[Original] Ribbons, PG, Humor/Romance
Dec. 18th, 2005 02:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
meiface.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
chineseinkTitle: Ribbons
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Jason/Ben
Rating: PG
Claimer: Yeah, mine.
Ben and Jason are best friends. And then some.
Ribbons
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meitachi
There was a girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom class. Every day she would sit in the seat in front of me and take out a green brush and run it through her hair. She would do this for the entire fifteen minute period we had in homeroom.
Once, I asked her why.
She said, “Because I take care of my hair.”
--
My best friend always carried ribbons with him. They were always at hand, either in his pocket or in his backpack, ribbons of various widths and lengths and colors and textures. He always grinned when he took one out, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that only appeared when he was enjoying a private joke.
Whenever anyone asked him why he carried around ribbons, he’d say, “For my best friend.”
--
Chrissy was the prettiest girl in our grade. She was a varsity cheerleader, an honor roll student, and volunteered at nursing homes in her spare time. Every other girl in our grade either hated her or wanted to be her.
She was dating my best friend.
--
“He likes you.”
“I know. He’s my best friend.”
“Not like that.”
“I know that too.”
I saw him talking to the smartest girl in our grade during lunch. She was Asian, of course, had glasses, gorgeous long black hair I’d kill for (then dye), short and usually quiet. My best friend was on good terms with her and while I’d spoken to her occasionally, I didn’t know her well. I wondered if I should.
--
He and Chrissy broke up on their five month anniversary.
--
He told me that he’d asked the smartest girl in our grade out. She turned him down.
--
The girl with the long blonde hair in my homeroom class asked me one day what I thought about my best friend.
“He’s cool.” I suppose that was an understatement.
She smiled at me, still running the brush through her long locks, and said, “Did you know that Ling’s my best friend?” Ling was the smartest girl in our grade. I would’ve never guessed that she even talked to people like the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom, people who didn’t take advanced courses and weren’t on the All-A 4.5 GPA and Above Honor Roll.
Then again, she did talk to my best friend.
--
Ling sat beside me in our Psychology class. “Hi,” she said, setting her things down on the desk.
“Hey.” She never sat in the back with us delinquents.
“I like your choker.”
I fingered the black velvet ribbon wrapped snugly around my neck. It went with my outfit that day which is why I suppose it was chosen over a crimson leather or navy silk. “Thanks. Jason gave it to me.”
There was a cryptic look on her face. “I figured.” She gave me a small smile.
I didn’t know what to think.
--
“You like him, don’t you?”
“He’s my best friend…”
“…and?”
“And…you know…”
“I never mistook you for narrow-minded.”
“…”
All this my younger sister rattled off to me as a random conversation she’d overheard between Ling and “somebody.” She was now making it her quest to know whose life Ling was meddling in, because, as she put it, “if Ling gets to meddle, I get to meddle.”
I suppose I should mention that Ling and Carrie are good friends, too. Carrie, unlike the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom, was smart too. One of the smartest, if not the smartest, girls in her grade, which was one below mine. I wondered, again, if maybe I should know Ling better, since it seemed that everyone I knew, knew her too.
--
Chrissy was seen talking to Ling and everyone was whispering about it. Not because they were talking, but because Chrissy had broken down crying in the middle of the conversation. I asked my best friend if he knew anything about it, since he knew them both well.
“Nope,” replied Jason. “Must be one of those girl things.”
I could tell he was lying. But I didn’t press him on the matter. If he didn’t want to share with his best firend, who was I to be bitter about it?
--
I have brown hair, on the dark side, that’s considered long. My bangs hang into my eyes and I always contemplate cutting them but I never do. I have two piercings in my right ear and four in my left. Carrie says my skin is pale and complains that my complexion is perfect. She also complains about the length of my lashes.
But then, Carrie complains about her grades too.
--
Once, at the mall, I saw Ling and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom. They were in front of Waldenbooks with a large group of other teens, varying in age, some carrying shopping bags and others holding drinks from the food court. I was going to just walk past as I often do when I run into people that I semi-know from school, but Ling looked up and called out. I smiled back and planned to keep walking by, but she gestured me over.
“Hey everyone,” she said with a smile I’ve never seen on her face during school. She looked like a different person, flushed and excited and not nearly the quiet, studious scholar I’ve always pictured her to be. She introduced me.
