Homophobe

"Nope, you're lying, you have to be, you cannot be telling the truth."

"I shit you not, dear fr-,"

"Oh my god! I can't believe it! Are you serious!? Did that actually happen!? It didn't!"

"Yeah, that's what I said, but it act-"

"You're kidding me! Shut up! Shut up right now or I'll kill you! It happened!? They kissed!? Tell me they didn't! Shut up!" 

I stared at her blankly, casting a deadpan look, and waiting for Layla to calm down from her little hyperventilating episode. Not that I really blamed her entirely, considering spare the melodramatics my reaction was pretty much the same thing. Out of all the people to share lips I would think Mason and Chase would be somewhere down at the bottom near Ghandi and Darth Vader, but it happened, apparently.

"Well, don't shut up about it! Tell me everything!" she demanded while smashing her juice box against the table, using her free hand to flick me in the forehead. I huffed and swatted her away.

It was after school, and we'd once again taken the picnic table outside that Layla's little group had basically stole the rights to. I was a little surprised more of her drama friends weren't crowding around as they usually did, but I was seriously considering that one of them was a vampire and hiding out only because the sun was beating down rather harshly.

I swear he tried to bite me once. I didn’t understand some of her friends.

"Okay, okay," I conceded, as if it were a great sacrifice for me, and spread my palm out in her direction. Giving a huff, she rolled her eyes and threw the apple at me, which with my cat-like reflexes I fumbled around a bit before catching it against my chest.

"Smooth," she mused.

"Do you want to hear it or not?"

I was going to tell her anyways, but I wasn’t going to give up the chance of free food right in front of me. I was a growing boy. The look she cast me gave me the feeling that I should've just gotten on with it. 

"Okay, so, apparently,” I began, watching her basically devour all of my words, “Mason is friends with a couple of the guys at Preston’s soccer team, and one of them was throwing this giant bash that everyone was invited to and our soccer team of course had to go. Mason was I guess really drunk, and Chase was probably pretty shit faced too, and Mason swears that he was coming on to him but I don't know, either way, Mason went for it and tried to kiss him. I guess people know he’s gay? Either way, Chase obviously went bat-shit crazy and tried to beat the crap out of him, but surprisingly River held him back. After that they left and now I guess no one talks about it." I shrugged, remembering when Mason had told me himself in his own room. 

Which, from the texts we'd been sending back and forth after that day, I was looking forward to seeing again. Mason insisted that he needed to see me again to draw the picture that secretly, I was really looking forward to, and I definitely wasn't complaining.

I was a little surprised though, after he had told me the story, I didn't guess him to be the party type.

Layla looked like the equivalent of a dying fish as she gasped, eyes practically bulging out of her head.

"You should stop that, it's not a good look for you,” I advised.

"Shut up! And wow, who knew when Jordan introduced me to him that we'd uncovered a goldmine of not only beauty, but wit and intelligence. He's so perfect," she sniffed, a dreamy look drowning in her eyes as she placed her palm over her heart.

I scoffed. "You only like him because he pisses off Chase."

She grinned wolfishly at me, eyes shining with delight. "Basically yeah. But come on! You’re friends with him now too, I mean after the whole Jordan disaster, you got to admit, I did good. I told you, boys and shoes are my specialty,” she said coolly, looking off in the distance for dramatic effect.
 
“Clearly not the latter from what you’ve got on your feet now,” I murmured.
 
“Again, how has everyone ignored your blatant homosexual tendencies? I mean, look at that girly cardigan, you couldn’t find anything in the men’s section?”
 
“Probably the same reason they’ve ignored your whore tendencies, and it’s totally straight guy looking! Straight guys wear cardigans all the time!” I crunched into my apple, trying to bite back a pout.
 
Just as she opened her mouth to retaliate, a blonde came barreling into her side. I jumped back, obviously freaked out and even more so when I realized who it was. Layla had some really weird friends, and Chloe, the girl, was definitely on the top of that list.
 
Even more than vampire boy.

She clung onto Layla’s arm with a death grip that was painful to look at and grinned at me in a similar fashion. If a word came to mind, it would’ve been hysterical.
 
“Hey guys! Hey Ash! What’s up? How’re you? I like your shit! I really like your shirt. It’s a nice shirt!” she rambled, eyes wide and stationed on me. “Where’d you get it? It really suits you!”
 
I blinked. I was wearing a plain grey shirt. And it worried me.
 
“Thank… you?”
 
Feeling a little bit scared for my life, I produced my phone from my back pocket. The thing about Chloe was that she reminded me of a chimpanzee in the way where I wasn’t too sure whether or not if at any moment she was going to try and chew my face off. Apparently she was only like that around me, but I didn’t trust it. Layla just didn’t want to admit that her friends were weird.
 
“Wow, look at the time, crazy, I’ve gotta go,” I quite pathetically and painfully excused myself, ignoring the death glare I knew I was receiving from my red-headed comrade. Clearly it wasn't my fault. I had a duty not only to myself, but to my face.
 
I figured I’d drop by Chase’s, see what he was up to. Anything was better than there.
 
On the way to his house, I received an angry text from Layla telling me that I ditch her too often, but that was ignored and instead I replied to Mason’s thrilling conversation about both of our overprotective mothers.
 
