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Imagine a boy, four years old.
Losing the last of the baby chub. Dark eyes, sweaty curls. Running across the playground fast as can be to wrap his mama in a hug and press a damp, squishy kiss to her cheek. He’s always so happy to see her when she comes to pick him up from daycare.
“Mama, mama. I had so much fun today! We painted and I made an awesome picture for you and Daddy. Me and Britty did swings and then played Ponies.”
He doesn’t see the wince at the mention of Ponies, too caught up in the telling of his day.
--
Six years old, and the curls are freshly trimmed down to a buzz. Things are different here in first grade. They have to sit in desks most of the day, and he doesn’t get to play with Brittany as much. They still do Ponies on lunch sometimes, but there’s another girl that likes to play with them, and she can be mean.
There are some cool new kids at this school though. He plays a lot at recess with Finny and Mike. They’re super fun, and like soccer just like him. Mostly they like the running and yelling they can do after being stuck sitting for so long. Finny doesn’t got a dad, which is pretty sad cause Dad’s are awesome. He and Finny are both trying to talk their mom’s into letting them have a sleepover, and then Finny can hang with his dad and see how awesome it is. Neither of them has ever had a sleepover before, like with a friend. He’s slept at Nana’s a bunch, but that doesn’t count. They heard some guys in third grade talk about a sleepover and it sounded so cool. He could maybe get a sleeping bag. Finny says he has one with Power Rangers on it, which is pretty neat. His mom could take him to Target, and they would probably have lots to choose from.
He thinks that Finny would have fun playing with his stuff, and that they could rent a movie from the store, for like a treat, cause money doesn’t grow on trees. He’s pretty sure too that Finny would think his room was cool, and that he wouldn’t call him a baby for still having all the Arthur cartoons his Nana got him for Christmas on VHS back when he was a little kid. Arthur’s awesome. He took down all his Pony posters though; cause dad said they were for little sissy girls.
--
Imagine a boy, nine years old. He’s sort of scrawny, and his teacher notices he has smudgy marks under his eyes.
He gets woken up a lot at night. His mama is tired too. They have a new baby, which is pretty awesome sometimes, except for when she cries so much all the time. It’s called colicky. His dad doesn’t like the colic, or maybe the baby, and he stays at work or somewhere way more than he used to. Dad and mama argue a lot at night too, and that wakes him up sometimes as much as the crying does.
He gets to have a lot of sleepovers at Finn’s place lately. He heard Mrs. Hudson say on the phone to someone it’s to help give his mom a break. He thinks it would make more sense to have the baby sleepover somewhere - that sounds like more of a break - but he gets more time with Finn this way. They’re best friends now. They might do blood brothers, but that’s important stuff and you don’t just do it with anyone so they gotta think about it and make sure. Besides, blood makes him woozy.
--
Ten. His dad doesn’t live with them anymore.
He and his ma had to pack up their stuff and move to a dumb little apartment. He got rid of most of his baby stuff, like his toys and posters when they moved because it was for stupid kids. His dad told him that. Now that dad’s gone, he’s gotta be responsible. He’s the man of the house: Nana said so. He’s got a key he keeps carefully zipped into the front pouch of his backpack that he uses to lock the door in the morning when he leaves, and to let himself back in each day after school. He doesn’t have time for the kid stuff anyway, not when he’s got to make sure his chores are done - he’s supposed to vacuum and do laundry, and on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday it’s his job to make supper. Finn’s jealous that he’s allowed to use the stove, sometimes Mrs. H won’t let him even if she’s home. Sunday mornings he babysits his sister so his mom gets some quiet time. It’s okay, cause she doesn’t cry as much now. Alicia he means - his mom cries more.
--
Twelve, and stuff’s weird. Brittany sort of has boobs, and she kissed him on the mouth and asked if he wanted to touch them. They just felt sort of squishy, so he said thank you and they walked home. Finn just about had a conniption, and turned really, really red when he told him about it. He thinks maybe she’s his girlfriend now? Whatever.
--
Fifteen years old and high school sucks. He goes to parties and drinks and dates some, but he can’t really figure out what the big deal is. Sure it’s cool to have a chick touch his dick, but it’s not what he thought it would be.
He and Finn joined the football team, and it’s hot work through the late summer and fall. Alicia’s in after school care now, so he doesn’t have to get home to babysit anymore. Sometimes after a long practice they’re flopped out on the ground and he looks over to see Finn laying there with flushed red cheeks, and the same sweaty cowlick he had when he was six, and he gets warm and quivery inside. He doesn’t understand why, and turns his head to look over at Mike instead - somehow not tired at all and doing these sick dance moves to the music in his ears, where he bends his body like an elastic band. That doesn’t make him feel any better and he closes his eyes.
He sees the gay kid around, and gets hot and angry and still doesn’t know why. Fuck. He sort of feels like shit when the guys all gang up on him and throw him in the dumpster, but he goes along and sneers ‘fag’ and tries not to think about last Saturday when he and Finn were wrestling for the Xbox controller and Finn pinned him and lay stretched over him, smashing his face into the carpet of the Hudson’s rec room. He meets Katie Parker behind the bleachers on Sunday evening and lets her go down on him, and he cries on the long walk home.
--
Imagine a boy sixteen years old and scared to death. He ruined everything with his stupid dick, and now he’s lost Finn and his ma hates him maybe, and he’s gonna be a dad. He doesn’t want to be a dad - not now with Quinn Fabray anyway. He only slept with her because she showed up that night with wine coolers, and he’s still trying to find the girl that makes him feel good inside, and because she had Finn. Maybe mostly because she had Finn.
--
Nineteen years old and his best friend in the world is lost. Trying to figure out where to go with his life, and floundering.
He’s been in LA for a while now, kicking along and doing okay, but once again it’s not the fix he thought it would be. Like the girls and the booze, or, eventually, the guys he fucks his way through. It’s never quite right.
He gets on a motorbike in LA and drives the 2,200 miles home, pulling up to a college dorm at 3:30 in the morning. He talks his way through security when a couple dudes leave, and knocks on a door down the longest hallway of his life. After a few minutes of pounding he hears noise from within, and it swings open to a beautiful frowning face.
“Finn, I need to talk.”
--
Imagine two men. Twenty-six years old and smiling. Grinning really. Both of them tired and sweaty, dark hair damp and curling. Standing in a driveway, an empty truck at the curb after a long morning of lifting and carrying - boxes and bags and furniture. Standing there, one long arm draped over a shoulder, another wrapped lower around a waist. Grinning like fools at the Sold sign staked into the front lawn, listening to the sounds of their mothers inside fussing over something in the kitchen. Imagine.