A few faces broke out in grins, all with the same sparkle in their eyes that Jason had when he was laughing privately at a joke. I shifted uncomfortably. “Yo.”
Ling and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom exchanged looks. Everyone else introduced themselves. “We’re going to Suncoast for some anime. Wanna come?”
There was a muffled noise at that, sounding suspiciously like a quickly stifled snicker. It came from a slender Asian guy in the back with spiky hair. I glared in his direction as I answered Ling. “Sure, I was actually just heading that way.” I’d never have taken her for an anime fan. But as the group traversed through the mall, she and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom and another girl (Angie?) chatted with me about their favorites and sub versus dub. The guys occasionally muttered about fanatical obsession, tugged on locks of unwary hair, or joined in with an opinion or two, but mostly they joked amongst themselves.
We spent awhile at Suncoast browsing anime. I got to know Ling better.
She was a yaoi fan.
--
When I asked Jason if he was going to the prom, he shrugged. “Maybe.”
And I knew something was up. Because my best friend would never be caught without a date to any minor dance; I knew he’d never miss the prom or go stag. So I asked if he was taking Ling.
“She turned me down last month, remember? I don’t think she’s changed her mind.”
“Wanna go with me?” I joked.
He looked at me.
I wondered.
--
Carrie told me that she’d accidentally burned the spaghetti. “We’re going out to eat tonight.”
“I knew we never should’ve let you cook,” I groaned. “What’d Mom and Dad say?”
“They said, fine, go out to eat. They’re going to that dinner party at Mom’s colleague’s house, remember? They don’t care.”
We went to Chili’s.
I saw Ling and Jason there. Together.
I didn’t say anything to them.
--
“Are you going to the prom?” Ling asked. She was sitting beside me in Psychology again. Had been ever since the meeting in the mall, in fact. We were actually getting to be good friends.
I shrugged in reply. I hadn’t asked the person I wanted to go with yet. And I don’t know if I planned to.
--
One lunch period, I had to go to the library for a group meeting on our English project. It ended early and I slipped into the cafeteria to grab some extra food before it closed. I ran into Ling at the vending machine. She glared at me.
“Emily just asked Jason to go to the prom with her.”
--
I worked at Subways on the weekends. One Saturday, around lunchtime, that one friend of Ling’s, Angie, I think her name was, came into the shop with someone I assumed was her little sister.
“Hey,” I greeted her, a hesitant smile on my face. I wondered if she would remember me.
Her eyes lit up when they met mine. “Hi! What’s up? I didn’t know you worked here.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I do.” Gesturing at the spread of fresh toppings, I looked at her askance, smiling. “So what would you two like for lunch?”
As her little sister (who looked maybe seven or eight) stared intently at the sub choices on the menu on the wall, clearly struggling internally over which sandwich looked best, Angie eyed me. I looked back, unsure of what she was thinking.
“Hey, I was talking to Ling the other day,” she told me. Her gaze was speculative. “Is it true that Jason’s going to the prom with Emily?”
I shrugged. “I know she asked, but he hasn’t said yes yet. He won’t tell me why.” Privately, I wondered why everyone and their sister were so interested in my best friend’s love life. I mean, Angie didn’t even know him!
“He should go the prom with you I want a six-inch Italian B.M.T. on white please,” announced Angie’s sister.
I blinked.
--
Jason turned Emily down on Monday.
Ling hissed the news to me in Psychology class.
“I already know,” I told her. “Jason told me before lunch that he was going to turn her down.” I had suffered, and to be honest, was still suffering, mixed emotions on the issue.
Ling cleared things up for me a bit. She glared at me, and under the pretext of taking notes on operant conditioning, muttered fiercely, “If you don’t ask him to the prom by Friday, I’ll see to it that he never looks at you the way you want him to.”
--
That afternoon, thinking back on the past few months, I wondered briefly how long she had known.
--
“Carrie,” I couldn’t believe I was turning to my younger sister of all people for advice, “can I ask you something?”
She looked up from her History homework. “Sure. What’s up?”
I fidgeted. “What do you think Jason would say if, say, hypothetically of course, I asked him to the prom?”
