'Focus. Complete focus.' That's the mantra that Deacon used to settle into his flow state. He stood poised, primed, predatory upon his starting platform. Nothing but 50 meters of water, two delineators making the boundary of his lane, and a goal. 'Focus. Complete focus.' his muscles spring loaded and cocked to unleash the entirety of their power. The slight chill of evaporating pool water on his scales didn't phase him, he had long since learned to tune out the nuisances, the minutiae, the…

The ripples along the surface twinkled like gemstones, the refraction of morning sun shone like starlight, it mesmerized him. "Ripples in the water. I can never sketch them properly." Sketching, drawing, appreciating. Simply noticing, 'Beautiful..'

Bang! The shot caught him off guard. His leap was slow, entrance sloppy, form lagging. 'Damnit, Damnit, Damnit!' was the mantra of his swim now. The bad start led to a poor performance, one that he could only make up by pushing himself stronger and harder than he should have. He almost miscounted the strokes to the turn, however he righted himself and attacked the water, claws digging in like they would to prey, splitting the surface with precision. Each stroke pulled him through the waves, like a crawl through mud. He turned off his brain, thoughts were not beneficial at the moment. Nothing but the next step, then next stroke, the next second was of any consequence.

He smashed into the wall, his fingers crumpling into a fist as they collided with concrete. The pain swelled into his mind. 'Fuck!' he mentally screamed. It always hurt. He gripped the wall and focused on recovering his breath from his sprint, wiping his face to rid it of excess liquid. He was steaming. 'Fuck'. That wasn't the first sprint that day he had been slow off the draw and he was beyond frustrated.

"And the winner by half a second is….. Grayson!!" The manatee that was judging the race said above the two adjacent lanes. 'Fuuuuck!' he complained as he smacked the water's surface. A crowd of about a dozen of his teammates burst into 'oooh's and 'ahhh's as they jumped and shouted. Deacon gripped the starting platform and pulled himself out of the water. The alligator did his best to keep his expression neutral as he flexed his hand to regain feeling in it.

"And with that, the king has been toppled!" A rather snide, and downright vicious, voice mocked him as Grayson the platypus also exited the pool.

"Yeah, whatever, Grayson." Deacon responded curtly. The platypus wrapped an arm around the agitated swimmer and pulled him into a side hug.

"Aww, are you being a sore loser, captain? Can't stand losing to little ol' me and needing to clean up? Do you even still know how?" Deacon scoffed and pulled the arm off from around him. The team had a tradition. Normally cleanup was determined by schedule of two members, but, of course, being competitive men, they all raced to see who cleaned up alone. Deacon had always won his contests, and stayed to help clean anyways, but that was neither here nor there right now.

"I think I'll manage, Grayson." He responded before turning off to grab his towel.

"Hey now, you can't win them all. You just have to accept defeat with humility, grace, and poise. Not everyday that you get to experience that. You should take this as a learning opportunity, might serve you well if your times keep dropping." Deacon boiled and turned towards the billed mammal. He was feeling nothing but rage, adrenaline surging in his veins, testosterone high. He was fully prepared to knock the sophomore out for his insufferable attitude. The braggart has been needling Deacon for almost two years now. Around him every one of his teammates were staring at the altercation. Deacon was stomping, fangs bared, up towards the platypus who kept his cocksure sneer on his face. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed.

"Alright, alright! Let's not take this any further." Blue the Manatee said as he stepped between the two hot headed athletes. "Grayson! Winning also takes humility, grace, and poise. Not whatever cocky, piss-and-vinegar attitude you've got going on rubbing in Deacon's face. Deacon! He's not worth decking out. Unclench the fists and walk away." Deacon's eyes didn't stray from Grayson who was still smiling like a spoiled child. Deacon's face snarled, his face was just so punchable, the arrogant son of a bitch. "D.." he turned towards Blue, "be a better man, walk away." A noise like the rumble of a volcano erupted from within the young gator, but he did turn away. Back towards the benches to find his towel. "As for you, piss off to class. That goes for all of you." He heard Blue command the small crowd. Deacon grabbed his towel with a yank, patting and scraping across his scales to dry them. A couple of the guys walked up near him and grabbed their own stuff while consciously avoiding looking at him, he didn't look at them either. He didn't want to look at anyone right now. He turned blindly to head back towards the pool to clean and put away the lane delineators. Doing so he was greeted by the stocky form of Blue who looked quite concerned.

"Deacon, are you okay?"

"Yeah, man." 'Just lost to a damn sophomore who needs his ego checked, doing fine' he added internally. As he walked past, he needed to get started on cleaning if he was going to make it to class on time himself.

"Seriously D, you can talk to me. I know something has been bothering you for a while now. All the guys do, we're all- mostly all, worried and want to help." Deacon sighed through his nose while he reached down to unhook the plastic floater chains.

"What? My times dropping is such a concern for you? Like I don't get enough from coach about shit like focusing more and eliminating distractions, keeping my head on the ground, and crap?" Deacon said agitatedly. He shook his head to himself as he unhooked another chain.

"Look, Deacon. He's our coach, he's looking after you like an athlete. I, the guys, we're trying to look after you as friends. You're our swim captain, sure, but don't forget that we're friends too." Deacon unhooked a third chain and contemplated throwing it across the pool. His irritation was at an extreme, but something, something made him reconsider chucking the chain into the pool. Something about steps. He settled for tossing it gently down. It bobbed for a bit before coming still on the surface. The edges of the water rippled out from the blue and white plastic rings.

