Hidden Gems

He skimmed over his old journal, the old words he had penned down throughout his entire youth. The words that defined him.

The words that built him up.

The words that tore him apart and drew up something new, a picture that he had found to be a bright pathway to his future.

How he viewed himself verses how others viewed him.

How he wrote his life—-to how his life actually played out—-were two very different situations. It made him feel nostalgic for his youth, yet he knew he had to move on. It was time to grow up. Literally and inwardly.

He had graduated high school and was on his way to college to start his Bachelors of Arts degree.

His sister Judy had moved to New York with her long term boyfriend, landing a star role for Godspell and Supporting cast for Annie, on Broadway, as Grace Farrell. Doug was enormously proud of his older sister for this accomplishment and so were their parents.

Skeeter was already working toward a Bachelor of Science degree in their community college. They hung out often and whenever they could, but not as much as they used to. He knew, however, that no matter what happened—-they’d always have each other’s back. And he would always have someone to talk to if he needed to vent or just call.

And then there was…

Patti.

His first real crush. His first true love.

It was Patti, that gorgeous pixie-cut, breaking all preconceived notions of what a blonde is (A-student), sporty and just adorable gal who made Doug go weak in the knees like jelly—- that made Doug to pen down most of his romantic prose.

Of course, he had already had a chance(two chances) with her. Fighting over her with that student named Guy, and winning her over finally—-getting her to actually agree to a real date! And then, dancing with her.

They started to tentatively date, really getting to know one another in a deeper, more intimate space where they could really appreciate each other.

It was the little things.

The way she’d look at him by not looking at him. Using her peripherals and it would feel glassy, far away, unsure.

The way her hands fell back to her lap as they sat down on his bed, and she’d smile, but it felt stale.

It was in the way a conversation about their day felt like a chore. As though Patti was just spouting out facts to a professor for a high test score, to get her final grade and move up to the next level. Doug pretended not to notice all the little things.

But, like anything in life, all the little things added up.

Patti wanted so badly to make this work. She hated to lose. In sports, in academics, in life. But, she couldn’t help but see early on they were not as compatible as they seemed at first. It wasn’t head over heels, mad, crazy, passionate adoration and affectionate sweet nothings—-it felt more like: A scale that had too much on each side and wasn’t going to tip over, just collapse and break. It was overloaded with too many things, Doug’s early infatuation with her that had been built up, his idealist view of Patti’s persona, his blind affection for her, his blind eye for her faults, his lack of perceptive ability, his overload of support and overt honesty that Patti did not care for. On Patti’s side—it was overridden with her ambition, her strong determination to succeed in everything, her dreams, her fears. Her unwillingness to stay when things became tense. Her willingness to allow them to decay.

And then, a month after their high school graduation and their relationship(several strange but at times, wonderful months), it hit them.

Patti had found the journal and asked to read it. Doug felt as though this was a good sign, as though she had found a spark of interest between them.

He gave it to her freely and with trust.

She read it.

She handed it back, wordlessly.

She had finally said something after Doug was left feeling confused and worried for their current state of things, after hours of angonizing over everything he had written, going over it in his head, thinking maybe there was something in there that offended her—-but, alas, it wasn’t even something as trivial as that.

It was much worse.

“We are too different. We are too similar. It can’t work,” She said softly but with a finality to the words.

Doug was more confused than ever. “How can we be too different and too similar?” He asked with a pained tone.

“We both want things too much, yet the things we both desire are too different.”

And at that, they were done.

She left to go to a university in Connecticut, moving to join the women’s basketball team (they had a very good sports program)within that division and also get a bachelors or possibly higher degree in education.

Now, Doug was alone. Again.

Then, something caught his eye in his journal as he was skimming through it. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a bit of shock.

He had forgotten that he wrote this.

He read it and re-read it, almost as if by looking at it long enough it would change the structure of the thought, the words would somehow rearrange into something less damning.

But, it laid there still on his lined page. Black and white—-a medium that bared the painful realization he had subtly written down in a poem.

There’s something about the way he needs my attention, the pained attitude of being in my face and keeping

The fear in place.

Yet far away with his tone, pushing us apart,

There’s something about the way he talks,

It wants to hurt my ego,

Instead it breaks my heart—like it was meant to settle there.

