2

I decided to sneak around the sports field, so I was less likely to be seen by a teacher, or the Principal, Father Jules, who was always prowling the halls looking for violators of God's law, or his own...

In the middle of the run I grabbed the two backpacks, Mew's and my own, to my back and try to think where he had gone.

I felt that several were approaching me and I calmed down. It was my group.

My cousin Leah hugged me while the other three patted me on the back.

'I think he left for the road', my cousin whispered to me.

'It's already on social media. Everybody knows. Father Jules is sure to expell him. Did you really not know, Gulf?'

I did not answer. I pretended to be concentrating on cleaning the remains of blood from my knuckles and I couldn't help but smile, remembering that bloody nose split in three.

'If he knew, surely, it was a secret between them', my cousin said, seeking to settle the matter.

'Has he never said anything to you?', another continued to insist.

That question suprised me. Because without effort I knew what he was referring to.

He continued:

'He never...came on to you? He never flirted with you?'

I could feel his morbid curiosity.

We sleep together, embraced, in the same bed countless times; we bathe together as many infinite times. I could not remember a single hint or ever a look.

From the age of four until now when we are already seventeen, we were not separated for more than two days in a now.

We were always looking for a way to see each other, to do things together. I was in all his plans. And in all my plans, he was there. And but there was never a single word from him that I could take out of context or that could be an indirect.

Faced with the insistent looks of the group, I shook my head in response.

'So, he's noy gay!', sentenced one, 'Gulf is the most atractive boy of the school. All the girls are dying to go on a date with him. If Mew were gay, he wouldn't have been able to resist his charms...'

'Or...he is gay and he is not interesting in our Gulf...', sentenced another for the group, 'If he's  never said anything to you, if he's never made an insinuation to you, it's because he doesn't like you, my friend', he said with a mocking smile, 'there had to be someone who wouldn't fall for your charms! You'll finally know what it feels like to have someone say no to you! Relieve yourself! Your best friend doesn't like you...'

They all laughed and I continued on towards the road. Intuitively I knew where Mew was taking refuge. And I knew that he would stay there for a long time, so I gave myself permission to walk slowly until I calmed down a bit.

But something did not feel how it should feel.

Did I care that my best friend was gay?

I shook my head. Now past the initial shock, I knew that the answer was no...

Did I care that he had not told me?

I was angry but...I knew that with time I would end up forgiving him.

But then...? What was that feeling in my chest that would not let me breathe?

'Cheer up! Your best friend doesn't like you!'

Belated, I forced myself to laugh at the joke. It was a relief to know because I could not reciprocate. But...if it was a relief, why did I have a feeling in my chest that did not look like relief at all and was more like an inexplicable...disappointment.