They parted like the red sea before him. Up the drive and front steps, everyone turned to look at him as he approached and continued after he passed, even the teachers, all whispering and murmuring alike.

"Who is that?"

"He's kinda cute."

"Is he new?"

"He looks sort of familiar..."

"Oh, my God, I think that's..."

David pulled in his shoulders and hurried past. People tended to think he dressed the way he did to be noticed, but in fact it was the opposite. He dressed in black because he wanted to blend into the background and not be seen. Today, the irony was not lost on him. As he approached the front steps a group sitting there looked up at him. Drew Boutan, back at school with his leg in a cast and crutches to the side of him, looked startled. The former quarterback looked him up and down.

"What the hell happened to you?" Drew asked. "You look like you're about to do a play."

"Shut up," David snapped, his nerves already strung taut. "I do not."

"Yeah," Drew said. "You do. You look weird."

David shot an annoyed glare at him and walked quickly pass, up the steps and through the front doors. He had never felt so conspicuous, and it made him a bundle of anxiety. Quickening his steps even more, he put his head down, cheeks a dusky pink, and speed-walked down the hall. Turning a corner, he collided hard with someone.

"Sorry," he said automatically.

"No, I'm so—" A pause. "David? Is that you?"

Dark eyes rose to meet green. David drew a sharp breath and held it as he looked up into Jason's startled face.

The man looked more closely at him, a curious and slightly bemused frown on his face. "It is you, right?" he asked, because he both recognized and not recognized the teenager. For David did not look like the David he was used to: the black hair was parted on the side and brushed back from the pale forehead instead of fringing over it; dark eyes bore no eyeline, and no silver stud or hoop twinkled from his ears; no jewelry jingled at his wrist, and the nails at the end of his fingers were their natural nude color. The most startling thing, however, were his clothes—he was dressed in dark blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a red and blue striped sweater that was not oversized but fit his petite frame nicely.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Jason asked. "Did something happen?"

"No," David said, his cheeks growing pinker. "I can dress however I want, can't I?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"But what?"

"But now you look..." Jason's voice trailed off.

David kept his gaze on the man, as if seeking, urging, a certain response. "What?"

"Now you don't look like you," he said bluntly. "You look weird today. So weird, I don't think I want to be seen with you."

It was meant as a joke, a tease, but it had the opposite effect. Jason had no way of knowing that he'd said the exact words David had feared he would say, and it was that fear that had prompted the change. Face growing hot, David glared up at him. "Well, that makes two of us!" he said hotly. Shouldering past Jason, he ran up the hall.

Jason blinked at the outburst—he had never heard David raise his voice, didn't even think it was possible for David to raise his voice—and he made to stop the boy. "David," he called. "David, wait."

But the red and blue striped sweater was lost in the sea of humanity, disappearing as the first bell rung. Jason stood with his hands on the top of his head, then ran them through his hair. He had no idea what that was about, but he'd clearly made the teenager upset, and he would apologize for that. But he couldn't help a slight chuckle and shake of the head. His usually calm and collected David having an outburst—it was kind of cute.

**

David did not go to class. After storming away from Jason, he climbed the stairs to the third floor science wing and made for the last bathroom at the end of the hall. It was always empty, and that was because of a very big design flaw: a giant window at the end of the line of urinals. Bursting through the door David flung his bag on the counter by the sink, then reached down, grabbed the edge of his sweater, and ripped it off his torso over his head. He flung it away towards the door and on the floor. Underneath, he wore a black t-shirt with a tattooed skull biting down on a rose.

Breathing hard, he turned to the mirror. At the sight of himself, stripped of everything that made him recognizable, his jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists as a wave of shame and embarrassment washed over him. He had tried to change to make someone else happy, and once more it had not worked. By now he should know it would never work.

The bathroom door opened behind him, and he passed a quick hand over his mouth and eyes.

"David."

He shook slightly at the familiar voice and his heart, already beating quickly, began to pound. "Go away," he said quietly, not raising his head.