She stared at me for a moment. Then her eyes lit up and she said, with an oddly gleeful tone, “He’d say yes.”
--
The girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom asked me Thursday if I had made up my mind yet. I wondered how long she had known. She and Ling were best friends, after all…
“Not yet,” I answered her.
She smiled at me, ran her fingers through her tangle-free hair, and said simply, “I like your bracelet.”
Wrapped around my left wrist was a long, slender cerulean ribbon of silk.
I stared at it. Jason had given it to me this morning, pulling it out of his pocket and selecting it from his handful of other choices, a daily ritual.
“It matches your eyes.”
I told her I wore contacts.
--
Friday morning, as Jason pulled his car into the parking lot behind our school, I gathered up my courage. As he removed his keys from the ignition, I stole a nervous look at him, and started haltingly, “Jay?”
He glanced at me. “Yo.”
“Um…you know…the prom, and how you’re not going with Emily?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes and opened the car door, stepping out. “She’s not my type.” He opened the back door and grabbed his bag out and slung it over his shoulder. “You coming?” he asked, giving me an odd look. I was still sitting in the passenger seat.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered. I quickly extricated myself from the car and got my own stuff. As we walked toward the school, me still trying to find the right words, Jason slid a hand into the cargo pocket of his jeans and fetched out a handful of assorted ribbons. He gave me a crooked grin.
“So which one’ll you have today?”
I shrugged. “Jason,” I said instead, looking intently at my shoes. “I have a question.”
“Yeah?” He paused in his stride for a moment, and I stopped too. He looked me up and down from my baggy khakis to my tight black tee. “Couldn’t you wear some more interesting colors once in awhile?” he complained. He shook a fist of multi-colored ribbons at me. “All these are going to waste if all you ever wear is black and red!”
“I wear jeans,” I said defensively. Then I realized I was getting distracted. “Jay…” I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was my best friend in the world. I tried to sound casual, instead of desperately unsure. “Wanna go to the prom with me?”
--
I used to have a pair of sunglasses that I wore everywhere I went, rain or shine, day or night. My parents complained, Carrie questioned, and everyone else gave me odd looks. I liked the certain anonymity it provided, and even the association people created with those sunglasses and me.
Sometime after Jason and I become really good friends, he told me he hated them. Then he broke them.
I didn’t speak to him for three days. Because a week was four days too long.
--
“I thought you’d never ask.” He was grinning at me. “Ling kept telling me you would, but I was so impatient I wanted to ask you weeks ago. She told me that you had to come to terms with it first, so I had to wait.”
I was considering getting my hearing checked.
“What?” I asked, staring at him in stunned disbelief.
“Yeah, I’ll go with you.”
--
Ling and Carrie and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom found me at lunch and I was attacked by ferocious hugs.
“I knew it, I knew it, congrats!” Ling was completely beside herself, especially if she let herself get this emotional in a school setting. Her smile was ear to ear as she hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad you finally asked.”
Carrie just beamed at me, a smug “I told you so” gleam in her eyes that all siblings have perfected.
The girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom flashed me a grin, gave me a hug, and said, “Now we can finally tell Angie and the rest of them the end of the story.” She laughed. “Angie will love it. She’ll probably turn it into a doujinshi.”
“You all knew?” I couldn’t believe it. “You all helped?”
“He was unsure about it himself at first,” Ling explained, her eyes shining, “but it was so obvious to those of us who can tell,” she shared a gloating look with her best friend, and Carrie coughed to cover up a laugh, “the attraction between you two. Even Chrissy saw it.” She shrugged. “We talked, he saw the light, and we’ve just been waiting for you all this time.”
I was flabbergasted. Speechless.
“You guys really don’t mind?”
Ling touched my face gently. “I am an avid yaoi fan, remember?” She smiled beatifically at me. “You deserve to be happy, Ben.”
--
The night of the prom, I wore my clear contacts. My eyes are naturally brown.
--
When we shared our first kiss, Carrie was spying. Well, I guess it was our fault for doing it on the porch right in front of a convenient window. After stammered words and fierce blushes, she laughed and gave me a hug, smiling at both me and Jason.
“I’m glad you’re happy, bro,” she said.
--
And I was.
--
At the end of the year, I found out that the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom was actually a guy.
