Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ I Wear Red Because I Like It ❯ Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine… yadda… yadda… you know the drill.

Warning: Shonen ai, derogatory comments

A/N: I wrote this as an assignment for my Teaching Diverse Populations class. It is a fictional account based on the life of a friend. I hope you like. 2 + 4 is mentioned. This is based loosely on the life of a friend, and his own coming out of the closet experiences. I love you, Chuck!

I Wear Red Because I Like It
By Solanum Dulcamara

You know that moment, right before you wake up, when the bed is so wonderfully soft, the comforter is warm and cozy, everything is absolutely perfect, and within a nanosecond, the complacency of the world is rent asunder by the shrill beep of an alarm clock? I hate that moment. My hand shoots out from beneath the warm confines of my blankets through the frigid air, to clumsily slap at the bane of my existence. Finally connecting with the digital hellion, I take a yawning breath and enjoy the silence of early morning. Did I say early? Excuse me, I should correct myself, the crack of dawn. Yes, as I climb out of bed to a world that is still without sunlight, I begin my preparation to join the ranks of my fellow students at Ridgemont High School.

I meander through my morning routine just as many of my classmates: shower, comb my unruly blonde hair into some state of decency, put on clothes, eat breakfast, and grab my back pack on the way out the door. Sounds pretty normal, right? Well, as I embark on every day, I am constantly aware of a personal trait that will set me apart from the majority of my peers for my entire life, a trait that often ostracizes me. I am gay.

Ta-da, the secret is out. I am a statistic of teenagers who is often criticized for their lack of morals and alleged promiscuity. I have got a news flash for the populace: being homosexual does not in any way entail rampant sex and debauchery. I, for example, am a virgin, and darn proud of it.

Does the rest of the school know about me? Some do. On one hand, I don't try to keep it a secret, on the other I'm not one to announce it over an intercom. Sorry to disappoint anyone, but there was no "coming out" party. I don't care if people know, it's just part of who I am. The problem lies not in who knows, but how they respond to it. Many people are scared of choice, and they are also scared of people who make different decisions than they make. This leads to judgement and ridicule; not two of my favorite words, having been on the receiving end of them for most of my life.

I walk briskly along the sidewalk on the way to school. I am tempted by my frivolous side to pause and appreciate the day that has been set before me, but then I recall that Hilde is waiting at Lincoln St. Besides, you would have to be insane to want to pause and do anything outside in Oklahoma in January. Hilde's awesome. She's got this super fun sense of humor and yet, she always knows when to joke and when not to. You are probably thinking that it's "so typical" for a gay guy to hang out with a girl because we're so effeminate. I'll explain that myth. Yes, some homosexual men are very effeminate, love to shop and the rest of the stereotype. Me, I hate shopping, I'd much rather play video games or something. The reason a lot of gay guys hang out with girls actually has more to do with straight guys. Most heterosexual men do NOT want to be anywhere near gay men, they feel threatened, and they have a baseless fear that they are going to be hit on. Is that not ridiculous? Do straight guys hit on every chick they meet? No. Then why would a gay man hit on every guy he meets? What it boils down to, is a lack of knowledge and understanding, and instead of trying to learn more about what they don't understand, they shun it. Does it hurt? Yeah, how would you like being scorned simply because of a preference? It's like saying, "I hate you because you like vanilla ice cream and I think that's gross."

Loyal as ever, Hilde is standing impatiently at the corner giving me a "Where have you been?" look. "Quatre, you're late again," she states in exasperation. I only smile sweetly and greet her warmly, "Good morning! Shall we be on our way?" She glares momentarily before sighing and falling into step next to me. Approximately 5.5 seconds later, her disgruntle has completely dissolved into an excited smile and she immediately begins to tell me about last night's episode of Roswell, and she gushes about two actors on the show.

"I don't know who's cuter," she giggles, "Majandra Delfino or Jason Behr." At this point I must address an issue. Hilde is indeed bisexual. You might be thinking, "It figures. Those gays tend to stick together." I would like to destroy yet another myth. Homosexuals do not hang out with other homosexuals because they are elitists or anything. They simply do so because other homosexuals are often the only people who with accept them for who they are.

