask from his bag. Ryan made a face after he forced himself to swallow and Brendon handed him the opened bottle of Dr. Pepper in his cupholder. "To you," he added, nodding his head at Ryan before taking his own swallow

"Are you scared at all?" Ryan asked. "Of being gay?"

Brendon slowly screwed the top onto the flask, lost in thought.



"Faggot!"

"Queer!"

"Buttfucker! Buttfucker!"

Brendon covered his head with his hands and curled his body into the smallest ball he could possible form. He could feel the kicks, the saliva landing on his body, the cracking of his ribs. He cried out, but they just kicked harder. Finally, after an eternity it seemed, a teacher appeared and told the culprits to stop.

"Boys, " the woman said, "I think that's enough."



Brendon's eyes locked on Ryan's, almost possessed. "Every fucking day." he answered, voice constricted. "And that's exactly why I do it."

"I could never be that brave." Ryan murmured in slight awe.

Brendon seemed to be jolted out of the past and he put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, a soft smile forming on his lips. "You could. And you were, when you came to find me."

Ryan blushed. "I'm not. I didn't even mean to tell you."

"But you did." The boy's voice was gentle. "Because you didn't want me to leave hurt."

I didn't want you to leave at all. Ryan blushed at his own thoughts even though he knew he was the only one who could hear them.



They sat for a good half hour in silence, but it was a comforting silence, not at all awkward. And then Brendon broke it. "I'd like pizza," he said, of all things. "You game?"

Ryan shrugged and then nodded. "Sure." He watched Brendon put the car into drive and then spoke again after they got onto the street. "When did you tell your parents?"

"When I was twelve." Brendon answered, flicking his turn signal on. "I got beat up at school so I decided to tell them why."

"How'd they take it?"

Brendon flashed a grin. "They sued the school and won."

Ryan looked confused again and Brendon had to refrain from reaching out and scratching behind his ears. The look make him appear rather a lot like a lost, overgrown puppy. And it was only accentuated by the peaks in his hair and the soft contours of his face.

"They sued the school for turning you gay?" Ryan asked finally.

And Brendon laughed, though not unkindly. "No, nothing like that. They sued them for letting kids try to beat the gay out of me."

Ryan looked at him, a soft sort of shock in his eyes. He couldn't ever imagine his father doing that for him. In fact, he was fairly certain his father would have been the first to attempt the beating. "It must be amazing to have parents like that." he said earnestly.

Brendon nodded sadly, as if he could read Ryan's mind. "I was really lucky." In truth, it wasn't all that difficult to know what Ryan was thinking. Kids who said things like that tended to come from one of two families: those who ignored it and those who wouldn't stand for it. Brendon assumed it was the latter.

Over pizza, to Ryan's disbelief, Brendon told him how his parents were extremely religious but they came to believe homosexuality wasn't a sin. ('There's no way,' Brendon overheard his father say to his mother one night, 'that a loving God wouldn't want him to be happy. I can't believe in that.')

"I don't believe in God." Ryan said quietly. "But I went to Catholic school since sixth grade."

The other boy let out a low whistle. "Fuck. No wonder you feel so guilty." Brendon looked at Ryan's plate. "And you're not eating."

"I'm not hungry." Ryan pushed his plate toward Brendon, who had inhaled half the pizza in about twenty minutes.

The boy pushed the plate back. "Eat. Can't have you passing out from hunger tonight."

"Tonight?" Two amber eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are we doing tonight?"

"Painting the town, of course." Brendon cried, waving his hands wildly for emphasis. "This is an important night. We need to celebrate accordingly."

Their waitress, a cute girl who appeared to be their age, had appeared at that moment. "What are we celebrating?" she asked as she tore their ticket from her order book.

Brendon looked at Ryan who shook his head a fraction of an inch. "Anniversary." Brendon lied, grinning at their waitress. "Six months."

"Awww. Congratulations." Her voice was genuine and Ryan stared at her in shock. "You two should head up to this club on Gardenia and 182nd. The B&K? I'm always begging my boyfriend to take me there."

"Thanks." Brendon said, handing her a twenty and waving his hand at her to keep the change.

Ryan wondered, for a brief moment, if this was a date. Then, for a longer while, whether or not he would mind if it were.



"Earth to Ryan." Brendon snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face. "Come in, Ryan."

