[Ten Responses to the Phrase "Man-Up" by Guante]

when there's not even two weeks left of school yet i just officially met a cute, poetic and woke, boy -that i've been crushing on for like a year- who's literally moving to the other side of the US for college. he called me creative and pretty and complimented my art and he's leaving... on the bright side, he seems to like me and texts back really fast so...

anyways here's the next chapter, hella long because i was in my feelings at the time.

THIRTY-FIVE: when he's not like the others.

A few days sleeping without Paul and I'd been missing him... A lot. A lot to where I could see him in everything; the controller to my video game would feel too small in my hands and I'd been craving his. The brown of the couch when I was doing homework would start to resemble the color of Paul's eyes and the white of our pillows, the brightness of his smile.

With a certain curly haired angel on my mind, I'd been struggling to focus on my French homework, my eyes not distinguishing the difference between Est-ce que and Quest-ce. My mind was done conjugating and more focused on when I could see him.

I chewed on my pen, a bad habit I'd had, as I leaned back on the couch I was nestled in. Normally, I'd have been in my room at that time... It was around six thirty and I knew my father would be pulling up any minute now, I didn't want to talk to him. Something was different that day, I'd been so caught up daydreaming about Paul's perfect brown eyes that I wasn't even aware of when Dad's car pulled up outside, only to jump out of my skin when the door shut.

He did a double take when he'd seen me on the couch, probably because he'd noticed the lengths I was going to to avoid him: saying I wasn't hungry at dinner time only to sneak downstairs hours later and eat, going straight upstairs after school, and leaving the living room when his car pulled up.

My father had gotten used to the lack of my presence so when his eyes had met mine, he couldn't help but stare. When he'd established that I was there, he didn't avert his gaze but instead a soft smile cracked into his stony expression,enough that you could still clearly see his exhaustion and he ripped off his suit jacket, throwing it across the loveseat.

His green eyes were centered on me and I quickly looked down, hoping he'd just exit to his room and leave me alone and without a lecture.

"I... I didn't think you'd be down here."

I shrugged.

Placing his briefcase on the table, he popped open the latches before sitting down, far enough to be comfortable and he started taking papers out. Within the stack, I could clearly see his signature on divorce papers and he quickly tried to hide it. When it was obvious I'd seen, his smile dropped and he tried to form words, my hands instinctively going to pack up my homework.

"Julian..." I didn't stop, zipping up my backpack with shaky hands and going to stand but his hand gripped my forearm. Whipping my head over to meet his eyes, I could see the tears building, "I can't stay with her when she hurts you guys. I support you and the moment she kicked you out, I knew I had to do this."

But that was it, I didn't want it to be about me. It was always about me nowadays and I hated that. My throat was closing and my emotions weighed heavy on my shoulders. "Don't divorce her because of me!" I'd croaked out before I could stop myself, my head shaking and my words cracking and my eyes unfocused as he tried to stop me.

"You're my son." He spoke, hands gripping my face and keeping my eyes centered on him as he spoke, "I promised myself when I held you for the first time that I'd do anything to protect you." I struggled to get out of his grip, not wanting to hear it but I felt his hands jerk me back into place. His eyes were staring straight into mine and I wanted to close them, not see the emotion he held embedded in his green irises. I forced myself to look back at him.

His bags were a deep purple, face blotchy as if he'd been crying himself to sleep for the past month, and his hair was graying a bit, barely noticeable unless you were this close. My father was only in his late thirties, he shouldn't have been gray. With his job and all the added stress, I could see the struggle. "She's not the most important person in my life anymore, you and Jade are and I'm not gonna let her hurt you." His voice was withering as he shook me, forcing the words past my ears and into my brain, "you guys are everything to me."

I was crying. I didn't want to cry but I couldn't stop. I'd been crying so much lately that I didn't even notice until his fingers were brushing away my tears. His throat clogged up and we were both a mess as he tried to reassure me that it wasn't my fault.

