Good Enough - Chapter 8
#9 of Good Enough
Chapter Eight--Blue Eyes Turn Green
"Why don't we call it a night?" Damien said, exhaling sharply as he strummed one last chord. That last song, entitled "Sanctuary", had been particularly demanding vocally and he could see that Anna, too, was breathless.
"Yeah, Warren, I'm tired," James added as he rubbed his wrists.
"Yeah, we'll call it here," Warren said, "but great job tonight. I think we're ready to start recording and booking!" He strummed a discordant chord on his guitar and they all winced. "Sorry. I'm just excited."
"You remind me of a guy I know back home," Damien chortled. "He played guitar in my last band."
"Was he as annoying as the mousy?" Anna giggled.
"I'm not annoying!" Warren countered.
"Not exactly, but he was energetic, kind of shy. A bit bizarre," Damien explained and his gaze shifted down to his guitar. The memories of Malachite, of his friends, started to replay themselves in his mind, but the memory of Ed Seville stuck far more vibrantly. It wasn't until he felt Anna grabbing his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance. "Sorry. I just miss them."
"It's cool," Warren said, "but I bet we jam way better than they did."
"I don't know," Damien replied. "They had a lot more class than you."
"What?" Warren snarled.
"That's not a very high bar," James added playfully, though quietly. Warren turned on him, but James continued to chuckle. He took his glasses off and cleaned them on his shirt. "It's not such a big deal. We love you anyway."
Damien smiled. Yes, he did miss Malachite, but he enjoyed Loxosceles as well... And yet, thinking of Ed... He remembered that face and voice well. He missed it far more than he thought he would or should...
Perhaps he had taken this "team spirit" thing too far.
Damien stared at his reflection in the mirror, surprised at how he now looked. The red in his hair had faded a while ago and he had planned to dye it for some time, but the new gold color that he had replaced it with looked weird. He was wearing a bright blue and gold t-shirt (two sizes too big) and blue jean shorts with a golden belt. He had even streaked some blue into his ponytail.
What had he been thinking? This was too much "team spirit".
"Are you done admiring yourself in the mirror?" asked Anna, seated on his bed. She was giggling. "You're cute but this is just cocky."
"Why did you let me do this?" Damien said in a far more whiny tone than he had meant to. He glared at the bright colors that, to him, seemed out of place. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had worn this many colors--he had become accustomed to dressing in black.
"You wanted to."
"This is weird... I've just never worn these bright colors," Damien confessed. "I prefer black."
"Sweetheart, you needed to brighten your wardrobe," Anna said. "All that black was depressing."
"Yeah, well, I'm washing all this color out after the game," Damien replied. He pulled at one of his bangs, frowning at the golden color. "Think I'll go back to that red I had before."
"No, don't do that! Do something new!"
"I am and I'm not entirely liking it," Damien answered. "... You're coming to the game, aren't you?"
"No, I've got too much homework to do," Anna said. "Besides, I'm not that big a fan of football."
"Neither am I, but I promised Thomas I'd be there," Damien remarked.
"You could not go and say you did," Anna suggested. "It's not like you're going to be sitting on the field, right? The odds of him picking you out of the stands are unlikely."
Damien shrugged--he had considered that same possibility. He would much rather catch up on some homework or work on his music. Almost anything else seemed more exciting than a football game. If it was anything like going to Nate's games, it wasn't going to be too much fun.
"No, I promised him I'd go," Damien replied, "but I'll probably take something to do in case I get bored."
"If you want to," she answered. She stood and approached him, turning him slightly to adjust the shirt which hung awkwardly off one shoulder. "This shirt's too big for you," she noted.
"Yeah, it's actually one of Thomas's."
She paused for a moment. "Why are you wearing Thomas's shirt?"
"To show some school pride, you know? I mean, support the team?"
"Just wear your own clothes or we can go get you another one that fits," she remarked. "Or do you normally borrow is clothes without permission?"
"No, I have permission and it's only this one time," Damien insisted. "Does it look that bad?"
"You look like a puppy trying on daddy's clothes to feel grown-up," Anna giggled. "Take that off."
"Eager to get me undressed?" he teased.
"N-no, I didn't say 'get naked'. I'll buy you another shirt that fits," Anna said, flustered by the innuendo. Rare for Damien, though not new. He took off the shirt and felt Anna touch the small bald spot on his side. He looked down. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really, no..."
"Then why do you look like it hurts?"
"I just don't want to think about it," Damien said, stepping away from her.
"Damien, are you okay? You've been acting weird recently," Anna remarked. "Ever since you skipped class with Thomas."