He seemed to jolt out of deep thought, glancing around, startled, before he looked at Brendon. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you were ready to go." And he held out his hand. After glancing around to confirm no one was looking, Ryan hesitantly allowed Brendon to thread their fingers together and lead him out to the car.

"Are we on a date?" Ryan blurted out once they started driving again. He cursed mentally. His mouth was not cooperating with him today.

Brendon's truffle-brown eyes danced with laughter. "I don't think so." he said. "But if you want to make out, I wouldn't be opposed."

For a moment, Ryan was flattered. Then, he made a face. "You're teasing me."

Brendon grinned and then reached over to tweak the other boy's nose. "About you thinking this is a date, yes. About making out, no." His hand returned to the steering wheel. "So we're going to this cabaret drag bar about ten blocks away."

"Cabaret drag bar?" Ryan's eyes widened. "B-But I . . ." He didn't even know what to say. There was no logical reason he couldn't go. He just . . . couldn't.

"It'll be fine." Brendon said in that warm, calming voice of his. "We'll only go for an hour or so. I just want to introduce you to someone."

"You're trying to set me up with a drag queen?" Ryan asked weakly.

The boy laughed again. "You're almost as bad as a straight guy," he teased. "You just think everyone wants a piece of that ass, don't you?" His voice grew slightly more serious as they stopped for a red light. "Of course, you're probably right." Brendon gazed at Ryan wistfully for a moment. "You're beautiful." The light turned green and he returned his eyes to the road. "But I'm not trying to hook you up with anyone."



Brendon apparently knew the doorman. In fact, Ryan wondered in a fleeting moment of jealous just how well. "Gabe," Brendon said, pushing the man from him after a hug which had mainly been an excuse to grab the boy's ass, "this is Ryan."

Ryan held out his hand and the man named Gabe kissed it before spinning him in a circle like a dancer to survey every inch of his body. "Fair trade," he informed Brendon. "You can have Will and I'll take this one."

"Nice try," the boy returned, pulling Ryan from Gabe's hungry hands. "But he's coming with me. When's Will up?"

"First slot at nine, I think."

Brendon took Ryan's hand and lead him through the crowd of people inside. "Gabe is Will's boyfriend," he explained as they looked for a place to sit. "Will's the one I want you to meet." A little further in they met a few friends of Brendon's: an older boy named Pete that was immediately taking bites out of Ryan with his eyes and a boy about their age named Alex, who was already on his sixth beer.

"So where'd you meet Brendon?" Pete asked Ryan, patting the empty seat beside him.

Uncertainly, he sat. "H-He was protesting today. I talked to him after."

"Shit!" Alex said, over-loud, causing more than a few people to turn and look at him. He didn't notice or, if he did, he didn't care. He turned to look at Brendon. "If you get souvenirs like that, sign me up for the next one."

Ryan blushed and stared at his hands, starting slightly when Pete's palm slid across his thigh. When he looked up, however, Pete was staring at the stage. The next performer was getting ready to come on.

Brendon took a seat next to Ryan, rolling his eyes when Alex sat down in his lap. Then he leaned in and explained what was going on to Ryan as the lights dimmed and the music began. "Will's stage name is Code Chanel, like Coco," he murmured. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Ryan couldn't disagree. Chanel was tall, well over six feet and in heels to boot. She was thin and dressed in something straight out of the Moulin Rouge. When she blew a kiss in Ryan's direction, he blushed, even though he was sure it wasn't meant for him.

Afterward, once the music had ended and the lights were back up, Brendon took Ryan's hand and lead him out a side door. "He'll come out to have a smoke. Pete try to feel you up?" he asked with a knowing grin.

Ryan blushed. "It's not like I'm a virgin." he mumbled. "I just . . ."

"It's different," Brendon said kindly, brushing the hair out of Ryan's eyes. "You're used to hiding in the shadows."

"Are you, like, the gay orientation spokesperson?" Ryan asked. "I mean, why are you doing this?"

Brendon looked slightly hurt, but he tried to cover it up with a weak smile. "I don't. I was the first person you told. It just . . . it seems important. Like . . . I don't know, a new life or something." He felt about a foot tall.

"Like when a girl gets her first period?" Ryan asked thoughtfully.

The side door banged open and Will stepped onto the sidewalk in a silky dressing robe. His arms immediately snaked around Brendon's shoulder as his lips pressed to the boy's cheek, leaving a bright pink lip print when he pulled away. "You didn't tell me you were coming," he scolded. "And who's this?" His eyes flicked toward Ryan under thick lashes.

