Heart to Heart

Noah Keen is just a typical gay teen, living in an American suburb. His old buddy, Elijah Holt, has just come out as gay, and when walking home one day, the two run into each other...

Michelle and I had spent the whole afternoon in the library, ‘studying’. Really, though, we took turns talking about the latest gossip. I didn’t spread gossip, I just liked to hear about. Michelle on the other hand? She was a gossip w***e. Anything that came across her at the lunch table, or in between classes, would be spread around the school by the end of the day. I was lucky, though, because we had known each other since the first grade, which meant that we had what she likes to call ‘best friend status’.

Best friend status was Michelle’s way of saying, “I won’t spill your secrets, if you won’t spill mine. In the meantime, we can party like idiots, and get Starbucks on the weekends.”

We work, she and I. We’re like a well-oiled machine, pumping out the latest, dirty bits of everyone’s life. Caleb Bryant got charged with assault the other day because he hit his girlfriend after she broke up with him. Meghan Young slept with seven different people on the football team, in one night.

Then there was the piece of news that really shocked me, and the piece of news I found myself thinking about while walking home after our ‘study’ session. Apparently, my neighbor Elijah Holt had recently come out as gay to his girlfriend, and she flipped her s**t, whining about how many times they’d kissed, and how many times he’d told her he loved her. Really, though, I think it was all an act. I think she knew, and it was staged by the two.

While the thoughts of Elijah being were just outright ridiculous to me, I could see how it was possible. He always seemed a little more feminine than the other guys on the baseball team. Not that all gays are feminine, of course. I’m not feminine at all. Hell, I’m the opposite of feminine, but there was just something about Elijah. I turned it over in my head while I counted the slabs of concrete in the sidewalk, and by the time I’d gotten near my house, I’d counted seventy-three.

I lived relatively close to the school, I guess. It didn’t bother me much though, because I didn’t have a car like most of the Junior class, and I didn’t have a job either. It was easier for me to live close, because I could just walk to school. It worked for me. While nearing my house, I noticed Elijah sitting on the front step of his porch. We’ve been living next to each other for the past fourteen years. We were never super close, though. A lot changed after I came out in the seventh grade. He stopped talking to me for a while. It wasn’t until Freshman year, ninth grade, that he decided I was worth talking to again.

I offered a wave while I walked up his driveway. He gave me a smile. I took that chance to look him over again. He was about six feet tall, I thought. He’s taller than me by a few inches, but not taller than the theater teacher at the school. That man terrified me. Elijah had blue eyes, I think. They were more gray towards the center, but blue, nonetheless. His hair was a deep brown, almost black. In fact, it could have been black before spring hit, and the sun decided it was going to show its face more often. His lips looked soft, and were curved into his friendly smile, allowing his laugh lines to show, and his dimples to appear in his cheeks. When he smiled, he’d raise his eyebrows, which weren’t crazily bushy, like some of the other guys I know. It looked like he had one of those crazy lunatics with the thread do something with them, which was possible, seeing as he did just come out as gay.

However, I could never seem to draw my eyes away from the scar. It was just below his lip, on the left side. It extended about an inch downward, just touching the top of his chin. I remember the night he’d gotten it, too. I’d been sitting outside on the patio when I’d heard the screaming from across the fence. Being the nosy twelve year-old kid I was, I peaked over the fence and watched as Elijah and his father, Martin, now in prison for domestic and child abuse, as they went into the backyard. Elijah was crying, and his mom, Danielle, was standing in the doorway, pleading with Martin. He told her to, “Shut the f**k up, b***h,” and continued to scream at his son.

Elijah had had enough, it looked like, and he’d tried to shove Martin. I’d never heard anyone scream like Danielle did when Martin had broken the beer bottle on Elijah’s face. I’d told my parents, and I had testified later that summer against Martin, sealing his sentence with the court. He’s in for twenty-five years.

Elijah must have noticed my staring, because he casually set his elbow on his knee, and his face in his palm, effectively hiding the scar. I offered an apologetic smile, and he nodded. It was a thing we did, communicating without words. Maybe it was was because we’d known each other so long. I don’t know. Michelle thought it meant we were destined to be together, but I told her that she was being dramatic.

