(Author's note: Here's another version of the second chapter, I was pretty proud of it, but it has nothing to do with the story, no need to include it. I just thought it'd be fun to share, while you all wait for the next chapter - sorry for being real friggin' slow -. Let me know which version you prefered! Thanks for reading!)
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Already, to start off, I hated bars. They’re gross, dingy and smell of cheap alcohol. I began regretting my decision to walk fearlessly into a certain bar called ‘White Horse’. As soon as I entered, the first thing I noticed was the lack of civility. Everyone was being loud and very obnoxious…I guess that’s what people expect from people like this. By ‘people like this' I mean homosexuals. This happens to be one of those bars. It’s not that I’m one of them, it’s just that it was the first bar I came across and I didn’t feel like walking too far if all I wanted to do was get the gist of the feeling of being in one. People always tell me that this is how they act; sodomic, loud, awful. Personally, I never really believed that. Maybe I was wrong. But then again, maybe this is how all alcoholic people act, and not how homosexuals act, I don’t know. I guess this was the wrong bar to do this in, because I didn’t know if this is how all bars were like. Uncomfortable, I walked over to the wooden bar table with red barstools in front of it, and sat down. The bartender threw me a smile, which I only returned ever so slightly. He walked up to me and asked me if I wanted anything, and I refused politely. I then observed the floor ahead of me. The thought of leaving crossed my mind a few times, but I stayed, hands placed on my thighs as I sat there, looking like a businessman. That’s when I heard a voice coming from my left side.
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- I’ll take an Arnold Palmer, please, it said.
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I began to sweat as I heard that voice. One of those uncivilized alcoholics was sitting next to me. I was incredibly nervous to say the least and I feared the worst. My mind wandered to places I didn’t want it to wander to; what if he decides to kill me? What if he has a gun? Worse, what if he makes fun of me? Wait, why is that worse than dying? Anyways, I tried my best to avoid eye contact until a large, muscular, gangster-looking man in leather sat to my right side, and whoever the guy on my left side was, he sure was going to be less intimidating than this man, if you could even call him that. He looked more like a creature, a failed science experiment. No, worse, a successful science experiment. I turned my head to face the monster I assumed was placed beside me. Once I turned, I realized that it was not a monster at all, but rather just a normal guy, a bit shorter than me. He had blond hair and freckles along with navy blue eyes. He wore a cuffed button-up dress shirt that was of a maroon colour. He looked…normal. I internally sighed with relief. The man noticed my staring and he furrowed his eyebrows with a playful smile. I tried to look away and pretend like nothing happened; that I wasn’t just staring at him for ten minutes, but it was too late. He definitely noticed.
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- Hello, he said.
- Oh, uh, hi.
- I’ve never seen you around here before… Are you a regular? he asked.
- Are you?
- Yes.
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I just squinted as I was disappointed in myself. I thought he was a normal guy, but I guess I was wrong. He then let out a sigh that was a mix of sadness and exasperatedness. He then looked at his cup with eyes that were slightly exhausted - if that makes any sense. Without making eye contact, he spoke.
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- You’re judging me, aren’t you? he asked.
- W…What, no…
- I can see it in your face.
- I-I… I don’t judge people. No matter how their lifestyle is.
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Already his smile was handsome, but the features that appeared on his face when he was angry… The way his cheekbones became more pronounced, his blue eyes developed an extra shade of darker blue, the way he gave his undivided attention to me… He stared at me, not exactly enraged, but angry. I swallowed hard and wiped my sweaty hands against my thighs. I then pretended to ignore the now overly rapid beating of my heart. I wanted him to continue to look at me. To give me his undivided attention. To speak to me. To stay next to me. I looked side to side and then back at him. He wasn’t angry any longer, he had a small smile and he put his hand out toward me.
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- Art Johnson, he said.
- James Baxter, I replied.
- Charmed, he said with a wink, shaking my hand.
- I am also- uh…I’m as well, uh, charmed…to meet you.
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He laughed, the sound reminding me of a song, a beautiful, melodious sound that I could most likely listen to all day, if I wanted to. And I wanted to. I wanted it really bad. I felt heat rise to my cheeks. All of this was new to me, and I didn’t really understand… Why was my heart beating so fast? Why was I blushing? Why was I so eager to be around him for longer than we were already together?
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- So is this how all of you people act? I said, no longer in charge of the words that escaped my mouth.
- You people…?
- You know…
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Art gave me that angry look I nearly craved, again. This time, he seemed a little more ticked off, and pissed. He let his eyes trail me up and down, looking like he was trying to understand what I had just said. I enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on me, but I knew he was upset. He crossed his arms.
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- Well, that depends. Do all people like you spend their days trying to shove women into aprons and long dresses? he said angrily.
- I- uh… I don’t-... I’m not one of those people…
- One of those people…?
- I’m not…the type of person to ‘shove women into aprons and long dresses’...
- What do you mean by that? Are you…like us?
- I don’t know…
- If you are, why are you insulting us, then? he teased with a smile.
- Because you’re cute when you’re angry.
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I hadn’t realized what I said until the sentence left my mouth. He stared at me, surprised, and I couldn’t tell if he was about to smile or beat the hell out of me. I noticed a hint of red in his cheeks, lightly dusting his pale skin as he tried to look somewhere - anywhere that wasn’t my face. He was uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so I quickly changed the subject.
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- That’s not what I-...I didn’t mean to-
- That’s okay. Can I ask you something, James?
- Go ahead.
- Are you just trying out something new before the war, or have you already explored this domain?
