The Colorful Haired Boy

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, at 8:53, I passed this guy on my way to my music seminar. He's leaving the building as I'm coming in. I always held the door open for him. Every single time. No exceptions. It was like clockwork. He says "Thanks," and I go "Mhm," and then we go our separate ways. Me to my music seminar, and him to where ever it is he goes.

I didn't know his name. I didn't even know what year he was in. I don't remember seeing him until that fall semester. Maybe he was a freshman, or maybe he was a transfer from another school. I had no idea.

I was a senior at Dixon College, a small school in a small town in northern California. I was originally from Austin, Texas and I knew I didn't want to go to school in state. Not that anything was wrong with Texas, in fact I was quite prideful of my home state, but living in the same place for eighteen years was boring. I needed a change of scenery. I was given baseball scholarships from a few different schools, but I ultimately chose Dixon. It had the small town vibe I was looking for, and it was a new place with new people.

I didn't want to go to a big school. It never appealed to me. Growing up in a such a big city, my high school was huge. My graduating class was over a thousand kids. At Dixon, there was only about a thousand kids enrolled in the entire school. It was a close knit community. Everywhere I went, people would say "Hey, Dan!" and I would smile and say hey back. I knew almost everyone on campus, except for this one guy. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, 8:53 in the morning, I passed this nameless boy.

He always dressed in tight jeans with his wallet chained to his belt loop. Normally he had on some t-shirt, and sometimes he wore a collared shirt. But every day he had on this leather jacket, with lots of zippers and red pockets. I never saw this guy except for that same time. I could never find him around campus, not that I was looking for him. It bothered me though. Who was this kid? I wanted to put a name to that pretty face. He was an attractive guy.

The colorful haired boy. I called him that because every few weeks, he dyed the front of his hair a different color. When I first saw him, it was pink. One time it was teal and once it was simply bleached. Currently it was a dark blue. I wondered what color he'd do next.

On the mornings I passed him, I always had a cup of coffee. Black. I was a man of habit. Being an athlete in college, I had a tight schedule. 6:00 in the morning workouts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and 2:00 practices everyday. It was a lot, especially for the off season. But so we don't fall behind on our studies, we had a mandatory study hall every week night at nine.

After study hall, I showered and went straight to bed. I didn't hang out with my friends or anything. I'm in bed around eleven every night. I needed my sleep. As the starting pitcher, I had to be at the top of my game. How could I practice if I was falling asleep on the field? On the weekends though, I let go a little. I went to parties, drank a bit, but never smoked or anything. All athletes were subject to random drug tests, and if I failed, not only did coach say he'll kick us off the team and I'd lose my scholarship, but he'd also get the police involved. That was not a risk I was willing to take.

I had my schedule down pat. Which is why every Monday,Wednesday, and Friday at 8:53 in the morning, I passed the colorful haired boy and held the door open for him. Once I mentioned him to Ryland, the catcher and my best friend since freshman year. Desperate to figure out who this kid was, I asked Ryland if he knew him. Ryland told me he'd seen him around, but he didn't know his name. "Why? Does Danny have a crush?" He teased. I never brought him up again.

I first noticed the pattern a couple weeks into the semester, when he first dyed his hair. I thought it was funny looking, but I also thought it was cute. I'd never seen a boy with pink hair, and that was when I realized that I passed this kid on my way to my music seminar every time.

He was alone, always looking down, except for the brief moment when he thanked me, and then he'd keep going. He was skinny, almost scary skinny. He had long legs, but compared to my 6'4", he was tiny. His hair that wasn't dyed was brown, and up in a sort of faux hawk. He wasn't overly feminine, but he wasn't... not. He had soft features, a button nose, thin lips, and big doe eyes. I thought they were hazel, but I wasn't sure.

When fall arrived, and the weather got cooler, he wore these decorative scarves. It looked weird with his leather jacket, but somehow he made it work. I almost talked to him once. As he was passing by me one morning, I noticed he had on a shirt with the logo of a band I liked. I was going to tell him "Nice shirt," but I decided against it. He passed as normally.

"Thanks."

"Mhm."

