[Ignorin by Omar Apollo]
word count: 2562

-

I woke up with a crack in my voice.

Something about my body felt like it wasn't mine in that moment between the dark and daylight. It was around 6 in the morning, I had a cracked voice and morning wood.

It happened more often than not now, my thoughts would stray to the way Dalton's hands felt on me. We'd been kissing a lot more and the way he wrapped around me leant back on his bed, it made me feel a bit small.

Maybe I liked that.

He was strong too, he'd yank me into him when he decided to kiss me and he always decided. That was never my decision, I'd never just kissed him, not the way he kissed me. He'd push hair out of my eyes every so often and pull my chin towards him out of nowhere, our lips would meet and he wouldn't let go until he was satisfied.

I thought of making out with Dalton, my stomach burning warm and it was starting to hurt.

I'd never been as curious as most boys my age, that I was sure of. I hadn't touched myself much.

I wondered if Dalton did... then I wondered if Wyatt did and then I was picturing them both.

And I couldn't decide which thought I liked more. I knew what Wyatt looked like underneath his shirt, I also knew what his thighs looked like since he'd wear shorts almost all year round. I could imagine further but I tried not to.

Something about imagining someone naked, someone who wasn't interested in me in that way, it always felt wrong.

Still, I remembered the summer before when he'd invited me to the end of year lake party and -obsessed with him- I actually went.

He was wearing a button down shirt fully open to expose a bare chest and his pooka shell necklace that he'd worn a bit too much that year.

His swim trunks were a bit too short and there were murmurs about his sexuality when he'd gotten up to socialize, jumping off the tire swing, he was always a bit fearless.

That was the first time I'd realized that I hadn't stopped staring at him.

And the party had consisted of me sitting around sipping on a beer that I didn't really like. Wyatt was a popular sophomore and I was trying to understand why he wanted to be around me, why he invited me and why he chose to sit next to me most of the night.

Maybe I was still trying to figure that out now. He didn't seem too irritated at me being his shadow, even if he did end the night with Shelley McKim in his lap. We sat around a fire playing spin the bottle, her itty bitty bikini showing off a little more than needed and I'd finished a solo cup.

I also realized that she was the "hottest girl in second year" and her... bust was big, spilling out of a too tight top. My jealousy just wasn't the same as the other guys.

I wasn't even looking at her and that scared me.

Confused and a little bit drunk on my third beer, I'd stumbled my way over to the lake house that Shelley McKim's dad owned. Teenagers spilled out into the open air, a throng of them shuffled around the house, lips swollen and giggling under light fog.

The smell almost overwhelmed me, my head light and that was the first and last party I'd been to.

Trudging in, I'd looked for Vince, his tongue shoved in Bianca Quintana's mouth.

His shorts hung low on his hips, deep red bruises scattered over his chest. In the car, he'd inspected the one on his neck, chewing his bottom lip in worry. One thing about Vince was he hated to disappoint Helena and Terry, part of me knew that it was because of his last home, we never talked about it.

Rhett was sprawled out in the backseat, in a drunken stupor, he'd smacked his hand on Vince's shoulder, laughing about how fucked he was and I wondered what it was like to kiss a girl.

Then I wondered what it would be like to kiss a boy, any boy, Wyatt Stevens.

That night was the first time I'd touched myself.

And the embarrassment afterwards carried on for weeks, every single time I locked eyes with hazel ones.

-

It seemed like the closer I got to Dalton, the further I got from Wyatt and really, I understood that I used to like him but... It was lonely at times.

I didn't realize how lonely until I'd first realized that Dalton always had some excuse as to why we could hang out at his. His grandfather was there, the house was a wreck, Quinn had a guy over, just things that didn't feel all that real but I never questioned it in the moment.

The first one was his most frequent and it confused me more than anything.

Why couldn't he introduce me as his friend? I was so completely sick of my room.