‘What’s wrong? Why would anything be wrong?’ He responded in his mind. He sighed and turned to watch Blue unhooking the remaining few chains. “You don’t have to help me.” Deacon told him while shaking his head.

“It’s because I don’t have to that makes it mean anything” The manatee responded while starting to walk around to the other side of the pool to reel them in. Deacon put his hands on his hips and shook his head briefly before stepping off after him. Together, the two of them finished rolling up the chains, pulling the cover over the pool, and did a final check that nothing was left and headed off towards the locker room. As they passed the stands, Deacon looked over. He imagined the crowds, the fans, the people there. He imagined Kane, sitting there giving him a little wave. The memory made him smile but didn’t alleviate the source of his irritation.

“You showering?” Blue asked as they went down the aisles of lockers, most everyone was gone. First period was starting soon.

“Nah, no time.” The gator responded. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t washed off after practice, the smell of chlorine that stuck to his skin afterwards was a friend of his, something he grew accustomed to after years and years of the sport.

“Pshh, we’ll already be late to English. Come on!” Blue argued as we went off towards the faucets and handles down the way. Deacon contemplated just leaving him, just heading off towards English on his own. If he sprinted he would barely make it, but just thinking about the exertion made him tired. He wasn’t running, their teacher would probably waive the tardy. ‘Dammit.’ He thought as he followed.

The shower was actually a wonderful choice, the lukewarm water that came out the pipe rained down his body, following the natural grooves in his scales, sliding off his limbs, and taking away some of his stress down the drain. He counted to ten under the water, he couldn’t sit and savor the feeling as he needed to get moving. At ten, he popped open his eyes and scrubbed down his body with a clean loofah. A quick scrape, just enough to take the chemical residue off. Besides him, Blue was doing the same thing. They both kept their eyes straight ahead, teammates or not, it’s an unspoken rule in the showers, ‘keep your eyes forward.’

Deacon wrapped his towel around himself as he dried off, the thick fabric sopping up the droplets. He tossed on his school clothes and waited by the door for Blue. He breathed, slowly in and slowly out.

Deacon had been beyond stressed out lately, he kept getting snippier and shorter with his teammates, his coach, his parents, his friends. And worst of all is not quite understanding why. 'What's different? What's changed?' The answer was obvious but Deacon didn't want to acknowledge it. He didn't want his new found relationship with Kane to be the problem. Cause that would just make the gator feel even more awful.

'Kane…' Deacon thought in his mind. He pulled open his phone and thumbed over to the photos app. He pulled open his private folder, typed in his password, and looked at the one and only image in there. A selfie of a handsome rhino shocked that his photo was being taken along with a silly gator who was taking it. Looking at it made Deacon feel better, it reminded him of that lookout two weeks ago, of the way the sun showed its rays down on the world. The world felt at peace up on that hillside, but down here on the ground, shadows cast their long dark auras.

He locked the phone as Blue walked up to him, "Let's get going!"

The walk to class was mostly silent, Blue was trying to start conversations and Deacon responding as little as possible.  Eventually though, the manatee had enough.

"Deacon, come on. Talk to me! If something's bothering you this badly, then keeping it repressed will do fuck all. Look, we have four minutes till we're at class, that's three minutes and fifty-seven seconds to vent that shit out."

Deacon pinched the bridge of his nose, he knew that he should, he knew that it was affecting him negatively, he only wanted one thing more than to tell Blue about his problem and that was to tell no one about his problem. 'Hey fucking dumbass! You're fucking everything up! Figure it out!' The gator pulled his hand away from his face and slapped his thigh with it. 'Come on, just one thing, one step.' he urged himself with his entire being.

"I don't even know how to begin, Blue. I-" he looked up at the morning sky, some clouds scattered here and there. There was a slight breeze that pulled across his skin and scales. It really was such a beautiful day, and Deacon was feeling none of it. They walked into the English building. Blue kept quiet. "I feel like I had everything under control, and it worked. It wasn't perfect, but I made it work. But then I took a step to make it better, and it all of a sudden- suddenly everything that just worked is now… unstable, it feels like it'll crash down on me."

"What step did you take?" Blue asked. Deacon sighed, it was logical to pursue that line of questioning, but it's the same line that Deacon wanted to avoid, at all costs.

"It's complicated." Deacon answered.

"Bullshit, D. If what you said was true then that step's the problem, right?"

"The step’s not the problem!” Deacon countered defensively pulling ahead a few steps from Blue.

“D!” Blue said as he grabbed Deacon’s shoulder, the irritated gator shrugged away and turned towards Blue.

“Let it go!” Deacon shouted at him, a couple stragglers also late for class in the hallway turned towards him. He immediately regretted that, Blue didn’t shrink back but he definitely knitted his brow. Deacon flapped his mouth a few times, “Im- I’m sorry, Blue.. That wasn’t, I’m-, dammit.” He swore to himself as he turned to walk back towards class.

“Deacon.” Blue called after him. Deacon regretted snapping at him, Deacon has been regretting a lot of things lately. He wasn’t going to let himself regret walking away, but even then he couldn’t look Blue in the face. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re clearly going through something, all you’re doing is suffering alone. Cut the crap and just be real with me. What’s going on?!”

