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“Quit moving, Sebastian,” Rey nags as he readjusts his pencil, erasing the crooked line he mistakenly created on the jaw of his muse reflected onto the white canvas, “You made me draw you like Handsome Squidward.” Rey lightly chuckles to himself. Sebastian is unhumored by Rey’s remark, but simply rolls his eyes as to not drastically concern his best friend. Sebastian has been holding the same pose for almost thirty minutes. He keeps checking his watch so as to appear bothered, but truthfully, Sebastian can hardly handle the focused eye contact Rey makes with him every couple of seconds. Rey takes his art very seriously, and when a figure as beautiful as Sebastian is bestowed upon him, he could not live with himself if he messed it up.
“My back is hurting,” Sebastian complains while sitting on the edge of Rey’s bed. His whining is valid because his back is hunched over with his right cheek resting in his palm and his left hand outturned on his forehead. Rey insists on Sebastian holding a sultry expression in his eyes, but Sebastian barely even knows what that means.
“No—Sebastian,” Rey abruptly stands up. He tucks his pencil above his ear and hurries over to Sebastian. His pointer finger and thumb cup Sebastian’s chin and tilts his head slightly out and to the right. With lips slightly parted, Sebastian moves his left hand and wraps it around Rey’s wrist. Rey’s eyes lock onto his best friend’s and holds his breath.
Rey always knew he liked boys. The first crush he had on a boy was in first grade. He was out at recess with the wind blowing in his snow-capped hair. He stood on the grass and watched four of his classmates in awe as they each soared multicolored kites in the overcast sky.
“That’s so cool!” Little Rey eagerly exclaimed with his fingers balled into fists and a large crooked grin revealing an absent front tooth. “Can I have a turn?” He asked the kids.
“No, It’s my turn!” A little girl in a pink dress and leggings snickered. Rey’s eyes saddened, but his brows stitched together as he saw a boy sitting on the grass with tears welling up in his eyes. Rey approached the boy and bent down to his level.
“What’s the matter?” Rey questioned. The boy wiped his tears with the sleeve of his navy blue knitted sweater.
“I…They won’t let me play with the kite.” The boy confided.
“Oh, well that’s okay. They won’t let me play with the kites either.” Rey paused for a moment and averted his gaze from the boy to trees shaking in the wind. “You know…Leaves are kind of like jackets for trees right? They keep the branches nice and warm!”
The boy pondered, “I guess you’re kind of right.” His tears dried on his pink cheeks as he gazed upon the oak trees that surrounded the field.
“Oh! I have an idea!” Rey gasped, “We can make our own kites!” Rey explained his genius plan to the boy. They executed it by taking off their sweaters and holding the cuff of each sleeve in one hand. Then, they ran at full speed across the green and tan grass and watched their makeshift kites swing in the breeze like butterflies soaring from summer to spring. They giggled and grinned together as one.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Rey asked the boy as they collapsed and caught their breaths.
Through deep puffs, the boy mustered out, “My name is Sebastian!”
Sebastian.
Huh.
For Rey, it has always been Sebastian. He has liked him for as long as he could remember, and ten years later, their friendship has only grown to the best.
“Get your fingers off me!” Sebastian unclips Rey’s wrist and swats it away while trying hard not to smile. He can feel his face burning up slightly, but refuses to give in. Liking boys is insane to Sebastian. Sebastian doesn’t know what liking someone is supposed to feel like. He has always unfortunately eavesdropped on the other boys’ conversations in the locker room —while cautiously avoiding eye contact and quickly changing his classic monotone crewneck into the uncomfortable oversized P.E. uniform using his small locker for the sliver of privacy it provides. He really doesn’t mean to, but when a room is as loud as a crowd after a pianist’s performance, he can’t help but hear chatter erupt through the echoed halls. The boys describe feelings for girls that Sebastian has never felt before. The talks about slim figures; long, straight hair; straight teeth; tiny waists only makes Sebastian squirm. He doesn’t know what it should feel like to be in love—and especially not in love with a boy.
Rey sits back down on his black stool that is splashed with erratic paint in even the smallest of crevices.
“You’re so boring, Sebastian!” Rey sarcastically groans, but the large smile on his face tells a different story. That’s okay because Rey loves to smile. Out of habit, Rey’s grin softens as he makes serene eye contact with Sebastian once again. Rey has always loved Sebastian’s eyes. They’re as blue as the pool in Sebastian’s backyard in which he does grand backflips and beautifully strong breaststrokes in. Sebastian’s second home is a body of water, and Rey knows this. “You look so graceful from this angle,” Rey whispers.
Sebastian tries to dismiss this comment. He believes that Rey is just being plain stupid again, but for whatever reason, that message really sticks.
“Rey…” Sebastian hesitantly begins, “Why did you ask to paint me?” His eyes dart to the Peppa Pig plushie sitting on Rey’s floor that Sebastian bought for him last Christmas. Rey has a secret obsession for Peppa that only the two of them know about.
Rey stays quiet for a moment. He takes his pencil out from behind his ear and places its graphite tip on the canvas. With Sebastian back in formation, Rey delicately guides his pencil to match his muse.
“Because…I want to paint the person I like.”
Sebastian’s face flushes maroon. He’s as warm as his back against the summer sun, full of sunscreen except the shock of regret from missing a patch of dry. He diagonally turns his head down and to the right in a not-so-gracious attempt of hiding his embarrassment. His nervous system feels like a flicked guitar string—anxious and agonizingly loud.
