Somewhere, the sun’s hanging high, shining away brilliantly like the great ball of fire it is. Somewhere, you can see the birds having all the fun, soaring against the blue sky like props against sapphire drapes. Somewhere, a million brilliant things were happening, oblivious to any bystander, but these brilliant things weren’t happening here. The sun, the sky, the birds – all was hidden behind tall buildings and leafy trees. It was autumn and the leaves had already started to fall, scattering the lawn and forming a colourful carpet beneath the feet of a little girl.

The little girl sat on the thick plastic seat of a park swing, the toes of her little shoes dipping into the sand as she slowed down. Her cherry-red dress billowed slightly with every small gust of wind, also ruffling her curly, auburn hair. Warm brown eyes looked around with curiosity at the kids who played around her. She was too shy to get up and talk to them, but longed to do so anyways. Nevertheless, her tiny hands only tightened around the swing’s chains.

There was a quiet thump and the sound of footsteps drawing nearer, muffled by the soft sand. She turned her head in time to see a boy around her age running near her, dressed in a red windbreaker, Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap, tiny jeans and sneakers. He smiled timidly as he approached.

“Hi, I’m Sebastian,” he introduced himself with ease, whereas the little girl had to compose herself for a second before answering herself.

“Sh-Charlotte – I’m Charlotte.”

Sebastian’s eyes, blue as marbles, fell to the sand under the swing seat before he pointed at the spot, looking back at her.

“My ball is under you.”

“Sorry?” Charlotte asked, quite unsure as to what he meant.

“My ball,” he pointed again until she shifted her gaze to the ball in question.

“Oh.”

She reached down and plucked the softball up from beneath her and passed it to him, clumsily shaking her black hair out of her eyes. He took the ball and held it in his hands, dusting off the sand with his thumbs as if contemplating some big, life changing decision. After a few seconds that felt like a lifetime to Charlotte, Sebastian looked back up at her. He looked cautious for a second before grinning warmly.
“Do you wanna play some catch?” he asked. She thought for a little while, before replying with a small smile of her own. “Okay,” she said.
Charlotte released herself from the swing, unaware yet that she’d never have to sit alone at a swing ever again.

I can think forever with absolutely no distractions, but it wouldn’t help me remember my dreams. They’re probably the most absurd, too, though I can only recall them about two minutes after waking. Most times, during school, I don’t think I’ve actually dreamt at all – I just get up at the alarm (or after hitting snooze about ten times) and go about my day. What if my future was being foretold and I was being given dire warnings that would directly increase the fortune of my days, but because I couldn’t remember, they never would? Or, what if “reality” and “dreams” as I knew them were actually reversed? Ugh, I doubt I’d ever know.

A drumming sound wafted in my thoughts in sweet ambience, the background noise of my goings-on – I didn’t wonder where it was coming from or anything! But, eventually, it grew louder until other instruments and voices pitched in; the scene around me faded slowly as if a growing haze enveloped all slowly. It was almost like this music, wherever it was, was sucking the colour from my vision, and once there was no colour, the outline and texture was robbed as well. Eventually, the music was clear and my eyes opened. Groggily, I looked over as the clock’s glowing screen – seven-ten in the morning, it read – and yawned, stretching my hands over my head and latching them onto the cold metal of my headboard. My body still felt tired, but I had thirty minutes to leave the house and that wasn’t enough time allowance for another few minutes of sleep – what good would it do, anyways? I braced myself for the transition from the warmth of my comforters to the chill, pre-dawn temperatures; days were short in the wintertime, and Canada was practically wintertime all the time.

I pushed back the blankets and took the cool like a beast – yeah, man, I was pumped for the day.

The events of my morning ritual following the wakeup, however, was completely and totally static to every other day, and definitely not of any interest (unless you enjoy being informed of how orange juice and minty toothpaste always made me cringe, and my uniform was dull and monochrome). But my day always broke free of its repetition the minute I stepped out the door, because that’s when my day truly began. Because it was always at that moment I’d see the same, familiar boy perched on the bench on my porch, his backpack taking up more space than he did.

