doodled daisies

any time he wasn’t at practice or in school you’d find him in the corner of the backyard or playground digging around for beetles and worms. he had those bright orange and green bug collector kits and they always had some rollie pollies puttering around. he’d find a cool beetle or bug and bring it inside to show his brother before being told to bring it back outside and put it back where he found it. he’d come home from school and tell his parents all about the cool stick bug he found on the blacktop. if he saw another kid tormenting a bug or squishing a spider he would probably cry and sulk for a while.

as he got older misa became the resident “spider remover” in locker rooms because he would get so pissed if anyone even suggested to “just step on it”. he’d be called into the showers to scoop up a harmless daddy long legs or fish a june bug out of someone’s gear bag that had been sitting in their garage for too long during offseason. he was just the bug guy.

I see it

sid washing his hair to get it curly don't even talk to me

this is so special and important, you've done great things for the masses by saying this

they were both actually dressed semi-nicely for the dinner, both nervous, but they immediately fell in love if you ask geno. sid is a bit of a longer tale, but the attraction, and the desperation to know geno, to know geno enough to love him, that was immediate.

will smith doesn't know that he deserves love until macklin celebrini comes along. he's surrounded by boys who have taken him for granted, who know that he is suffering, who know that the cross he wears around his neck burns into his skin every time he thinks about who he really is.

he is surrounded by boys he grew up with, who he had sleepovers with, who he bonded with through the roughest years of his life. boys who were beaten down beside him in the ntdp, who saw him at his lowest, who built themselves back up around each other.

boys who traded handies and brojobs with whispered no homos. boys who he was never allowed to kiss. who never kissed him.

will smith doesn't know that he's allowed to be loved genuinely. can he even be loved? he doesn't think so. he thinks his sinning is too great. he thinks his eyes linger too long. everyone already knows who he is. he's used to it. to going to frat parties and getting pulled into a corner and being asked if he wants to.

he does. he does, and that's the problem. he wants to get on his knees. he wants to take them as deep into his throat as he can. he knows that when they thread their fingers through his hair, they're imagining a girl with eyes as blue as his, but with a smaller, softer nose. a gentler face. narrower shoulders.

will smith loves ryan leonard. with his whole heart. childhood best friend. big goofy smile. kind eyes. dark hair. everything will wants to be and isn't. bigger. meaner. straighter. at least straighter than will could ever be.

but ryan leonard doesn't love him. not like that.

ryan gives him a soft smile when he knows what will means. will never says the words "i'm gay," but ryan knows them well enough. ryan lets will get on his knees, but he'll never return the favor. ryan fucks will into the mattress, but he won't look him in the eye while he does it. ryan holds him the way bros do, allows affection the way hockey does, but he'll never kiss him. he'll never stay after they sleep together. he'll never hug will in the way that actually means something.

will smith loves ryan leonard. he never stopped.

but he knows ryan can't be that for him.

macklin celebrini used to hate will smith.

now he loves him.

will never had to live in the horrible half-life of being wanted but never chosen with mack. of being tolerated and used and liked, really, truly liked, but never loved.