Chapter Text
11:56am
“Okay, okay, slow down!” Andy chuckled amidst Beau’s excited rambling. She brought her palm to her lips, shielding him from the sight of her chewing a cafeteria ham and cheese sandwich as they strolled through an empty corridor. “You’re auditioning for what again?”
“This music producer from LA is holding auditions for his next big hit!” Beau exclaimed as he swiped a promotional flyer from his leather rucksack bag and pointed at the address of the audition venue. “It’s happening this afternoon at The Paramount in Huntington. Signups are until five o’clock.” Andy reached for the poster in Beau’s hand, pensively narrowing her eyes at the man dressing the paper with his unusually villainous pose. It worried her how she couldn’t see the look in the man’s eyes past his indistinctly branded designer sunglasses. What lies and deceit could he possibly be hiding behind those tinted lenses?
“I don’t know about this, Beau, this guy looks kinda sketchy,” Andy remarked out of concern. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been raving about this all week!” Beau retorted, the back of his hand meeting the promotional flyer with a sharp flick to punctuate his words. “Have you even seen the commercial on TV?”
“I guess not. Sorry, maybe I’ve just been a little distracted lately,” Andy apologized admittedly, looking a tad spaced out as she clung to the strap of her corduroy crossbody bag.
“Only a little? Little Miss Shakespeare thinks she’s only been a little distracted?” Beau jested with a playful nudge and a hearty chuckle.
Andy, rightfully frustrated by that teasing nickname, nudged Beau back twice as hard. His confused expression of mild pain and discomfort was met with the daggers Andy shot at him through the sharp, cold, unforgiving stare in her narrowing eyes. Beau’s face soured and his shoulders shot up like rockets in a fearful response.
“You proud of yourself for coming up with that one?” Andy sneered. “Well, guess what, smart guy. Shakespeare wrote plays, not novels!”
“Same diff…” Beau exhaled defeatedly.
Andy groaned and rolled her eyes. The disapproving shake of her head was faint but noticeable. Though Beau’s teasing and evident lack of education was the least of her problems.
“Anyway, about this audition,” Andy continued. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“What do you mean?” Beau asked with a quirked brow.
“Remember the audition you were super psyched about last year? It was the exact same circumstances—some big shot music producer from LA looking for his next big hit who just so happens to be holding auditions at the Paramount. Doesn’t that seem a little uncanny to you?”
“Not really, why?” Beau replied absentmindedly.
“If you want to do this, you have to be sure about it. This is a serious endeavor!” Andy warned sternly.
“C’mon, Andy, do I not seem serious about this?” Beau retorted nonchalantly with a scoff of disbelief on the rise.
“Beau, I swear,” Andy grumbled, grinding to a halt and taking Beau by the wrist. “If you’re serious about this audition, promise me you’ll see it through this time!”
Beau trembled slightly, recognizing Andy’s austere tone and the earnestness that followed her words like a wolf leading its pack. She was right to speak up, but Beau hated how ashamed he felt from being called out like this. It was his own fault, though. He’d gotten his hopes up about the previous music producer he was so eager to audition for only to waste his chance to hang out with some stupid boy.
Beau tried convincing himself that his lapse in judgement wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Sure that audition was a once in a lifetime opportunity, the kind of opportunity he felt he’d waited his whole life for. It was the chance to chase his lifelong dream and finally reach his full potential. Anyone with half a brain would have grabbed that dream with both hands and seized their chance. But if he chose to spend his time with a dreamy bass guitar-playing, grey wool beanie-wearing, bad attitude-having boy then it had to have been for a good reason. Right?
In shaking his head and snapping back to reality, Beau stared troublingly at the girl clinging to his wrist like a lifebuoy in the deep end of a pool. That solemn look in her eyes spoke painfully louder than any plea she could muster.
“Promise me, Beau,” Andy implored. “Promise me you’re not going to pass up this opportunity again for… Jordan.”
Andy’s voice dipped when speaking Jordan’s name, making her disdain known to the world by lacing her voice with venom. It was almost unnerving how different his name sounded on the tip of her tongue as opposed to the rest of her words. It was a shame. Beau liked him a great deal, but every word Andy heard about him ran her patience thinner and thinner.