Jason let the door close behind him, looking at the reflection of the young man in the mirror. "I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have."

"You just said what you thought," David said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe a little too bluntly."

"It's fine."

Jason frowned lightly. "Is there a reason you're dressed like this today?"

Silence.

The man sighed. "It's not like you."

"You don't know me."

"I found you here, didn't I?"

More silence, then: "I was trying something. It didn't work. That's all." Dark eyes flickered up at him in the mirror. "You were right." He looked at himself. "You're both right; I do look...weird."

Jason paused. "Who else said that to you?"

"Drew."

Jason nodded. "Want to talk about it?"

David shook his head. He looked at himself in the mirror once more, breathing deeply, calming down. Raising his hands to his face he paused to stare at them. "Ugh," he said, making a face and rubbing his wrists and fingernails. "I feel naked."

Smiling, Jason came to stand beside him. "Here," he said. Taking off one of his own braided bracelets he took one of David's hands and slipped it on. "Now you're decent."

David looked down at it, then glanced up at him. "Thanks."

Jason held his gaze and said quietly, "You're welcome."

They stood like that for a moment, looking at each other. Jason still held David's hand, and his fingers brushed the pale wrist, his touch so light and feathery it almost tickled. David looked up at the man, his gaze revealing perhaps more than he intended, because Jason was the first to look away, taking a step back and clearing his throat. He glanced around. Going to the corner, he picked up the discarded sweater.

"I'm not putting that thing back on," David said.

"You'll freeze if you don't."

"Then I'll freeze."

Jason came back to the sink and put the sweater on David's bag, as the seventeen year old faced the mirror and began to pull his hair back down over his forehead.

"Am I about to see you put your face on?" Jason asked, leaning back on the sink and crossing his arms.

"I don't wear makeup," David said, wetting his fingers and styling his fringe. "Only eyeliner. And I don't have any."

"One of your friends must. Call them."

"I don't have a phone."

"Seriously?" Jason asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"It's a small town. Everyone is within shouting distance."

"What about for emergencies?"

David shrugged.

Jason wondered is there was anyone David would want to call, even if he could. He did not ask. Instead, he watched the young man ruffle and style his hair for a few seconds. "A little more on the right," he said.

David shifted his hair.

"Now it's too much."

"Is it you who does this every day or me?"

Jason laughed. "You're cute when you're snippy."

David glanced at him in the mirror, but said nothing.

"Seriously though," Jason said, "it needs to be messier." Pushing off from the sink, he turned and reached out to ruffle the dark hair.

The aggressive head rub made David give a cry of alarm and duck back. He tried to push Jason's hand away, but, laughing, Jason pushed his hand in more, tangling his fingers in the soft, wet hair. Tangling it a little too much, as it happened, because David suddenly gave a sound of pain.

"Sorry," Jason said, going still. "Hold on, don't move, you're caught in my clasp..."

His left hand caught in David's hair, Jason brought his right hand around to unfasten the offending bracelet, bringing David into the circle of his arms. He stood close, noticing the dark, wet strands of hair, glistening under the florescent lights, smelling of watermelon, and David's breath on his collar bone. He was keenly aware of the young man, and the dangers of the situation rang like bells in his ears.

As if on cue, David touched him, resting his hands lightly on the man's waist. Jason's skin tingled at the contact.

Freeing his hand, he gently smoothed the black hair with his fingers. David's head moved slightly, his nose brushing the man's cheek. His head tilted up, and Jason's down. Eyelids lowered. Their lips were level. David's lips parted. Jason took a breath—and pulled away.

"No," he said, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he tried again, more stably. "No."

Dark eyes looked at him, wide and unreadable, then they looked away. Breathing hard, David closed his eyes and swallowed. For once, Jason didn't know what to say; he opened his mouth, but before something could come out, the teenager ran.

"David—" He caught him by the elbow, but David roughly shook him off. "David!"

But David was gone, the bathroom door banging shut behind him.