And I see his eyes

There isn’t hatred,

There is nothing but a smokescreen of social lies—to cover up something,

There’s something

And it is something I can’t hide

It’s that I really want to break down those walls,

Forever to see the gem hidden inside.

Underneath it, he had scribbled:

I can’t believe I had that weird dream about Roger again. I think I’m just going through a weird phase in my life.

He closed the journal. He realized that was dated around the time he was seventeen. Now he was closer to nineteen years old, being eighteen and still trying to figure out who he was and what he even wanted.

‘What was Roger up to anyway these days?’ He thought, but decided to try not to think about him.

He thought of Patti again.

Was is it this excerpt that made her want to leave him?

He had hoped not. He has written plenty of poetry for her. He had found tons of pages littered with Patti’s name on it—-with dreams of being with her freely and openly, and—-

‘Shit, that was it,’ he thought. He really put her up on a pedestal and made himself believe that being in a relationship with her would be the ultimate, most interesting, most important thing about himself to accomplish. That once he was with her, everything would else would just be easy and fall into place.

He knew that was wrong and selfish, expecting a person to just magically create the circumstances in your life to be great just because you believed they were your soulmate.

It wasn’t meant to be.

He lamented that they had only fooled around, making out, never getting around to making love.

But, he thought more about it. Maybe that was also not meant to be. Their lack of intimacy didn’t just incapsulate sexuality—-it was more than that. It was a lack of honesty between them, a lack of openness, a lack of understanding. It was a fundamental challenge for Patti to be open. She would tell him everything about her, but she’d leave out crucial details.

Like a family story about Thanksgiving, she’d leave out the part where her mother cried her eyes out because her father invited his brother, a person who was very rude to her mother about the way she cooked meals. He would pick apart everything she did and the worst part no one would say anything about his criticisms. Especially her father.

She’d only mention there would be some issues during Thanksgiving but never the nitty gritty guts of the issue. She didn’t want to, she felt closed up and better off that way.

Doug, however, needed to be completely open. Completely bare.

Guts and all, he needed someone to take it and carry it and weigh it—-with them amounting it to something important and real because he’d do the same for their own heartaches and longing fears.

He decided to go out and get fresh air.

He put Patti out of his mind.

He started thinking of his future.

What will he do?

What will he accomplish?

He wanted to be a writer. He wanted to make a difference and share his story and his perspective, but really, he wanted to touch someone else’s life and help them deal with something they couldn’t before. He wanted to help people.

He decided to go to Honker Burger and grab a shake.

But, he turned on the radio in his car and this song was playing:

The lyrics hit him so hard.

I don't put a smile upon your face no more

I can't make your heart shine like it did before

You don't listen to my stories anymore

You can't comfort me the way you did before

Was I too loud, was I too bad

Was I too open

Was I too high, was I too fast

Was I too close

I don't feel your lips like the first kiss

I'd rather run away than sit to face the truth

He bit his lip, and his chest felt a pang of something piercing that stung his whole being, going down to his stomach, twisting it with a deep realization.

She’d never be happy with him.

He started to cry a little, but took in a raspy breath, wiped his eyes too hard and went outside to go into the restaurant.

He wanted to call Skeeter but at the same time, wanted to be alone. He had talked to Judy about the breakup.

She had sternly but lovingly told him that he deserved so much better than this, and he needed to reevaluate what he needed for a relationship or if he even needed a relationship at this point. She said look out for someone who, without any question, guards your heart like a lion, and never ever looks at your from behind, only the front—eye to eye.

He didn’t care for all the metaphors and poetic descriptions but he got the point and appreciated her advice.

Judy just wanted him to be happy.

His parents, as well.

But now, of course, was the time to confront something else.

Your first bully.

Doug saw Roger stumbling through the restaurant to go outside.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t notice him at all.

“Damn assholes! Wouldn’t give me a ice pack! Jerks!”

Doug looked over at the employees and they shrugged and looked a bit perturbed at the outburst.

Roger kicked the door open and slammed it shut.

Doug hadn’t ordered yet, so he decided, against his better judgment, to go outside and talk to Roger. It had been months since they had last seen each other, and though they were never officially friends, they had found an unlikely place between them where they were no longer enemies. Maybe… frenemies? He wasn’t sure.

He saw the taller between the two of them barely walking around the building, leaning against his truck.

He was holding on to his head.

“Hey—hey…. Roger?!” Doug started, trying not to sound weird. “You okay, man?”