--
Posted: 11.23.2004
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Jason/Ben
Rating: PG
Claimer: Yeah, mine.
Ben and Jason are best friends. And then some.
Ribbons
by
meitachiThere was a girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom class. Every day she would sit in the seat in front of me and take out a green brush and run it through her hair. She would do this for the entire fifteen minute period we had in homeroom.
Once, I asked her why.
She said, “Because I take care of my hair.”
--
My best friend always carried ribbons with him. They were always at hand, either in his pocket or in his backpack, ribbons of various widths and lengths and colors and textures. He always grinned when he took one out, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that only appeared when he was enjoying a private joke.
Whenever anyone asked him why he carried around ribbons, he’d say, “For my best friend.”
--
Chrissy was the prettiest girl in our grade. She was a varsity cheerleader, an honor roll student, and volunteered at nursing homes in her spare time. Every other girl in our grade either hated her or wanted to be her.
She was dating my best friend.
--
“He likes you.”
“I know. He’s my best friend.”
“Not like that.”
“I know that too.”
I saw him talking to the smartest girl in our grade during lunch. She was Asian, of course, had glasses, gorgeous long black hair I’d kill for (then dye), short and usually quiet. My best friend was on good terms with her and while I’d spoken to her occasionally, I didn’t know her well. I wondered if I should.
--
He and Chrissy broke up on their five month anniversary.
--
He told me that he’d asked the smartest girl in our grade out. She turned him down.
--
The girl with the long blonde hair in my homeroom class asked me one day what I thought about my best friend.
“He’s cool.” I suppose that was an understatement.
She smiled at me, still running the brush through her long locks, and said, “Did you know that Ling’s my best friend?” Ling was the smartest girl in our grade. I would’ve never guessed that she even talked to people like the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom, people who didn’t take advanced courses and weren’t on the All-A 4.5 GPA and Above Honor Roll.
Then again, she did talk to my best friend.
--
Ling sat beside me in our Psychology class. “Hi,” she said, setting her things down on the desk.
“Hey.” She never sat in the back with us delinquents.
“I like your choker.”
I fingered the black velvet ribbon wrapped snugly around my neck. It went with my outfit that day which is why I suppose it was chosen over a crimson leather or navy silk. “Thanks. Jason gave it to me.”
There was a cryptic look on her face. “I figured.” She gave me a small smile.
I didn’t know what to think.
--
“You like him, don’t you?”
“He’s my best friend…”
“…and?”
“And…you know…”
“I never mistook you for narrow-minded.”
“…”
All this my younger sister rattled off to me as a random conversation she’d overheard between Ling and “somebody.” She was now making it her quest to know whose life Ling was meddling in, because, as she put it, “if Ling gets to meddle, I get to meddle.”
I suppose I should mention that Ling and Carrie are good friends, too. Carrie, unlike the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom, was smart too. One of the smartest, if not the smartest, girls in her grade, which was one below mine. I wondered, again, if maybe I should know Ling better, since it seemed that everyone I knew, knew her too.
--
Chrissy was seen talking to Ling and everyone was whispering about it. Not because they were talking, but because Chrissy had broken down crying in the middle of the conversation. I asked my best friend if he knew anything about it, since he knew them both well.
“Nope,” replied Jason. “Must be one of those girl things.”
I could tell he was lying. But I didn’t press him on the matter. If he didn’t want to share with his best firend, who was I to be bitter about it?
--
I have brown hair, on the dark side, that’s considered long. My bangs hang into my eyes and I always contemplate cutting them but I never do. I have two piercings in my right ear and four in my left. Carrie says my skin is pale and complains that my complexion is perfect. She also complains about the length of my lashes.
But then, Carrie complains about her grades too.
--
Once, at the mall, I saw Ling and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom. They were in front of Waldenbooks with a large group of other teens, varying in age, some carrying shopping bags and others holding drinks from the food court. I was going to just walk past as I often do when I run into people that I semi-know from school, but Ling looked up and called out. I smiled back and planned to keep walking by, but she gestured me over.
“Hey everyone,” she said with a smile I’ve never seen on her face during school. She looked like a different person, flushed and excited and not nearly the quiet, studious scholar I’ve always pictured her to be. She introduced me.