My siblings were always around... the sliver of time I'd have from 3 to 4 before the younger kids' bus made its way to my neighborhood, left only an hour for Dalton and I. And without the notice of Vince who'd caught onto Dalton and I's less than platonic association, we'd spend that time talking. It had been a month of dodging Wyatt in order to make Dalton comfortable and he didn't offer anything in return.

I knew I shouldn't have waited for anything, maybe some reciprocity since that comfortability was showing slowly but surely.

He was still distant though. Dalton Jones was a mystery, not in the sense where I knew nothing about him but in the sense where I didn't know the little things that made him, well, him.

His mother's death didn't define him, it was a tragic event that did affect him... a lot but it didn't define who he was as a person. I wondered if he were funny -or if he were more of an audience member than a comedian- if sometimes his stomach ached from laughing too hard and if -at those times- his cheeks would gain a lively color.

I wondered weird things about him, things I'd never know the answer to because I'd have rather never talked to him again than to ask.

Stupid things like if he liked it when it stormed or if he were more comfortable when it was sunny and the sky resembled the color of his eyes. Did he like being around me as much as I did him? What was he good at and what was he inexplicably, embarrassingly bad at?

I'd seen his short responses in Chemistry, I'd seen his essays for literature when we'd done homework together, I'd heard how intelligent he was... especially when we talked over the phone after dark when everyone was asleep.

Late nights became our little dates, he'd reveal parts about the interworking of his mind and I, too. Since Dalton had a reluctance of public intimacy -he was hesitant to speak on himself due to the fact that no one in this god forsaken town could mind theirs- and a firm standing on not letting people know about us, if we wanted to talk for long periods of time, we'd have to do it over the phone.

Over time, we transferred from phone calls to video calls and I found myself one night sitting on my side of the street and staring at him through the screen of my iPhone 6.

His blonde hair was flat against his forehead, blue eyes sleepy and soft purple bags underneath them. Earlier that day, he'd informed me that he hadn't been sleeping that much and really, I was worried, but whenever I offered to hang up, he'd get this weird glint in his eyes. He'd been upset about something but refused to tell what but something in me was sure it had to do with his family.

Everything always had to do with his family.

This night, though, it was different. He didn't seem to want to actually talk, he'd kept me on the phone but on pause and all I could hear was the tapping on his screen.

"Dalton?"

His typing halted, almost as soon as he heard my voice and that was a nice feeling. "Hm?"

"Do you wanna talk tomorrow instead?"

And his voice was groggy, I couldn't figure out why how deep it was made my stomach ache. "D'ya wanna sleep?"

"Well, no, but you seem busy."

"You're so needy," I was off pause then, his bright eyes in view, disheveled hair, and deep bags. He was still so handsome. And he was smiling small, it more of a smirk, a light laugh flowing through that sounded a bit throaty, "hello."

"Hi."

"You look cute." His accent was thicker when he was sleepy, I wondered how it sounded in the mornings as well.

"Thanks."

It was silent, Dalton's smirk faltering and I met his eyes to see he was studying me. It felt like I was under a microscope, "Don't do that."

That confused me then, what had I done that he didn't like? "Do what?"

"Bite your lips like that." I didn't realize I'd been biting my lip until then, the bottom one was in my mouth. My tongue clipped over the slight sting one I'd noticed.

And Dalton groaned, I'd folded my legs together, stomach clenching. "You're so fucking hot, you know?"

And I didn't know how to respond to that so a stupid, "Sorry," fell from my lips, Dalton's smile felt a bit teasing then.

"Do you ever take pictures of yourself?"

"Not really." I never really liked how I looked in photos, Wyatt's photos of me had to be the most up to date. "Claire takes a lot of selfies though, she photobombs me a lot-"

"Gabe." There was a laugh in his voice and it made my cheeks flush. "I meant like... naughty pictures."

And I was burning red.

"Like-like naked?" I'd never really taken pictures of myself naked and I didn't know if that was weird or not.

I hadn't seen anyone else naked, at least not in a sexual way.

Sure, I watched porn, and I wondered if other people around me did as well. What kind of porn did Dalton watch? Wyatt? Did Wyatt take pictures of himself?