"You can cry." He was smiling, nodding through his tears as he pulled me into his chest and I shrunk against his work shirt, my father was the strongest person I knew and for him to get that weak in front of me, I knew how hurt he'd been lately and I felt horrible. His hand drew small circles on my back, the second shirt of his I'd ruined with my tears and he didn't care. "It's okay to cry."

"I love you." My voice was muffled but I knew he'd heard it, his hug getting tighter and at eighteen, I was finally understanding what being a man was. I wanted to be like my father.

: : :

Paul had arrived later on and after getting the okay from my dad, I'd brought him up to my room. Apparently he was suddenly cool with us being together, maybe it was because we weren't living together but I didn't know and I didn't want to push it.

I knew I had to get them to talk, show Paul that my dad didn't hate him but that would have to wait when we were sitting on my floor, Paul leaned against my bed and me against his chest as I fiddled with his fingers. I loved just being with him like this, enjoying his hand in mine and the way he'd tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss on my lips every once in a while.

I felt the need to break the silence, filling in a bit about myself as the time passed, we'd been talking beforehand but ended up trailing off into a comfortable silence. Burying further into his chest, I enjoyed his warmth.

Sort of like he was the bun and I was the hot dog... Forget that weird analogy.

He chuckled at me, pushing hair out of my face when I'd resurfaced and I smiled.

"What am I gonna do when you're some big soccer player?"

I grinned teasingly, pushing down the fact that I still hadn't even applied to colleges. My life was literally moving too fast for me to catch up and I mean, it wasn't even halfway through the year but... I was still scared. "Miss me."

He chuckled, "that's inevitable."

Sighing, I leaned back against his chest, shifting so I was in between his legs and his arms had been wrapped around me. Thinking about the future always made my heart hurt, maybe it was the fact that I knew Paul would be in Chicago and I'd be all the way in California (if I was accepted) and if I wasn't, he'd be making something of his life surrounded by smart and sexy college boys and I'd be holding him back.

I chose not to dwell too early, save the pain for when he broke up with me. "I used to want to join the army."

He was a pacifist and I'd successfully changed the subject.

"Really?" He inquired and I expected judgement in his voice but there was none. Paul only continued to tug on my carpet, humming in satisfaction when I pushed myself further into his embrace, back of my head on his shoulder.

"Yeah."

He'd gone from holding my waist to stroking my thigh lightly, not sexually but just softly... Caressing me? That's sounds gross.

I intertwined his free hand with mine, sighing contentedly and his finger went to play with a small hole in my sweatpants. "What changed your mind?"

"I remembered that I'd be fighting for a country that's fighting itself." I muttered, eyes too focused on his hands for my mind to filter what came out of my mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a hell of a lot of racism and gangs and homophobia, you know... There's also a lot of hatred and killing and unfairness and I don't see why I should kill for a country that's dying from the inside out." I was thinking of my own problems as well as Ben's who'd I overheard talking to his mom about police brutality. Some heavy stuff he had to deal with and I'd felt bad for wallowing in my self-pity when his mother literally had to tell him to be aware of his rights before he left the house, when she had to pull a hoodie out of his hands and tell him to grab a different jacket.

I didn't understand at the time but laying down with Paul, I took into consideration that my problems weren't half as bad and it slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. "I used to want to go to war for this country, die for a country that doesn't accept me nor what I stand for."

But Paul shrugged and I tried to get my mind off of Benji, knowing he was safe and that he could handle himself. "There's still good people out there, don't you think they deserve to be protected? Fight for them."

I didn't want to look beyond the small amount of people that I cared about, maybe that was selfish but I changed the subject again. "Aren't you a pacifist?" I just wanted to think about Paul, care about Paul, talk to Paul.