Deacon’s eyes wandered all around the hallway, to the colored papers and notices on the bulletin boards, the off white and blue tiles on the ground, the bright fluorescent lights spaced on the ceiling. Anywhere, at anything, anything but Blue. He felt so frustrated, at Blue, at his coach, at fucking Grayson, at everyone. Above all of that, himself. ‘This isn’t the step I wanted to take. What do I do now, Dad?’ he asked himself. The frustrated gator walked to the edge of the hallway and sat on one of the benches that were spread down the hall. He put his face in his hands, the palms pressed into his eyes. He tapped his foot anxiously. His thoughts were racing, two weeks of microaggressions, outbursts, miscommunications, and problems. Problems and no solution. He felt a sturdy grasp on his shoulder. He pulled his head up and looked at Blue. The manatee looked down at him, a part of Deacon wanted him to be angry, but he wasn’t. He just looked concerned.

Deacon breathed deeply and rested against the wall behind him. They were well and truly late to class now. The hallway was empty. Blue sat next to him. A moment later, Deacon started talking.

“It’s.. it’s really complicated.” Deacon said.

“Okay, just tell me what you can. I won’t even ask any questions.” Deacon turned and side-eyed his friend. The manatee raised his right hand. “I swear.” Deacon was skeptical, but here, now. Sometimes you just need to leap.

“I met someone.”

“Okay.”

“I like them.”

“Alright.”

“They make me happy, so happy.” He said. Countless texts back and forth, just little updates on their days. Fascinating pictures of things Kane wanted to sketch, Deacon’s favorite songs, anything. Just a few simple things they wanted to share with the other, and each one was so precious to Deacon. It almost, almost, eliminated the apprehension he gets when he sees his phone has a text message.

Small smiles towards each other as they pass by each other in the halls, little nods from the rhino, sly winks from Deacon, remembrances that they see and acknowledge each other even if they’ve agreed to keep their relationship on the downlow. Mostly for Deacon’s sake.

And his dreams, the dreams that were borderline lewd. Just being with Kane, intimate, tender.

“Mmhmm.” Blue hummed.

“But… There’s them.” Deacon made a circle with his hands. “And then there’s everything and everyone else.” He expanded the circle out. “And, I just want them to be separate, stay separate, but they aren’t. They’re not.”

“He’s in my thoughts all the time. I think about him in class, at practice, at home, at night, all the time. And I…” Deacon shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want them to mix. I don’t know what would happen and it fucking terrifies me. So I just can’t let them.” He sat still for a moment, his eyes weren’t focusing on anything, just trying to just let go. It was getting easier for him to talk to Blue, just saying it, just putting words to the fear. Well, it didn’t fix anything, but it made him feel better, if just a smidge. “But he’s still there, always there. Two steps from shattering the walls, mixing the two worlds. And I can’t. I can’t take it.” He breathed two shaky breaths, he was shivering.

“And then I, I mean you’re right, Blue, you’re completely, fucking right. I’m acting out, I’m snapping at my friends, I’m avoiding my parents, I’m not sleeping well. I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired. And I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to break things off with him, I like him too much and I know that it’d hurt him, but I can’t tell people since that freaks me out. So I’m stuck, I’m stuck and I don’t know where to go, I don’t know what to do, I’m just- It’s so, It’s just. It’s-” He bent forward and gripped the back of his head. His shaking was prevalent every few seconds. His breath was ragged, he only looked at the floor. His feet were both tapping rapidly. Deacon felt this surplus of nervous energy, he couldn’t seem to stop. He felt out of control.

“It’s complicated.” He heard Blue complete from next to him. ‘Breathe, breathe deeply. Breathe, breathe deeply’ the stressed out gator repeated to himself. With each repetition, his lungs filled up with life giving oxygen. He fought back for control of his body, his thoughts. He refused to yield to himself, he was a winner. He straightened up as he got under control. He glanced at his companion. Blue was sitting there nodding to himself, his eyes were wondering around the tiled floor. Deacon wasn’t fooled, he had tons of questions. But, rather noblely, refraining from asking them.

“Real enough for you?” Deacon asked ironically.

“Fuck, man. That all can’t be easy.”

“You have questions.”

“I promised I wouldn’t ask.” Blue responded while turning to look at Deacon. The gator took a breath, steadying himself.

“It’s fine, dude.” Deacon responded defeatedly. He already let bare his soul, what more could there be to ask?

“So…you’re dating a guy?” Deacon’s eyes burst open. ‘Shit!’ Had he mentioned it was a guy?! Fuck, he did! The one thing the young gator wanted to avoid and he didn’t even make it through one conversation without slipping up. He quickly turned away from Blue, ‘Shit!!’ his heart rate ticked up. But he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Deacon, it’s okay.” The gator groaned aloud as he put his head back in his hands. “Alright, we don’t have to talk about that right now. Well, do they know about what you’re going through? Have you talked to them?” Deacon shook his head without removing his hands, but he did answer the question.

“No, but like I said, when it’s him, when it’s just us. I’m so happy. I feel seen, understood. It’s great. So.. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to worry, about me, or us.”

“Well, that’s not fair.” Blue said.

“What!?” Deacon asked a little indignantly, lifting his head up to stare at the manatee.

“Look, D. I’m making tons of assumptions about a relationship that I didn’t know about until a minute ago and one you’re uncomfortable with talking about, but tell me. If what you just said was true, it sounds like he cares a lot about you.”

“Well, yeah.” Deacon had to admit.

“And if he’s having a problem, you’d want him to come to you for support, right?”

“Yes” Deacon answered, he was already dreading the rant he was about to get.

