Cultured Spirit

A/N: This one is a bit short, and I apologize for that. Also, I’m sorry for all the random words (And numbers! haha) in the last chapter. I’ll fix that … soon… perhaps … I’m not completely sure how they got there (too much coffee?!), and I’m hoping it doesn’t happen again!

Thanks for all the reviews, as well! I am extremely happy with the response I got and am hoping I can keep up with all your expectations.

* * *

X.

* * *

Ian blinked water out of his eyes as he shut his locker door, pulling out a clean white shirt as he did. Swim practice that morning had proven to be as thrilling as the others that week, leaving him and his teammates sore and exhausted with Riley’s voice ringing in their ears.

“Shit, man,” Beaver toweled his own hair while attempting to tie a bright orange shoelace on his sneakers with the other. “Riley really wants to slaughter Vick, doesn’t he?”

With a noncommittal grunt, Ian wiped his wet fringe away from his irritated eyes. Much of the week had gone on like that – Ian emerging from the change room doors having spoken less than a sentence the entire time, and all of his teammates blaming Riley’s hardcore practices on his less-than-cheery attitude.

“Hell, I want to slaughter them,” Dillon held open the door for Beaver as the three left the locker rooms – messy as always. They had been assigned equipment duty, meaning they were fifteen minutes behind everyone else. “But I’m gonna be worn out by this weekend, did you see how long it took me to finish laps today?”

Beaver smirked. “That was pathetic, I’m not gonna lie.”

Ian ignored them, his bag slung onto his shoulder and his hand rumpling through his hair. It was still damp, and the longest part just made it past the top of his ear. He was lucky their coach hadn’t noticed and resigned to getting a hair cut later that day. It was one way he could avoid Adeline, after all.

He wasn’t so lucky that morning, however. She was waiting for him, hair tied back with a ribbon and glittery smile aimed directly at his tired form.

“You look awful.” She grinned whilst grabbing the towel off his shoulders and tucking it into his bag. A moment later, running a few fingers through his wet hair, she leaned in close to him for a kiss.

He kissed her like she wanted and ignored the catcalls coming from mainly Beaver, but the movement of his lips seemed rather methodic – like he was trying to remember how they were supposed to move. She pulled away a moment after, grabbing his hand and reminding the hallways that they were a couple.

“You won’t believe what happened to Daniel last Friday.”

Ian’s eyes widened not only at the mention of Daniel’s name, but also the night of the winter carnival. Adeline didn’t look too revolted, and so he figured that she didn’t know about the Ferris Wheel Kiss, which he had absently named it. “Oh? What happened to him?”

His girlfriend’s eyes narrowed. “That slime-ball Warren left him without a ride almost an hour after most people had left. Dad was furious; he’s grounded the guy from ever coming near our house again.”

Ian swallowed thickly. He wondered how much more Dautry Sr. would have hated him if Daniel had spilled that it was him that ditched. He also wondered why Daniel had been silent in the first place.

But, for some inexplicable reason, he felt more elated than he had the entire week. “He’s a creep,” Ian said easily. “I agree with your dad on this one.”

Adeline smiled a bit and nodded, before picking up a new subject that was related to journalism and physics – and other things that Ian couldn’t be bothered to listen to.

* * *

“I’m on to you.”

Ian cringed as Ryan slammed his lunch tray next to his on the table. His sleep-disheveled blond hair was streaked with touches of black dye – something he later blamed on Melissa – and his eyebrow was raised as he stared down at his friend.

“What are you talking about?” Ian was sure he was hardly coherent with half his mouth stuffed with fajita, but Ryan got the gist of it anyway.

He sat down and popped the tab to his orange juice while sending Ian a “do-you-think-I’m-stupid” look. “You’re avoiding Adeline who, by the way, was asking about you during English.”

“Swim… practice…” Ian swallowed his mouthful and sheepishly grinned at Ryan. “You know how exhausted it makes me – we’re training so hard to beat Vick. The faculty will understand.”

“Whatever. Don’t pull that swim bull on me, Hadley.” Ryan smirked. “And next time you skive off classes, take me with you. I have no clue why you insist on skipping with that bore, Daniel.”

Ian squished his fingers against a ketchup packet before looking up with what he hoped was a nonchalant expression. “He wasn’t in class either?”

Ryan frowned, “Nope. But, I saw him pull up in the parking lot this morning, so he’s here… somewhere. Probably in the drama room.” Grinning, Ryan pulled out the pickles from his microwave-burger. “And speaking of drama, how is the play going?”

Chewing his lip and trying to find a way to excuse himself to go check out the drama room without looking suspicious, Ian shrugged. “It’s going. Hey, look, I just remembered. Daniel and I were supposed to be working on the props today and he’s probably pissed that I forgot, so I gotta jet.”

Ryan, looking miffed, tossed his napkin-wrapped pickle at Ian. “Whatever.” His scowl formulated into a bark of laughter as Ian grimaced, not managing to completely dodge the missile. It landed with a nasty squelch on his white shirt.

Rolling his eyes, he escaped Ryan’s smirk and, though he didn’t know it, Adeline approaching their usual table looking extremely put-out.

* * *

The wide theatre hall was as dreary as always. Ian entered it with apprehension, something knotting in his gut. He had been avoiding Daniel skillfully, even better than he had Adeline, though that was probably because Daniel wasn’t constantly pressed to his side.

The heavy door closed behind him, as if finalizing his decision to face the other boy, and he stood still in the darkness of the hall, bumping his knee against one of the chair sets. Quietly cursing, he maneuvered himself toward the lone light flickering near the curtain, stopping suddenly at the voice calling out from its direction.