“Hey, Eli,” I said, standing before him then.

“Hey, Noah. How’s it going,” he asked me.

“Pretty good,” was my response, before I decided to keep going. “So, I heard about…”

“Yeah,” he cut me off.

We stood there for what seemed like a good minute or so, just looking at each other. I looked at the empty space beside him, and then back at him. He nodded. More silent communication, it would seem. He slid over, and I set my bag down, and sat next to him. We stared at the street.

“Why’d you decided to come out,” I asked him, stretching my legs out in front of me, the left on top of the right.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, just felt like the right time, I guess. Why’d you come out?”

“I was tired of lying,” I said to him.

He nodded. This was the most we’d communicated in so long. It was nice to be able to talk to him again, even if it was small talk. If you can call discussing the reasons for coming out of the metaphorical closet small talk, that is. I looked to him. He looked different from the side. More vulnerable. It made me wonder if that’s how Martin always saw him. Vulnerable.

“I went and saw my dad the other day. Told him that I was gay. You know what he said,” he asked me, turning his head to look at me.

Our faces were so close, and his breath smelled like mint. He was chewing gum. The high school kid in me screamed for a piece, but I denied it the satisfaction of ruining a good ‘heart to heart’.

“No idea,” I said.

“He said that he knew there was a reason he beat me all those times. He knew I was just a queer. A f*g. He knew, somehow, that his son would grow up to be gay. Maybe that’s why I came out. To spite that b*****d,” Elijah said, turning his head away from me.

I set my hand on his shoulder, and he looked back at me, and then to my hand. He smiled, sad. I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a hug, but I don’t think that’s what he wanted.

“I’m sorry, Elijah. No one should have to go through that. What’d your mom say,” I asked him, taking my hand away.

He watched it as I set it back in my lap, and then he turned his head quick. He didn’t want to get caught looking there.

“She said that she was proud of me,” he started to say. “She said that I was brave to come out so late into High School, when everything I know could be turned upside down, just because I wasn’t one of the other guys. You’re gay though, right? You still do stuff that the other guys do, right?”

It was like he was looking for reassurance, like I held all the answers to what being a gay teen was like these days. Was it true that I had suffered from bullying because of it? Yes. Was it true that I hadn’t been able to do some of the things I’d wanted to do, just because some of the ‘other guys’ weren’t comfortable around me? Yes, that was true too. It was a constant battle, and there was no way to sugar coat that, but I did know one thing. He’s strong enough to handle it.

“Somewhat,” I began, looking away from his face, and out to the street.

There were weeds springing up from the cracks in the asphalt. I guess that means it’s time for them to repave the roads. That’s always fun, when they decide to do road work in the middle of a subdivision. “I can still wrestle, like I wanted. Only, it’s harder because there are some guys who refuse to face me. That just means I get to win, via the way of forfeit. You play baseball though, so that won’t be an issue. Unless you try to grope the guy on third base. Even then, they have cups for that kind of stuff, right?”

He chuckled. It wasn’t a laugh, but it wasn’t a snicker either. It was funny, but a bad time for jokes. “That’s not what the cups are intended for, Noah. Can you bring another guy to prom?”

An odd question I thought, but then again, I guess it wasn’t entirely random. He was gay now, and prom was coming up fast. Juniors and Seniors could go. I wasn’t paying sixty bucks for a damn ticket, though, and no one had asked me, so it looks like I’m going senior year, rather than junior. “I don’t see why you couldn’t as long as you pay for their ticket. You know what I mean,” I said.

He nodded, a single strand of his hair falling into his vision. I’d never really payed attention to his choice in hairstyle. It reminded me of my own. Combed back, like a wall of hair, standing off his forehead. It was the typical hairstyle for guys these days, I guess. He ran his fingers through his hair then, the rebellious strand of hair set back in place. Elijah looked at me, a question on his face. It seemed to die there, though, as he turned his attention back to the street. A Mazda was speeding down the road, going fifty miles an hour, easy.

“Do you believe that I’m gay? A lot of people are just thinking it’s a publicity stunt, or something. You know, something to get my name out there, or something. A lot of people don’t believe me because I don’t have a boyfriend,” Elijah said, a heavy sigh rushing from his lungs.