- I’ve always sort of known in my own way, I mean..I always felt, like, there was this magnet pulling me toward men, rather than girls… But it always felt natural. Like it wasn’t even there, if that makes any sense…I don’t know you probably don’t understand. I just felt like my attraction to boys was so natural that I didn’t even realize that I was into guys…I didn’t even realize…Does that make more sense? It’s really hard to explain.
- I think it does make more sense, actually. I totally get it.
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There was a silence as he took a sip of his drink. I continued to watch him. Maybe there was a more attractive emotion on him than anger. I liked it when he smiled at me and I wanted him to be happy with me… And I felt safe. Like no matter what I tell him, he’d understand and nod along.
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- You going off to war too? he asked.
- Yeah, I said with a sigh.
- Hm.
- Interesting, I said.
- What is?
- Interesting how I’ve met the most attractive, intelligent man I’ve ever met in my life, and we’re both walking into a meat grinder in six days.
- Oh, come on. You can’t be that certain you’ll die, he said after a small laugh, and thanks for the compliment…you’re not too bad yourself.
- First; yes I’m sure I’ll die, second; thanks.
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A second moment of silence overtook the room as he bit his lip, deep in thought.
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- You know, I don’t even care if I die. I just want to stick it to those Goddamn Nazis and win; I’ve always been pretty big on politics…
- Ah. Opposite of me; my parents always taught me to lay low and keep my mouth shut about that kind of stuff…
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He stayed quiet and looked at me, not exactly confused, but intrigued.
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- And you listened to them…? he asked.
- Of course.
- …Just like that?
- Yes.
- No fighting back…?
- Why would I-
- Don’t you wanna stand by the things you believe in? If your parents said that, one day, you had to hate on all puppies in public, would you? he asked.
- No-
- James, you need to know this; A good boy doesn’t always have to be a pretty face who shuts his mouth off to the side.
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It was my turn to stay quiet. He was right. All these years, I remember what awful things my family would say…The amount of times I would sit and do nothing as I desperately wanted to say something. The amount of things that I believed in my family would call “an illness” made my blood boil. I asked myself why I listened to my parents and stayed off to the side. This conversation changed my point of view, slightly, on this war. Millions of people, children even, are dying as I speak. I suddenly feel more motivated to go off to war. I didn’t think that was possible. This beautiful, perfect man has changed my point of view on everything I stand for. Wow. Holy crap. How did he do that? Maybe he has some sort of magical charming powers where he can change your life… Or maybe I just realized just how trapped I was, in my life. How much maybe, as much as I hate it with all of my heart, this war has a purpose. Maybe it’s not as utterly pointless as I thought it was…
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- Ah, shit. He said.
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I looked up at him.
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- I’ve done it again…I said something stupid to a cute guy, and now he’s re-thinking his life, and he’ll never even remember me after this cause he’s too busy having a revelation, and I messed up one of my only chances to finally get a committed relationship instead of those stupid-
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I cut off his fast rambling by quickly placing my lips on top of his. He seemed quite startled, at first, but melted into it. His lips were soft and tasted sweet. Have you ever heard someone say; the kiss gave me butterflies in my stomach? Well it’s not true. It gives you this crazy sensation all throughout your body. It’s like your brain is gone, and there’s fireworks instead. You feel so blessed by the other’s presence that your body turns to mush, and you have to physically keep yourself from fainting. You also pinch yourself to make sure this isn’t a dream. And even if it was, you would never want to wake up. You’d rather be in this asleep sequence forever then have to unlock your lips and get back to the real world. When people say that, when you have a near-death accident, your life flashes before your eyes. The same thing happens during your first kiss. Except instead of flashing the past, it flashes the future. Your entire vision of your future changes so you can fit him in. It’s so impossible not to think of him, in that moment, that you literally change your whole future. It’s crazy. This morning, it felt like I was losing time off my life. Now, it feels like I’m gaining time just by being face-to-face with him. Like if I finally had a reason to keep alive. I barely know him enough to call it love, but this is definitely something. We pulled away for air. I kept my eyes closed. He went back in and kissed me, holding my face in his hands. Scratch that. This is definitely love. The way he cradled my face like it was the most precious thing in the world. How could you know someone for a total of 25 minutes, and already be head over heels in love with them. My heart felt like it was going to rip out of my chest. Nothing else mattered. Not the stupid war, not my stupid family, not my stupid life. Just me, Art, and this gross, dingy bar. It’s a real shame I’ll never feel this ever again, due to the fact I’m going off to war in a week. Yet, I couldn’t fully think about that. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not even this mattered. I was just in this strange, euphoric state that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. When we finally pulled away, I watched his reaction. His eyes fluttered open, a smile present. He squinted a little, then went back to smiling at me. It was so full of love, despite being strangers to each other, that we both failed to speak for a few seconds.
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- Wow, he said, out of breath.
- Holy shit. That was my first kiss, I said, eyes wide.
- Really?
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I felt too awkward to reply. Once I realized he was actually waiting for my reply, I cleared my throat, trying to stall my answer, slightly ashamed.
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- Um…yeah.
- Huh. Coulda fooled me.
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Art winked. He took a pen out from his pocket and scribbled something down on a napkin. He slid it over to me with a wink. I was in awe, so much, I didn’t even glance at the paper. Art paid the bartender with a smile and walked out of the bar, leaving me with nothing but a red face. After I finally convinced myself I wasn’t dreaming and came back to earth, I picked up his napkin. It had a phone number next to a drawing of a heart on it. I smiled to myself as I got up from the uncomfortable barstool. Okay. I changed my mind. I love bars.
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