“Then yeah, it’s unfair. It’s fucking unfair to push the people you care about and care about you away. It’s unfair to expect something of others that you wouldn’t do yourself.”

“Unfair to who?!” Deacon countered, “Who the hell am I hurting?” Blue turned and poked the gator in the chest, hard. Hard enough to force Deacon back an inch or two.

“Who do you think, dumbass?!” Deacon opened his mouth but closed it without saying anything. Blue shook his head as he pulled his hand back. “Why do you think I’ve been so damn persistent at getting you to talk? Why do you think I’m sitting here with you right now? You think it’s for my health?” Blue asked while pointing his thumb at himself. Deacon looked away, Blue kept staring at him. Deacon swallowed.

“I..” Deacon started. He couldn’t express how he felt. Blue had been on the swim team as long as Deacon had, ever since freshman year. There wasn’t a role, per se, but Blue was definitely vice-captain. The others respected him just as much as they did Deacon, mainly because he was more likely to call others on their crap, to encourage them to do better, act better. Breaking up Grayson’s and Deacon’s fight earlier was not the first time he talked others down.

“It hurts, right? Trying to juggle that shit alone?” Blue asked. Deacon couldn’t help but nod in agreement. It had hurt, and not just himself. He had snapped at more than one person, well much more than one person. His team, his friends, his family, almost everyone except for Kane. It wasn’t fair, not to anyone. Not to himself. ‘Fuuckk..’ he cursed towards himself. He clutched at his chest, there was a tightness there that’s been persistent for the last two weeks. ‘Too long.’

“It hurts, it hurts so much and I don’t know what to do, Blue. What do I do?” he asked while shaking his head. His friend patted his back in support.

“It’s going to be okay, D. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe.” Deacon followed his order just focusing on his breath. Blue kept assuring Deacon, over and over, that he'd be okay. Slowly, the tightness started to abate, not completely but not insignificantly. After a minute of silent breathing, Deacon felt more composed and, if he’s being honest with himself, the best he’s felt away from Kane in weeks.

“Thanks.” Deacon said to his friend while he composed himself.

“No problem, D.” Blue said, “Now, let’s talk next steps.” he continued. Deacon nodded. “First, if shit gets too much, and you need someone to talk to, I want you to know you can talk to me. About anything. Anytime.”

“Alright..” Deacon nodded again. ‘Easy Enough.’

“Second, you need to find an outlet for your frustration. Something you can channel that shit into so it doesn’t build up, and before you ask, bashing Grayson’s brains in is not a valid option.” Deacon chuckled at that.

“Third, and this is probably the most important, you need to talk to him about what you’re feeling.” Deacon’s grin fell and he looked to the ground.

“Must I?” He asked, whined. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. Anything but that.

“I have my reasons. One, it sounds like he’s, unintentionally, the source of your problem. Avoiding it is only going to make it worse. Two, if he cares for you, he’ll help you work through it. If not, drop his ass, he’s not worth fuck all. And three, if you two do work it out and come out the other side together, you’ll be closer.” Blue was holding up a finger for each reason. Deacon looked at the fingers. He didn’t have the strength to argue with the manatee.

“Fuck.” He said softly.

“I know it sounds like it sucks, but well, you can see how well what you’ve been trying to do has been going.” He could, he really could.

“The next fucking step.” He said flatly.

“Are you quoting Coach right now?” Blue asked.

“Technically, that’s advice I got from my dad. But same idea.” Deacon answered, happy to have a break from such heavy topics. Blue just raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side.

“Solid advice.”

“It’s been helping me out. With… him.” Deacon said. The gator tapped on his knee embarrassedly. Consciously referring to Kane didn’t agree with him.

“Look, D. I want you to know. I don’t care- fuck, I mean, I DO care, but I don’t care if you’re gay.” He stammered out.

“I don’t think I’m gay.” Deacon said, he wasn’t confident though. The gator has been avoiding thinking too hard about it.

“Bi, pan, whatever. I just, I want you to know it doesn’t matter to me what you are. Ya know?” Blue assured Deacon. He looked at Blue who was looking at him sideways. 'It doesn't matter?' Deacon asked himself. He had been hiding Kane from people, he didn't want to have a conversation where he needed to justify his attraction to another man. He didn't feel prepared for it. Of course, Shirley and Tiffany knew but Deacon explicitly asked them to not tell anyone about them. But Blue now knows and… it doesn't matter?

"I, I don't know what to say, Blue." He answered honestly, humbled.

"You don't have to say anything. You're my friend, Deacon, that's the shit that matters." The manatee stuff with a reassuring elbow to Deacon's side. 'It doesn't matter? But it does! Right?' He tried puzzling through his thoughts, but to no avail. He wasn't going to sort out this contradiction right now, so he pushed it away. He looked over at Blue, the manatee was looking at him. His friend smiled, Deacon returned it.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do. I really do."

"That's fucking awesome to hear." Blue said. Deacon noticed a strange sense of sincerity to his voice. Blue was quite rude and gruff normally. This Blue, though, he was different. Still direct as hell, but from a different place, concern.

They sat there in silence, the soft hum of the lights and AC overhead droned on. The seconds passed. Deacon did feel better, but not completely.

"Blue, thank you, but, please don't tell anyone, about him. I can't- I couldn't handle it. If anyone found out." Some fears can't be erased from one positive interaction. Deacon twiddled his thumbs, the nervous energy was abating slowly.