I lived off campus in an apartment complex not too far from the school. I normally just walked- it only took about five minutes- except for when it rained, which actually happened quite often here. My music seminar started at nine and lasted only fifty minutes. At ten, I had my recital class. I was a music major, with a minor in business. If baseball didn't work out, I wanted to go into music. A producer or an engineer or something. I had another music class at eleven and after that, I go back home, eat lunch, and do some school work until 1:30, then I headed to practice.

I lived with Ryland, and our friend Louis, the shortstop. We all walked together to the field. Practice lasted two hours and afterwards, I went home, showered, and got some food. Some days, I go into work around five. I was a busboy at this fancy schmancy restaurant. It wasn't exactly glamorous, but it paid well. I tried to mostly work on the weekend, when I actually had free time, but I was usually called in during the week. On the days I worked, I went straight to study hall afterwards. If not, I had the rare chance to relax. That normally didn't happen.

I was very involved with the school. I was a member of multiple clubs, and I was on the campus activity board, vice president actually. I helped plan and run events on campus, like dances or fund raisers. We met twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays around noon.

Every day, I basically knew what was going to happen, what I was going to do. I made sure of that. Including holding the door open for the colorful haired boy, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8:53 in the morning. I liked my routine, it kept me sane. If it wasn't for my clock work schedule, I knew I'd be overwhelmed as hell. I didn't like when my routine was messed with. Like when classes were cancelled or we had an extra practice shoved in. It fucked up my entire day and just threw me off.

Like one Friday, practice was cancelled because of a tornado warning. I was already on campus when I found out and I was pissed. I went all the way there for nothing. I walked, so I would have to walk back. I regretted not driving. The sky was dark and the clouds were threatening to burst at any second. I cut through the lawn in the courtyard, and I noticed someone sitting under a tree. It was the colorful haired boy.

He was reading, glasses perched on his nose. I remember I stood there and stared for a minute. He didn't seem to notice me. Before I knew what I was doing, I walked over to him. "Why are you out here?" I heard myself ask. The boy jumped a little, as if my voice had frightened him. He looked up. For the first time, I saw his face. Like actually saw it, for more than just a small glance as he passed me, gliding out the door I held open, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, at 8:53.

"Excuse me?" He said.

"Tornado warning. It's about to pour."

He looked up at the sky and squinted his eyes, as though the dark clouds just appeared out of no where. He had a heart-shaped face and sad looking eyes that appeared as if there was more behind them than anyone could ever know.

"Oh," He said.

"That must be one good book," I said, laughing a little. He looked down at the paper back and put a book mark in between the pages he was on, shutting it.

"It is actually. In Search of Lost Time. Marcel Proust?" I gave him a blank stare. I'd never even heard of that. "I'd recommend it." The boy stood up, pulling his leather jacket more closely around him. He had long slender hands. Just like everything else about him. Long and slender.

He looked like he was going to leave so I quickly said, "Maybe I'll read it," and almost cringed at how stupid I sounded. I normally had no trouble talking to people. Conversation came easy to me. But I'd never felt so awkward in my entire life than in that moment. The boy smiled tentatively. "So, what's your name?" I finally had the sense to ask.

"Ryan."

Ryan. I finally had a name.

"I'm Dan," I told him, though he didn't ask.

"Right. The baseball player."

"Starting pitcher," I said, and realized too late how big a douche I sounded like. I moved on. "You're a Freshman?" He nodded, holding his book close to his chest. He had taken off his glasses and hung them around the collar of his t-shirt. "What's your major?"

"Psychology."

By now we had started walking back towards the dorms, away from the directions of my apartment. There was a loud crack of thunder and Ryan looked up at the sky again. "It's pretty nasty out here," I said in a rather pathetic attempt at conversation.

"I like the rain. It's just peaceful, you know?"

"Yeah." I didn't know what else to say. Just as we got to the front steps of the Freshman dorms, it started to rain down hard.

"I would have gotten caught in that," Ryan said with a small laugh. "Thanks for warning me."

"No problem." I scanned my ID card to unlock the door and held it open for him, like in the mornings except this time we were both going in. We were on the first floor porch. There were a couple tables set up and a torn old couch. Some students hung out there to talk or to study. This building was three stories, and each had their own porch. The second floor was where everyone went to hang out. There was a huge TV, pool table and an air hockey table. When I was a freshman, I spent my free time there.