“But…” Beau uttered hesitantly.
“Beau, promise me!” Andy cried. “If this dream means anything to you, promise me you won’t let him stand in the way. I don’t care how much you like him, you’re too talented and ambitious to throw away a once in a lifetime opportunity twice.”
Andy promptly released Beau from her grip and nervously clutched her juniper green cardigan. She felt awkward about speaking up and putting her foot down, but she feels she’s been assigned the role of the voice of reason in Beau’s life. She normally dissuades him from making far less significant decisions like drinking vanilla iced coffee instead of eating breakfast or purchasing the same pair of corduroy cargo pants in every color under the sun despite only wearing green or brown. This felt like life and death in comparison. Andy’s pleas were tough pills to swallow, but Beau set his trepidations aside and recognized that each word his dear friend spoke rang eerily true. Too much so for him to simply ignore.
“Okay, I promise,” Beau nodded.
“Thank you,” Andy sighed in relief as she inched closer to Beau and ensnared him in a gentle hug.
She hooked her arms under his and clung to the muscles where his shoulders and his back met. He returned the gesture, locking his arms around her neck and under her curls. Beau leaned his chin on Andy’s shoulder and dressed the ends of his face with a faint grin.
“Make me proud, okay?” Andy uttered lowly.
“You know I will,” Beau replied in a similarly low tone.
The two pulled away slowly after one final squeeze, looking at each other with kindred smiles as they stuffed their hands in their pockets and chuckled the awkwardness into oblivion.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Beau remarked thankfully.
“Be glad you’re stuck with me then,” Andy quipped in response.
Chuckling warmly from the delight of Andy’s presence and wit, Beau hooked his arm around her shoulder and loosely held her at his side. They continued strolling down an empty corridor in each other’s company.
“So tell me,” Beau began, hoping to pick the novelist’s brain, “This story you’ve been working on lately, what’s it about?”
“Oh, c’mon, you don’t want to hear about all that,” Andy dismissed with the shake of her head and an embarrassed upward curl of her lips that shaped the airy scoff she released.
“But I do!” Beau rebutted, snapping his head in Andy’s direction to look her square in the face as he refuted her claim. “If you think I don’t want to hear about what you’ve been up to, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
The songwriter playfully nudged Andy’s side, lightly this time as to not upset her, and shook her shoulder in his friendly grasp. Andy couldn’t avoid the chortles and chuckles that erupted in the quietest parts of her voice. Beau’s camaraderie was admittedly infectious.
“Can I at least get a sneak peek?” Beau suggested optimistically.
“Absolutely not, you won’t hear a single detail until it’s finished,” Andy insisted. “Besides, this story isn’t like my usual works of fiction. You could say that it’s… based on real events.”
“That sounds like a detail to me!” Beau remarked in a sing-songy voice.
“Shh, okay! Don’t get too excited ‘cause that’s all you’re getting from me,” Andy hushed, her open palms gesturing in opposite directions. “Boo, you’re no fun!” Beau whined as he stuck out his tongue with a childlike sneer.
A lighthearted chuckle found its way past Andy’s lips as she shook her head at Beau’s endearingly immature display. The two teens continued their on-campus stroll, passing a tunnel’s length of closed doors and poorly painted walls.
“Hey, so that commercial you were telling me about, the one I apparently haven’t seen,” Andy peeped lowly. “Would you mind showing it to me? Just so I can get a good enough idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”
Beau’s face, now fully lit like a Christmas tree, alerted Andy of his incoming excitement. The curve of his smile twinkled like a string of fairy lights, and instantly, Andy knew she’d set off fireworks in the pit of her best friend’s heart. “I thought you’d never ask,” Beau breathed joyfully as he took his novelist pal by the hand and rushed in the other direction as if to take flight with the spring in his mighty step.
“W-Wait, where are we going?!” Andy squawked in confusion as she struggled to keep up.
“To the library, duh!” Beau exclaimed heartily.