You would think with it being 2002 and the populace of America claiming to be modern, less conservative, and accepting, that being gay wouldn't be so hard. I thought so too, until I tried to tell my family. Shouldn't your family love you the way you are? I thought so, but my dad has always been kind of a traditionalist and I don't have a mom to act as my buffer. She died giving birth to me, and I don't think my dad ever quite forgave me for that. Anyway, I told them very simply over dinner in response to another one of my sister's jabs about me not being able to get a girlfriend. I just told them that I really don't want a girlfriend and when my dad asked why, I'm sure he was expecting a response like, "A relationship will get in the way of my studies," or "I'd rather just hang out with friends than get serious with one person," but when I said, "Because I'm gay," I think his jaw quite possibly landed with a redounding thud on the table. Tension hung in the air, palpable and heavy, bearing down on me with its good friend, uncomfortable silence until I thought I might explode. But instead my dad did. He went into a tirade about morals and going against nature and whatnot, until I thought my ears would bleed. As his shouting settled, I quietly asked to be excused and locked myself in my room for a very long cry. My father did not speak to me unless absolutely necessary for exactly 17 days. My sisters, well, the two that live with us, were not so merciful. The next day while I was in the shower, I could hear them outside the door, "No wonder he takes so long in there, he wants to be as pretty as us." And when I "get in their way" or disagree with them about anything, they remind me of my sexual preference with such wonderful comments as, "Shut up, fag." I hate that word. It absolutely makes me want to wretch. And coming from the mouths of my own sisters, it makes me want to wretch and cry all at the same time. My father is fairly tolerant these days. I figure this just gives him another reason to dislike me. So, my family is not exactly what I would call supportive, when it comes to my life choices.

The looming brick building comes into view as we make our way around a corner. Hilde has now switched to discussing sports, and it being winter, she is currently relaying details of the most recent Pacers/Hornets game. I'm not very fond of basketball, although, with my limited knowledge, I'd say that my boyfriend plays really well. What? Surprised that I have a boyfriend? I get attracted to people too, and I'm not the only gay person in the world. And in case you were wondering gay people do play sports. Duo loves basketball. He's been playing since he was put on a junior team when he was six years old. But playing got hard for him when a couple of his teammates heard about him being gay. They won't dress near him anymore and some of them don't speak to him or make rude comments. I can't imagine being so shut out by people you've been good friends with for years, then again my family is a shining example.
Duo and I don't hold hands or anything at school. That would be too hard. It's bad enough that we regularly listen to echoing choruses of "fag," "fudge-packer," and "cock-sucker;" excuse me if any of that offends you, but it offends me too, and I'm the one who is on the receiving end of it.

I remember the first time I was ever confronted about my sexual orientation (as a side note: Isn't it funny how all of the terms that describe the gender of the person that you choose to love are so clinical? It makes me feel like I've got a condition or something.) One of my sisters just happens to be dating a football player, and she just happened to tell him that her little brother was gay. I was not a popular guy to begin with, but when he strode up to me while I was at my locker and shoved me into its unforgiving metal surface while loudly warning, "I've seen you look at me at your house, and if I ever catch your sick little eyes staring at me again, I'll kick your ass, you faggot," my heart sank at the phenomenal possibilities of social exclusion that lay before me. He had the mercy to let me fall limply to the floor; my head ringing from the collision with the lockers and the rest of me dying of embarrassment in front of a large portion of the student population. I was not embarrassed that they knew, I was embarrassed about being shoved into a locker and humiliated for his amusement.

As I stare at the large unwelcoming building in front of me, I rally my courage, despite my sense of foreboding and begin the trek up the stairs and into the school. I'm going to meet Duo at his locker and we're both going to go through another day of insults and derision just because we want to hold each other's hands. But I know their cruelty mostly has to do with ignorance. Our classmates simply need to understand that we're not strange or unnatural. We're just two 16-year-old boys who are attracted to someone. The only difference being to whom we're attracted. I hope that I can somehow teach at least a few people that being gay has nothing to do with the plethora of stereotypes and we are not immoral and evil. And to stop any subconscious stereotypes that may be forming in your head about my plan of action: I will not be going on a wacky "Gay Pride" kick. No I don't own anything with rainbows on it, purple triangles are not my favorite shape, and I wear red because I like it.