The third floor was for studying. It was usually empty except for around exam time. For some reason, Ryan seemed like he'd be one of the few people who spent time on the third floor porch. Not because he was a nerd, but he just came off as the kind of person who liked the quiet. Solitude. Not that that was a bad thing. I wish I had more time to myself.

"So which room to you live in?" I asked and instantly wondered if I should have. There was nothing wrong with asking, right?

"114," He told me, not seeming bothered at all by the question. "Do you live in the Villages?" The Villages were the senior housing. It was an apartment style dorm and was total party central. My friends tried to get me to live there but honestly, having my own apartment was cheaper than paying for room and board.

"No, I live in Chestnut Apartments, just down the road." He nodded. There was another roar of thunder, and then lighting struck. I frowned at the thought of having to walk through that to get home. Why didn't I drive? "Do you want to hang out on the second floor porch?" I asked. "I really don't feel like walking in this storm." Ryan hesitated for a moment. Panicked, I said, "It's fine if you don't. If you have homework or something."

"No, no. It's ok. Sure, let's go." So we went up to the second floor and found it was crowded. People were playing pool and air hockey and sitting around at the tables talking, and watching TV on the couches. We decided to sit with them. There was only one free couch, and it was a love seat. Ryan sat on the far end, arms crossed over his chest in a self-conscious way.

Instantly I was swarmed by other students saying hi and dapping me up. Ryan just watched in silence. Every time I tried to think of something to say to Ryan, someone else came over. Not trying to brag, but I was pretty popular there. I led us to victory at our division's championship last year in the first time since the early 90's. I was pretty well-liked here.

As I was talking to some Sophomore about my stats, I noticed Ryan getting fidgety. His legs were bouncing up and down and he was wringing his hands. He must have been uncomfortable. I felt like an ass. I asked him up here and we weren't even saying anything to each other. I wanted to get to know Ryan. There was something about him, the mystery I suppose, and I wanted to figure out just what was behind those big doe eyes.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" I asked him. He didn't hesitate this time in saying yes. We left the porch and lingered in the second floor hallway for a while.

"You seem to know a lot of people" He said softly. I don't think he meant anything by it, he was just making an observation.

"Yeah, I'm just so popular. My fans won't leave me alone." I was joking obviously, and Ryan laughed. A genuine laugh. It was a special laugh. I can't describe it. It was just... special. "So where do you want to go?"

"Uh- I guess we could go to my room," Said Ryan. So that's what we did.

"I lived in 113 when I was a freshman," I said, pointing at the door across the hall. "My friend Ryland actually lived in this room."

"Oh, that's cool," Ryan said. Not in the "Oh, whatever, I don't really care," way, but it actually sounded like he meant it.

Ryan's room was tidy. Everything was neat, like it all had its own designated spot. It might have been the cleanest room I'd ever seen. Well at least his side was. His roommate's half was a mess. Clothes and books and papers all over the floor and on his desk. His bed was unmade, with him laying on top of it. I recognized him kind of. His name was Brandon... no Brendon. He stared in the fall musical.

"Hey, Ryan!" Brendon happily greeted, sitting up. "Hey- uh- Dan." He sounded confused, like he was shocked I was there.

"Sup?" I said, giving him a nod.

"Ry, I gotta go to the library and I was hoping you'd come but I guess you're busy." The way he said it, such disappointment, bitterness even, made me raise an eyebrow. Brendon grabbed his backpack from the floor, gave Ryan a hug, and left without a word.

I watched him go and then said, "He seems..."

"Odd, I know. He's nice, but I think he has a crush on me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, which is fine but I'm not really into him."

"You're gay?" I questioned. Ryan put his book on the shelf, which if I wasn't mistaken was alphabetized, and looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah," He said in a way that made it seem like it should have been obvious. Which it was. What straight man dyes his hair pink? It was still exciting to hear though.

I'd known I was gay since middle school. I didn't fight it. I accepted it. My parents knew and they were fine with it. My friends back home knew too, and they had no problem either. No one at Dixon knew though. I wasn't hiding it, but I didn't want to flaunt it. I'd tell someone if they asked, but no one ever did. They assumed I was straight. Big, strong baseball player. I was supposed to get all the girls and I honestly probably could. It just so happened I didn't want a girl. Hell though, I could just as easily get any guy. For instance, Ryan, or at least I hoped.

"Are you?" Ryan countered. He meant it as a joke but I told him casually,

"Yeah."

