The Lion and the Lamb

"Mom, for the last time I promise I'm NOT gay!" Everyone knew this was a lie, but I continued pretending. Deep inside my heart I endorsed the fact that I was homosexual. I had tested myself, to discern if I liked gay porn or straight porn better. In the end gay won. This is one of the many ways I know I am most definitely a seventeen year old gay guy inside and out, but no one is sure of it. There is still that one percent of likelihood some people have that I am straight. Personally, I'm very glad that I am gay. Everyone knows me as the flamboyant, colorful, feminine boy whose best friends are ninety-nine percent girls. This is how I want to be. If I was the type of boy who lived my life playing sports, talking about perverted things with my jockey friends, and ogling slutty girls all day, I wouldn't get anywhere in life besides behind the counter at McDonalds flipping hamburgers.

I fumed up the stairs to my room after a dispute with my mother. Being the wonderful mother she was, she tried to confront me about my sexuality. And I got defensive. For now it was just me and her in the small little apartment off Jones Drive. My dad had died fighting over seas for our country, and my older brother, Tanner, was off at NYU studying to become a Biologist. I slammed the door behind me, and flopped onto my bed while crying my eyes out. In times like this I look to music to help me get through my sadness. I furiously thrusted my earbuds into my ears, and flipped to my shuffle play list. Why can't the world acknowledge who I am, and welcome it with open arms? I know I am gay, but I'm scared of what the world will think of me once I come out. My mind starts to spiral into a dark depression of hatred towards myself, and the world.

Until, my favorite song Perfect by P!NK played. Listening to the lyrics I finally realized that this song was meant for me. It was like my theme song.

"Made a wrong turn

Once or twice

Dug my way out

Blood and fire

Bad decisions

That's alright

Welcome to my silly life

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood

Miss "no way it's all good"

It didn't slow me down

Mistaken

Always second guessing

Underestimated

Look I'm still around..."

That was my life in a nutshell. But who cares? Certainly not my sexuality. If it cared about the way I'm bullied, teased, and tormented everyday, it would change. But than again I was born this way.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to my alarm clock blasting So What by P!NK in my ears. Absorbing this up beat song, that was telling me not to care what other people think about me, improved my mood slightly; but not by much. After I took a shower and got dressed, I left to go to school.

I stood with my best friend Carter at the bus stop, waiting for the yellow monster to bring me to hell, a.k.a. my school, Washington Irving High. Carter and I are like brother and sister. She knows everything about me, even my sexuality. The best thing is, she was ok with it.

"Hey, Randy, how was your weekend?" she ended this sentence with hesition. My clothes were the main thing that warned her not to talk to me today. They were all black, my hoodie, shoes, even my jeans.

"Fine," I simply answered

I rode the bus in silence to the ugly school, noticing that Spencer was with his gang today. Spencer was the guy I kind of had a small little crush on. Okay, maybe not just a small one. Spencer was the typical six foot quarterback jock of washington Irving High. He was complete with tan skin, a brawny muscular frame, his square jaw, and Hazel eyes with straight light brown hair. He was the whole package, but that package was meant for a different receiver, not me.

I took my greedy eyes off Spencer, and headed towards my locker on the other side of the school. I went through the tortures of the day, not being able to wait to get to my locker at the end of the day. It ment I was one more step from leaving the school. I arrived in the hallway after the last period to find a large group of people all crowded near my locker looking at something. The group scattered away when the bell rang, leaving me alone to find something terrible. Written in pink sharpie read a few words like "fag", "faggot", "gay", "queer", and "homo".

The culprit was of course, Spencer's gang. Red hot fury flowed through my veins. Where are they? Wherever they are, I swear when I find them, I will damage their faces. The first place I thought of was the football field; where they always were. I stormed out of the double-doors and propelled myself to the field. They were there, in a circle practicing football. just as I had expected. I infuriatingly threw my backpack down on the bleachers where the cheerleaders were sitting, watching the practice. As I reached the team, I relaized that Spencer wasn't with them.

I went straight for Ben, the worst out of the whole group. I threw my fist and slugged him right in the face, knocking him off his feet. He got up rubbing his bloody nose.

"What the fuck was that?!" Ben said.

"Oh I think you know why I did that you horrible, homophobic, asshole!" I screamed at him and enragingly attacked him again. This time the rest of the team came to help their teamate. I was beaten brutily and without mercy. The cheerleaders wooted and hollered at the team beating me up. When they were done, they left me curled up in a ball; bloody, bruised, and grotesque. I was whimmpering. This was when Spencer, who came to the practice late by accident, came to my aid. He picked me up and carried me to the bathroom to clean me up. Spencer first took of my shirt, then my jeans to investigate how bad the wounds were. I didn't care; all I could feel were the tears streaming down my face. How could they do this? Why?