"No problem, D. On one condition." He responded.

"What condition?" The manatee stood up.

"You've got to come up with the excuse on why we're late. I don't think Mr. During will believe me after all the tardies I've had." Deacon snorted while shaking his head.

"Well, you know, dude. You could just be honest and tell him you don't care about his class. Maybe he'll be so stunned he won't notice I'm with you and I'll get off Scot free." Deacon's classic humor popping in. The first time in weeks.

"Hah! If you think I'm not taking you down with me, you're crazy, besides he knows I already don't give a shit. You, on the other hand, he likes." The manatee countered while reaching out a hand to pull Deacon up. The gator gripped it and together they brought him to his feet. They held on for just a moment longer than necessary, Blue silently offering his support once more and Deacon acknowledging his help. Blue nodded, Deacon nodded. They headed to class. Both of them were still marked tardy.

…………

Classes passed, lessons went in one ear and out the other, life went on how it does. But for Deacon, he had a lot more than Kane on his mind. He was thinking about Blue and Shirley and Tiffany and his parents and himself. The day was beautiful, the view from his seat by the window on the second floor opened up to the world, cars passed, trees swayed, people walked, talked, lived. Life just moved on. On how it always does.

Deacon thought about those strangers, how they only existed to him here in this moment and as soon as they passed out of view, they were gone. 'Do any of them even know they're being watched?' Deacon asked himself. 'Do any of them even know I exist?'

The gator hadn't normally been so philosophical, but that was before, when everything in his world worked. From so far away, he could imagine each person was happy, that every single one had a perfect existence, a private utopia.

But, that couldn't be true, could it? The bus driver stopping to let pedestrians cross the crosswalk, the student running towards class, the homeless lion who was laying on a bench, the people in cars driving to work, their families, their lives. They can't all be happy, they can't all be content, right?

Deacon looked at his phone, his first date selfie with Kane on the screen. Normally he looked at Kane, now he looked at himself. He looked happy, with a perfect existence, a private utopia. But that's not true, his life was far, far from perfect. Deacon closed the screen. Blue's words came to mind, "…it doesn't matter to me what you are." 'And what am I?'

Deacon didn't know, a swimmer, yes, popular, of course, handsome, absolutely, gay? …, bi? …, No response. The gator wished that someone else could answer for him, someone to just tell him what he was. He felt like he wasn't prepared or informed enough to answer. 'But who was there to ask? Kane, Blue? No, they wouldn't know, not when I don't even know.' he concluded. Outside, life went on. Strangers passing like ships in the night.

"... it doesn't matter to me what you are." Blue had said. He couldn't shake the belief that it did matter, it should have mattered. If it didn't matter, why did thinking about it hurt so much? Ships passed. If it didn’t matter, why was he hiding Kane from everyone? Ships passed. ‘If it didn’t matter, why can’t I answer the question?’ Ships passed.

‘Kane…’ the rhino had it figured out, he had told Deacon so confidently that he was bi, no hesitation, no nothing. He was so accepting of himself, he understood his own flaws and he wanted to work on them. Not only wanted, he was working on them. Kane had been so happy lately, a little less flustered, unconfident. It was amazing to see, to watch. It was inspiring. But Deacon wasn’t matching it. But he wanted to, he wanted to with everything in his heart. He thought about being back in the hallway at his house with Kane, ripping out the festering guts that plagued his heart. All the bullshit he’s pushed down and away for so long. He thought about how afraid he is to look at his phone still, to interact with strangers. The everything and everyone else of his world.

“... It doesn’t matter.” ‘Well, it fucking matters to me!!’ Deacon screamed to no one, to the ships that passed by. The mental strain exhausted him, he was done, he was empty. He sighed and his breath fogged up the window. He looked at his reflection in the glass, it looked so different from his selfie, so insecure and uncertain. It filled him with rage.

‘Maybe he’s right.’ he thought, ‘Maybe it doesn’t matter! Maybe nothing in this godforsaken life matters. My struggles don’t matter to anyone, not any goddamned person!’ The thought stoked his rage, it burned quickly and quickly burned out. He was back to empty, the tightness in his chest was back. Somehow, someway, he knew that wasn’t the answer, that wasn’t the step he wanted to take.

‘If it doesn’t matter, what does?’ he questioned. Strange and meaningless ships passed. He felt alone.

Buzz Buzz. His phone notified that he had a message. He shook his head, if there was anything that he didn’t need right now it was another fucking sext from a stranger. He had been getting a string of them from someone for a while now, despite blocking each new number. But he knew that if he didn’t block them now it was going to snowball into something more. Deacon unlocked the phone and pulled his notification screen down. The name on the message, the person texting him, it was Kane. His eyes widened, just what he needed, the cure to what ailed his troubled mind.

“I spy with my little eye my favorite person”

A moment later a second message buzzed in. His phone told Deacon it was a media message. He had intentionally set his phone to stop automatically showing media messages as he’d seen too much of too many women. A quick tap downloaded the message.

It was a simple picture, just a shot from the ground. In the center was himself looking quite pensive and off into the distance. The young gator reacted immediately, he looked back out the window into the courtyard. A group of students were passing by on their way somewhere. Deacon looked to each one, trying to find Kane. He found him near the back of the pack. His eyes widened.

Kane was lagging behind the others and looking back at him. Even from a distance, Deacon could tell he was smiling when they locked eyes. Kane flashed him a peace sign. Deacon put a hand on the window. A gesture back, an acknowledgement, a signal, a flash of light to another ship in the night. Kane looked forward and that was it, Deacon kept watching him until he was out of sight. And he was alone with his thoughts again.