Roger looked over at him, surprised, oblivious to his presence in the fast food chain just a minute before.

He shrugged. “I’m fine, Funnie! What’s up with you? Where’s your girl?”

Of course, Roger was unaware he and Patti had broken up.

“Oh, uh.. we broke up,” Doug said softly, walking up to the highly disheveled and bloodied up Roger. “Oh, holy moly, Rog, what happened? Your head!” Doug saw the upper right side of his forehead had a gash. It was bleeding.

He got a bit too close for comfort and Roger flinched. “You still using little euphemisms instead of curses? You are still such a goodie two-shoes! Shit, man!”

Doug laughed despite the underhanded insult. “Roger, come on, lemme look at it. What happened?”

“None of your business. Okay? Just go.”

“But, it could get infected. I’m worried. It’s-”

“Seriously. Don’t worry. I’ll be..” he stumbled a bit, and almost fell.

Doug immediately went underneath the taller man and helped him up.

“What’s the fucking big idea, here? You tryi-tryin’ to figure me out or something?” Roger slurred out. Doug frowned and glanced a concerned look at him.

“I think you have a minor concussion, Dude. Seriously.”

“No. I don… don’t.”

Doug determinedly wrapped an arm around his old bully and said, near his ear, “Come with me. We need to clean up that wound.”

He helped Roger into his car, and buckled his seat belt for him. It felt oddly familiar and intimate to do that, and Doug blushed. Luckily, it seemed like Roger didn’t notice.

“Why….” Roger trailed off, his eyes closing.

“Why what, Rog?” Doug asked as he started to drive.

“Why aren’t you and Patti together?”

That question was loaded. It required an essay type of answer. Doug decided to just say the simple truth, and really, he didn’t want to go into it.

“Uh, we weren’t meant to be.”

“That’s a shit answer, Funnie. Come on. Tell me. Really. The real story.”

Doug scratched his hair. He bit his lip. He knew his face was red. He also knew his eyes were red from crying earlier.

He decided to play along, however.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Doug looked over and smirked. “What happened to you.”

“Fine. Deal.”

Doug sighed. “Right. Okay. So… Patti and I …”

“You’re getting lamer at telling stories, Doug. Spit it out!”

Doug blinked in surprise. Roger almost never called him Doug.

“Do you still live at your parent’s place or you got your own pad?”

Doug shook his head. “Parents.”

Roger scoffed. “Damn.” He sat up a bit straighter. “Okay. Lay it on me. What’s the story?”

“Why do you care?” Doug almost spit out angrily, but then looked at him apologetically. “Sorry. I’m just… I haven’t been doing well these last few days.”

“No biggie. I get it. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything.”

“Yeah.”

There was a silence that started in the car and it settled for a while.

Doug changed the subject. He couldn’t stand silence like this.

“Are you in college?”

Roger snorted with laughter. “Me? Really?”

“Yeah. Why the hell not?” Doug put too much emphasis on the curse word, making Roger laugh louder.

“Oh my God, hearing you try to curse is so hilarious.”

“Shut up.”

“Ohhh! That’s clever, isn’t it. ‘Shut up.’ What else? You wanna make me shut up, Funnie?”

‘Oh, I’ll make your stupid, smart mouth shut up, alright….By kissing it so hard… you’ll…’ Doug thought. He realized he was blushing as his whole face and neck was hot. He reminded himself he was here to help Roger. Not take advantage. He surprised himself with such a dirty thought, usually, even with Patti—they were not overtly sensual in nature.

“You are really funny, Funnie. Anyway, no. I’m not in college. I do other stuff. I work on cars. I build old cars and work on them.” He leaned back into the seat, putting his shoes up on the dash. “Shit like that. You?”

“I’m going to go to college soon. To get my Bachelors of Arts. Y’know, stuff like that.”

Roger grinned, sitting up again. As they had reached Doug’s house, he promptly frowned.

“Ok, I’ll level with you, man. The reason I asked about your abode is cause I used to have a crush on your sister…”

Doug’s eyes widened and he laughed softly.

“What the hell? I just opened up to you. Aren’t you supposed to … I don’t know…. Make me feel not so crappy?”

Doug sighed gently and nodded quickly, feeling bad, even as he was surprised. “Don’t worry. Judy is in New York. She has a boyfriend there. So… it’s just…”

“You and me?” Roger continued.

Doug nodded. “My parents went out tonight. They won’t be back until later.”