"Hey, Randy, what happened?" Spencer asked after a while of my sobbing. Was he not in on what his gang was doing to me? All I could do was sob even harder. How embarrassing it was to cry in front of him of all people. Any chance I had to be with him was totally ruined. With no response coming from my lips, he locked the bathroom door and sat next to me. The next thing he did was unexpected; he even seemed a little hesitant on it. Spencer put his arm around me, inviting me to cry on his shoulder.

What a change in perspective, for me at least. I thought he had been a complete jock, perverted and only cared about sex. But, no he was more than that; he had a buried personality. One that was better than the personality he had shown with his gang.

After I was done crying, he asked what had happened again.

"So, Randy, If you're done crying, I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell me who, what, when, where, why, and how," his voice made me want to melt inside; it was so warm and inviting, "Let's start with the who, ok?"

"Ok," I started with a small pathetic voice, "the what would be; your buddies".

"And the what?" spencer questioned.

"They wrote words on my locker," I said inocently.

"Oh? What words?" He didn't seem alarmed.

"It said things like 'fag, queer, gay,'" I stammered, afraid the words might hurt me again.

"Well, Ok then. I am profoundly sorry about that. So, when was this?"

"About twenty minutes ago, in the Chorus room hallway".

"Ok, that answered what, and we already know why, because they think you are gay. So that just leaves how,' Spencer said looking at me with a smile on his face.

"With a sharpie marker," I said candidly gazing into his piercing Hazel colored eyes. It was like we had a bond. Something we both shared spiritually. I think, The proper word for this is; soul mate.

"Oh, I see," we both got up, and without another word Spencer left the bathroom.

Part Two:

Gym Class

(December 2, 2011)

This one meeting started a whole new relationship. It has been two months, Spencer has broken up with his slutty girlfriend, and broken ties with his gang. Just like God changed Saul, a man who persecuted Catholics to Paul, a prophet, He changed Spencer into a new man. Spencer had started hanging out with me a lot more often also. Our conversations were deeper than before, he was less frightened of being himself, and we got a long really well.

At first, I thought the only reason he hung out with me, was because of pity. He probably just felt commiseration for me. But, I soon discovered this was not true. No boy in his right mind would hang out with me whenever he had the chance. My clothes started to change when I spent more time with Spencer. So did my attitude towards everyone and everything. My new style was neon colored shirts, hoddies, shoes, but not jeans; that is what I like to call a Fashion NoNo.

I could tell my attachment with Spencer was starting to aggravate my girlfriends (as in friends that are girls, you imature people!), but I really didn't care that much, they were just envious he got to spend more time with me, I think. The only friend that wasn't upset at me was Carter. She sat with Spencer and I in our own corner of the massive yellow tiled cafeteria building. It sort of become a group thing. Whenever we could, we were always seen together. We were at lunch one day, sitting at the round blue tables when Carter brought up an interesting question.

"So, Spence," this was the nickname she gave Spencer, "How did you and Randy meet?" I had a mini heart-attack, and the juice I was drinking spilt on my neon yellow shirt. I knew Spencer wouldn't want what really happened out in public. We were in a filled cafeteria, someone was bound to over here. So, I made up a story covering him.

"Well you see, our families were at a dinner party together, because they work in the same company. Well Spencer and I already kind of knew one another so we started talking. Nothing major, just chit chat." I said looking at Spencer, hoping he would support me.

"Yes, that was the day I had thrown up on the floor of the room. Randy took me to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Then, My father gave Randy permission to drive me home." He finished as we both simultaneously smiled at Carter. She knew something was up, but she didn't know what it was thankfully. The bell rang, signaling Spencer and I that we had to get to Gym. We said our goodbyes' to Carter and left the cafeteria.

"Well... that was awkward, but good story by the way!" Spencer said as I absentmindedly answered;

"Thank you." This was the first thing I hadn't told Carter about myself, the story about Spencer and I in the bathroom. I feel like a load of betrayal.

We entered the red locker rooms to find we were a tad bit late. Spencer and I hastened into our jockstraps (we were playing football today), and bolted out on to the field. The coach yelled at us to get into positions. Spencer played quarterback as I played some other position, I don't recollect what coach called it. The big sweaty guys started the game, and I just backed away and examined them. Spencer played miraculously! He was so astonishing at this sport. It made me wonder why a talent scout hadn't come and extended him a scholarship to play football at some university. Unfortunately, I will have to come to the games left. I don't really enjoy football, but I can bare through it.