‘Kane, Kane matters to me.’ but he knew that already, that wasn’t the answer. That couldn’t be everything. If it was, why would he be hiding Kane from everyone else. If no one else mattered, where’s the guilt from, what’s the hesitation’s source.

‘At least someone else sees me,’ he thought as he looked at the photo Kane sent him again. ‘Someone else cares about my struggle.’

“You dumbass, you think I’m doing this for my health?” Blue’s voice came to his mind. ‘And Blue..’

“You’re still you. But it’s good to hear your confidence isn’t completely gone.” ‘And Shirley.’

“You’re young, don’t be afraid of making mistakes.” ‘And Dad.’

Each one, they came like waves. Each one, they washed into his solitary ship. Each one, their lights shown on his struggles, guided his way in the darkness, proved through their actions that they saw him. They added themselves to his flotilla.

“You're my friend, Deacon, that's the shit that matters.” ‘Blue…’

“This is just too cute! I’m so happy for you.” ‘Shirley…’

“It’s all about the next step, son” ‘Dad…’

“You were, well are, my hero…”

“...Kane”

They mattered, they all mattered, they mattered so much to Deacon. They mattered more than they knew, more than Deacon had ever said. They certainly mattered more than strangers with their own individual problems, their own individual plights, their victories and successes. Their own worlds separate from his own. Kane and everyone and everything else, that wasn’t right, that wasn’t correct. It was Kane, and Blue, and Shirley, and Tiffany, and his parents, and every other person in his life he cared about. They were his world, they were his everyone and everything.

‘What am I?’ the answer was simple, it was so clear, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it. ‘I am loved. Beyond that it doesn’t matter. I am gay, and I am loved.’

He wanted to cry, but he wasn’t going to do that here. Not in class, not with those who didn’t care for him. He swallowed a few times and blinked to keep away the tears. His body clenched, he felt just so much raw emotion. The ache in his chest was still there, but before what was empty was now bursting out. He wanted to run, and jump, and scream. He wanted them all to know, he wanted his world to know. But he controlled himself, kept his breathing steady, stayed calm. He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

‘I love them, I love them all.’ And it didn’t matter that he was gay, it shouldn’t matter that he was gay, he didn’t want it to matter, but it still mattered to Deacon. He still wasn’t ready, he was still afraid, but he knew the answer. He knew what steps he wanted to take. ‘I want them to know. I want them all to know.’ he just kept laughing to himself. ‘I don’t want to hide myself from them. No more!’

He took a shaky breath. And another, and a third. Each one fogged up the window more and more and was more and more steady. His reflection looked back at him, he looked at himself. He looked like he was going to be okay, he was going to be okay. He texted Kane back.

“Do you want to come over tonight?”

………

The day went by in a blur after that, and Deacon's life went on like it always does. Kane had agreed to coming over and Deacon was doing his best not to panic. He wasn't sure of what he was going to say or do when he was over, but he was trying to stay positive.

He thought of all the times he just jumped into things and his impulsive nature, he thought it was frustrating, Kane said it was part of his charm. He tried to concentrate on the latter.

It was strange seeing his friends throughout the day after he found his resolve. He recognized how before he was scared of them finding out about Kane and in turn about himself, and so hid Kane from them. Now he wanted to tell them about Kane and he was scared to follow through. It was the same fear, yet from an alternative perspective, another view. That made it manageable, he was still snippy and quick to be irritated but he wasn't snapping at anyone's throat. He was just trying to be okay in his own skin. And that made him feel good, like he had a goal to work towards.

Every hour or so he thought 'I'm gay,' just to see how it felt and made him feel. It was a new thought, still unfamiliar to his brain, so contrary to his identity. But there was nothing he felt more sure about. But while it was fine in his mind, it died in his mouth. He couldn't even whisper it lest someone hear.

At lunch, he looked up at the sky. It was the bluest blue he ever saw, the clouds puffy and pillowy, just in all a good day. And he was trying to enjoy it. One of the clouds covered the sun.

"Hi Deacon.." a rather sultry voice called to him. He felt his friends around him turn towards the newcomer, Deacon swallowed, 'Oh, shit.' He didn't recognize the voice and that did not bode well. He tried to keep calm as he turned to look at the stranger.

She was an attractive squirrel, her legs covered in denim pants that hugged her body. A shirt that exposed her midriff and navel piercing and had a low enough cut to show off cleavage. She had stunning eyes with long lashes, green irises looking right at him. She had a lollipop in her mouth and was suggestively licking it every moment or two. A bushy tail that flicked left and right. The entire ensemble mortified Deacon, 'fuck, fuck, fuck.'

"Hello." He answered with a slight smile. This was not the time, not the place he wanted to do this, not here in the courtyard, in front of everyone. Not when he's dealing with his own internal turmoil.

"You know, you're being quite a tease." She said as she walked closer. Deacon shied away, but she took it as an invitation to sit on the bench next to him.

"Oh, am I? About what?" He asked. He fought to keep his voice steady. Around him his friends were trying to be inconspicuous while they looked on. She turned towards him and crossed her legs while leaning in.

"Ha ha, oh Deacon, you don't have to hide it from me. I already know." His blood froze, he felt his throat constrict, his heart kicked into a higher gear.