When I finally arrived at Chase’s home, I rang his doorbell, shifting my weight from foot to foot. After a couple of moments the door finally opened to reveal the short blonde of a woman that was Chase’s mom. A tentative smile was curved on her lips, eyes reading of the usual apprehension that was held in them. Her shoulders hunched as she flinched while a smash echoed through the house.
 
“Hi Ash,” her quiet voice rang out. “Chase is upstairs; he’s a little, um, upset, as you can hear. If anyone can calm him down, I guess you could. Come in, come in,” she ushered me inside, closing the door behind me quickly afterward.
 
Chase’s mom seemed so frail and delicate it was hard to imagine her caring for a person as loud and boisterous as Chase, especially when he was having one of his little anger episodes.
 
“If you need anything to drink or want anything to eat, I’ll be in the living room,” she murmured, casting one last timid smile in my direction before disappearing around into another room.
 
Another crash reverberated against the walls and I cringed, debating whether I actually wanted to go up there. For a moment the thought that he’d found out about my little lie about Mason flashed through my mind, but I reassured myself (maybe a little too forcefully) that it was just paranoia talking. There were plenty of things Chase got mad about.
 
Padding up the stairs, I could hear the pacing of my best friend behind his door. But I had enough faith in our friendship that he wouldn’t punch me when I knocked, which admittedly wilted a little when I heard him advancing in my direction.
 
When it came to upper body strength, I wasn’t exactly someone with a superhero physique. And if it was Chase against myself, I wasn’t exactly the one running miles every week.

I cringed as the door was ripped open, preparing my face for the worst.
 
“What the fuck do you want?” Chase spat, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
 
I swallowed, pushing the door open and waltzing inside, ignoring his clearly seething expression stationed at my head. With a yawn, I fell onto the comforts of his bed, pressing my back up against the wall and looking up at him in curiosity.
 
“I see you’ve been redecorating,” I noted, nodding towards the newly punched hole in the wall. That, and books had been strewn across the floor, a lamp crushed in half, and it basically looked as if a tornado had crashed through.
 
Chase apparently didn’t find my little quip to be as hilarious as I thought it was.
 
“Seriously, get the fuck out. I am not in the mood. This is bullshit. Pure bullshit. Godddamit!” he cursed, clenched fists begging to punch absolutely anything that would break under pressure- hopefully, this didn’t include my face.
 
Despite his words, he made no effort to follow through with his demands, and only continued pacing back and forth across the room. His fists hovered above his neck, shaking from the tension in his muscles, his breathing short and laboured. I knew immediately that this was completely beyond me, and Mason had pretty much nothing to do with it. There was only one thing that could get him that angry.
 
“Hey, c’mon,” I tried in my most calming voice, “sit down.” I patted the spot next to me.
 
Chase froze for a moment, sizing the proposition up, before trudging towards me and dumping himself on the edge of his bed. His hands ran roughly through his short blond hair as curses spilled from his throat like wildfire.
 
“Well?” I prompted.
 
He took a deep breath, letting it escape afterward doused in agitation. “I just, honestly, my dad is such a cunt. Like whatever, you wanna be a dick then be a dick. You wanna leave and betray us, completely destroy my mom, whatever. Be an asshole. I couldn’t give a shit. But to have the fucking audacity to try and act like everything’s okay, to ask me to go and visit, like what he did was perfectly fine!? I can’t even fucking believe him right now!”
 
A frustrated groan forced past his teeth as his head fell into his hands.
 
I scooted closer, so that I was right beside him, as a little pang resonated through my chest. I knew that sometimes Chase overreacted a little bit, he didn’t do things small with anything, but I knew how much the divorce had been eating him up inside. It had completely devastated him, and clearly shaped him in more ways than one.
 
With a hesitant hand, I rubbed up and down his spine, anxiously hoping I hadn’t made the wrong decision. When he didn’t react, a sigh of relief followed, and I continued to try and be as soothing as possible. Nothing I could’ve said would make it better, I knew that, I just tried to be there for him at least.
 
Even though in most circumstances, any physical contact with Chase would cause my heart to accelerate and the blood to rush to my cheeks and my stomach to perform the most aggravating acrobatics, all I knew then was that I was happy that he was my best friend. Of course the thought crossed my mind to pull him closer and comfort him with more intimate touches but I couldn’t think like that, not when he needed me.
 
After a while, his breathing finally calmed down, my hand still rhythmically rubbing his back. Finally he sat back up and I retracted my hand back, giving him a wry smile.
 
“He’s definitely a cunt,” I reassured him.
 
A little voice inside my head though echoed, was he actually?
 
Chase scoffed, a betraying quirk of the lips following. “Yeah. And it’s decided- we’re getting hammered on Friday. I need to get absolutely shit-faced.”
 
I swallowed, the apprehension seeping into my stomach acid. “We? Isn’t that usually a you and the soccer team thing?”
 
He laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, sometimes I just need to get drunk with my best friend, is that so much to ask?”
 
I rolled my eyes, feeling absolutely bitch-like as I always was. “Yeah, sure, fine.”
 
“Thanks man. But actually, for everything. Sometimes it’s cool just to have someone listen, I guess,” he mumbled while looking up at me, sincerity reflected in his coffee eyes.
 
“Yeah, well, listening is what I’m good at,” I conceded with a shrug.
 
“That, and wearing girly-ass sweaters.” He grinned cheekily at me. I glowered.
 
“It’s a cardigan and they’re completely straight looking! It’s for men! Men wear cardigans!"