"Yeah," he shrugged and slid his hand into mine instead, opting to kiss the side of my head and slip the lgbt ring off my finger and onto the finger that nestled the purity ring my mom bought me then onto the next one and the next one. Jade had taken hers off as soon as the woman had left -despite the fact that it was useless due to the fact that she'd coughed up her virginity- but I'd been lingering with it on my finger, not wanting to get rid of that little sentiment. I'd been sucked into thinking about my mother when Paul spoke again. "I mean, I don't necessarily agree with war but if you want to help protect our country, go for it. You do what you want to do and try and make it better."

"How did you tell your family?" I asked, my eyes catching onto the lgbt ring he'd kept shuffling between my fingers, lips pulled into my mouth as I wondered if Paul had a better coming out than me. I really wished he did. He deserved nothing but happiness.

He sounded a bit confused, probably wondering how I'd switched the conversation up so fast. "Tell them what? About me being gay?"

"Yeah..." shrugging, my breath caught in my throat as he slipped his fingers through mine, kissing the back of my hand. "I mean, I know you didn't come out but you must've told your family, right?"

He'd stiffened before pulling me a bit tighter, burying his nose in my shoulder as if looking for a source of comfort. And then, when I thought he was going to change the subject, he spoke, "it's a long story."

"Bad?" Please don't be bad, please don't be bad. But with the way he was nuzzling further into me, I knew it was most definitely very bad.

He nodded, the action being so small that I wouldn't be able to notice it if he weren't pressed against me. "Bad."

"You can tell me if you want. You don't have to but..." But I'd like to hear it, I'd like to know everything about you. I'd like to fall in love with you and I hope you do too.

"Okay." Breathing in, I heard him let out a shaky breath before speaking, "okay so, there was this parade... They had it every year, you know, for the LGBTQ+ community. I used to sneak out every single year for it. If I was in school, I'd fake sick so I could go when everyone was out."

"Oo rebel?" I'd questioned, smile gracing my face as I thought about the idea of Paul doing something like skipping school. I'd never in a million years think that he'd be up for something like that, him being a major advocate for education and caring about my education as much as he did.

"Such a rebel." He smiled into my shoulder, kissing the flesh there and it burned through my thin t-shirt, "there were these people there, openly expressing their love, no one judged and I never really had the strength to go in. I wish I did though, I really wish I did."

"You remember when they legalized same-sex marriage for like a week?" I'd nodded, "Well, that week fell along the time of the parade and they were just celebrating. And I watched from across the street surrounded by the protesters screaming about the fiery pits of hell and I just sat there... I sat there and I felt as if they were screaming at me. I sat there looking at the people rejoicing and then this guy, he's holding his boyfriend's hand."

And Paul sighed, wonderment in his voice, I swear, I could hear him talk all day, "He gets down on one knee and he's crying and his boyfriend is crying and everything feels right and I could see the ring. He proposed, made this big cheesy speech, said that he lied about being a tourist the first time they met just so he could talk to him."

Paul chuckled and I could feel a hope brewing in me that that would be us one day. That I'd be proposing to Paul and that we'd be telling our family about it one day.

"He tells him how much he loves him and he promises to always be there through thick and thin and to always protect him." I prayed that he knew how much I cared about him. Feeling his hand in mine sent shivers down my spine and I listened more intently, his breathing steady against my neck.

"I've never been so sure about my sexuality as I was in that moment; I wanted that. That raw emotion and that unconditional love that shown through their eyes... A kind that not even the men protesting it around me could stop. I wanted this."

Gesturing to our interlocked hands, his voice became more and more animated and I smiled at the fact that he was so passionate. Paul was quite literally all of my stars,  "And that stayed with me. When I was painting, I'd find myself rethinking that day but I'd automatically shut it down because gay was wrong and guys kissing guys was bad and I'd burn if I even thought about it. But one day, I let go... And I painted."

Then his voice dropped, my heart following suit and his hand froze in mine, "Pete decided to unlock my door with a quarter in the slot and turning it. I was waiting for my painting to dry before I hid it. It felt wrong, it felt like I was doing something illegal. Pete saw the painting and instantly, everything changed. It was the proposal but instead of supporters, I'd surrounded them with the protestors and their love was shielding them sort of."