Roger sighed in relief.

“Next you’ll tell me you liked Patti or something, huh?” Doug added, making Roger bit his lip and blushed a bit in a quiet agreement, his eyes telling Doug that the answer was yes.

Doug tilted his head, surprisingly not that shocked by Roger’s general election to a higher sensibility and he sighed. “Really? Huh. I guess it makes sense. Patti was so popular. And pretty.”

Roger nodded. “She is pretty. But, I would’ve never tried to steal her from you… knowing what she wanted and you wanted.”

Doug frowned. “That’s mature of you to say. But, Patti had her own way of dealing with things.”

He parked and then noticed something about Roger he didn’t before. He had his old backpack with him next to his feet.

“Come in. I got some antiseptic and bandages in the bathroom.”

They both got out of the car and Roger was still not walking properly.

Doug felt like he would fall and asked, “Hey, you need help?”

Roger said nothing, but stumbled over to Doug. He leaned a bit into Doug’s body, and held onto his arm.

“Is your leg hurt, too?” Doug asked, noticing a limp.

“I don’t know.”

“What… what do you mean you don’t know?”

Roger frowned as Doug opened the front door and he helped him sit on the couch.

“Sit here. I’ll be back. Do you need anything? Water? A drink?”

Roger nodded. “Beer.”

Doug scrunched his nose. “No. We’re not twenty one.”

“Okay, Mister Funnie, we’ll play by your rules. Gimme a big old glass of water.”

Doug blushed and nodded, turning away and grabbed a glass of ice water for him.

He almost dropped the ice pieces on the floor as he realized what was going on.

He was catching feelings for Roger.

Roger, of all people.

He wasn’t gay. No. Not at all.

But, he decided in a bit of anxiety—-he wasn’t completely straight either.

“You okay in there? I keep hearing crap fall on the floor!”

Doug sighed. “Yup! I’m good.”

He went back into the living room and gave him the glass. It was perspiring in his sweaty hand as he handed it to Roger, and their fingers touched.

Their eyes locked for a moment.

Roger looked away first.

“Uh, thanks.”

Doug nodded. “No problem. So… are you doing alright? I’m thinking we might need to go to the hospital. You were slurring your speech earlier—-and you can barely walk.”

Roger looked at him with a bit of disbelief and then sighed heavily. “Don’t be such a mom.”

“Look, we barely know each other. We are almost not even friends,” Doug said with a growing confidence. Roger sat up, quietly in awe of Doug’s raw openness with him. “But, I care. I care about your safety. I don’t want you to be… hurt. Okay? I’m not really sure what I’m doing either. So… will you just cooperate and maybe make this a bit easier for me?”

Roger nodded, sipping the water. “Yup. I can cooperate, sir.”

Doug smiled and chuckled. “You’re teasing me.”

“I know how to talk to authoritative people. Like cops.”

Doug laughed. “I’m not a cop.”

“Just do your mom routine, Dougie, and we’ll have a chat after. Kay?”

Doug blushed again, and instinctively, his hands tried to cover part of his face, moving over his mouth.

“Di… did you just call me that? Dougie? What the fuck?” Doug spouted out.

Roger was literally speechless. He had never heard Doug say a real curse word like that before.

“I’ll be back,” Doug said quickly, walking toward the bathroom. Doug secretly grinned, feeling better about how much Roger had been teasing him since he was able to make him so silent to his own words.

He tried to feel confident about everything—-but he actually was a mess.

He stumbled in the bathroom and everything he needed to clean up Roger’s wound fell on the floor.

“What is wrong with me?” He said out loud to himself as he picked up the medical supplies.

He finally worked up the guts to go into the living room.

“Doug?”

He stopped in his tracks, half way from the kitchen and the living room.

“Yeah, Rog?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because I care.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve known you since I was eleven years old.”

“I was so cruel to you. How can you forgive me?”

“Because I did. I wanted to. I didn’t hate you. I saw you were a good guy deep down.”

“But I’m not. Doug… I’m not.”

“Well… no one is perfect.”

“My dad beat me up. That’s why I’m all messed up like this. He hit my head with a wrench from his tool kit and then when I fell down, he slammed his boot into my leg. Then, he made me pack up some of my stuff. And forced me to leave our mansion.”

Doug swallowed hard.

“Where was your mom?”