"Hiding? I'm not-, I'm not hiding anything." He said while shaking his head, his breath was haggard. He shied even further away. 'How could she know?! How did she find out?!'

"You know, you're cute when you get flustered." She was inches away now. Her perfume was strong, it tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze. He couldn't retreat anymore as he was backed up to his friend, Cole. "But, I figured let's cut the crap and just be honest with each other. You like me, I like you, and you've been ignoring my sweet, little text messages." Their thighs were touching now. 'Not good. Not good.' he was leaning into Cole now, anything to get some space from her. "So I came here in person, can't ignore me now." She reached out and placed a hand on his thigh. 'Bad touch!' he screamed as his mind froze, his body locked up, he was breathing so erratically he felt like he was hyperventilating. She petted him, and it just felt wrong. So entirely wrong.

'Move. Move! Move your fucking ass!!' he shouted to his legs and they did a second later. He stood up quickly and took a few steps, they felt like miles of separation, anything to get away from her.

"Look, look. I don't know who you are, but there's clearly a misunderstanding here." He said quickly, desperately.

"Oh, Deacon," she laughed, "you don't need to hide it from me." His habits came out, productive mechanics he developed for years of dealing with people's advances towards himself.

"Look you're very beautiful, but I'm not interested in.. anything to do with you." He said. She bit her lollipop and stood up, she placed her hands on her hips and walked towards him.

"Oh really? Are you just being shy? We both know I'm exactly your type." That line really rubbed him the wrong way, the entire interaction was rubbing him the wrong way. The way everyone was watching the two of them rubbed him the wrong way. A crowd of bystanders was growing. The eyes of dozens of strangers witnessing him at the most vulnerable he's ever felt, it all just rubbed him the wrong fucking way. He felt his anger, the stress of four years of dealing with this crap, having to be polite and nice, four years of anxiety and apprehension of dealing with strangers, afraid of what they wanted from him. The persona that people subjected him to. The person who was afraid to be honest with his friends and family. The person who had no boundaries that he could hold up to keep people from walking all over him. The person he never wanted to be.

No longer, not one fucking second longer. He wasn't going to be complacent in his misery any longer, not when he could do something, anything. He had been feeling too weak for too long! No longer! Kane taught him that, Kane taught him people can change.

'Kane, this is for you!' his mind went calm, his muscles slacked, he stood to his full height, he clenched his fist.

"And what would you know about my type?" He asked, his voice had a strange calmness to it. She actually flinched at the change. The lollipop stick came to a stop as her mouth sat agape. She laughed nervously after a second.

"Well, obviously, you like short, hot women with brown hair. And I tick off every one of those boxes." She said as she gestured to herself. Deacon just shook his head.

"Every word you just said couldn't have been more wrong." He responded. She scoffed.

"Excuse me! What did you just say?!" She said indignantly.

"I said that you are absolutely not my type, and everything you just said was my type couldn't have been more wrong." His repeat was a little louder. She scoffed again, and seemed to finally be aware of the growing crowd around them both.

"What are you talking about? You slept with Carly Dunkirk just three weeks ago. She's-"

"I've never slept with Carly, I don't know who you learned that from. They lied. In fact, anything you've ever heard about me that didn't come from my mouth, you can just forget it. I'm not out here trying to keep up with every damn thing you people say about me. That's impossible! And you know what, since you seem so concerned, I'll tell you, I'll tell you what my type is!" He took a deep breath, a couple dozen pairs of eyes on him.

"My type is someone who I feel safe with, someone who cares for me dearly, someone who recognizes who I am deeper than my skin, my looks, my muscles, or whatever. Someone who doesn't harass me by sending me texts every damn day, someone who won't ambush me at lunch and touch me without consent, someone who doesn't make me uncomfortable to be around, someone who will take no for a fucking answer!" he was breathing heavily, the crowd was silent. The squirrel in front of him was looking very embarrassed, she was stepping back away from Deacon. Deacon settled down. "I wasn't lying earlier. You are very beautiful, but I'm not interested in you, I'll never be interested in you. Go find someone who is and leave me alone."

He turned and headed to grab his bag from next to the bench he was sitting on and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't look at anyone, not his friends, not the crowd, and not the squirrel. The crowd opened up in front of him as he walked away, as calmly as he could manage. He kept his eyes straight ahead until he got to the corner of the building and turned. The moment he didn't feel eyes in him, he was sprinting to his car. 

………

He cried.

He sat in his car, in the highschool parking lot, away from eyes, away from strangers, friends, anyone, and cried.

It's been such an emotional day, and he couldn't keep it together anymore. It was too much, too fucking much.

So he cried, his hands gripped the steering wheel, his head rested on his arms, his tears rolled down his cheeks until they were soaked up by his shirt.

It felt so nice being alone, away from people, he could just be himself, though more and more he wasn't sure what the fuck that meant. He wiped his forearm across his eyes, his nose dripped.

"What the hell?" He asked aloud to no one. No one, of course, answered. "What the hell, Deacon? What the hell?"

He lifted his head and looked around. He didn't see anyone. Just cars baking in the sun. Mirage lines came off their roofs and hoods. He leaned back into the seat, the soft fabric cushioned his back. 'Breathe. Breathe deeply. Breathe. Breathe deeply.'

