Author's note: All characters in sexual situations are over 18.
Before I begin telling this story, you should probably know a few things about me. My name is Preston Nakamura. I'm an Asian-American (you probably guessed that), though both of my parents were born and raised in America. I'm kind of short, maybe 5'7", and not very muscular. I'm pretty much the stereotypical nerdy Asian guy, minus the glasses.
I'm also gay.
I became pretty sure of that around the time puberty really kicked in, when I was about 14 years old. I found myself to always be more attracted to the boys around me and never the girls. I don't really act effeminate, but I'm not exactly a man's man, either. By the time I was finishing up my sophomore year of high school, there wasn't much doubt left anymore. Telling my rather traditionalist parents that I was gay the following summer was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I was horrified of what they would do when they found out. I couldn't even imagine my parents not loving me, I had always had a good relationship with them, but I was scared something would break that couldn't be fixed again.
Thankfully, they took the news well. They weren't mad at me, they weren't even that shocked. They said that they had their suspicions over the years, before I could even put it together, and prepared themselves for the possibility. In all honesty I can't say that they had no qualms about it, but they still wanted to support me and wanted me to be happy. Our relationship became sort of touch and go for a while, both me and my parents feeling like we had to walk on eggshells when we were talking to each other, but over time it got easier.
Coming out to my parents that summer gave me the confidence to leave the closet fully. Starting my junior year, I was openly gay. I didn't parade it around or anything, but I promised myself to not pretend any more. I only really told my few sort-of-friends, but in this age of social media word can travel fast, and it seemed like the whole school knew in no time at all. My junior year started in 2015, and I lived in Maryland, a relatively progressive state, so I wasn't faced with nearly as much judgment and prejudice as I feared I would. Sometimes it seemed like the other boys were a little bit uncomfortable around me, especially during gym class, but most people didn't care I was gay. I only really had one bully: Todd West.
Todd was a jock, a member of the volleyball team and all-around popular guy. He was in the same grade as me and we were both at around the same academic level (above average but nothing spectacular), so we ended up taking several classes together. One constant source of discomfort was that I had a bit of a crush on him, and I think he could tell. Every time he caught me looking in his general direction he would glare at me, so I got into the habit of trying to not even face him if I could avoid it. The problem was that it was a relatively small school, so we saw a lot of each other. As the months of my junior year passed he seemed to hate me more and more. It started out with hateful stares and maybe some name-calling on occasion, but it got more and more aggressive. A few times he would "accidentally" bump into me in the hallway, making me feel just how much bigger and stronger than me he was.
Todd was pretty well built. I guessed he was around 6'3", and coupling his height with his broad shoulders and strong arms he was intimidating as well as attractive. He never really indicated that he wanted to physically hurt me, but he took every opportunity to remind me how much weaker I was than him.
I did everything I could to not provoke him, but that didn't seem to help matters. His animosity only increased over time. I didn't tell the teachers about it for two reasons: The first was that he never did anything that bad to me, nothing that couldn't just be brushed off as an accident or teasing. In a weird way, I kept things to myself out of a sense of pride. I felt like if I told the teachers about it, that would be proving to him that he got to me without doing too much at all. I convinced myself that if I ignored it and acted like he didn't bother me I would win in the end. Looking back on it, that was the dumbest thing I could have done.
The second thing that stopped me from talking about it was that I was terrified of him, and not just because of his size. He was popular and well liked. Most of the students were more likely to take his side than mine if things got ugly. I was pretty sure that most of the classmates were aware of the bullying, but didn't talk about it. I don't think it was because they wanted it to happen, but more likely because they didn't see it as their business, and thought that somebody else would probably do something about it instead. That didn't happen.
Things were never comfortable, but they definitely came to a head early in our senior year. I don't even remember what class it was, but during one of the classes we had together, the teacher asked me to come up to the front and do something on the board. I was sitting a few desks behind him, and when I walked next to him his leg shot out and made me trip. That was the straw that broke the camel's back for me, and I snapped. I yelled at him, and the two of us got into a shouting match. None of the other students said a word, and the teacher had to break it up.
Todd and I both got detention for a week. Maybe they could sense how much we hated each other and figured that the awkward proximity would be a good way to punish us both. But, against my expectations, it wasn't that bad. I was under the impression that he would continue with the intimidation tactics, even ramp them up, but instead he just ignored me, and I was happy to do the same. The five days passed without incident.
It was after the last detention that things got ugly.
We were both walking down the hall so we could leave, as usual doing whatever we could to not acknowledge the other. I made it a point to not look at him, and made sure to stay behind him so that he couldn't sneak up on me.
It took about a second for several events to happen, one after another.
I was looking somewhere else, and he must have stopped walking, for what reason I didn't know. Since I wasn't looking, I walked right into him, but I was a bit to the side. Everything lined up perfectly, and my swinging hand made direct, obvious contact with his ass.
My blood turned to ice as I pulled away and jumped back. He noticed.
When he turned around, he was the angriest I had ever seen a person. It was like I could see an actual fire burning in his eyes. When he looked at me like that, I became petrified in fear.
"What the fuck was that?" He growled quietly.
"I-I'm sorry! That w-was an accident, I swear!"
He started walking up to me.
"That wasn't a fucking accident. You just touched my ass!"
"No! P-please, listen!"
He grabbed me by the collar and lifted me clear off the ground. He slammed me hard against the nearby lockers, pinning me against them. I struggled, but he overpowered me easily.
"I ought to kill you for that, you faggot!"
"T-Todd, please—"
He cut me off by kneeing me right in the gut. All the air in my body was forced out of me at once.
"Don't say my fucking name!"
I could hardly breathe and my stomach was burning in pain, but I tried to get some more words out.
"I d-didn't mean to—"
He interrupted me again, adjusting his grip so he held me up with one hand and drew the other back.
"Next time you're feeling horny maybe think about THIS!!"
With that last word he punched me full force in the eye, making my head slam back so hard the lockers rattled. At the initial impact everything flashed white and slowly faded back in. I was able to register him letting me go and myself crumpling to the ground. Through the fog, I could see Todd with an almost shocked look on his face before he ran away at full speed. I remained on the floor, trying to recover from what had happened.
As I returned to coherence, I started to really feel the pain. I knew that I would have a black eye, and possibly a concussion, too. My back and front both ached. Against my will tears started falling and I just lied there on the cold floor, weeping quietly. I was mortified, and felt more alone than ever before.
Somehow, I managed to ride my bike home and my mother noticed my injury the instant she saw me. The next hour was a flurry of her tending to me, demanding that I tell her every single detail about what happened, and her getting pissed off, at both Todd and the school.