He looked dumbfounded. "Wow. Uh- I wasn't expecting that," He laughed awkwardly and I thought it was adorable. "Are you serious?"

"Is it really that surprising? I asked, chuckling as his expression.

"Kind of, yeah." He sat down cross-legged on his bed. He had a poster of The Beatles hanging above it. I sat down on his desk chair, turning it to face him. There was a long silence. "I'm sorry," Ryan eventually said. "I didn't mean- It's just you know, you're a baseball player and I just figured... I'm sorry. I shouldn't be stereotyping."

"Chill out. It's cool."

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'm awkward."

"I think it's cute." I'll never forget the way his face turned a bright red. I made him blush. "I can be pretty awkward too."

Ryan was fiddling with his bed sheets, looking down. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why's that?" I smirked. "Because I'm an athlete? Are you stereotyping again?"

I thought the poor kid was going to have a panic attack."I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm just fucking with you," I said. Ryan made that cute awkward laugh again.

"So, you're really gay?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm really gay."

Ryan glanced over at me. I smiled. He smiled back. We talked for a while and Ryan became a lot more comfortable. He didn't seem as tentative and self-conscious. He laughed a lot, and it quickly became my favorite sound. It was full, and filled with joy and then it'd die down to a little giggle.

He had this habit, I noticed, of talking with his hands. When he'd explain something, he used a lot of big gestures. And when I talked, he'd look at me and chew on his thumb nail, eyes intent on me, as if he was really interested to hear what I had to say. I told him how I started baseball when I was six, which led to us to talking about our childhood. He told me he was from Las Vegas and he only lived with his dad. He didn't have any siblings, and his best friend's name was Spencer. He was a year younger than Ryan but he said he was like a big brother, always looking out for Ryan. He went to a Catholic school and told me a story about how after he came out, some kid pushed him down the stairs. Spencer was there and went off on the kid. Ryan said Spencer made sure the kid got suspended.

"This is so weird for me," Ryan said softly after a short pause when neither of us knew what to say. It was if he was reading my mind. He started to say something but then shook his head.

"What?" I pressed.

"No, it's stupid."

I took the opportunity to sit on the bed next to him. His face was turning red again. "Tell me."

"Look, it stopped raining," He said. I looked out his window. So it had. It was still dark and grey, and the glass was so fogged up, it was hard to see outside.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," He said in a quiet voice. I was trying to think of what to say next but then Ryan spoke. "Does anyone else know you're gay?"

"Not anyone here. But it's not like I'm ashamed or anything. It's just you're the first person who asked."

"I was only joking. I don't think most people would guess Dan Keyes the baseball star was gay. Do you worry about what people would think if they knew?" His head was tilted as he asked.

"I don't give a shit what anyone thinks." Except for you," I almost said. I care about what you think. I looked at him. His face was soft, feminine almost. Perfect. I wanted to touch him. I didn't. "Why do you dye your hair?" I asked instead. Ryan touched the blue and laughed a little.

"I don't know. I like just it." He shrugged.

"I like it too," I said automatically. It was an accident, but I'm glad I said it. Ryan smiled, biting his bottom lip. I noticed an acoustic guitar resting on a stand across the room. "You play?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see what I was pointing at. "Yeah. Little bit. Do you?"

"Yeah. I was in this stupid band in high school. Sang too."

"That's cool. Maybe you could sing for me sometime." He seemed to realize what he said, and his eyes widened. "Uh- I-I mean-"

"Maybe I will," I said, poking his nose. "You don't have to be so nervous around me."

"Can't help it. I told you I'm awkward."

"I told you I think it's cute. I think you're cute." Ryan smiled shyly. There was this glow in his eyes that I'd never seen in anyone else before.

"If I didn't know any better, Mr. Baseball Star, I'd say you were flirting with me."

I scooted closer to him and whispered, "What if I am?" His tongue darted out to wet his lips. They were so pink. soft, inviting. Ryan looked scared. Honestly, I was too. Not of Ryan, but the feelings I had for Ryan. I hadn't known him long, only a couple hours, but I felt this connection. I wondered if he felt it too. He had to. It was way too strong for it to be just my imagination. I've spent the last few weeks thinking about the colorful haired boy that I passed every Monday,Wednesday, and Friday at 8:53 in the morning. And now that I knew him, I wanted to know more about him. I wanted him to be much more than that nameless kid that passed me, with nothing more than a quick "Thank you."