I heard him sigh as if it meant nothing but you could hear the pain in his voice as he dragged on, "He was just turning eleven and he didn't understand it, I didn't even understand it. All I understood was the fact that he'd run out and told my big brother, Milo, and my parents."

He'd never told me about his family, I was realizing. He knew everything about my family but I didn't even know he had another brother.

I'd waited for him to continue but he made it clear that he didn't want to so I did, hoping to comfort him as much as I could. Turning so I was straddling his lap, I pulled him into a hug, trying to imitate when I'd first told him of my coming out. I wanted to be what he needed and I wanted to focus on him, "That's rough, Paul." My lips were against him ear, his breathing slowing and I felt him tighten his hold on me, hugging me closer as if he couldn't believe I was there.

"Wasn't that bad." But I could tell there was more... He just didn't feel comfortable enough to tell me and I respected that.

: : :

My boyfriend, although we were the same height and nearly the same build, loved to wrap me in his arms. With myself lacking in the muscle department, I seemed to fit perfectly in between his. Paul was always warm too, a great hug at all times and I could find home in his eyes.

But he was distant as he held me pressed against his chest, my body thrown beside him and head laying on his chest as I fiddled with his fingers. He had hands made for holding but he hadn't made a move to intertwine our fingers yet. I'd chalked up his actions to our earlier conversation, knowing that there was something he wasn't telling me but I didn't want to push him.

Sighing, I opted to revise my thoughts into a simple, "Hey, babe... you okay?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't, I could tell from the way he automatically redirected the sentence onto me, he tried to care for me even more when he was upset, maybe it was his coping mechanism. I felt a kiss on my forehead, an exhale leaving my body and I wasn't sure how long I'd been holding my breath, "how're you?"

"Good..."

He chuckled light-heartedly, turning slightly to face me, my eyes fixated on his dimples, beautiful smile coming into my view and my heart skipped a beat. "You don't sound good."

"You know I care about you, right, Paul?" I felt the need to clarify. Throughout the time we'd been together, I'd come to realize that I was becoming quite selfish. Paul was a big part of my life and I'd known him for a month... He'd successfully known everything I had to know and I didn't even know his coming out story.

The relationship was falling into a cycle: I got sad, I mad him sad, Paul comforted me, repeat. And I was determined to break this cycle. He had to know that I cared about him first, he had to really know and at that moment, laying in his arms, I made sure to remind myself to learn more about him and show him that he meant so much to me.

He looked at me with a confused smile, as if he didn't see anything wrong with how we were functioning and that made me feel even worse, "Of course."

"Just making sure."

He smiled, hugging me tighter before kissing at the bare skin of my shoulder. Our conversation had progressed throughout the day and we were learning more about each other. I loved to hear about him, to touch him, to kiss him and feel him. "Have you heard back from the scouts?"

"Not yet," I'd excused, ignoring the jitters in my stomach. Most of my friends, including Andy, had sent in applications to multiple colleges, meanwhile I was still deciding what I wanted. I wanted to go to Santa Barbra -Michigan State being a close second- and I wanted to make something of myself but they hadn't gotten back to me and I was filled with self-doubt. I loved soccer, I loved being apart of a team, I loved being in control of myself and being able to excel in something and I thought... I'd thought that our last game was pretty great, I'd thought that I proved myself but now I was starting to second guess.

Paul must've noticed this because he sighed as if he sensed my emotional breakdown before it happened and I could hear the smile on his voice. "You're gonna get it and you're gonna be the best soccer player in the history of soccer players and I'll be in the stands, cheering on my superstar boyfriend."

"Husband." I corrected without thinking, turning around in his arms and pulling the blanket further up to my shoulders due to the draft in the room. Shaking my head, I voiced my hopes for the future.  "I'm not getting that successful without wifeing you up first. That would just be plain stupid."

