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Boys will be boys. Sometimes, boys will punch one another in attempts to attract a girl to show who was the stronger of the two- or better known as who deserved her affection more so. Maybe they would throw mud at one another in the pouring rain to get a runny nose in the morning, but a fun memory nonetheless. Though, most uncommonly heard of- and even sinful and despised act- was two boys kissing one another as if they hated one another.
Blindly reaching and groping hands feigned through the dark as the livery lips of the two teens mashed together in no sort of pattern. Billy’s nose was scrunched up and pressed against Stu’s awkwardly, making them breathe in each other’s exhales.
Unbelievably, it all started with an argument over horror movies. Stu may or may not have spurred it on and caused it all, even when he knew he was in the wrong. Egging Billy on was a fun little game to him, but he knew his own limits. Sometimes Billy got mad enough to where he needed to, as he deemed it, “put stu in his place”. The first, and usually most often last step to this was the kissing.
Billy’s hand found it’s way into Stu’s hair, and he roughly yanked his head back with a small grunt to abruptly end the kiss. Stu’s beady eyes rolled back in a response, his breath hitching in his throat as Billy’s own eyes trailed over his vulnerable jugular.
They were different in every way. Complete opposites in physical aspects and personality. Billy himself was average height, decently long brown hair that hung well into his face. His eyes were dark, searching, but always sparkling. Stu claimed his orbs as ‘Doe eyes’ for how big and curious they always seemed to be, and behind them it was almost impossible to see the crazed psycho behind them. Stu, on the other hand, was blond with more cropped hair. His eyes were a gleaming blue, and they were beady and forever searching. They weren’t cute and comforting like Loomis’ were, they were blunt and almost unfriendly. His grin split his cheeks apart as he stared at the boy, almost taunting him alone with a look that made the short one’s blood boil.
“What’re you starin’ at?” Billy asked in a low, almost warning, tone. Predator to prey, and one wrong move and Billy would snap in a very unpleasant way. You had to play the boy like a piano to get him to twist and turn to how you wanted, and Stu was the closest one person could get to a master at that… But, even he had his slip ups.
“What? Cant admire ya?” Stu tittered lightly, making Billy let go and brush himself off of him. Avoidance wasn’t uncommon. As a result, Stu outstretched his arm forward to catch it around the boy’s waist to pull him back in.
“Not so fast..” the blonde taunted, securing their lips again to almost be Spider-Man kissing. Billy’s head was tilted back as Stu was bent over him, enjoying the feel of his soft lips.
Loomis was a three step puzzle, with a double back summersault. It always usually happened in a order of him initiating it, brief pauses, brushing off, reaching out, hate speech, brushing off two: electric boogaloo, and then acceptance. Macher knew this trade and played him like a damn fiddle, and he was well aware of it. He pressed on the strings that made him angry, but left the ones alone that would make him truly hateful. That was a can of worms that Stu would rather leave in the dark.
Somewhere in the middle the kiss turned mushy, soft and hesitant, almost as if they were afraid to admit that the other meant it. Billy’s lips lightly secured Stu’s, giving a small suck or a gentle nip before releasing; Stu would open his mouth a little more to kiss deeper, but would ultimately get shut down by Billy’s lips securing where they were.
It went like this for a good few minutes before Stu decided to finally pull back to get a look at the other. Billy’s eyes peeked open curiously, and any rude thought was gone as he was staring up at Stu with such curiosity and unspoken emotion. Good or bad it’s hard to tell, but Macher was an optimist in the weird backwards sort of explanation of it. The two boys stared at one another, too afraid to move a muscle in case the warmth they felt would disappear.
Now, Macher could admit that Billy was pretty. He could scream to the hills about how much he wanted the boy secured between his fingers, to press up against, to kiss behind the ear and whisper limericks to. Any label, albeit a slur or something or other, he didn’t care to identify himself to. He was simply Stu Macher, whether that be a homosexual or simply just ‘Billy-sexual’. Now, it was obvious that Loomis would not let go of his perfect boy facade. A broken-homed, pretty boy who wanted to hold onto the last shred of norm he had until he would finally have to crack and admit… yes. He loved Stu Macher.
He could even see it past Billy’s eyes, the regret for kissing him even now, and oddly enough it made Stu smile with his gums. Though he understood well enough, so he didn’t comment on it. He let Billy have the belief of ‘Yeah, this is just what friends do when your girlfriend has an underwear rule. Just friends’.
For now, Stu would have to be okay with that, and ultimately? He was. He knew Billy would come around eventually.