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Junior sat down next to Rowdy hesitantly, his eyes downcast. Like if he didn’t look at his former friend it would make what he was about to do any less risky.
“What do you want, Fag?” Rowdy growled at the man— No— Boy beside him. He spit the last word with so much venom it put the Inland Taipan to shame.
Junior didn’t respond, he didn’t want to. Slowly, he slipped his hand into Rowdy’s. His fingers intertwining with the force beside him. It was stupid. Practically suicide. Rowdy would kill him. He’d have to have a closed casket funeral.
But...
Rowdy didn’t. He looked away like he couldn’t stand looking at Junior. But he didn’t let go. He didn’t push him away He didn’t shout or cry. He sat there... And squeezed his hand.
He actually squeezed his hand.
“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Rowdy whispered, almost like a plea. Junior wasn’t sure whether it was for Rowdy or him.
Junior wasn’t surprised by the threat; he’d expected Rowdy to kill him as soon as he touched his hand.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sat there, hands interlaced.
They knew if anyone saw they’d be ridiculed. Outcasts among outcasts.
Even the weird boys hated gay people.
But Junior wasn’t gay, neither was Rowdy.
They were just 2 teen boys.
Holding hands.
Eventually Rowdy gave another squeeze, this time harder.
“Do you know what this means?” Rowdy asked suddenly, yet quietly, as if he raised his voice he’d break the moment.
It felt so weird to have Rowdy be gentle. Rowdy was, well, Rowdy. He was loud, violent, angry, aggressive, forceful, commanding, and like a looming presence that made you afraid. Rowdy wasn’t gentle. He was like a fight dog. He bites.
Yet here he was, hand holding onto Junior’s, his callused digits gently swiping over Junior’s softer fingers, the hardened palm squeezing on Junior’s like a lifeline.
“My grandmother taught me that holding someone’s hand and squeezing it means...” Rowdy puased. It was unusual to hear Rowdy hesitate. He wasn’t a nervous guy, or someone who ever second guessed himself. “It means I Love You...”
Then Rowdy squeezed Junior’s hand again. Hard.
Rowdy couldn’t bring himself to say the words. The words he could never say to a girl. The words he would be beaten, killed, by his father if he ever said to a boy.
But he still wanted Junior to know.
Then, Junior squeezed back. Softly at first. Then harder.
They sat like that for 15 minutes, just softly squeezing each other’s hands, confirming years of “accidental” touches, years of yearning looks, years of dreams brushed off as weird mistaken identity.
Then Rowdy looked at Junior. Actually looked at him.
His eyes.
His hair.
His skin.
His lips...
“I’m such a faggot.” Rowdy whispered, mostly to himself.
Junior’s face felt hot, like a fire was burning directly on his cheeks. He wanted to run away, pretend this never happened, pretend he never said he loved his best friend without words. Pretend he wasn’t holding hands with him.
But he couldn’t. Not after Rowdy looked at him like that.
Stupidly Junior kissed him.
It was an awkward gesture as he’d never kissed anyone before. He’d seen it in movies, sure, but it was so different than actually crashing his lips against Rowdy’s. Wow, his first kiss was a boy.
Rowdy kissed back. Except Rowdy had done this before so he knew how to kiss properly.
Junior felt both excited and terrified. On one hand he was kissing his crush. On the other he was kissing Rowdy. The biggest bully on the Rez. His best friend.
Rowdy brought his free hand up to the nape of Junior’s neck, gently carding his thumb through some of Junior’s hair. Rowdy tilted his head and nipped Junior’s mouth so he’d open it, then shoved his tongue in Junior’s mouth.
Junior was appalled at first. It felt gross to have someone else’s tongue in his mouth. But it also felt nuice in a weird way. It was so confusing and made him feel so many conflicting feelings.
Rowdy broke the kiss first, pulling back and panting. His pupils were blown wide and lips slightly swollen. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. He leaned in and roughly sucked on Junior’s neck creating a dark hickey just above the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Mine,” Rowdy growled softly, his voice husky and possessive.
The 2 boys were broken apart by Junior’s mom calling him for dinner. Rowdy helped Junior adjust his shirt to hide the hickey and gave him a peck on the lips. The 2 exited the forest opposit ways to not be seen together.
Junior’s dad noticed the mark almost right away but assumed it was from a girl at Reardan.
Rowdy laid in his bed listening to his father scream at his mother for having a no-good tomboy daughter. He sighed, and rolled onto his side, looking out the window. “’Night Junior”
Juior laid on his back, looking up at his ceiling and imaging he was laying with Rowdy. Although the thought was nice, sleep was calling him. “Goodnight Rowds”