Bound to Witness

Friday is game day. Before, Wren hated game day, the whole building gets decked out in the team’s colors, school spirit oozes from the lockers. The cheerleaders wear their uniforms with their too-short skirts that Wren can see up if he’s behind them on the stairs, and the players, the stars, wear their numbered jerseys. Wren couldn’t care less about the girls, but he’s fantasized about those jerseys so many times wishing he was in Sophie’s place, with Zane spinning her around on the field after every goal, and kissing her in front of the whole school—kissing him. Everyone is too loud, everything is too bright, and his Friday drawing class gets canceled. Wren would rather be in school then at home most days even if it is hell, it’s a better hell than home is. Before, Wren would hide behind the building, avoiding the crowded football pitch and wait for the late bus to take him home while he watches the game as far away from the crowd as possible, watching Zane.

They still don’t talk in school much, just nodding to each other in the hallway, but every day that week they’d ended up in the grass under the bleachers kissing each other breathless, unconcerned if they got caught. Wren is in heaven, he finally feels like he matters to someone, like he exists to anyone outside of himself. The way Zane kisses him makes Wren feel wanted — by the person he’s been pinning after for years.

Zane has been the center of attention since 9th grade. Wren, alone for the first time, friendless and at a new school had been unable to help noticing him. Zane was attractive, popular and confident, surrounded by admirers and attention. Sometimes Wren wasn’t sure if he hated Zane or wanted to be him. By their senior year Wren’s obsession had only gotten worse, he was constantly watching Zane, always desperate to be noticed and too afraid to make any move. Wren would fantasize about being noticed by Zane almost every day. He’d fantasize about other things, too.

Now, Wren gets to his locker, avoiding blue-yellow streamers that dangle from the hallway lights and starts putting in his combo, only to be grabbed and dragged into the empty stairwell a few feet away. Before Wren can catch his breath his lips a caught in a deep kiss. Wren opens his mouth and lets Zane push his tongue inside. They kiss like that, pushing back and forth holding tight to each other, until Zane breaks away.

“Hey,” he says, breathless and rosy. His eyes crease with a smile. “I needed some luck.”

Wren tries to re-orient himself, still spinning from Zane’s kiss. “Yeah,” he says, touching his finger to his wet lip. Zane kisses me now, he thinks. He looks up again to meet Zane’s eyes and becomes taken in by his gaze. Zane looks so earnest and so nervous at the same time, it brings Wren back to what

“You’re going to be great,” Wren reassures him. He has no doubt Zane and the team will crush their opponents. He’s been watching them run ordered plays and drill passes all week. Zane has talked non-stop about formations and strategy, he even has a notebook with the team plays drawn out. Wren knows they’re going to win, Zane can do anything.

They kiss one more time for luck anyway.

Zane finally gets rid of the last few people clamoring for his attention by begging off to shower. The locker room is empty for the most part, the rest of the team having gone to the diner already while he was stuck accepting empty platitudes from his admirers. Zane tries not to bite peoples heads off for it, if he wants to be a real football star one day he’ll have to learn how to deal with it, but he still isn’t sure that he wants a career. Right now it’s just an easy way to collage.

What he wants right now is Wren. As he washes his hair, rinsing away the sweat, grime and eyeblack, Zane hears the outer door open, rusted and clunky. He ignores it, trying to shower fast so he can find Wren. Its an old-school shower, un-renovated since the fifties and a miracle the showers even work, but they don’t have any stalls, just one big tiled area and a few drains on the floor. Most people don’t use the shower, it’s too weird to be naked all together but Zane will if he’s desperate and knows he isn’t going to go home. He feels giddy over their win, sure that Wren’s presence is the cause of his confidence. It felt good knowing he was there, even all the way at the back. For a second, Zane had thought they were going to kiss in font of everyone on the bleachers before the moment had passed.

He’s lost in the fantasy, trying to wash his hair with soap all over his face, so the voice from behind startles him.

“Hey.”

Zane jerks around, turning to see who’s behind him. Wren stands there, one hand on his bag, his eyes dark his eyes are fixed on Zane’s naked body, eyes unblinking and cheeks a light red.

Wren swishes the water around his mouth a few times, then spits his toothpaste onto the ground. He wipes the coroner of his mouth, puts his toothbrush away, and gets back into the truck. His stomach has been twisted into a tight knot for hours, and as Wren checks the time readout on the dash, he accepts that he’s going to have to meet Zane on less than two hours of sleep.

He just can’t stop thinking of all the things that could go wrong. What if he gets scared for real and calls the cops? How am I supposed to explain what we’re doing? What If he never even shows up? Wren swallow his anxiety. It’s subsumed by a much larger feeling of desire. It’s 7:25 AM. In thirty-five minutes Wren might actually meet the one person who understands him.

The person who makes him feel like he’s not alone.

The parking lot of the gas station is mostly empty when Wren pulls up. He doesn’t see anyone that could be Zane standing around. It’s 8:01 AM, he’s barely late, Zane might not even be here yet. Wren taps on the steering wheel, feeling some of the pleather flake off in his hands. His stomach is in knots, twisted over itself in worry and doubt. Wren scans the area, not sure which direction Zane will come from. Zane never said where he lived, which is probably for the best. I could climb in his window-

The door to the gas station store opens, and someone steps out. Wren is so focused on scanning the area for a hint of Zane that it startles him. The boy is tall, with a slight hunch to his shoulders and short brown hair. He’s not looking up, shoving things into his backpack. Wren waits with his breath coming in short gasps for the boy to turn so Wren can see his face. When he does, Wren knows

Zane.