Beau’s muddy brown Converse chucks squeaked against the linoleum floor with each hurried step while Andy’s combat boots thumped closely behind with no discernible beat or rhythm. Their bookbags rose and fell as they trailed behind them with sounds of rummaging and ruffling. The occasional wandering teen or two stood in their away, causing Beau and Andy to dodge and duck on their way across the hall. Beau came to an abrupt stop the second they crossed the threshold from the corridor into the library.
“Okay, now we just have to get to the—!” Beau began to exclaim, his voice trailing off due to the vigilant ‘shhhh’ of the librarian with silvery roots sprouting from her shoulder-length platinum blonde bob.
“Sorry!” Beau whispered apologetically as he tucked his head in between his shoulders. “Now we just have to find a vacant computer. There’s bound to be an upload of the commercial somewhere on SchmoopTube.”
“You go ahead, I should probably return a couple books since we’re here,” Andy declared. “Call me over when you have it pulled up.”
Beau nodded in understanding and quickly fled to the row of desks upon which an array of Dell desktop computers operating on Windows 7 sat. Andy sauntered over to the librarian’s desk as she retrieved a pair of books from her corduroy crossbody bag.
“Hello, Ms. Ingram,” Andy grinned amidst the click-clack typing of the librarian’s scarlet red acrylic nails, lowering her books to the edge of the desk.
“Well, if it isn’t Andrea Williams. How are you, sweetheart?” Ms. Ingram replied as she pushed her reading glasses farther up on the bridge of her nose with her middle finger and took the pair of books from Andy’s hands. “Were those Ned Vizzini novels worth the read?” Andy tucked her lips inward, creating an awkwardly symmetrical line stretching across her face. She never cared too much for her given name. The sound of it on anyone’s lips, even those she favored, provided an odd sensation; a tingle of discomfort. Perhaps even a pinch of disgust. Despite that, she stuffed those feelings away in the trash bin of her mind and kept things civil.
“Yes, thank you,” Andy replied with a slight bow of her head. “Especially ‘Be More Chill’. It’s a shame it isn’t more popular, but I suppose young adult literature tends to be a bit edgy.”
“Give it a few years, things can change,” Ms. Ingram chuckled as she checked the Ned Vizzini novels back into the system.
Her fingers dipped and dove into her clacky keyboard, and she set the books aside on a rolling cart among the other returned library books. The second her eyes returned to their forward direction, she glanced past Andy and saw Beau beaming at the computer screen he sat particularly close to. His smile was infectious and his eyes were wide open with a blinding twinkle in his big brown irises.
“That friend of yours looks absolutely thrilled,” Ms. Ingram remarked with a chuckle. “Is he always like that?”
“Who, Beau?” Andy inquired with a quirked brow. She turned her head and looked back at Beau. Every fiber in his face was positively glowing with excitement and joy. He appeared to be entranced by the promotional commercial for his audition at the Paramount and watching it without beckoning Andy to his side. She felt a warm, fuzzy, tingly sensation of pride buzzing in the depths of her heart. A tender grin graced her lips as she turned back to face Ms. Ingram.
“No, he’s just excited about this audition he has at the Paramount later this afternoon,” Andy answered with a sigh. “He says the promotional commercial for it is on the internet somewhere and wants to show it to me.”
“Oh, how wonderful! He’s always been quite the talented boy, hasn’t he? Every year when the talent show rolls around I tend to hear such great things about him. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken up musical theater, though. He seems to have the knack for it.”
“That’s Beau for you. He prefers to perform independently. There’s just something about the spotlight that triggers a certain level of confidence in him.”
“Isn’t that something?” Ms. Ingram grinned, grabbing hold of her ceramic mug and taking a sip of her afternoon tea. “It’s quite the coincidence you mentioned this audition because my daughter was telling me about a similar one the other day. I caught a glimpse of the commercial on my television one night while she was watching TMZ and the music producer they interviewed wore this very expensive-looking silver suit and designer sunglasses with particularly dark tinted lenses.”
“You’re kidding,” Andy scoffed in disbelief. “That’s the same exact guy Beau showed me on a promotional flyer.”
“Small world!” Ms. Ingram chuckled as she set her mug down beside her computer keyboard. “I’m not sure what it was, but something about him felt a little… off. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“So, you felt it, too? I had the exact same feeling when I first saw him, like, something in my gut told me something wasn’t right,” Andy confessed. “Though, for Beau’s sake, I was kind of hoping I’d be wrong.”