"Will, this is Ryan. Ryan, Will."

"You're beautiful." Ryan said in all seriousness.

"He came out to me today." Brendon told Will quietly. "I'm the first person he told."

The two painted lips formed a broad, genuine smile and two arms reached out, pulling Ryan into his chest. Fingertips gently stroked his hair. "So brave . . ." Will murmured. Then he stepped back, surveying the boy with soft eyes that may have been shining before kissing him full on the mouth. "Welcome to the family."



Ryan stumbled out of the club after Brendon in something of a daze. There was a faint pink smudge on his hand from where he'd wiped off Will's lipstick. He felt numb and invigorated, angry and sad and elated, all at the same time. Hot and cold, tired and alert. It was like he was feeling every emotion in the world for the first time. It was terrifying.

When they got into the car, they just drove around for awhile without words. Thirty minutes passed, than an hour. Finally, Brendon pulled into a gas station. He unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but seemed to have second thoughts and turned toward Ryan instead.

"I guess," he said finally, "I just wanted you to know that you're not alone."

Ryan looked surprised. "But I already knew that," he breathed. "That's why I followed you."

The boy smiled and squeezed Ryan's hand, then slid out of the door to fill the tank. When he got back in Ryan offered him a crumpled twenty, but he refused it. "I guess," Brendon suggested, "we should just go to the party. Everyone'll end up there eventually."

"Party where?"

"At my condo." Brendon said, turning back onto the street.

Ryan stared at him. "You have a condo?" His voice was incredulous. A condo instead of a dorm room? What the hell?

Brendon shrugged. "When we sued the school we got a bit of money. My parents got it for me for graduation."

"And you're driving a Pontiac?"

There was laughter. "I really thought having a Jaguar was just a break-in waiting to happen."

Ryan couldn't disagree with the statement, although he was amused that his current mode of transportation was better than that of his chaperone.



It turned out that Brendon had a roommate who was none other than Alex, the boy who'd sat in his lap at the club. For this reason, Ryan wasn't at all surprised that a party was in full swing when Brendon pushed open the front door.

Ryan had never danced with a boy before, but he'd no sooner managed to find an empty seat before Brendon pulled him up by both hands. He tried to shake his head, but the other boy was having none of it.

Ryan was an awkward dancer, even with girls, even during slow songs, even if the room had been completely empty. But he was a good sport at least, loping his arms around Brendon's neck. His stomach did somersaults when hands squeezed his hips. Steady pressure, just enough to anchor him to Brendon or the dance floor or maybe just the moment, he didn't know. But he went with it.

"Are you scared?" Brendon asked, leaning in, his lips brushing against the other boy's ear. It could have been a come on, it could have been necessity in order to be heard in the loud room.

"Not right now." Ryan said with a smile. He buried his face in Brendon's neck, feeling as safe as a lullaby.
Eventually, the spell broke and Ryan followed Brendon out the balcony where the latter lit a joint.

"I think," Brendon began slowly, shutting the sliding door, "that this could last longer than tonight."

"We do have music class together." Ryan reminded him, even though he knew it wasn't what the other boy meant.

Brendon stared at him, drinking him in, memorizing everything he could and locking it in his memories. He held out the joint, but Ryan shook his head. "We're never as alone as we think we are." Brendon murmured after another hit.

"Do you remember earlier tonight when I asked if you were scared?" Brendon nodded. "I didn't understand what you meant when you said you did it because you were scared."

"We shouldn't have to be scared." Brendon stubbed the joint out and slid it in his pocket. Then he stepped up to Ryan and put his hands tenderly on either side of the boy's face. "We shouldn't have to worry about coming out or holding hands on the street. And I'll do what I can so it changes and one day people won't have to worry."

There were no words for that moment. Ryan simple leaned in and pressed his lips against Brendon's, soft as a whisper. It only last a moment before the kiss deepened and they were drowning in each other, fingers tightened in hair, gasping breaths when they momentarily parted for air.

Ryan had to pull away. "I'm dizzy," he whispered and Brendon nodded, letting their foreheads rest together. "Thank you," Ryan told him, eyes closed. "I think you saved my life tonight."

The back of Brendon's hand tenderly brushed his cheek. "One day," he promised, "you'll learn to give yourself enough credit."