Rey notices the bright shift. He questions himself on if he should say something or keep to his canvas. The fight with his own predicament is too strong and Rey ends up asking Sebastian with a glimmer, “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” The boys are quiet for a moment. “You can tell me anything.”
“Honestly,” Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut, “Do you like me?”
Rey is puzzled. “Of course I like you!” He innocently replied. Sebastian flinches ever so slightly at the simplicity of Rey’s answer, but his eyes remain closed.
“No, but like,” Sebastian can’t believe Rey’s idiotic statement, “Do you like me?”
Silence.
Rey puts his pencil down on his easel. He remembers the cloudy day from elementary school when they first met. He remembers how his heart fluttered after looking at Sebastian for the first time. He remembers how in love he is with him. The realization hits Rey hard, but for once, he is speechless.
A heavy exhale shakenly travels from Rey’s lungs onto the painting and it’s surroundings, causing his pencil to slowly roll away ever so slightly. A movement that Rey could not possibly follow. He wants to tell Sebastian the truth, but his throat blocks off all sounds.
Rey’s eyes intensely meet Sebastian’s. With lips slightly parted and shoulders tense, the boys attempt to read each other’s minds. Suddenly, Sebastian stands beside the bed. Like dominos falling, Rey follows his lead. Rey takes small steps until his mismatched socks are centimeters away from Sebastian’s polished white socks that practically look brand new.
More silence.
Sebastian has never been one to boast about his love life—the nonexistence of it is a mystery to all. Since he has always kept to himself, Rey doesn’t even know if he has had his first kiss yet, but within milliseconds, Sebastian flings himself into Rey’s arms. His mouth takes in Rey’s warm breath as their lips cling onto each other, like the thumb-tacked photo rolls hanging up on each of the boy’s bedroom walls, taken with puffy faces after watching the movie theater’s film “A Dog’s Purpose.”
Rey feels spirals in his head, but his hands take action. His right hand cups Sebastian’s jaw while his left hand tugs on the bottom hem of Seb’s sweatshirt. The soft, fluffy fabric is as comforting as the newfound lover’s tender embrace.
Rey feels Sebastian’s hot, pink face against his own, which urges him to clench the sweatshirt in his fists and stretch it off of Seb’s body. The jittery movement causes Sebastian to trip on his own feet and tumble onto the mattress with Rey still attached, making him fall on top
quickly after. With Sebastian pinned to the soft, feathered duvet, Rey unties the black bow of his best friend’s sweatpants before untying his own paint-splattered smock and tosses them on the carpet, having no care for the mess he is going to have to clean up later. He then uses both hands to peel off his blue and yellow basketball jersey, revealing his vibrant body sparkled by the sun peaking through the window.
Sebastian’s pointer finger slowly caresses Rey’s chest, beginning from his strong pecks; down to his deep, full, abs; all the way to his chestnut brown happy trail. Nothing could be heard except for the heavy exhales of anticipation coming from both boys. Sebastian’s finger travels to the button on Rey’s blue jeans and twists it apart with the determination of an Olympic swimming medalist. He curls his indexes around each of the front facing belt loops of Rey’s jeans and pulls them down as far as he can without experiencing the terror of disconnecting himself from Rey’s body. The painter shimmies his legs until his jeans drop, where he then steps out of the two rings and kicks it to the growing pile of clothes.
Rey leans into Sebastian’s space, taking in the smell of his expensive cologne and natural essence before combining his best friend’s tongue with his own, like snapping a collection of magnets into a large, gravitating pull. His right hand traces Sebastian’s delicate collarbone as a soft hum escapes his lips.
Fingers trail from the inner elastic of Sebastian’s black Calvin Kleins down to his sensitive, mountainous skin.
Sebastian stands on the edge of the diving board of his pleasure. His knees bend as his feet push into the rigid, blue plank until enough momentum makes him soar. Up and down, down and up on the board, prepping for the dive of a lifetime. With precision, the wallflower of a man curls into a tumbling wheel and spirals through the sky, slicing the wind effortlessly. He splashes in the tub of satisfaction with a body consumed by wetness and joy. The submersion feels explosive. His heart pounds out of his chest as blood thumps in his veins all throughout his fragile, soulful frame. Sebastian is the compass of sophistication and the psychic of deep knowledge.
In an effort to get away from the creamy white drool in his curtains, Sebastian pulls off his boxer briefs. The sticky batter melts into the floor just like the wet paint on Rey’s jeans.
To make matters fair, Sebastian crawls out from under Rey to perform a similar masquerade. Rey sits on the edge of his bed, fingers gripping the mattress.
Sebastian’s knees make contact with the burning carpet. He looks up into the longing eyes of his best friend and licks his dehydrated lips. His left hand rests on Rey’s red, silk satin Dolce & Gabbana boxers while his right hand slowly pulls them down, revealing Rey’s smooth and tall shaft.
Sebastian takes a deep breath in. He lunges for the phallus, wrapping his wet mouth around it. His tongue paints the walls of his lover as he bobs his head up and down. He sucks his cheeks in like a suction cup, afraid to tear away from its surface.
Rey’s eyes relax and roll into the deepest parts of his mind, parts that he is now exploring with his favorite person. His fingers pluck away from the mattress and tense. His breath unsteadies with each of Sebastian’s motions until his entire body freezes except for his swollen member. The salty and warm frosting swims down the throat of his lover. The boys’ entities become one—two contrasting characters morphing into a single being.
An athlete and an artist, a talker and a listener, a heart and a soul.