"It's nothing, sweetheart, I promise."
"Are you sure?"
"Definitely," Damien assured her, forcing himself to smile. Perhaps she could see through the mask.
"I don't believe you," she said finally. "What's on your mind?"
"I promise, it's nothing," Damien replied. "I'm just a bit homesick. Seeing Thomas with his dad... Kind of made me miss my own family and friends back home."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's cool. Besides, I've got a pretty kitty on my arm now," Damien said. "I can't complain."
He had come early, but perhaps too early. Damien had quickly found a seat in the stands and seated himself, shrugging off his backpack as he looked down at the field. Others were walking into the stands now on both sides of the field and down below, the players were warming up and stretching. Damien watched the field for a few minutes before he reached into his backpack and withdrew a notebook and pen. Pausing for a brief second to think, he had written a few lines of words when a voice caught his attention.
"Fancy seeing you here," stated James Noels, seating himself. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you were a fan of football."
"I'm not," Damien answered, glad to have one of his friends beside him. "But I made a promise to Thomas. Why are you here?"
"I bought a ticket," James answered. "I've always loved football, but I've always been too small to play. Not only that but"--he adjusted his glasses--"I'm a bit too scared of getting pummeled." He gave an awkward chuckle. "But watching the game has its own... appeal. What're you working on?"
"Nothing," Damien answered, closing the notebook. "Just some stuff for class."
"Bad place to do homework, buddy," James admonished. "It'll get really noisy soon."
Damien chuckled, looking down at the field. He could see Thomas, holding his helmet as he chatted away with the other players. Ozzy was, as expected, nearby, never more than a stone's throw away from his best friend. And there was Torrie with the cheerleaders, her curly hair bouncing with every little movement.
"What're you staring at? Nothing's happened yet," James answered, seating himself.
"Just waiting for the game to start, I suppose."
They sat in awkward silence for a second.
"Maybe I'm misreading that look on your face, but it looks to me like you've got your eyes set on that black panther down there," James noted. "Isn't that your roommate?"
"Yeah. He got my ticket."
"Hoping he'll look your way?" James questioned.
"What? What's that supposed to mean?" Damien wondered. James had a new expression on his face that Damien had never seen before. He looked sly, mischievous and it didn't suit his normally shy and reserved demeanor. Yet James wasn't looking at Damien. His eyes were focused on the field. "I take it Warren's not with you..."
"Not today," James answered. "He's already fallen behind. I made him stay in the dorm to finish all of his homework."
"Won't he be jealous if you're checking out other guys?" Damien teased.
"Won't Anna be jealous if you're checking out guys at all?" James countered and Damien choked on his retort. "Relax, I won't tell. But I've got to know; how do you feel about your roommate? You can be honest. I promise I can keep a secret."
"What do you mean? He's my roommate. He's just a friend."
"Is that how you feel or is that what you are?" James asked. "I'm just really curious. Do you ever fantasize about him?"
"Do you?"
"No, I'm quite happy with my mousy boyfriend," James said calmly. "But I'm wondering if you have."
Damien hesitated. "Maybe."
"Generally, when someone says 'maybe', it means 'yes'," James said. "It's okay. Almost everyone has a gay fantasy every now and then. And you still haven't answered my first question. How do you feel about him?"
"I don't know. We're really good friends. We have to be if we're sharing a dorm."
"And...?"
"Maybe I wondered about it a few times. What it'd be like to be with a guy, but I'm dating Anna."
"And if you weren't...?"
"He's dating Torrie."
"What if you were both single? Would you ever ask him out?"
"... I don't know..."
James's expression fell. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just really curious. This isn't the first time I've seen you watching him like that."
"Like what?"
"You almost look jealous of the others around him," James explained. "Do you want his attention?"
"No. Besides, I've got his attention almost all night long if he doesn't pass out first."
"Sounds like you enjoy it."
"... That's not what I meant!"
"I know! I'm just teasing. Don't bite my head off."
"Sorry... I didn't mean to yell."
"No worries. I probably said more than I needed to anyway. Besides, if you want to change the subject, there's plenty more we can talk about..."
Never before had football seemed so intriguing. Damien, despite his own personal disdain for sports, found himself watching closely. From where he sat, he could see the field quite clearly and, despite the chaotic noise of the crowd, Damien's own mood seemed infallible as it continued to spike. The game was close, the two teams quite evenly matched. So much so that by halftime, neither team had scored more than two touchdowns. Perhaps it was this competition that was so evenly matched that had amazed him. All of his brother's games had been very one-sided but this...