He laughed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Or... We can both be manly men and you'll marry me and not wife me."

And then, something clicked and Paul made me smile... He always made me smile, "Nope, I think you're wife material."

"We're having kids then, if I'm the wife, I make the decisions." He teased, "I better be a hot mom."

"Yep, total milf material."

And we laughed. Somewhere between my joke and our embrace, my laughing had slowed and my eyes had landed on him. He'd had his head thrown back and his dimples were indented and he laughed with his lips parted, smile shining. The brightness of his smile made me compare him to sunshine. He was my sunshine, all my days gray until he dropped in and I was hoping he never left. His eyes were screwed shut, so much that his forehead crinkled and he'd clutched his stomach.

Paul's full lips were stretched into a smile when his laughing had simmered enough for his eyes to be open and squinted at me and I couldn't help the words that came out of my mouth. They were true, they were more than true and maybe I'd lied, "I really like you."

I didn't really like him, my feelings for Paul were more than like.

He sighed, leaning in closer to me and placing a kiss on my lips. Smiling against my lips, he spoke. "I really like you too." Pulling away, he bit his lip and looked around my room and just like when he gave me my birthday present, his eyes landed on his bag. "Hey, um... I got you something."

I couldn't help the blush that had taken over my cheeks. I didn't want to accept more gifts, Paul needed to stop thinking about me so much. "My birthday was weeks ago, Paul, you've gotta stop giving me gifts."

He'd laughed at that, bounding over to my bed before sitting down across from me. He had a smile on his face and a plain white plastic bag in his hands, he handed it to me, "I know but- just open it."

"What is it?" The bag was in my hands and it felt extremely light, I could figure that it was a piece of fabric and my eyebrows furrowed.

"Open it?"

"Oh, fuck you," I'd whined once the shirt was nestled between my fingertips. Reading the font on the front, I rolled my eyes and tried to hide my smile, throwing the shirt back at his face. His laughter had taken over by then and I'd have admired the redness of his cheeks if I weren't too busy being fake-mad. Pulling the cover over my head, I groaned, "I hate you."

"Well, that's not very nice." My boyfriend chuckled, pulling the cover off and I let it reach to just below my eyes so he wouldn't see me grinning like a fool.

I couldn't get the words out as he opted to wiggle his eyebrows and hold the shirt out in front of me again, "Why would you... How did you?"

"Saw you eyeing this on our first date, babe." Pushing the 'powerbottom' shirt into a space between my hand and where it was clasped on the blanket, Paul laughed. "Had to track down the blonde on social media and ask him where he got that shirt. Luckily, his boyfriend was easy to find considering he has like 20k followers on Instagram."Paul said that like it was a big deal as if he didn't have a million.

Rolling my yes, I let go of the blanket to sit up and un-ball the shirt to look at it more in depth. "You put so much work into a joke."

He laughed again, "It's not a joke."

"Stop it!" Hitting his shoulder, I smiled when he dramatically 'owwwed' as if I'd actually hurt him. "How are you so sure that I'm the bottom?"

"I'm older and I'm tatted," he sang, leaning back to dodge another hit.

"And?"

"I can pin you down faster than you can pin me." He pointed out and despite the fact that I was pretty sure that was true, I couldn't help but deny it.

"No you can't." I bit my lip, attempting to draw him which i'd succeeded in when he'd scooted closer, allowing me to lean into him and place a soft kiss on the incline of his neck. Pushing him back, I decided to prove myself. I wasn't a bottom, I was most definitely the husband and I was going to show him.

My hands were teasing at his skin, dragging up against the fabric of his shirt and then back down again. I was still shirtless so I attempted to use that to my advantage, pulling my shoulders back a bit everytime I sat up so he could see my collarbones.

And as I took his bottom lip between my teeth, he pulled away, flipping us over so that I was in my back and kissing at my nose.

"I know what you're doing and it's not working." Trailing a finger up my side, he whispered gently in my ear, soothing voice calming me down before I could get too excited. "I wanna wait until you're in love."