“Hello?”

Ian winced. It was Daniel, alright. He wondered if it were too late to book it. Daniel’s approaching footsteps confirmed that, yes, it was too late.

“Rehearsals don’t start until next Wednesday – ”

“I’m sorry.” Ian squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing his pride. Daniel’s face had finally come close enough so that it was vaguely visible in the darkness of the room, and Ian inhaled sharply.

Daniel immediately turned around on his heel, the sound of his breathing audible as it picked up pace. For a moment, Ian was alarmed having thought Daniel wasn’t going to forgive him, but instead he realised the smaller boy had gone in search for the light switch. Light washed into the room instantly with a low buzz.

“Ian?” There was something wrong with that voice. Ian realised that it was void of anger and filled instead with helpless worry.

He hadn’t prepared himself for anything like that, expecting the usual anger instead, so stared blankly at his companion. “Er – yeah, hi.”

Daniel was quiet as he stared at him, and Ian squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “Look, what I did was wrong. I heard how your dad blamed it on Warren, and that really sucks considering what – uh – is going on between you two.” His hands clenched into fists and he found himself unable to look Daniel in the eye. “So, I’m sorry.” He managed to grit it out, though the rage surfacing in his expression was evident.

“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel’s voice was meek and layered with embarrassment. Ian forced himself to look at the other boy, frowning at the deep blush and frenzied brown eyes. “I haven’t talked to Warren since – since… Friday.”

Ian’s anger intensified. “He hasn’t even called?” Without even taking the time to wonder why he wanted to beat the loser up, he was already creating a plan to get it done.

Daniel’s eyes widened and he was the one to look away. “No. He’s called.” Nervously brushing his fringe away from his eyes, Daniel focused his attention on the far wall. “I haven’t answered.” There was a quiver to his voice. Ian’s anger faded and he looked confusedly at the other boy as he began walking slowly to where he had been before the disturbance.

He had, apparently, been repainting props. Ian hadn’t noticed before, but found his attention drawn to Daniel’s stained fingertips and unkempt clothes. As if to occupy himself, Daniel picked up the paintbrush and slid it over the surface of a flowerpot carefully.

“Why?” After a moment’s contemplation, Ian kneeled down on the hard floor and stared at Daniel curiously. “I thought you were…” Swallowing the lump in his throat, which had grown dry, Ian looked away. “Besotted.”

Daniel accidentally swathed the brush against Ian’s fingers, though neither really paid attention. “Last Friday,” he began, his honeyed eyes reaching Ian’s warily, “I had one of the best nights of my life. Until you left, that is,” his voice had grown softer, wetter, as if he were about to break out into tears that very moment. “At first, I had no clue why you ran off…”

Ian held his breath. He felt nerves fire off rapidly in his chest, as if whatever Daniel was about to say would hold all the answers that had kept him confused for weeks.

“But then, I realised, I had just told you that I liked … a boy.” And finally, a few tears came, along with Ian’s startled expression. “And, I don’t want to be gay if it repulses you.” He wiped his eyes with a sleeve, obviously angry at himself for crying. “So, I told Warren I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

There was disappointment drawn across his face, as if it weren’t the answer Ian was expecting. Yet, something about Daniel crying, even a tiny bit, made Ian’s chest grow tight. Raising a hand, Ian carefully wiped away the last traces of Daniel’s tears off his cheek, leaving a careful red streak of paint across the warm skin. “I was lying,” he said, his voice soft and somewhat strained. “When I said it’s probably a phase.”

Daniel’s lips fell into frown and he swiped at the paint on his cheek absently. “What?”

“When I sad liking Warren was a phase,” Ian clarified, and he said it as if he were clarifying something for himself as well. “You can’t just stop liking him, even if it means you’re gay.”

Daniel’s eyes watered again, and he muttered something about being stupid before meeting Ian’s eyes. “How would you know?”

Any revelation that Ian might have come to that afternoon, facing a clearly very distraught Daniel, would later be blamed on paint fumes.

“Trust me.” He said vaguely, offering Daniel a smile that, as much as it was genuine, didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then, he stood up and breathed out all his anxiety before walking toward the theatre hall exit, barely catching Daniel’s surprised goodbye.

* * *

“Do you think Noah’s favourite colour is still green?” A week into December had Ian’s mother hovering over flyers and asking his opinion on any bike she saw.

Ian, who was still dressed in his pajamas, stared glumly at his glass of milk. “Uh – yeah – sure.”

His mother looked up at him with pursed lips. “You’re not going to spend all Saturday in your pajamas, Ian. Why don’t you clean your room?”

“Yeah, yeah. And, I could easily do that wearing these.” Ian jabbed his spoon into his soggy cereal, causing his mother to shake her head as she flipped the page.

“Well, you keep looking at these bikes then. See if you can find something green and fast – but not too fast! And I’ll be home late tonight, so order in if you have to. But none of that terribly greasy stuff, okay? There’s this new Thai place opening up a few blocks away, I left the number for you on the fridge.”

Ian very nearly let his head fall into his bowl of cereal and he thankfully waved his mom away as she dropped the flyer and picked up her keys instead.

“And honey,” She looked at him a bit worriedly. “You’ll work things out with your girlfriend, don’t worry.”

That definitely caught his attention. With wide eyes, Ian craned his neck to stare at his mother questioningly. She just winked.

“Anyone could tell you’re upset over something that happened with Adeline. I can spot one of those love-trouble pouts a mile away.”

When his mother finally left, Ian held his head in his hands and tried to ignore the tender flexing of his heart in his chest.