“It’s best never to ignore that feeling,” Ms. Ingram advised. “You never know when intuition might save you.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Andy sighed, looking back at Beau once more as she nervously twiddled her fingers in the sleeves of her cardigan. “But he’s really excited about this. He’s been waiting his whole life for this kind of opportunity. It’s a miracle this is the second time he’s been granted such an opportunity because he passed it up the first time.”
“Well, the music industry can be pretty tough to break into and can be quite dangerous when you’re still so young. It’s a risky game to play.”
“So, what should I do?”
“I’m afraid there’s not much you can do from your position.”
Andy sighed defeatedly, not feeling very assured by Ms. Ingram’s words. She’d hate for Beau to fail, but even worse, she’d hate for him to regret seizing his chance. The novelist nervously gripped the strap of her corduroy crossbody bag with both hands as her eyes nervously darted across the floor.
“I wouldn’t worry too much, though, sweetheart. Assuming your friend has a loving and supportive family—as one should expect to have—they will give him the proper guidance he needs to navigate this field should he succeed,” Ms. Ingram assured. “And with presumably an abundance of determination, ambition, and raw talent, I’d say success is highly likely.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Andy agreed.
“But if things don’t work out then perhaps it just isn't his time,” Ms. Ingram continued. “No matter what happens, all you can really do is be there for him and trust that he has the judgement to make the right choices.”
“Yo, Andy!” Beau cried from across the room with the raise of his hand after finally breaking free from his trance.
“Keep that voice down, young man,” Ms. Ingram warned with a sharp look.
“Sorry!” Beau squeaked.
Andy and Ms. Ingram shared a kindred sigh as they shook their heads in unison. Having heard the librarian’s words of wisdom, Andy felt a little less anxious about Beau’s opportunity and the circumstances it could bring about. But her worries never truly went away.
“He’s lucky to have a friend like you, y’know,” Ms. Ingram remarked. “It’s refreshing to see such a nice young girl like yourself care so deeply about someone else.”
“You think so?” Andy inquired hopefully.
“I know so,” Ms. Ingram replied with absolute certainty. “Go on, now, he’s waiting. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I already have.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ingram,” Andy grinned as she began to turn away.
“Oh, one more thing, Andrea,” Ms. Ingram called out with the slight outward stretch of her hand.
“Yes?” Andy peeped as she turned her head back to face the librarian.
“Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck.”
Andy’s grin grew wider. She was far more grateful than she could express for this exchange. The novelist recognized that while she couldn’t aid Beau in his endeavors and protect him from harm, her love and support was more than enough to help get him by.
“I will.”
With that, Andy scuttled across the library and sat at Beau’s side with her bag atop her lap. She had much to think about, but there’s a time and place for everything. It wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer for some much needed introspection.
“You were over there for a while. What were you guys talking about?” Beau wondered.
“Just books and stuff,” Andy answered plainly. “Play the commercial already.”
“Okay, okay, check this out!” Beau giggled as he clicked the replay button.
12:27pm
A swarm of boys ranging from exuberant to indifferent flooded the gym locker room. It was the general consensus of the student body that running the mile was more of a chore than anything, but the occasional handful of aspiring athletes were hard to miss with their budding enthusiasm to impress gym teachers and coaches alike.
Beau stood before his box-like gym locker with his leather rucksack bag sitting on the bench behind him as he pulled his uniform gym shirt over his head and onto his torso. He tugged at the hemline, pulling the fabric over his waist and letting it sit as low as it could reach.
Suddenly, he felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. It was strange and inexplicable. It wasn’t like any boy in particular out of the dozens minding their own business were staring him down. The wandering eyes, the idle chatter, the boys entering and exiting in clusters—it felt as though there was one among the rest with ill intentions blending into the crowd and lurking in his peripheral vision.
As Beau shut the door to his gym locker and tried with every fiber in his being to shake off the anxiety he couldn’t quite place or explain, a sudden tap on his shoulder caused everything in him to jump. An embarrassingly shrill yelp escaped him like a prisoner breaking free of his chains that befuddled the student behind him.