I looked at his face. It was so sincere. The question was genuine. It was like he was actually worried that I didn’t believe him. Why wouldn’t I? He’d only dated the same girl for the past three years, whom I had seen him make-out with on more than one occasion. I’d seen cover-ups gone that far before too, though. Hell, I’d heard of gay men in their forties coming out to their wives. It was crazy. “Of course I believe you, Elijah. Coming out as gay isn’t just something you do on a whim for attention. It’s breaking out of the shell that everyone has seen you in for so long. It’s changing your life. In some ways, for the better. In others, for the worse.”

Elijah nodded, hanging on every word I said. The undying urge to hug him was still present, but it was probably just me being sympathetic. He looked at me, big blue eyes staring into mine. I have green eyes. Nothing special about them, except for the flecks of gold around my pupils. We just silently stared into one another’s eyes. It wasn’t awkward, either. It felt… Right, almost. It was like we were supposed to be here, in this spot, at this exact moment. He looked away first.

“That was…” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

We lapsed back into a silence. It was a recurring thing, like a cycle. Usually it wouldn’t bother me, but I just couldn’t quiet my mind. Why was he telling me all this? Why was he asking me these questions? There are plenty of other guys in the school who are gay. Why not go to them? Why not ask them? “Why’d you decided to talk to me,” I asked him finally.

He looked at me, confused again. We locked eyes, and he held my stare while he talked. I could see his mouth moving, out of the corner of my eye, but nothing could take me away from his eyes. They held my gaze like a mouse in a trap. “Because I trust you, Noah. You’re the first person I thought of when I realized how I felt. I don’t know why… I’d always had an attraction towards you, I guess. I think that’s why I felt uncomfortable talking to you for those few years. I feel really bad about that, by the way. Uh,” he paused, rambling.

I let him regain his train of thought. There was a nervous bead of sweat on just above his brow. I didn’t really get why he was so nervous. It was just us, Noah and Elijah, friends since before anyone can remember. We were the dynamic duo, once upon a time. We were best friends, once upon a time. “Uh,” he started. “I think I stopped talking to you, not because I was uncomfortable with you, but I was uncomfortable in my own skin. There was something tugging at me. Then, freshman year, I realized that I was stupid, and I tried to start talking to you again. We hung out a couple times, but it was nothing too grand. Nothing like the trouble we used to get into.”

He wasn’t wrong. Him mentioning the trouble we used to get into brought back a memory in particular. It happened in fourth grade. We were let out of school early because the holidays were fast approaching, and Christmas break was starting. We’d rode the bus home together, after school, every day, for all of elementary school, sixth grade, and the beginning of seventh. I’d come out after that.

He and I had gotten off the bus, trying not to slip on the ice that was beginning to form, as a result of the stupid thing I’d done the morning before. We decided that we were going to hang out at my house, because Martin was off today, and Elijah didn’t want to go home. He still had to ask if it was okay, though. When he did, Martin had said no, against Danielle’s encouragement for him to say yes. I’d left after that, because Martin started yelling.

Later, I was sitting on my bed, reading, or something. I can’t remember the exact details. There was a tapping sound on my window. I’d gotten up to go look to see what it was. Elijah was standing at my window, shivering. He’d been locked out of the house, in one of Martin’s tantrums. I let him in, and my mom made us hot chocolate, and my dad had put on an old Christmas movie for us to watch. My parents were cool like that. Later that night, around two o’clock or so, Martin had come over, pounding on our door. He wanted Elijah to come back home now. My parents wouldn’t have it. He was staying right where he was.

Elijah tried to sneak out my bedroom window, so that my family wouldn’t face Martin Phillips’ wrath. My mom caught him, and scolded him like a real parent should. She firmly told him to get his a*s back in the house, and go lay down on the couch. It was late. He’d done as he was told, and lied on the couch. I’d curled into a ball in my dad’s chair. He’d stayed there all night, and when Martin threw a rock at our front room window, we’d called the cops. That was the first time he’d gone to prison. He’d only gotten a year, though. He was back for Christmas next year.

