Leon
I couldn't decide if finding Ryan Hall at orientation was a good thing or a tragedy. I wanted a new start, which was pretty pathetic when you end up going to college practically at home. Still, it could have been worse. Ryan was cool. We weren't friends, exactly, but he was nice. He was quiet and an introvert but had never been cruel or rude or racist towards me. It seems like a low bar but when you've been flamboyantly gay all your life and black on top of it, it's better than you might think. So when I found out he was going to be my roommate, I put that firmly in the positive side of things.
When you are the "great" Leon Gatwa of legend, you put on a brave face, you know. And you get strong against the world, even if you are born in a loving and accepting family and a progressive community. Oh, you still get the sideways looks, the name calling. Freak, fagot, queer, or your fun pack variety of racial slurs. Even being prom king I know damn well that at least half of those votes were ironical, cast to see the freak show of the football god and the pansy black boy. To the gays and the girls I was a prince, to the activists and social warriors I was a cause, to the rest I was this social butterfly, at ease wherever I went. What I was, and still am was cracked, the deep fault lines in myself widening way before my first love dumped me to the curb right after prom and shut the closet door firmly behind him.
When orientation came around, I was all fucked up, I had collapsed completely under the weight of the shit thrown at me. DeAndre's last words to me still echoing in my mind all this time after "That's just it , Leon, you don't get it. You never get it. You're just an Oreo, all lily white inside. You don't get my struggle. You can't be discreet and I'm not going to risk it. Have you got any idea how hard I've worked to risk it all on a skirt wearing freak? They're going to drop me; they're going to laugh at me. It was bad enough in high school, I'm done. We're done".
I knew he resented my middle class family, my liberal and accepting friends, but this was cruel even for him. As he walked away, I went through the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining and depression. Acceptance I had to work on yet.
Our break-up wasn't a total surprise, you see. Have you ever been loved but not quite the right amount? Like you keep falling short, being almost there but not quite right? Like you can't help but disappoint the one who loves you best and he lets you know time and again what a fuck up you are? That was us. I loved him with all my heart, that's the only way I know how. His love, however, was always fleeting and conditional.
When we started hooking up, he wasn't out yet. I had never been in the closet myself. You know that really feminine kid that plays with barbies and loves tutus and does ballet since he's three years old? Yeah, that's me. When his strong hand grabbed my shoulder during a party in the beginning of senior year, I almost jumped out of my skin. Huge football player plus myself? Recipe for tragedy right there. That's how a PSA for gay kids would go if there were one. Still his words in my ear made me shiver: "So Leon... are you any good at sucking cock? Wanna suck mine?"
I was half terrified, half aroused, which I would come to discover was my default when it came to him. "Are you serious right now, De Andre?" My voice was tentative, soft. Getting my ass kicked by him was not out of the question just yet.
"Sure" he laughed quietly. "Why don't we go upstairs and find out?"
In a daze, I followed him through the room full of drunk and horny people until we eventually found an empty room. Who wouldn't follow this piece of perfection? I never even checked if we were being watched. When the door closed behind us and he undid his fly buttons, I marvelled at his gorgeous body, his hard six pack, his deep V, his lean hips. I just knelt before him, taking in the work of art of his firm body. He was deliciously hard. My tongue traced a line from the tip of his thick, heavy dick. I traced his fraenulum slowly. I tasted a little drop of precum. It was sweet and delicious and manly all at once. I wanted to worship his cock , savour it all night long. He was right, I loved sucking dick and I did think I was pretty good at it myself. He had other ideas, though. He pushed against my throat and I tried to accommodate his girth as he grabbed my hair and fucked my face hard. I was hard as a rock now, trying to rut against his legs as I knelt before him. Tears fell as he pushed harder and my nose was against his somewhat unkempt bush.
As I said before, I was terrified as well as excited as he fucked my face. I liked this little edge, though, this element of uncertainty and danger. Though we were both eighteen, I felt much younger and vulnerable than him. This was a man, not a boy, a hard, demanding man. I jerked off furiously as his strokes against my throat became more erratic. I could feel his orgasm nearer and nearer. His head was thrown back, his thick neck thrown back exposing his delicious Adam's apple, lost in sensation. I felt the weight of his perfect balls, not daring to play with his hole; I was too scared to go there. Then, without warning, he came inside my mouth and I almost chocked. I coughed a little as he withdrew and tried to swallow as much as I could as he continued to come all over my face. My face was covered in tears and spit and come. It was exhilarating and terrifying and humiliating and hot. He buttoned his fly again. He turned to leave as I was still kneeling before him, messy and unfulfilled. "See you around, ok?" he said nonchalantly.
"Yeah" I said dumbly. "See you around". He left and I was left behind with my cock in hand, not knowing what that was about. Well, there goes another DL jock, I thought, seeking a willing mouth. I enjoyed this first blow job, don't get me wrong, but it was such a random thing I thought that was it and De Andre wouldn't look at me again. I was wrong.
If you ask someone from my old high school, our love story is one for the ages, how he came out to his very Christian parents for me and was almost kicked out of their home, how he followed me around wherever I went, always attentive, always protective. If I'm being honest with myself, however, I know that's just a myth, glossing over the ugliness that was behind the scenes. He came out because a teammate found out we were sleeping together and threatened to out him. Being a stubborn bastard he opted to do it himself. He was always near me because he was jealous, irrationally so a lot of the times. His attentiveness was always on this side of overbearing. He was also conflicted about me. Our sex was usually a little too rough for me, leaving behind bruises, bite marks, scratches and not always in the fun way. And then there was the "Can't you just, I don't know, tone it down?" He wanted me butch, and that wasn't me. His little remarks always left me anxious, on edge. Was he leaving me, was I good enough for him? But I wasn't, I could never reach his goals for me because he kept changing the goal posts on me. I was the if only guy. If only I was quieter, if only I was more discreet, if only I didn't wear so much makeup, if only I didn't flirt so much with other guys, if only I wasn't so flamboyant. I just couldn't be what he wanted, how he wanted me to be. It was my dream to channel the fabulousness of Billy Porter and wear a fabulous dress at prom. I ended up in a black tux like him, with matching cummerbunds and boutonnieres, very... romantic, I guess?
Then the college scouts came for him and he gleefully went back inside the closet, leaving me behind. I hadn't committed to a college yet, because it was implied we would go together, or so I naively thought. But after I was dumped, I just looked at my options and chose the nearest college I was accepted to, which also happened to be the cheapest. The dance programme was decent and that was good enough for my parents.
