Matthew

His eyes glistened in the worst of ways, a smile like that of Scar before pushing Mufasa off the cliff.

"Do you wanna jump in?"

As a mortal man with a hormonal teen crush, I accepted. Preferring to get rat piss in my mouth than denying the one who I cared for a thing.

"Okay."

His cold fingers drifting toward his zipper, swiftly dragging it down. I followed suit, smiling as we knew that our fathers had no idea of the stupidity that their teenage sons would commit within the next 50 seconds.

As 50 became 10 we stared at each other with wide grins and slight shivers.

"1," he began his smile now impossibly large

"2"

"3," we said in unison before doing a half tip, half cannonball into the lake.

Sights of distant duck feet, and a boy's swan-like majesty rising to the surface. I did the same, gasping for air, he looked and smiled for a moment before allowing a wave of water crash into me to inflect momentary shock.

Barely staying afloat, I pushed a larger wave into him; it crashed into his once gleaming face creating ambitions of vengeance and buffoonery. The smile he wore vanished being replaced by a just as happy but virulent smirk, my heart skipped.

"So is that you wanna do," he dared.

"I don't know, is that what I want to do short-stuff, " he scoffed before pushing a mini-wave into me, directing it so that it would hit my face with the most impact.

A game of pushing and receiving eventually boring me, and I assume it did him. As when I was caught off guard he went below and pulled my thighs until I was submerged utterly by the cascade of a deep blue hue designed to seduce you into an escapist utopia. (

At first, a wash of surprise laid atop me as did the clearish waters. Soon it was replaced by the sight of a smiling boy, his curls swaying as his skin shone in the ethereal glint of a tiring sun. His cheeks swelled with moments of oxygen he clasped as before dipping deep.

A second passed and he then swam back to the top, I did the same. Remnants of water clouded his eyes, I gasped for breath as my feet struggled. The realisation that he was vulnerable clouded my need for oxygen to my brain so I took the deepest breath I could fathom. His eyes remained indecisive as to whether they should remain open.

I grabbed his thighs bringing them at either side of my torso, his body jolted. Before he could struggle I pulled on them until his body was bellow mine staring at me in a horrifying shock. The pulling and pushing of a thousand Spanish bulls were felt within the water as it vibrated through me, I was straddled and then pushed.

James was swimming toward the surface, I was struggling as water had entered my lungs. A smile crept upon my face none the less, soon distant peddling a became increasingly louder but I couldn't care to see who it was as I grabbed his waist as he made a shallow attempt at escaping after what he did.

"Matthew won't you dare, " his face filled with a ferocious fear. My grasp on his waist became tighter and my smirk sickening.

An exasperated moan escaped his lip stunning me momentarily, momentarily enough that he managed out of my grasp so much so that it was once more fair game.

"Why'd you do that," I grimaced, disgust lacing my tone.

"I knew that I'd knock you out of focus for a second, and I was right," his tone nonchalant as he stared me in the eyes with not a second of submission to my glare.

My face scrunched, "you mother-."

"BOYS !!," an earth quaking bellow heard from the depths of the sea, one could easily mistake it for that of Poseidon in anguish, " why in the hell are you two in the water. We discussed this."

By discussed he mean he briefly mentioned it in passing whilst essentially giving my father a metaphorical blowjob. I say metaphorical as their emotions would be hurt at the thought of anything as 'grim' as that being closely associated to them.

We quite obviously had no answer to the question, even if we did it would be deemed a form of backtalk.

"You idiots, it's until one of you is eaten by a shark or gets dysentery before you know to stop, " Arnou spat with his slights accent lacing the tip of his words yet standing out like a sore thumb.

He was right.

However, being right and being listened to was not something that applied when conversating to us. We either cling onto your every last bigotted or just idiotic word, allowing it to replay minutes or years later when we should've been working of rather we pay little to no attention to your most likely helpful input and find ourselves baffled at our failing grades and 1 bedroom shoebox.