“She was working—she still works. She’s a hairdresser. My dad’s a carnie who drinks too much—-basically he never comes by unless he needs something from her. He knows she’s loaded. He takes advantage of her. And… he hates me.”

Doug felt his eyes sting. He blinked as stray tears fell from his face, and he wiped them away. He bit his finger, and walked to sit next to Roger on the couch.

Wordlessly, Doug took a warm, wet washcloth and cleaned Roger’s gash. Roger winced just for a moment, then relaxed. Doug then cleaned it with antiseptic and placed antibiotic cream on it after.

Their eyes kept wandering on each other.

Their eyes kept wandering in each other’s face.

In each other’s gaze.

After he put the band-aid on it, Doug said, “Now it won’t get infected.”

“Thank you.”

Doug nodded. “It was nothing.”

Roger shook his head. “That was not nothing. That was… fuck, to me… that was everything.”

Doug let out a shaky breath.

“Rog, I’m so sorry.”

Roger looked at him confused. “Why? What do you gotta be sorry for?”

“I wish that you had been safe. I wish I could have found you before that happened and gotten you. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a shift of changes in the expressions in Roger’s face. He looked almost ready to cry—-yet he stiffened his features, his lip trembling as he heard Doug’s kind words drip into his heart, and by the last syllable, he looked at the other softly. With affection.

“Remember when I called you my friend?”

Doug nodded.

“I meant that.” Roger sighed, leaning in closer to Doug. Their legs touched.

“I know. And I’m sorry… I think I was a bit harsh when I said we were barely even friends. I do consider you way more than that. Rog…You know… once your mom finds out what happened.. she will let you come back home. She’ll kick out your dad. Everything will be okay. I promise,” Doug said softly.

Roger shook his head, but smiled anyway. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?”

Roger looked down and shrugged.

“I can’t say.”

Doug nodded, not wanting to press him too much on the subject.

“I’ll tell you why Patti and I didn’t work out.”

Roger immediately locked eyes with him, and leaned in a little closer.

“She and I were on different wavelengths. I was low. She was high. We tried so hard to find that spot we could relate to—-something we had in common. But, we just wanted different things in life. I want… I want romance and stories and art and music. I wanted to be with her in all the ways you know a romantic partner. She wanted… to look ahead to something that was, in her mind, more elevated. More grounded.” Doug paused and Roger nodded in affirmation. “Like… a career and a real education and buying a house.”

“Stuff you weren’t sure about yet,” Roger commented. “And all those things you really wanted, she made you feel like they were secondary. As though they might be a bit vapid?”

Doug nodded, feeling for the first time like everything he had said was not only listened to, but heard.

“Like I was silly. She did call me a child once. We dated in elementary for that small space of time, then we took a bit of time to really just be kids. Once high school happened… I felt we were meant to be finally. I think it was after I had gotten my drivers license. I was talking to her about getting married one day and just moving to a beautiful place with her.”

Roger frowned. “And she called you a child?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I won’t say what I’m thinking. But that’s really shitty. You know? Funnie, you are such a nice guy. I know that sounds corny as hell, and it is…” Roger laughed in an ironic way, and shrugged. “But come on. We all know the reason I bullied others when I was younger. I was stupid, immature and an asshole. I was completely unable to react positively to my feelings and my pain. But you have always known how to channel things positively. How can someone be with you and not appreciate your support?”

Doug shrugged, “I think I’m just not good enough.”

Roger looked at him, nonplussed and astonished. “Seriously?”

“Why else would she reject me?!” Doug stood up, his emotions coming up. Now, he let his tears fall freely. “Why else would the one of the only reasons I want to live in this drab and dark world tell me flatly, ‘No, this isn’t for me. You aren’t for me. You never were!’ And I’m supposed to just believe there’s nothing wrong with me?” He placed his hands over his face, crying with a terrible heaving of chest. He had realized just how much he had just let out, and even to himself, he didn’t admit this deep rooted insecurity.

Roger just naturally let it out, and helped him let it out.

“Holy cow, Doug.”

He suddenly felt a warm embrace, tight around him.

A hot whisper to his ear, “Don’t you ever believe that stupid crap. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“How do you know?” Doug whispered back. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Because I’ve known you a long time, dummy.”

Doug said nothing. His arms were at his sides, yet Roger was still holding him.

“What’s gonna happen to you though? Where will you live?” Doug asked after a bit of silence. His hands trailed up Roger’s arms and he wrapped them around the other’s back.