As the game came down to the final few seconds, Damien felt his heartbeat start to race. This was it. They just needed this one touchdown to win... The raucous crowd had become quiet and somber, everybody leaning in closer to see what would happen. The tension was stifling.
"Think they'll win?" James was saying beside him and his voice sounded strained, no doubt from all of the shouting and cheering that they had both been apart of.
"I don't know... Is it always like this?"
"Sometimes. This one's a really close call..."
The crowd seemed to gasp collectively as the final play of the game started. Damien leaned in intently, quite literally on the edge of his seat, as he watched Thomas carefully move backward, cock his arm back and throw before he was tackled seconds later. The crowd held its breath as the ball spiraled down the field, but Damien's own gaze was focused on Thomas who stood up awkwardly as the opposing player moved. He hadn't even noticed what happened to the ball or the players until the crowd roared with cheer, a sound that pained his ears at the abruptness of it all.
"WE WON!" James shouted, standing and adding his voice to the cacophony. He wrapped his arm around Damien, hauling him up. "Come on! Cheer for your team, Damien! We won!"
"But Thomas... He looks hurt."
James's face fell and he looked downward. Thomas was celebrating with his team now, but there no hiding the awkward way he was walking, not running like the others to congratulate the wide receiver who had scored the winning touchdown. Soon enough, the coach had walked out onto the field, stopping Thomas from walking any further. Seconds later, Torrie was with them as well and she threw her arms around him. She took off his helmet and kissed him lovingly. Damien started to move but James stopped him.
"They're not just going to let you walk out onto the field," James remarked. "Just wait. His leg's not broken. He's walking and it'll probably be fine within a few days, maybe hours."
"Y-yeah..."
"Besides, you might want to wait to talk to him anyway."
"Why?"
"Because green eyes aren't as cute as people think they are."
"What?"
"Jealousy is an ugly thing," James remarked. "Besides, we'll be hours getting out with this crowd. Let's just sit and wait for everything to die down a bit."
September 17th, 20--
Well, I went to the game tonight and it was pretty interesting to watch (I'll never admit that to anyone). I figured I'd be bored to tears, but I wasn't. Not that I'll ever play, but I might watch another game if it's just as close and this one was! And to top it off, Thomas won! I'm happy for him. Thomas went out to celebrate and I can't blame him! The team deserves it!
But on the other hand, I ran into James at the game. We talked, mostly about nothing in particular, but he kept asking me how I felt about Thomas both before and after the game. It was weird. And I admit that I've wondered about being gay before, not that I am. Am I? Does thinking about it make you gay? Or bi? Or is it just a normal part of life? I'd ask James but I don't know what to ask. And I can't ask Warren because he'd just make a big deal about it. And hell no, there's no fucking way I'm asking Nate or Amy! They'll never let me live it down.
Not that being gay's a bad thing. But it's just not me... right?
What's wrong with me?
--Damien Jaime Blackwell
What was this feeling?
Damien could feel the touch, the closeness, the loving embrace around him. Those arms that held him closely. The night was crisp and the air was clear. The stars and full moon above them completed the scene, the feeling. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest as he felt those striped arms tighten around him. He leaned upward just as the tiger leaned down and their lips met... Damien's eyes closed as he allowed himself to melt into that kiss, the embrace, the feeling of being loved deeply.
His partner pulled away and Damien hadn't yet opened his eyes.
"Damien..."
Now Damien gasped. That wasn't Ed's voice... Who was...?
"Damien? Wake up!"
Damien looked. Those striped arms were no longer striped, but solid black, sleek fur. The body was not the husky frame of Edward Seville, but far more muscular and the face... Those heterochromic eyes...
"Thomas?"
"Yo, you okay?" Thomas asked and at once, the scene melted away. He was no longer standing beneath the night sky, but lying in his darkened dorm room, Thomas closing the door. Thomas's eyes were narrowed and he studied Damien carefully.
"Yeah, why?"
"You look shaken up, man. You alright? You're not sick, are you?"
"I'm fine," Damien answered. "Just a... really weird dream. Nothing to worry about, but I saw your game! Congrats, Thomas!"
Thomas's exuberance replaced his worry instantly and he grinned widely. "Yep, we're the best! The fucking best, man! I mean, I really thought we could lose! Can you believe we won?!"
"Yeah, it was really close, but you did it! I'm happy for you."
Damien sat and listened as Thomas spoke, recounting what it was like on the field, the adrenaline and strategy and physicality. And Damien listened, but his mind was elsewhere. In his mind, he was only thinking of that dream, that memory... It was right to see Ed's face above him, feel Ed's arms around him. Why did it feel better to see Thomas's eyes looking into his own?