“Uhm… I think you dropped this?” The passerby uttered with newfound uncertainty as he held out a folded piece of paper for Beau to take.
The trembling boy’s voice broke into pieces. His eyes swung back and forth between the student and the folded paper like a pendulum, trying desperately to rebuild Beau’s state of being with each swing. A breathy, barely audible ‘thank-you’ managed to slip past his lips as he hastily retrieved the paper from the passerby and watch as he scuttled away with a look that connoted a mixture of discomfort and perplexity.
An apologetic frown developed in the downward curves of Beau’s face. He looked down at the paper his fingers were digging into and unfolded it as the crowd fled to begin their classes. The curly short-haired music producer dressed in his polyester silver suit stared him straight in the face far beyond the tinted lenses of his designer sunglasses.
Beau felt an odd weight on his chest, the weight of determination and ambition squeezing his heart and pumping blood through his veins. He focused intently on the promotional flyer, his brows furrowing and eyes narrowing in thought. Whatever worries lay dormant in the crevices of his mind had no place there. At least not now. Beau couldn’t afford to be anxious today. He stuffed the flyer in the side pocket of his bookbag and marched out of the locker room to join his class outside.
Students in fluctuating masses exited the gymnasium and made their way to the track field at varying speeds. Some walked, some ran, some sprinted, and some barely moved at all. Beau jogged to the starting line of the carmine-red ring of synthetic asphalt beneath his feet. He gazed at the horizon, his vision painting a fluid picture of his surroundings, colors blending and voices muffling.
Beau felt hopeful, confident, pumped. You’d never think it from the stillness of his face, but the tiniest twinkle of determination would flicker in his eyes if you looked close enough. He put one foot forward and jogged along the path of parallel white stripes. The occasional autumn breeze ghosted against his face and teased his hair, causing it to dance to its rhythm and flow like the streaming waters of a river.
Amidst his jogging, Beau pictured his future. A vivid representation of what he craved the most played in his mind. He saw himself up on the Paramount’s monumental stage, a rainbow of colored lights casting its glow on his skin. His fingers shimmied and swayed across the fretboard of his electric guitar and its steel-colored strings. The sounds of music engulfed him. It was the blood in his veins, the breath in his lungs, and the twinkle in his eyes.
He waltzed across the stage with his guitar as his anchor, wowing the silver-suited music producer and a roaring crowd of adoring fans behind him. Beau’s voice, soft like velvet yet powerful like lightning, ensnared the hearts of his audience as he serenaded them with the lyrics to a Green Day song.
Every star in Beau’s sky had aligned in that moment to show him a glimpse of what his life could be like. He loved what he saw, what he heard, what he felt. The taste of fame seemed to be just out of arm’s reach. The determined boy raced forward, his sneakers stomping against the track with each step with the wind in his hair and the huffing breaths in his lungs.
He chased after his dream with his arm outstretched to grab hold of the glimpse the world graced him with. Beau was too focused to notice the myriad of students tunneling behind him and fading into the distance. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, sprinting between the bounds of the parallel white lines and leaping toward success with every step.
Just as Beau was about to reach the end of the line and clutch his dream with everything he had, he was jerked backward and pulled underneath the bleachers. If the sudden force hadn’t been careful, the ambitious boy could’ve hit his head on the way under.
Beau’s eyes slowly crept open to reveal his new surroundings. They remained open wide from the sight of the boy who interrupted his victory lap. He wore a grey wool beanie that was only seasonally appropriate and nothing more. His satiny brunette bangs peeked through the fold of wool in the center of his forehead. Additionally, he wore an array of silvery, metallic jewelry—rings, bracelets, necklaces—all of which he was specifically instructed to never wear with his gym uniform.
Beau’s heart drummed in his chest with a feeling he couldn’t quite place. A mixture of attraction and anxiety; a blur between the two, a stirring of the faintly similar emotions that made them eerily indistinct. He convinced himself that his trembling hands, shaky breath, slurred speech, and other signs of nerves were all a manifestation of infatuation when, truthfully, Beau wasn’t entirely sure.