He fought back against the surges of emotion, he tried to focus on his breath and the things he could feel, touch, hold. The leather of the steering wheel, the pricks of fabric on his neck from the seat cover, the resistance of his body as life-giving breath filled his lungs. He was going to control himself. His sobs subsided and his tears slowed but didn't stop. He laughed at himself. He felt so pathetic, crying in his car like a child, yelling in the courtyard, running away from his classmates, what eighteen year old acted like this? 'Fuck…'

He groaned out loud. God, he was being pathetic, but that wasn't all he was. The gator looked at himself in the rear view mirror and laughed at his reflection. His eyes were red and puffy, streaks of damp channels framed his face, his nose was runny. He looked pathetic, but he felt so much more.

He felt so proud, he felt powerful, he felt broken down sure, but he felt real. For the first time in months he felt like… well, himself. Again, whatever that meant.

"Hi, you." He spoke to the mirror. "You're just all over the damn place today." He sighed at himself. "God, I'm talking to myself." He chuckled while shaking his head.

"But you did it, you stood up for yourself. You didn't lie, you were honest. That was amazing. And I'm-" his voice and lips quivered, his eyes filled with tears again. "I'm so fucking proud of you!" He was crying again. Loud, ugly, honest crying.

In the distance, the bell signaling the end of his lunch period went off. He looked back at the buildings, the bricks that made up his school and he knew he wasn't going back today. Not after everything he's gone through. Hell, he couldn't even begin to process what he's already done let alone adding more to it. He breathed out, and then started the engine.

He didn't have a destination, just away. He drove around his hometown, across asphalt streets and concrete roads. At stop lights he looked at the cars that passed by like ships, as pedestrians crossed streets like boats. Off in their own worlds, their own lives, their own existences. He wished them well, each and every one since for a brief moment they were here in his world.

The lights turned green and he was driving forward. Off into an unknown place.

………

Ring-a-ding. Of course, he came back to Roasta Rica. He wanted to return to that date, to that time where he was with Kane. He felt safe there, like how he wanted to feel. But now he was alone, and while that scared him, he was going to tough it out. He walked up to the counter, ordered his sweet tea, and sat at the same table they did two weeks ago. He remembered how he felt at that time, the emotions he had, apprehension, uncertainty, everything Kane admitted to him that Deacon was also feeling. He sighed out as a rush of unease washed through him, he didn’t want to get swallowed up again, so he remembered what happened next. What he told Kane.

“So let’s just, keep focus on the next step.”

He thought about his new philosophy, he thought about the steps he’s taken, the leaps forward, the struggle of moving onward. And it was a struggle to be sure, but it led to so much more. More joy, more frustration, more highs and lows, so much turbulence. Pros and cons. Goods and bads. ‘Do I regret it?’ He asked himself as he sipped the tea.

It wasn’t a cut and dry answer, and he finished his tea before he had a solid understanding. He gazed at the walls imagining Kane sitting in the corner. He’d have his sketchpad out, a couple of different pencils. His tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. He’d pause his sketching to tap his lips with whatever color he was using. Eyes squinting, observing, noticing, connecting the image in his mind with the one on the page. Deacon was certain he tuned out the world. Maybe with an alt rock album, maybe with a NewtTube video, something. Finding solace with himself and his own mind. Deacon could picture it so vividly and smiled. The Kane in his mind’s eye briefly looked around the cafe before doing a double take, having noticed Deacon was there. He’d be surprised, a bit flustered, but then he’d smile sweetly. He’d beckon Deacon over and tell him about the amazing thing he was drawing, the styles he was trying, the colors he was using to bring life to the lines. Deacon would listen and marvel at his passion, silently nodding while not understanding a damn thing. And it would be perfect.

‘What would Kane say?’ he asked from a different perspective as he looked at the baristas behind the counter. ‘What would Kane say if I asked him if he regretted trying?’ 

“It’s hard, but I’m getting better”.

‘Yeah,’ Deacon mentally agreed, ‘yeah, that’s what he’d say. And if he can do better, so can I!’

He stood up.
……

Deacon found himself up at the vista looking over the town again. The midday sun gave the entire scene a different feeling. Shadows were smaller, more cars buzzed across the highways and thoroughfares. But all of it just looked way too small, just so insignificant. He leaned on the banister and looked across his lands, like a king. He chuckled to himself, everything just moved on, moved forward, moved ahead.

Ahead towards another future, a better place, hopefully.

‘And if it isn’t better, fuck it! I’ll just try another path.’

The world will move on, the world will always move on. ‘And so will I.’ Deacon thought. ‘If I can live through this, I can do anything.’

He stood up and looked up into the sky, the heat of the sun felt pleasantly warm on his skin and his face. He gently closed his eyes and soaked up the energy. He took a couple deep breaths, he came up here to do something. Something brave, something that scared him, something to take a step forward, to be better, something new, something terrifying, something easy, something hard. Something Amazing. He took a deep breath.

“I’M GAY!!!!” He yelled to the world. Upon the precipice of the world he shouted, with all the force he could. His hands clamped down on the banister. Arms and biceps taut with tension. He waited for a response of any kind, an echo from the universe, but there wasn’t any. The world moved on, it didn’t end. He shouted again.

“I’M FUCKING DEACON GALER AND I’M GAY!” And the world didn’t end.

“I’M FUKCING DEACON GALER AND I LOVE YOU, KANE CEROS!!!!” The world did not end.

Cause his world wasn’t out there… Out there was the everyone and everything else that didn’t matter.

The everyone and everything that did matter, they sailed with him wherever he went, wherever he’d go.

He left the lookout point, head held high, heading for home. He decided to bake some cookies for tonight.