A few faces broke out in grins, all with the same sparkle in their eyes that Jason had when he was laughing privately at a joke. I shifted uncomfortably. “Yo.”
Ling and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom exchanged looks. Everyone else introduced themselves. “We’re going to Suncoast for some anime. Wanna come?”
There was a muffled noise at that, sounding suspiciously like a quickly stifled snicker. It came from a slender Asian guy in the back with spiky hair. I glared in his direction as I answered Ling. “Sure, I was actually just heading that way.” I’d never have taken her for an anime fan. But as the group traversed through the mall, she and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom and another girl (Angie?) chatted with me about their favorites and sub versus dub. The guys occasionally muttered about fanatical obsession, tugged on locks of unwary hair, or joined in with an opinion or two, but mostly they joked amongst themselves.
We spent awhile at Suncoast browsing anime. I got to know Ling better.
She was a yaoi fan.
--
When I asked Jason if he was going to the prom, he shrugged. “Maybe.”
And I knew something was up. Because my best friend would never be caught without a date to any minor dance; I knew he’d never miss the prom or go stag. So I asked if he was taking Ling.
“She turned me down last month, remember? I don’t think she’s changed her mind.”
“Wanna go with me?” I joked.
He looked at me.
I wondered.
--
Carrie told me that she’d accidentally burned the spaghetti. “We’re going out to eat tonight.”
“I knew we never should’ve let you cook,” I groaned. “What’d Mom and Dad say?”
“They said, fine, go out to eat. They’re going to that dinner party at Mom’s colleague’s house, remember? They don’t care.”
We went to Chili’s.
I saw Ling and Jason there. Together.
I didn’t say anything to them.
--
“Are you going to the prom?” Ling asked. She was sitting beside me in Psychology again. Had been ever since the meeting in the mall, in fact. We were actually getting to be good friends.
I shrugged in reply. I hadn’t asked the person I wanted to go with yet. And I don’t know if I planned to.
--
One lunch period, I had to go to the library for a group meeting on our English project. It ended early and I slipped into the cafeteria to grab some extra food before it closed. I ran into Ling at the vending machine. She glared at me.
“Emily just asked Jason to go to the prom with her.”
--
I worked at Subways on the weekends. One Saturday, around lunchtime, that one friend of Ling’s, Angie, I think her name was, came into the shop with someone I assumed was her little sister.
“Hey,” I greeted her, a hesitant smile on my face. I wondered if she would remember me.
Her eyes lit up when they met mine. “Hi! What’s up? I didn’t know you worked here.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I do.” Gesturing at the spread of fresh toppings, I looked at her askance, smiling. “So what would you two like for lunch?”
As her little sister (who looked maybe seven or eight) stared intently at the sub choices on the menu on the wall, clearly struggling internally over which sandwich looked best, Angie eyed me. I looked back, unsure of what she was thinking.
“Hey, I was talking to Ling the other day,” she told me. Her gaze was speculative. “Is it true that Jason’s going to the prom with Emily?”
I shrugged. “I know she asked, but he hasn’t said yes yet. He won’t tell me why.” Privately, I wondered why everyone and their sister were so interested in my best friend’s love life. I mean, Angie didn’t even know him!
“He should go the prom with you I want a six-inch Italian B.M.T. on white please,” announced Angie’s sister.
I blinked.
--
Jason turned Emily down on Monday.
Ling hissed the news to me in Psychology class.
“I already know,” I told her. “Jason told me before lunch that he was going to turn her down.” I had suffered, and to be honest, was still suffering, mixed emotions on the issue.
Ling cleared things up for me a bit. She glared at me, and under the pretext of taking notes on operant conditioning, muttered fiercely, “If you don’t ask him to the prom by Friday, I’ll see to it that he never looks at you the way you want him to.”
--
That afternoon, thinking back on the past few months, I wondered briefly how long she had known.
--
“Carrie,” I couldn’t believe I was turning to my younger sister of all people for advice, “can I ask you something?”
She looked up from her History homework. “Sure. What’s up?”
I fidgeted. “What do you think Jason would say if, say, hypothetically of course, I asked him to the prom?”
She stared at me for a moment. Then her eyes lit up and she said, with an oddly gleeful tone, “He’d say yes.”