Coach blew his whistle waking me up from my trance. I patted Spencer on the back, trying to make it look as apathetic to other people so they wouldn't think I was his boyfriend or something.

"Hey, Spencer, you did really great today! I wouldn't be shocked if you got a standing ovation!" Oh crap, I used a theatre term again, now I sound stupid, great.

"Thanks Randy," he said smiling at me. We moved into the odorous locker room, as everyone started to remove their clothes; it was shower time. Sometimes, I didn't mind showering with these people; my body was in excellent shape; I was naturally fit, sometimes a little to skinny, though. And my dick wasn't too bulky or too puny compared to other guys, it was favorable for my 5"8 height. Being in the hot steamy shower with other stripped guys turned me on honestly, but I had to conceal it, so I always used cold water in my shower. I had actually never got a look Spencer's dick. He always took a quick shower before the rest of us gathered in there. By the time I stepped in the yellow vast shower room, he was gone.

Part Three:

Confessions of a Teenage Jock

(January 8, 2012)

One winter day we decided to skip lunch at school and have a picnic out in the chilly woods by the school. Once we were done eating, we lay in the grass, consulting what Rachel should marry Finn or not on Glee, (who knew Spencer, a jock, would be a gleek!). It was elegant and serene. How perfect it was for us to lay next to each other in the dewy grass, as we gazed up at the green canopy of the forest. Out of the blue, Spencer started a new topic;

"Ok, Randy, I have known you personally for about two months now. It's been on my mind for a very long time, and I would like to know... are you gay? I won't like you any less or stop being your friend, curiosity just got the best of me," Spencer said with a guilty look about him. Well, that was unexpected. I knew what my answer would be, a truthful and heartfelt, yes, but then again, what if he didn't keep his word? What if he ran away? I guess I would have to take that chance.

"Spencer, I am gay, but I promise it won't change anything. I hope this doesn't affect our friendship or anything, because I really like you... as in a great best friend." Wow, nice lie.

"Randy...did I not just say It won't affect anything? Anyways, it doesn't matter to me I am everything but homophobic," he said with a little hint of exasperation left in his friendly voice. This made me wonder. It was my turn to ask a question.

"Now, It is my turn to quiz you," I said, "Why did you allow me to cry on your arms that one day in the bathroom? Not like I didn't love it, but it was very unexpected."

Spencer took a deep sigh, I realized he was about to poor out his soul to me.

"The truth is..." he started. I held my breath as he began, hoping against all odds he played for my team.

"The truth is... I am gay. (YES!) But, I can never come out of the closet until I am away from my father. My mother passed away from cancer five years ago, my dad turned to drinking to cure his depression, and ended up becoming a drunk. He always talked about how he hated those 'damned Liberals' and how 'all queers should die'. It is truly horrible to see him during one of his drunk phases. Then, another reason I can't come out, I have the pressure of the school to be the star quarterback and the popular one; if they found out I was gay, I would be dead meat! I had conflicted with my sexuality for a while at the beginning of high school, but later on I came to realize what I really am homosexual. That was around the time I threatened gays myself. That is not something I am proud of".

"Now why I helped you in the bathroom. That was a bad day, I had finally come to grasps with my sexuality, and I didn't like it. I would rather face death then my father's shotgun. Well, that night I had stored some of my father's pills in my room. When I would get home, I was going to pop them in my mouth, swallow, and commit suicide. But you, you made me see that it gets better. I knew you were gay just by your mannerisms, but I wanted to know how you dealt with the harassment and all. I knew if you could do it I could too," Spencer finally finished.

As I stared into his warm hazel eyes, I noticed he had tears in the corners of his eyes. Here sat this poor boy, one who used to be so strong, but now he is vulnerable. His sexuality could be used against him if anyone ever found out. Of course, I would never tell anyone. Cold, pleasing rain suddenly splashed down on us. In a few minuets we were drenched, but neither of us minded.

It couldn't have been more perfect! I leaned into Spencer and placed my lips on his. This was my first kiss, and it was everything I had imagined it would be. At first Spencer reflexively pulled back, with a look of alarm on his face. As understanding dawned over him he leaned in once more and planted his lips on mine, and moved them slowly. The song We found love by Rihanna played itself in my head. Like the song said, we found love in a hopeless place. We both pulled away after the kiss and laughed. Spencer grabbed my hand and we lay in the grass once more as the rain started to fade away. We both knew we were absent from Languege Arts...and AP Human Geography...also Spanish One. But, we didn't care. As long as we had each other, nothing else mattered.