He knew for certain that he liked the way this boy looked. The tortured artist was an archetype that curled his toes and knocked the breath out of his lungs. Additionally, Beau adored the way this boy spoke to him. His velvety, honeyed, slightly gruff voice whispering the words that tied his stomach in knots and had his heart in the palm of his alternatively accessorized hand. But did he fear this boy? No, that’d be ridiculous. Beau was positively heads over heels for the student he had the privilege of calling his boyfriend. It’d be silly to fear a painfully handsome sweet talker like him. Wouldn’t it?
“J-Jordan!” Beau squeaked nervously, his previous confidence and self assurance washing away.
“Hey there, track star,” Jordan quipped with a sideways smirk. “That was some run you had going on there.”
Beau’s lips parted slightly but betrayed him with the absence of sound. His voice hid in the pits of his throat like a turtle slinking into its shell. Jordan looked at him with a quirked brow and tilted head. He listened intently for the words Beau couldn’t say. In its own way, Jordan believed such behavior to be cute and endearing. He believed he left Beau speechless with his presence alone and that inflated his ego a great deal. But there seemed to be an additional layer of emotion that he’d not yet recognized. Upward curling brows, hands balled into jittery fists, awkwardly feigned grin—could Beau possibly be… nervous?
“Woah, what’s up with you?” Jordan inquired, slightly concerned. “You don’t seem all that jazzed to see me.”
“W-What? No!” Beau retorted instinctively, feeling the need explain himself to Jordan’s satisfaction. “O-Of course I’m happy to see you! You just… caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Aww, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jordan cooed as he graced Beau’s cheek with a kiss, one hand cupping his chin and the other finding purchase on his waist in doing so. “I just didn’t catch you in the locker room earlier, so I had to come see you.”
“Did you have to pull me away from the track, though?” Beau whined in protest.
“How else would I get you all to myself, Beau?” Jordan chuckled as the hand cupping Beau’s chin made its descent and mirrored the hand on Beau’s waist. “I can’t exactly kiss you out on the track, can I?”
“I guess not,” Beau peeped impartially, following Jordan’s lead by slinking his hands up to his chest.
He felt a little disappointed. It’s not that Beau didn’t enjoy Jordan kissing him. He’d grown quite accustomed to talking Andy’s ear off about the arsenal of verbal weaponry Jordan used to eliminate the walls guarding the very heart he held in the palm of his hand right before experiencing the kiss of a lifetime. But perhaps he’d enjoy it more if Jordan was more conversational and had better interpersonal skills. Kissing him used to feel thrilling and even a tad intoxicating. But as of late, it’s felt more shallow than anything.
Beau used to think he was living in some kind of fairytale. He didn’t care if Jordan was dismissive, inconsiderate, or selfish. That boy made him feel wanted, desired, alive. It may seem like an incredibly low bar in retrospect, and Andy never failed to make that point whenever the moment called for it. But Beau constantly debated the legitimacy of his uncertainty. He didn’t like to discuss these feelings or place any blame on Jordan because such talk was typically poorly received. In rare cases, it was even thrown right back at him. It was too risky to voice any of these thoughts, so Beau determined that keeping silent was the best course of action for now.
“C’mon now, don’t get all spaced out on me,” Jordan jested with a playful grin. “Where’s that smile I love?”
Every fiber in Beau’s face sprang up like upward perk of a dog’s ears. His brows rose, his eyes snapped open wide, his lips parted as if to thank Jordan for the arbitrary words that pulled him out of the whirlwind of spiraling thoughts. But he remained silent. All Beau cared about was having something, anything at all, that Jordan loved. That alone resuscitated his dwindling attraction toward the beanie-wearing boy and his elementary-level flattery. At least, for a moment.
Beau’s lips curled upward, lifting his cheeks and providing his face with some long overdue color. A kindred grin of satisfaction sat upon the throne of Jordan’s face as he gazed longingly and greedily at the songwriter before him.
“There it is, there’s my favorite smile,” Jordan lulled like the sound of a siren’s song.