“I’ll stay at one of my friend’s places. Ned has an apartment. Willy might let me stay over for awhile too. I don’t know.”

“You could always stay here. My parents wouldn’t mind. I’ll ask.”

Roger sighed. “Thanks.”

They both got out of their embrace.

Roger unconsciously took Doug’s hand saying, “Joeycookamonga! I can’t keep standing like this.” And he pulled them both to sit down on the couch.

Doug smiled.

Their hands felt good stuck together. They both thought so.

But once they sat down, they stopped holding hands.

“Don’t get any ideas, Funnie! I just need support while I walk.”

Doug nodded but chuckled softly. “I’m good at supporting people.”

Roger looked away, biting his lip. “Right.”

“So… what happened Roger?” Doug asked one last time.

“I … uh… shit. I mean, Doug, I can’t tell you.”

Doug saw Roger’s face light up to an obscene shade of red. It made Doug feel weird, and he looked down.

“You like to write. You like art. You do all these things… freely? Right?” Roger started carefully.

“Yeah, I have a journal.”

Roger almost laughed, but he stopped himself. Doug gave him a slightly disappointed look. Roger looked at him apologetically.

“Well… I kind of had something like that. You have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Okay? On your life!”

Doug took these sort of commitments seriously since he was young, so he immediately crossed his fingers and said, “Yes, I swear.”

Roger took in a deep breath. “Okay. And another thing. Promise me you won’t flip out and try to punch my lights out?”

The question made Doug almost offended, but then he saw the huge bandage on his head and how disoriented Roger had been acting—and he nodded, feeling a bit sad for him. Not pity. Just, sad.

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Roger.”

Roger looked at him with a searching look, and then he smiled. “Yeah. I believe you.”

“I’m… uh,” Roger started. “I write stuff. My dad came in this week and got really drunk. He went rummaging through my room. And.. he found my writings.”

“What was it? I mean… what did you write?”

Roger frowned. “Poems.”

Doug grinned. “Oh, awesomeness! I love poetry.”

Roger smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

“What… why did you start to write?”

Roger looked at him confused. “Huh?”

“Oh. I mean… I started to kind of sort out my thoughts and feelings. To organize my day and write stories I might later publish. I am just super curious why you started writing poems.”

“Because I hide,” Roger blurred out. “I hide everything I love. I love to dance. I love to write. To read. But, I hide it from everyone.” He sighed. “And… I couldn’t leave the life I had. Living in the trailer with my dad… it was pure hell. When he left and my mom got rich and we were on top—-I still felt I needed to hide myself from everyone.”

Doug was even more curious by this answer so he asked, “What do you write about?”

Roger shook his head. “No.”

Doug looked at him a bit annoyed. “What’s that mean? You won’t tell me?”

“It means… You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t. I won’t hate you. Just tell me.”

“It’s the real reason I won’t be allowed back.” He sighed. “It’s the reason why I’m so confused. It’s the reason I’m all beat up.” Roger pointed to his head.

Doug was confused by this talk, but felt it was very important to him somehow. He realized with a bit of self-awareness that he was always naive. Always too nice. Always too unaware.

“I wrote all romance poetry, alright?” Roger sighed. “It was all a bunch of sappy, romantic bullshit.”

“So? I did that, too—with Patti. Which girl is it? Do I know her?”

“Look, I’ve been with girls. I’ve been with plenty of them. I dated some I thought I’d fall in love with. But…. There was someone else I always wanted instead. Someone… I couldn’t have. Someone I was terrified to tell my feelings to,” Roger said, his face paling. “And then… I listened to that Beatles song. The one about being alone. That Yesterday song.”

Doug nodded. He knew that song well.

“And I …. was crying…” Roger whispered, as though admitting it would be the cause of his own death. “And now, here you are. The unsung hero of the catastrophic horror show that makes up my entire life. You mean more to me than you think. Remember that day you defended me against Mr. Bones’ nephew?”

“Yeah. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“But why? After all the garbage I put you through? How can you just help someone like that?”

“Well… I’ll be honest. Maybe you always meant something to me… more than I ever cared to admit as well.”

Roger looked surprised but smiled. “That’s pretty lame. But, I really appreciated what you did for me.”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Doug said. “But, Roger, why did your dad get so angry about your love poems? I don’t get it.”

