Scott

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short story about someone I will always love, yet I will never be with him. It is perhaps based around a personal fantasy of mine, as well as my desire to care deeply for someone.

Submitted: July 18, 2016

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Submitted: July 18, 2016

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A single tear rolled down his cheek.
 
"I just feel so pathetic." 
 
His head rested in my lap as he lay on the couch. As I gently played with his dark hair, I whispered into his ear. I reminded him that I loved him.
 
His blue eyes closed as he heard those three words. For a moment, his tears disappeared. I leant down and kissed his cheek, taking in his magnificent beauty. Scott and I shared a close bond. He was a very close friend of mine, yet he was also something more.
 
The truth was that we were both gay. He liked other men and I liked other women.
 
Yet, for some reason, Scott and I shared a connection that was unlike any I'd ever felt with a man before. As a lesbian, I often felt slightly uncomfortable with men because of the fear that they may become interested in me. That was certainly not something I wanted. However, around Scott, I felt like I could be myself. There was a strong, emotional force that always seemed to pull me towards him, though I wasn't sexually attracted.
 
I suppose it came down to being able to understand each other without needing to try. There was undeniable chemistry between us and I cared for him so deeply. Part of me longed to protect him and keep him safe. To think about Scott being in any kind of pain made my heart ache. Our connection was difficult to explain, but in my mind it made sense.
 
To put it simply, I loved him. That was all I knew.
 
I looked down at his face and gently stroked his cheek. His eyes were closed. I knew he was trying to block out all the negative thoughts that were crossing his mind at that moment. I studied his strong, dark hairline and ran my fingers through his luscious waves. I observed his straight nose, his soft, generous lips and his dominant jawline. His long, graceful neck and his fair skin. His broad shoulders. His long, smooth, bare legs. His beautiful hands.
 
Leaning in, I wrapped my both of my arms around him, my hair falling in his face. Softly, I kissed his neck. He reached up to hold me tightly. I felt his tear stained cheeks against my arms.
 
"You are so strong," I whispered. "I know it's hard, but you can't let other people bring you down."
 
He exhaled, heavily, looking up. "I know... it just seems... impossible sometimes. I try not to let it get to me, but it just destroys me after a while. I just want to be who I am."
 
Scott was quite a 'feminine' man. His femininity was beautiful, in my opinion, and it was one of the many things that drew me to him. He was elegant and poised, yet hilariously clumsy at the same time. When he spoke, his graceful hands moved at the same time as he would descriptively explain what he meant.
 
I slipped my hand under the blanket that covered his body and leant over to where his legs were. I ran my hand up and down them, slowly, taking in all of the subtle curves and muscles and warmth that made him who he was. 
 
Scott loved makeup, perfume and all things relating to beauty. He often wore subtle makeup during the day, such as a tinted moisturiser, lip balm and a touch of mascara. Occasionally, he would go into town at night dressed as a woman, wearing a long wig, high heels and a full face of makeup. He pulled it off exceptionally well and walked through the night with confidence and pride. He often said that dressing up and wearing makeup helped him feel free - he liked turning into a different person once in a while.
 
However, behind his mask of makeup stood a fragile young man, vulnerable and sensitive. When he went out to town dressed up, Scott became victim to some extremely nasty insults. People loved to be cruel to anyone who was different. People would yell and scream at him, telling him to "go to hell" because he was a man wearing a dress. He had even been "banned" from entering certain bars around town because of how he chose to dress. 
 
Soon enough, people all over social media were continuing the trend through cyber-bullying. Scott could not escape the cruelness that surrounded him - horrible comments were left all over his social media profiles and pictures. It crushed him. It had continued for months and he was at breaking point. All he wanted to do was to be himself.
 
"I don't know how to deal with it," said Scott, sitting up. He wiped his eyes with a tissue. "I try not to let it get to me, but it hurts me more than it should."
 
I wrapped my arms around him again and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. "You have dealt with this for such a long time. No wonder it hurts you, Scott. You're just being yourself and you shouldn't be bullied for that. I wish I could take away the pain."
 
He held his head in his hands, looking distraught. "It's just... I need to be who I am. I need to dress up... it's part of me. If I can't do it, I don't want to be here."
 
My heart was breaking for him. "You can't give up. You've made it this far. You just have to keep going and I'm going to be right here beside you the entire way, okay?"
 
He looked into my eyes. "Thank you... thank you so much. I really don't know how I'd still be here without you, to be honest."
 
We hugged each other tightly and I breathed him in, the gentle aroma of his cologne sending a shiver down my spine. He lifted my shirt and started to rub my back, his strong hands caressing me, up and down, ridding me of all my worries. He held my face in his hands and gently kissed my lips, then my cheeks and my neck. "I... I really love you," he whispered. "You're the only girl I'll ever love."
 
I took his hand and massaged it, kissing his fingers. I kissed him all over, from his hands, to his arms, shoulders and chest. "And you're the only guy I'll ever love." 
 
It often made no sense to me. I couldn't work out why I felt such a strong attraction to Scott. It was just him. He was the only man I'd ever felt this way about - every other person I'd loved or felt deeply atttracted to had been female. It confused me. Yet, I believed sexuality was fluid, and even though I knew I identified as a lesbian, Scott was the one exception I had.
 
Together, we lay still, embracing the warmth and comfort we provided for one another. I kissed him and told him that I would always love him no matter what. I felt his hands around my waist, on my skin, as we hugged and tried to forget the cruelness of the world we lived in. I looked into his clear, steady, blue eyes and instantly felt at ease. He buried his face into my hair, his tears slowly vanishing. 
 
We were both considered 'different' in society. We both knew what it was like to feel like an outsider and what it was like to be lonely. Yet, to know that we had each other was more than I could ever hope for.


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