Like a wildcat stalking its prey, slowly and silently waiting for the perfect time to strike, Jordan dove forward and ensnared Beau’s lips in furtive kiss. Despite the secrecy of their rendezvous, Jordan channeled all of his energy into clinging to Beau like a crutch. His hands found the small of the songwriter’s back and urged him to inch closer, minimizing the sliver of space between their bodies.
Beau sunk his fingers into Jordan’s uniform gym shirt, using it as an anchor to maintain his footing while caged into the sweet talker’s embrace. His enjoyment gradually waned like the moon at the end of its cycle. The only difference was there was no repeat or loop. Once Beau’s attraction for Jordan in this moment took a dip, it didn’t come back up. His grip loosened, his muscles tensed, and his voice dragged. Jordan eventually got the hint and pulled away with a look that told Beau he was greatly offended.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not into this?” Jordan snarled.
“W-What?” Beau mumbled nervously.
“Am I doing something wrong? Am I not attractive to you or something? Is that it?” Jordan snapped as he dramatically gestured with his hands in the air.
“Of course you’re attractive, Jordan!” Beau refuted in an attempt to quell his boyfriend’s animosity.
“Then what the hell’s the matter with you?!” Jordan roared without a second thought. “You’re supposed to my boyfriend. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Beau remained silent and still, trembling and on the verge of tears. He had no idea what to do with himself when Jordan got like this. His bouts of anger were frightening and oftentimes paralyzing. There wasn’t a single thing Beau could say or do to to ease Jordan back into a sense of normalcy, so all he could do was let his anger run its course and profusely apologize once he’d calmed down.
“Well?!”
“I’m… sorry,” Beau muttered with glassy eyes as he nervously crumpled the hem of his uniform gym shirt in both hands.
“Well, sorry isn’t going to cut it this time. I’m sick and tired of you withholding affection. Do you have any idea how damaging that is?” Jordan continued. “I have needs, Beau. Needs that I can always find someone else to fulfill if you can’t give me the affection I deserve.”
“Then I’ll kiss you again if that’s what you want!” Beau pleaded, “Let me try again. I won’t complain or hold back or anything.”
Just as Beau made his offer, the shrill cry of a brass whistle alerted the students to retreat to the gymnasium and end the class. Disappointment and dismay ensued as a result as the songwriter’s saving grace failed him. His choices were very limited now. He needed a last resort.
“There’s no time now, just forget it,” Jordan grumbled as he began to storm off.
Paralyzed by being belittled and berated, everything in Beau shook. He was emotionally restless. There had to be a way to win Jordan back and forget this ever happened. This would go against his better judgement and Andy’s very clear warnings, but he refused to lose Jordan like this.
“Wait!” Beau cried out to cling desperately to the final shred of Jordan’s attention. “We could always meet after school, right? Y’know in the auditorium like we used to.”
“I’m listening,” Jordan purred with intrigue as he turned to fully face Beau once again.
“I was gonna go to the auditorium anyway to practice my guitar. I was hoping you’d join me because…” Beau mustered, screwing up his chances at practicing alone before his audition. “I really want to spend time with you. I’ve missed you.”
A villainous grin stretched across Jordan’s face. It may have seemed harmless to anyone else, but to Beau, it was as if the devil himself was smiling at him. He did his best to swallow any misgivings or anxiety he had toward his offer to Jordan and bury them for his benefit. Thankfully, Jordan had finally calmed down and relinquished the flame to his once incandescent fury.
“You just read my mind,” Jordan grinned, closing the gap between them once more and returning his hand to its rightful throne beneath Beau’s chin. With a narrow-eyed glance that cut him down to size, Jordan pressed a quick, chaste kiss onto Beau’s lips. “So, I guess I’ll see you at three.”
“I guess you will,” Beau breathed, his voice still slightly trembling albeit quieter now.
“Don’t be late," Jordan warned as he turned on his heel and walked away among the remaining crowd of students retreating to the gymnasium. He left utterly satisfied and looked forward to the mid-afternoon far more than he ought to.
Meanwhile Beau stayed under the bleachers, slowly lowering himself to the ground with his palms in his face and his voice cracking while he fought back a sob. He hugged his knees and curled up atop the synthetic grass as regret and anguish swallowed him whole.
“What have I gotten myself into…?” Beau mustered.