After so many years, I’d grown accustomed to Sebastian greeting me in the mornings and walking with me to school. He used to ring the bell, standing around awkwardly while waiting for a response, but somewhere he realized that I would never leave him hanging. Six years of knowing him and we had become inseparable. It means a lot, sometimes, to know that of all the people who have left Seb feeling rejected, unwanted or abnormal, I’m one of the people who couldn’t bear the thought of ever doing such a thing... Not out of pity, but for my own sake.

As soon as I saw him, I grinned and we started down the street, cracking jokes and chattering endlessly like a pair of mockingbirds.

The thing is: I’ve known Sebastian so long: from that day we met, in the local park, we had nearly become inseparable. Like the heart of a peanut butter cup and its chocolate pairing, you could never find Sebastian and me spending a good amount of time apart with no good reason. Since my parents have known him just as long as I have, they can trust him and that’s the best feeling in the world. I mean, there are a lot of good feelings, but knowing that my parents and I can see eye-to-eye about someone just really makes me happy. Usually, my parents want me to befriend the overachievers for their sure-fire futures, while I tend to stray near people I feel I can trust and relate to.

Anyways, back to Sebastian.

He’s a Virgo, astrologically; born on the fifteenth of September. His parents tried to give him siblings, but it never worked out – his own birth, in itself was a blessing since she’s practically infertile. Seb wasn’t lonely, though; despite his quiet nature, something about him draws people like moths to a flame. Always observing, thinking before speaking – words that spilled out of his mouth did so in an elegant fashion, formed with much care to avoid embarrassment at all costs.

Seb wasn’t royalty, though, so no discrepancies should be had about his appearance: he was simple, at best. Grey-green eyes made him look wise, but the mostly unkempt state of his soft brown hair made it clear he didn’t brush it. Freckles that littered his entire body when he was a kid were now faint and no more than a few beauty marks were visible upon first glance. I will admit, Sebastian is extremely handsome in his own, safe way; he doesn’t have striking features, a gaunt model’s face, a chiselled body or the charm to swoon a sorority, but a girl could easily fall in love with a boy like that.

And truth be told, I thought I had. Since we had started having innocent sleepovers, I tried to dismiss the cute little butterflies, because at that age I still thought Sebastian was icky in the way he picked up insects and brought them to my face. But sometime in the eighth grade, around the time that we got more in depth about the “Created Sexual” units of religion and the different facets of love in modern society were illustrated, Sebastian made a rather sudden declaration.

“I think I might be, you know, gay.”

I stopped and looked at him, a weird feeling forming in my stomach. We were walking home as we always had, and I suppose it wasn’t so sudden for him, after all – he must’ve given it much thought – but all I was thinking at that time was how lovely the forest looked in the autumn; and then when someone you’ve known for years, like the back of your hand, brings up this breakthrough of his own self-awareness, you just need a minute to let it sink in.

“Are you sure?” I asked him, after finally finding the voice to.

The look in his eyes when he turned to face me was confusing – I couldn’t quite read it. It was a look of fear and what I’d mistaken for uncertainty, but I couldn’t quite be sure at that age.

“I think,” He repeated slower, with a bit more emphasis on the last word than before. “I mean, I’ve thought about it and... so yeah...”

He didn’t need to explain himself to me further. We took a few paces forward as certain memories ran in my head – I guess I was trying to look for any signs of foreshadowing I may have missed. I can’t remember if I found any, but after a little while, I stopped and smiled at him.

“This doesn’t change our friendship, though, okay?”

“Oh, no, we can’t be friends at all – I’m moving to an all-boys school.” His face was stoic before cracking and bringing forth a chuckle. “Of course this doesn’t change anything. I mean – Jesus, Charlie – I didn’t confess my love for you or anything!”

And I guess that was another promise, because Sebastian hasn’t really changed much. Then again, most of the school doesn’t know he’s gay – does that mean he’s partially-closeted? I haven’t really thought to ask since it’s not really that important; he doesn’t spend too much time drawing attention to the fact he likes guys, just like how I don’t run around screaming, “I LOVE BOYS!” and people who know he’s not straight don’t bother to bring it up, either. I guess Seb is systematic at that: only telling people he knows would have the class to know not to spread around.

Sebastian’s sexuality isn’t a rumour. It’s a fact about him, just like how he sticks his tongue out when he pitches a baseball or writes an essay – he’s not bothered by it and it’s not a crucial point of conversation.

Labels: nanowrimo