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Justin stands against the lockers amidst a group of jocks, Bryce and Monty stood to his right with Zach on his left. He was only mildly paying attention, his mind wandering as the other boys watched and discussed the people passing them in the halls.
He vaguely hears Monty's whistle before they start talking about some girl's ass, and he rolls his eyes. He feels an elbow in his side and looks over to Bryce, who still has his eyes trained on someone in the hall. “Bet you could get some of that ass, Foley.”
Justin follows his gaze, and confusion wells up in his chest. His eyes take in the bleached hair and lanky frame and he shifts uncomfortably, hoping this is just another stupid joke.
Why else would they be checking out Alex Standall’s ass? Why am I?
“Why the fuck would I want any of Standall’s ass?” He asks incredulously, his tone bordering on defensive. “I'm not fucking gay.”
His gaze is still lingering on said boy, eyes trailing over his long legs before he forces his eyes upwards, surprised to find bright blue eyes looking back at him. He looks away quickly, only to find the jocks around him staring at his with a mixture of confused frowns and raised brows.
“The hell are you talking about, Justy?” Bryce looks at him curiously.
Justin shrugs. “I'm not the one checking out another guy's butt.”
Bryce's brows shoot up, and Justin can make out the layer of disgust that falls over his eyes at the words. Justin shifts uncomfortably once more, before Monty speaks up.
“Pretty sure you were the only one that was, actually.” He nods his head at something down the hall. “We were talking about the new hot chick that hangs around with Crimson. You missed out, bro.”
He feels relief flood through him as the subject changes, and for once he feels grateful for Monty.
This time he tries to pay attention to the conversation, and misses the hurt blue eyes still trained on the side of his face.
~^~
Lunch is almost over by the time Justin finds himself at his locker again. Though this time when he turns around, he finds himself cornered by the one and only Alex Standall.
“Woah, Standall, what's—”
Alex cuts him off, his gaze burning into Justin. “You know there's this thing that exists for liking both guys and girls, Foley. They call it bisexual.”
Justin stares at him in bewilderment. Of course he knows, he's not stupid, and he heard about it when Alex came out himself. What he doesn't understand is why the blonde boy is mad at him now, surely he had never done anything to offend him. He had certainly never said anything about his sexuality, and there was very few people he respected as much as Alex.
He looks at him concernedly now. “What? Alex, is something wrong?”
Alex doesn't even seem to hear him, and he barges on, voice low but strong. “Or maybe you've just been using those girls the whole time. All the making out and the hook ups, is it just cover ups for you? So you can keep this jock, player image you built for yourself? What, you're scared they're not all gonna look up to you any more if it's my ass you're checking out instead of the hot new chick's?”
Justin's eyes widen as realisation dawns on him, and up this close he can make out the hint of hurt swirling in Alex's eyes alongside the fire. He can make out all of Alex's features in perfect clarity, he realises. He takes in the contrast of Alex's dark brows against his pale hair, the fierce blue of his eyes and the glint of his septum piercing.
His gaze falls to the boy's mouth just in time to see it pull into a smirk, and his words finally sink in as Justin tears his gaze away.
His gaze hardens as he glares at the younger boy, and he drags his walls back up around him, forcing any thoughts of Standall out of his mind. “I'm not fucking gay, Standall,” he tells him harshly, shoving past him before strutting off down the hall.
~^~
Justin's shirtless with a girl whose name he doesn't know in a room that isn't his when he next finds himself thinking about Standall’s words.
Her hands are roaming his bare chest when his mind changes the image of the dark, wavy curls knotted between his fingers to bleached blonde strands and his eyes shoot open as he pushes himself away. The girl looks up at him in confusion and slight frustration, and he jumps off the bed when her hands move to grip his belt.
He avoids her eyes as he mumbles out an apology while pulling his shirt back over his head. He ignores her protests as he walks out the door, closing it behind him as he tries to escape the image of blue eyes and long, jean clad legs that seem to constantly follow him.
Fucking Standall.