Was he already in love?

Nope. Nope, that's insane. Paul wouldn't be in love with me and even if he thought he was, it was too early. I didn't love him yet, I was wrong about Calum and I'm wrong- I would be wrong about Paul. I would be wrong if I actually thought he loved me and I would be wrong if I thought he meant he loved me.

Yeah, that's not what he meant.

He groaned, placing his head in the crook of my neck and I attempted to change the subject, something from the day before distracting me.

"What-" I couldn't breathe from the way he grazed his lips along my collarbone. I blurted, "what's a twink?"

That's when he stopped, sitting up so fast, he almost fell of the bed. His eyes were so wide and he was staring at me, chin dropped and confusion written on his face. I didn't understand what I did wrong, "Wh-what?" On realizing he'd stuttered, Paul had cleared his throat and the blush rising up his neck to his cheeks had made my skepticism sink, "I'm sorry, huh?"

"A twink..." I'd trailed off, wanting to stop myself from talking at this point. What if it were another gay slur or something really bad or what if I were stupid for not knowing. Drawing my lips into my mouth, I stopped talking.

"Why're you asking me this?"

Maybe I was stupid, "I just- Brandon said something about you being a major twink one time..."

And he'd mentioned if the day before. He was all 'I don't understand Paul's obsession with Freckles' and Rilee had came to my defense quickly but Brandon was adamant on the fact that I 'wasn't even a twink' and my ass was 'small.' Safe to say, I didn't feel very good about myself afterwards.

"Brandon's such an ass, I swear." And Paul tried to laugh it off, his eyes still wide, there was a look of realization on my face but I could still tell he wasn't looking forward to this conversation and it would be awkward.

"What?"

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck, nervously. "A twink... is kind of like a thin and small, feminine gay. A major bottom though and it's kind of offensive but people don't really... People don't take it offensively?" He'd ended, chewing on his fingernail and my mouth snapped shut.

"O-oh."

"I used to be one in high school, you know uh, I wore huge sweaters -still do- and I wasn't really feminine but I was really kind of sensitive. I was really naive as well and short." He smiled awkwardly, pushing his sleeves up and exposing the tattoos that littered up and down his arms. His voice was small as he sat there, legs crossed in some sweatpants he'd borrowed when I'd convinced him to get more comfortable.

His eyes were on his hands instead of mine as he spoke again, "and I was a bottom... but I'm not really into bottoming that much anymore."

"Why?"

And his smile went forced as I attempted to figure out why he was upset. Before I could, however, he slid off my bed "I... I'm gonna go get some things for our movie and I'll be back, okay babe?"

"Mhmm," I'd excused as he got up, allowing him to leave with a kiss on my cheek. Paul was normally an open book and I wasn't used to him holding things from me.

Laying back on my bed, I thought of all the things I could've said wrong. It wasn't like I violated his privacy or something...

Eventually, I'd convinced myself that he would tell me when he told me and it probably wasn't anything to stress about. Paul trusted me and I trusted him and that was enough. Paul was great, he wouldn't hide anything secret from me.

I was steady thinking about my amazing boyfriend and his amazing face, a smile spreading across my face.

I was so on top of the world that I didn't notice when my window had slid open. I didn't noticed until a clang resonated from that area, my eyes meeting a figure climbing into my room.

"Hey."

And my smile dropped, my heart racing and my head splitting as I stared over at the boy in my room. His body, built like a football player and his lips, full and pink as he chewed on the bottom one. I'd missed his voice despite the things that had happened. Once upon a time, I'd have seeked shelter in his voice, the way he played with the side of his black jeans and the baby blue of his eyes.

Memories came rushing back and all I could see was the anger in his blue eyes and the malice he hid in his heart. I had to hate him. How could I ever love someone like him?

"Calum."

A/N:

jules needs to handle his shit and jules needs to handle his shit rn.
sorry for that.

Updated: Sat. May 14th