It was a bit weird that I only watched straight videos, spending most of my time in the comment section and when I wasn't, I was only looking at the male.

And I wondered if I looked the same.

I'd never thought of the idea that someone else would want to see me naked. I realized that I didn't necessarily want to... make love to a girl, or at least, I didn't think I did.

And being that way with a boy just seemed a bit awkward. I always felt a bit awkward.

I'd just started kissing Dalton and kissing Dalton was amazing and made my body run hot but we'd never gone that far. Him seeing me naked at this point felt a little backwards and my stomach tightened.

I was chewing on my lip again and he went to lick his. "Yeah."

It was embarrassing to admit but the way he looked at me then took my breath away and I didn't know how to respond,

Unfortunately, he continued.

"Yeah, you-your cock, y'know arse... Your body's amazing, Gabriel." And he seemed a bit unsure as well, maybe that put me at ease cause I was able to answer even through the thickness of my throat.

"No I-I don't." I didn't know how to and make them look nice. I was skinny and hairless and I wasn't that big... anywhere really. I wasn't sure there was anything he'd want to see.

I hadn't even thought about what he looked like yet, but I was sure he looked better than me.

"Could you?"

Could I what?

He couldn't possibly be— "Take some for me?"

The request was soft, it near silent and I watched ocean blues through the phone screen, the light illuminating his skin and he was in a plain white t-shirt, hair a cute mess. Dalton Jones looked so soft then, so cute, lips parted and gap peaking through.

Then I realized how absolutely unsure I was of everything and how he seemed to know a bit more. I wondered how many people he'd seen naked.

"They don't have to be of anything, in briefs or—"

I tried not to sound as uncomfortable as I was with the request.
"Um." It was shaky and Dalton's brows creased in the middle. "I've never done that before."

And he nodded, it was silent.

Then,  "Prop your phone up?" He was giving direction and mindlessly, I followed, something about him knowing more was kind of attractive. "You could turn your light on for me, right, babe? You know, let me see you?"

My lamp was on in a second and Dalton was sitting up in his bed, his lap was covered in a blanket and he went to pull his shirt off, blonde locks flopping. His hair was growing out and I had this strange yearning to kiss him, thread my fingers through his hair, tug a bit.

I still felt a bit alarmed inside, irrational thoughts peaking through like what if Aaron woke up across the hall or what if my parents could somehow tell I was on the phone or what if—

"Could you..." Dalton was speaking again, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip and I felt my heart racing, my stomach was in knots, "turn-turn around for me, yeah?"

I didn't want to do that.

"I don't..."

And he nodded, sat up a little more and I was kind of turned on at the sight. He had eyes on me, bottom lip in his mouth, and he raked a free hand through his hair, he looked really hot then.

I wanted to kiss him.

But I was standing in my room, hand wood underneath bare feet. It was cold, everything kind of was, a chill ran up my arm when the AC kicked a bit, Vince always did keep it freezing.

And there were goosebumps dotting my skin, I crossed my arms over my chest and Dalton was giving another command.

"Undress a bit then? Y'know, take ya shirt off or somethin'?"

And I did; ten seconds later he was asking me to take of my pants and I could never really say no to him because I was turning around like he'd asked.

In the glow of my lamp light on his face, I watched his ocean eyes fall heavy lidded and my breath caught in my throat.

He was chewing on his bottom lip and I'd tucked my arms into my body, facing the camera again, my breath slightly shaky as was his, I'd never felt more exposed.

I'd hugged myself then and I could hear his groan, it soft and mindful.

"God, you're so fucking hot."

I could feel myself straining against my undergarment, bottom lip tugged into my mouth at the soft "uh"s let loose from pursed pink lips, eyes low lidded.

Dalton was touching himself.

Something akin to shame was always present in moments like that, the call ending after he'd finished and promised he'd see me tomorrow.

I dreamt of Dalton waking up with flushed cheeks, my sheets in the wash.