--
The girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom asked me Thursday if I had made up my mind yet. I wondered how long she had known. She and Ling were best friends, after all…
“Not yet,” I answered her.
She smiled at me, ran her fingers through her tangle-free hair, and said simply, “I like your bracelet.”
Wrapped around my left wrist was a long, slender cerulean ribbon of silk.
I stared at it. Jason had given it to me this morning, pulling it out of his pocket and selecting it from his handful of other choices, a daily ritual.
“It matches your eyes.”
I told her I wore contacts.
--
Friday morning, as Jason pulled his car into the parking lot behind our school, I gathered up my courage. As he removed his keys from the ignition, I stole a nervous look at him, and started haltingly, “Jay?”
He glanced at me. “Yo.”
“Um…you know…the prom, and how you’re not going with Emily?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes and opened the car door, stepping out. “She’s not my type.” He opened the back door and grabbed his bag out and slung it over his shoulder. “You coming?” he asked, giving me an odd look. I was still sitting in the passenger seat.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered. I quickly extricated myself from the car and got my own stuff. As we walked toward the school, me still trying to find the right words, Jason slid a hand into the cargo pocket of his jeans and fetched out a handful of assorted ribbons. He gave me a crooked grin.
“So which one’ll you have today?”
I shrugged. “Jason,” I said instead, looking intently at my shoes. “I have a question.”
“Yeah?” He paused in his stride for a moment, and I stopped too. He looked me up and down from my baggy khakis to my tight black tee. “Couldn’t you wear some more interesting colors once in awhile?” he complained. He shook a fist of multi-colored ribbons at me. “All these are going to waste if all you ever wear is black and red!”
“I wear jeans,” I said defensively. Then I realized I was getting distracted. “Jay…” I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was my best friend in the world. I tried to sound casual, instead of desperately unsure. “Wanna go to the prom with me?”
--
I used to have a pair of sunglasses that I wore everywhere I went, rain or shine, day or night. My parents complained, Carrie questioned, and everyone else gave me odd looks. I liked the certain anonymity it provided, and even the association people created with those sunglasses and me.
Sometime after Jason and I become really good friends, he told me he hated them. Then he broke them.
I didn’t speak to him for three days. Because a week was four days too long.
--
“I thought you’d never ask.” He was grinning at me. “Ling kept telling me you would, but I was so impatient I wanted to ask you weeks ago. She told me that you had to come to terms with it first, so I had to wait.”
I was considering getting my hearing checked.
“What?” I asked, staring at him in stunned disbelief.
“Yeah, I’ll go with you.”
--
Ling and Carrie and the girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom found me at lunch and I was attacked by ferocious hugs.
“I knew it, I knew it, congrats!” Ling was completely beside herself, especially if she let herself get this emotional in a school setting. Her smile was ear to ear as she hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad you finally asked.”
Carrie just beamed at me, a smug “I told you so” gleam in her eyes that all siblings have perfected.
The girl with long blonde hair from my homeroom flashed me a grin, gave me a hug, and said, “Now we can finally tell Angie and the rest of them the end of the story.” She laughed. “Angie will love it. She’ll probably turn it into a doujinshi.”
“You all knew?” I couldn’t believe it. “You all helped?”
“He was unsure about it himself at first,” Ling explained, her eyes shining, “but it was so obvious to those of us who can tell,” she shared a gloating look with her best friend, and Carrie coughed to cover up a laugh, “the attraction between you two. Even Chrissy saw it.” She shrugged. “We talked, he saw the light, and we’ve just been waiting for you all this time.”
I was flabbergasted. Speechless.
“You guys really don’t mind?”
Ling touched my face gently. “I am an avid yaoi fan, remember?” She smiled beatifically at me. “You deserve to be happy, Ben.”
--
The night of the prom, I wore my clear contacts. My eyes are naturally brown.
--
When we shared our first kiss, Carrie was spying. Well, I guess it was our fault for doing it on the porch right in front of a convenient window. After stammered words and fierce blushes, she laughed and gave me a hug, smiling at both me and Jason.
“I’m glad you’re happy, bro,” she said.
--
And I was.
--
At the end of the year, I found out that the girl with long blonde hair in my homeroom was actually a guy.
--
Posted: 11.23.2004
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}