I really liked Ryan and it scared me because I didn't know what to do. No one has ever had this effect on me. It was like it all made sense now. Everything I'd ever done to that point was supposed to lead me to Ryan. In that moment.

I reached over to caress his face. He put his hand over mine and leaned into the touch. He closed his eyes. I took a breath, feeling my heart beat pick up. "Hey," I said quietly. He opened his eyes and I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. It was gentle, and didn't last very long. We both pulled away at the same time, but our faces were still close enough to where I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "Is this ok? Because if you're uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll stop. I-"

"No," Ryan cut in. "This-This is ok. I want to."

So I kissed him again. His lips moved against mine, a little awkwardly at first, on both our parts, but then we found a rhythm. He tasted good, sweet. Maybe from chap stick he was wearing. His fingers curled into mine and the bed squeaked as I moved closer. I barely noticed. My free hand went to his waist, touching the skin above his protruding hipbone. His lips stopped moving for a split second and he tensed up. I didn't go any further than that.

I wasn't looking for sex, though if I got some I wouldn't complain. I was fine just kissing Ryan. I felt like having sex now would ruin this anyway. The thing I had with Ryan, whatever it was. I wanted to savor it. Kissing Ryan made me wonder why I hadn't done this all along. It felt right and natural.

His hand tangled in my hair, tugging softly. I licked his bottom lip, a request for entrance, which he eventually granted. I tried to commit his taste to memory, in case I never had this opportunity again. I wanted to kiss him every day. Touch his skin. Breathe in his scent- a vanilla that wouldn't surprise me if it came from a girl's deodorant.

I found myself hovered over Ryan, him flat on his back. I was kissing his neck, my hand never daring to go further than his hipbone. He had his hand on the back of my head, keeping me close. Not that I was going anywhere. The shyness completely vanished. I wasn't scared any more. I felt like this was where I belonged. With Ryan.

"This doesn't even feel real," He said, looking up at me. "But it's the realest thing I've ever felt." It didn't make sense logically, but I understood. I felt the exact same. It was like a dream, but I was awake. This was happening. "Is-Is this real, Dan?"

"God, I hope so."

Ryan bit his bottom lip. "Me too," He whispered. I kissed him again.

After a long time, I heard the knob on the door shake, and then the rattle of keys. Ryan and I looked at each other and then split apart guiltily. It wasn't that we did anything wrong though. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right. Brendon walked in the room and dropped his bag to the floor. I fixed my hair that Ryan had messed up pulling it.

"Hey, Bren," Ryan said a little too quickly.

"I have to study for an exam," Was all Brendon said.

"Right." Ryan stood up and quietly explained to me, "We have this rule about no guests while the other is studying." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room. We walked silently through the halls, back to the first floor porch. He had his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"I should go. I have work tonight," I said. Ryan nodded, pursing his lips.

"You know we pass each other in the mornings?" He asked, sounding sheepish and embarrassed. But I was grinning. He actually noticed.

"Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I hold the door open for you."

Ryan smiled that smile. "Yeah. I always wanted to talk to you but I was too scared."

"Well," I said, taking his hand, "You don't have to be scared anymore."

"I know." Ryan got on his tippy toes and gave me a quick peck on the lips. A few kids turned our way and Ryan looked uncomfortable from the stares, self-conscious even.

"Don't worry about them," I said quietly. "They don't matter." So what if people saw us kissing? I didn't care if people knew. I wanted to be with Ryan. It was no one's business but ours. To prove my point, I kissed Ryan full on the lips. I heard the murmuring but all I cared about was Ryan.

"So, I'll see you Monday?" He sounded hopeful

"Yep. I'll be there to hold the door open for you. But if you want-" I added, "Maybe we could meet before that. Hang out."

He smiled. "I'd like that. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." I agreed. We exchanged numbers and I promised to text him later. I gave him one last kiss and then started my walk home. I hadn't even noticed it had started raining again.

I didn't know what Ryan and I would do that next day. Dinner, movies, a walk in the park? But it didn't matter what we did. Let it be a surprise. The one thing that was certain though was that every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, at 8:53, I passed this guy on my way to my music seminar.

The colorful haired boy.

Ryan.