“Doug, I can’t tell you. Okay? Just trust me. We grew up in radically different neighborhoods and homes. Your parents would never react the same way as mine did.”

Doug blinked, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

“Is… is…. It is about a guy?” Doug said, his face heating up.

Roger’s eyes widened so big, Doug thought they would just fall out of his head.

“No!”

Doug frowned. “Just trust me. I swear I won’t say anything to anyone. Ever.”

“Not even to me? What if you happen to never talk to me again?” Roger started to tear up. “It was fine before. We were fine not talking before we started to become closer… now… it’s going to go to rot.”

Suddenly, before Doug could respond, Roger sighed and moved his hair out of his face, blowing hot air from his lips in an agitated manner.

“Yes. You were right on the money, there, Doug. It is about a guy. My poems are about someone you know. It isn’t imperative that you know who it is. But, yes…. It’s a guy. My dad is super homophobic. My mom is religious and not okay with it. So… that’s it.”

“Are you gay?” The question Doug asked wasn’t judgmental; it was curious. It was supportive—-and Roger appreciated the tone.

Roger shook his head. “Nah. I like the ladies quite a bit. I just… like one guy.”

Doug nodded, though inside, he felt his head was swirling around and he wanted to faint. “Now I gotta know… when did you start really writing this poetry?”

“Ah… well… that was right about the time my dad’s alcoholism got really bad. He was not just verbally abusing me. It was physical too. My mom had finally made him leave after months of torment. I was… about eleven.”

“Rog, you were never really a poet then… until,” Doug paused a second as Roger’s expression fell, and the brightened, “Until you needed to be. Then, all your talent shined through.”

Roger grinned. Doug thought it looked charming, and it made him feel warm inside.

He went inside his backpack and took out a torn up notebook.

He shuffled through the pages, his tongue sticking out a bit.

Ripping half a page, he looked it over, and handed it to Doug.

“That’s for you. Don’t share it with anyone. It’s only for you.” He got up and smiled at Doug with a strange longing.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

Roger nodded. “I’ll call you. Well hang out soon. That cool?”

Doug nodded, but he was disappointed.

“Well, smell ya later, Funnie. Hah. I’m kidding. Thank you for everything. I’ll text you or something.”

Doug nodded. “Yeah. You got my number?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah. You gave me your number in my yearbook, right before we graduated.”

Doug got up and felt a strong voice tell him to just get him to stay. But, Roger had already made up his mind.

“You gonna be okay? I mean… really okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, my friend’s apartment is not too far away. You really did enough. We’re cool. I’ll see you.”

Doug sighed.

Roger looked at him quietly, and then looked decidedly about something.

Suddenly, he walked over, leaned in close to Doug’s face and whispered, “You look like such a dope just standing there.”

Then, their eyes locked into something of an almost amorous gaze.

Doug bit his lip, decided, ‘Fuck it,’ and leaned and hugged him tightly.

But that wasn’t what he wanted to do.

They said goodbye, and Roger left feeling completely at ease and for the first time, at peace.

*****

Doug read the poem.

Drip,

Splash,

A trickle of fear.

Like something spilling on your new suede boots,

In your reflection, your daring dreams

Are made achingly clear,

Like a prison that literally has no lock,

But you stay inside,

Unable to get over the shock.

There’s something like electromagnetic waves

Between you and I,

I won’t deny this fact,

I study science and history to try and find out the truth

Even though I’m ignoring your heart,

And I do it without any tact.

He’s too good,

He is too tired of pain

He’s doing everything for everyone

But all he gets is the same

No one really sees him for what he can be

But I see the beauty, altruism

And all of his creativity

But does he see me?

Doug kept reading it over and over with a large smile on his face, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Holy shit, he thought.

Roger was writing about him.

He saw the hidden gem that was Roger’s soul in that poem, crying to come out.

Now, he felt determined to have others see it too, on Roger’s terms—-because he wanted Roger to be happy.

————————————————

Author note: I don’t own Doug or any characters, just the writing (and poems)itself. Jim Jinkins owns Doug. So… I wrote this after I finished my Half Paper Moon series. The last year has been hard, and sometimes writing my original stories and original characters takes a lot out on me. Emotionally and physically. I wrote this story out of a deep, pining sadness. For anyone who actually read this, thank you. I hope you liked it. Have a wonderful day!! I might write a sequel to this too.