" I swear it is your mission to give me a heart attack, " my father laughter with his chest in his hand. It wasn't funny, he was most likely genuinely was concerned but was inclined to not showing it.

We were forced to leave; they didn't want us catching a cold. So we took our merry rear ends to the car with our wet clothes and damp feet wiggling within the entrapment of our shoes.

His hair still wet, his shoulder resting on the car. I wondered why he did that, y'know the moan, he could've bitten, pinched me (though it wouldn't be pleasant) or rather take the momentary L.

It would take more of his oh so precious manhood, his pride, to make so vulnerable a noise than to just take the L and be dipped. I hoped he was telling the truth, it would be weird to think that he truly enjoyed my touch. He as a man enjoying my contact in the manner that it was, how he didn't squirm rather 'submitting'.

The thought shook me more than anything, the thought that he was becoming a woman in that sense. Was it his primal urges or rather his socially developed mannerism I seldom the question.

We reached the cabin or whatever the correct name for it is, our fathers warned us that we ought to shower fast so to not catch a cold and ruin the whole trip. He did it first, coming into our room with soaking hair and a towel wrapped around his waist, how his abdomen managed slight ab lines, how his skin was soft and managed to remain even almost all through it.

We exchanged no words, he just moved to the side and I moved past him.

I came out the shower and he was laying on the bed wearing some PJs, they were plaid blue and black with a black long sleeve with 'alien boy' in different colours stitched to the chest area.

"So you're an alien, " I joked my shirt pulling over my almost hairless chest.

"Sometimes. "

My eyebrows knitted together by the thread of my curiosity and "charm", " What does that mean ?"

He sat up with his grin, shrugged. Huffed. His phone soon between the grasp of the fingers of a silent cackle.

"Come on, tell me."

"Okay."

I was temporarily held back I didn't expect him to give up the 'goods' with the ease he did.

He placed his phone onto the pillow tainted with his perspiration, it still had his wet hair strands of gold, brown and the Nile on it.

"Do you ever feel," questioning breathing, eyes dotting the rooming for an escape " different."

Yes.

"What do you mean ?" I knew what he meant but I didn't want to.

Deep breath, " Well sometime I don't feel like I'm the right 'type' of man for... you know what never mind."

"No, I want to hear it."

He swallowed his inhibitions, though just like saliva they manage to come right back up, " Sometimes, I don't feel like I'm man enough. Like I'm still just a little boy or better yet an alien, so to speak."

Same, don't we all.

My eyes to floor my fingers tangled the thread sealing them together was now a scarlet realisation. It glistened and yet it was so damn unappealing.

" I know what you mean, I guess, " muffled exhale " plus what even is a man."

His breath returned to his chest, face no longer Casper so to speak, I wonder what he thought. Other than relief.

"I wish I knew the answer to that, I know a man should be responsible. He should take care of himself and his family, be the head under God. That's what Alex said : in youth service." He said

"Well a man is masculine I guess, a man is to fall for a woman and marry. Take care of her as she takes care of their child, he guides the child that she nurtures. He makes a man of him and hope he will be the same. He dies knowing he did the best and he hopefully got what he desired a child that was moulded by his hand and God's."

I spoke the truth, well the truth that was moulded into my heart by the hand of my father, those surrounding me. My truth wasn't the one in which a God had given to me in a dream rather it was a nightmare that I was expected to fit through a third mild.

I was a cube to their cylinder space.

His eyes dotted the ground, he felt the same. But he was an alien in an earth of humans, "I guess. What if they're wrong, what if a man is more than that."

"Well then what is a man ?"

I wanted to know so that I could fit the mould perfectly so as to be my fathers ornament resting atop a cupboard. I will be his gift to God to prove he had risen a child to be fit to rest on the cupboard of heaven, Gabriel will stare at me as the swaying of his wings eventually knock me over.

I will be hastily put back together, I will no longer be perfect. I will be an ornament in heaven though broken enough to linger in hell.

James eyes met mine, " I have no clue, I guess being an alien is an easy escape."