Elijah seemed to know what memory I was reminiscing over. He smiled. “That was a good night, you know. First time I knew that you and your folks. You guys were good people. I miss those days, you know. When we’d stay up all hours of the night, just talking about the most random a*s s**t.”

I nodded. I missed them too. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

We looked at each other again. It was just another lapse we’d fallen into. We’d take turns taking glances at the other, and then turn our attention back to the street. Then, there would be times where we’d just look at each other, staring. This time was different. He came close this time. Our lips touched, and I could stop my eyes from fluttering closed. We sat there, for a few moments, before he pulled back. I opened my eyes to see his blushing face, turned away from me. I scooted closer to him. Was this happening?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just… I thought…”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Was it bad,” he asked.

I tried to hide my smile. It wasn’t bad. It was the complete opposite. I’d often wondered how kissing him would feel. Even after it happened, it was hard to comprehend. His lips were softer than I’d imagined, and he was warm. I’d only kissed someone when it was cold, and we were playing truth or dare, like a bunch of idiots. Even then, they were girls. This was something different completely. I couldn’t explain it. It just felt… Right. “No. It wasn’t bad.”

He seemed to be relieved. That didn’t mean he was not uncomfortable, though. I’d gotten the feeling that there was something bothering him still. He’d just kissed me, so it’s possible that he’s just embarrassed. I don’t know why, it’s not like it wasn’t obviously going to happen. He had so many questions, it was only a matter of time before he acted on an impulse. I’d gone through that phase too, only I’d never gotten the chance to test out my theory.

It hit me then. I’d never had my real, first kiss before Elijah. None that I’d count, anyway. I’d had a ‘girlfriend’ in seventh grade, before coming out, and we’d kissed before. I think her name was Julia, or something. She moved away a couple of years ago. I couldn’t help but snicker then. Elijah looked at me like I was crazy. “Sorry,” I started to explain. “I just realized that… Technically, you just gave me my first kiss. My first gay kiss, anyway.”

His cheeks flared a deeper shade of red then. It was incredibly cute, the way he got embarrassed like that. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he looked at me, anxious. I slid closer, and he looked away again. “Elijah, look at me.”

He did, and I kissed him again. It was even softer than before. It wasn’t rushed. He wasn’t panicking. It was just him and I. The idiots speeding down the road didn’t matter. School didn’t matter. We didn't care if anyone saw. It was just him and I. Together.

They say that it’s easy to fall in love with your best friend. I’d never thought it could happen to me, but it did. I only wish it could have happened sooner. Elijah and I went out a few times after that, before I finally asked him to ‘go steady’. He called me an old fashioned nerd, but I’d always loved the way they’d did it in the past, not like how it is today. Someone says “You wanna’ go out with me,” and if the answer is yes, you’re instantly a couple. What if that first date goes terrible. You’re not breaking up yet, because you were never technically together… I don’t know, people will be people.

Elijah and I said f**k the world, and went to Prom. My school had changed the rules so that when he won Prom King, I got to get a crown too, only I won some stupid title, like Duke of the Dance, or something. It was dumb, but it was nice of them. Michelle won Prom Queen, of all people. I don’t know how. She probably blackmailed everyone.

To summarize, I started my life with the mentality that everyone had to be like everyone. There was no in-between. There were no shades of gray. Everything was either black or white. That’s not true, though, because as we evolve as a race, and as a society, we’ve been able to learn that we are all the same, but we’re all different, too. I showed Elijah that through my love for him. It got me thinking, though. What if I tried to help other people that weren’t loved? Who needed a place to crash when their parents were psychos, or when they didn’t have anywhere else to turn. Could I really make a difference, like I did for Elijah, and Michelle, and everyone else I’d helped? Could I really make someone’s life better?

There’s a point in life, I think, when we should all take a long, hard look at our life, and see if we’re doing it right. Are we doing all that we could, to make the world around us a better place? If the answer is no, then I’d say it’s time get off your a*s, and to go make a change.

My name is Noah Keen, and I am a gay teenager. I do what I want, and I don’t care what those stuck up a*s hats think. I am my own person, and if they have a problem with that, they can go f**k themselves, because they don’t have to like me. Only I have to like me. It helps if my boyfriend likes me, too, but… You know that struggle.