~^~
For weeks after that day at the lockers, thoughts of the blonde boy plague Justin’s mind until he finally decides to give in.
He has third period English with the boy, and takes his chance when he finds him already sat in his usual seat, walking over and dropping into the one behind him.
Alex's shoulders tense as he does so and his confidence wavers. Not for the first time, he worries he hurt Standall with his harshness that day. Then he thinks of the boy's sassy confidence when he'd approached him, and feels his lips curl up at the corners.
He aims a light kick to the back of Alex's chair, trying to get his attention. He came to class earlier today specifically for this reason, after all.
The blonde gives no reaction. Justin frowns and leans forward in his desk. He pokes the boys back with a, “Yo, Standall.”
Nothing.
His frown deepens and he pulls his hand back, slumping dejectedly against his desk. “Come on, Standall, you're seriously gonna ignore me?” When there's still no reply, he forces himself to carry on. “Look, I'm sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have been so rude and I shouldn't have shoved you. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Alex, please.”
He waits for a response, waits for the younger boy to whirl on him with a sassy retort, for the ‘what did you mean then, Foley, huh?’
But Alex doesn't even shift in his chair, just keeps silently staring forward until the second bell rings and Justin settles back into his chair.
Disappointment bubbles up in him and he glares at the back of his dyed head, muttering a, “Fuck you, Standall.”
~^~
Justin's in a shit mood when he collapses into his desk for his last period of the day. Alex still hasn't spoken to him, but he thinks he's grown to prefer the dirty looks he occasionally receives to being continually ignored.
He glares at his desk, letting out a tired sigh as his teacher begins the class. The words simply go in one ear and out the other, and he changes his attention to the open doorway, hoping something more interesting will appear in the hallway.
His wishes are granted when his gaze catches on a dark cardigan and equally dark jeans before he meets familiar blue eyes.
His heart lifts, and his lips begin to curl into a smile before Alex glares at him, and carries on down the corridor.
It's at this moment Justin decides he is so done with Standall's shit, and swiftly raises his hand, asking to be excused. He makes it out of the class just in time to see Alex push through the door to the restrooms, and marches down the hall after him.
He barges through the door, and Alex immediately catches his gaze in the mirror, the only other person there.
The blonde rolls his eyes and turns around to face him. “What the fuck do you want this ti–”
He doesn't get to finish the question because he suddenly finds himself pressed against the wall, Justin's hands around his wrists and lips pressed furiously against his.
Alex's eyes widen before he sinks against the jock, letting his eyes fall shut as he hums in pleasure.
Justin releases his hold on the boy’s wrists only to grip his waist. He feels Standall's arms twine around his neck and he presses him harder against the wall, their bodies molding together as the kiss softens between them.
All of Justin's limbs seem to simultaneously relax and tense as Alex buries a hand in his hair, and he can't force back the groan that drags itself from his throat. He has to stop his hands from wandering to the place that was the source of this whole ordeal in the first place, but the temptation burns through him as Alex's tongue slides against his.
He presses his mouth against the other's languidly a few more times before pushing himself away. He catches his breath as he takes in the blondes hooded eyes and thoroughly kissed lips, hands still tightly gripping his waist, and realises this is an image he'll never forget.
With a jolt he realises he hasn't been with anyone since that night at the party, where images of those exact eyes attacked his mind and he curses himself. Now he had this image, of Alex soft and wrecked against him, blue eyes clouded, and had felt the boy move under his hands, had gotten a taste of that mouth against his.
He was so totally fucked, and the only thing he could hope now was that no one else would notice.
But in this moment Alex is looking up at him with a satisfied expression and a smirk on his lips, and Justin's heart has never beat so fast in his chest. “Yeah, that wasn't gay at all, Foley.”
Justin finally pushes himself away, and while a thrill runs through him when he realises Alex is actually talking to him again, he finds himself stating, “Fuck you, Standall.”
He throws more words over his shoulder as he walks away, just before the door falls shut behind him.
“I'm not fucking gay.”