by Elaine White
“I'm serious, Karsyn. I can't stand to see you go through this. Every time you walk out the door, I'm terrified of whether you'll walk back in it or not,” his father said, pacing the floor behind him.
Karsyn tried to ignore it as he pulled out his wallet and checked that he had enough money for a decent lunch and maybe to disappear for a while after school. It was Wednesday, six weeks since Harrison and Austin started dating and spending lunch hours away from school, and he'd opted out of the new RPG game, after getting his rugby schedule in and realising he couldn't make time for both this term. So not only did he have a quiet lunch all to himself, but he still had two days of classes to go before he was free for the weekend.
“I'm not going to run away,” he promised. He might get away for a few hours, but never run. He loved his parents, but sometimes they just took the whole 'supportive' thing too far.
His dad grabbed his shoulders and turned him so that they were facing each other. “I looked it up online. Thirty percent of all successful suicides are related to sexuality and orientation. I won't let you become another statistic,” he insisted, arguing with him as if those statistics were his fault.
Karsyn wouldn't tell him what he was really thinking; that number was probably a heck of a lot higher than anyone knew. What about all the homeless people who were kicked out by their parents because of who they were? What about all the kids that turned to cutting and suicide who died, leaving behind no one who even knew they were gay? The men and women who married just to keep their families happy or because they were too terrified to come out.
Just because the statistics said one thing didn't mean they were right. There were a whole lot of people out there that the statistics had no idea even existed or fitted into their 'categories'.
“I'm not going to kill myself,” he said, shaking those depressing thoughts off. He knew it wouldn't work. His mind would be stuck on that all day now, scanning his fellow students, wondering if anyone else was at risk from the inequality of life.
“Karsyn.” His father hugged him and he hugged back. He hated that he'd been dragged into this conversation, but he understood that it wouldn't be over until his dad was convinced he was okay. “Kiddo, you're holding this all inside you, refusing to talk to anyone. You won't come out to the world, you won't date, you won't acknowledge that this is hurting you. This isn't about keeping your favourite singer a secret to placate your friends. This is who you are,” he reminded him.
“Don't you think I know that?” Karsyn argued back, pulling away from him.
Of everyone on the planet, he was pretty sure he knew how he felt. And how gut-wrenching it was to have to hide who he was and how he felt. He couldn't even tell his crush that he fancied the pants off him, because he couldn't take the risk. It wasn't even about whether Ryder liked him back or not, or whether he might kick the crap out of him for his confession. It was about the fact that he couldn't come out to anyone without jeopardising his entire career before it began.
“Look, I get that you want to help me.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I'm not sure you know how grateful I am that you and Mum support me in this and haven't kicked me out already, but this isn't your decision. And, right now, it's not mine either.” He tried to keep his voice calm and not start a screaming match before he went to school.
“Of course it is.”
“Not if I want to go anywhere in this world. Do you know how many Pro athletes are gay?” he asked, desperately wanting this conversation over with.
Yes, Tom Daley and Keegan Hirst had come out and it hadn't openly impacted their careers as sportsmen, but there were still the snide remarks in newspapers and online. It happened every day, to college guys, to professionals – all of whom didn't want to hide who they were and suffered for it within their chosen careers. Karsyn knew that one or two players accepted in the world of sports for their sexuality didn't dictate how the rest of them would be treated.
Hell, the minute any LGBT sportsman faced a professional loss, the first accusations were about how it happened because they were LGBT and it wasn't about their skills anymore, but about who they were in relationships with.
“No.” His father hung his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“No, you wouldn't. Because no one comes out until their career is over,” he argued, trying to make him listen. “Everyone knows that once you're out and you still play, there's no way in hell of you ever being treated the same way again. Either you're going to become a token gay player or no one wants you.” He rubbed his eyes and lifted his bag, deciding that he couldn't take much more of this argument. He needed to get outside in the fresh air and get away from this conversation.
“I have a real chance here, Dad. You heard what that scout said. I only have to keep my head down and keep my mouth shut for one more year and then I'm on a Pro rugby team,” he reminded him. His life was about to begin, for real. He would find a way to have a love life and still play, but he needed to secure his career first.
“But is it worth all of this? You're so unhappy,” his father said, looking hurt.
Karsyn gave him a brief hug, knowing that his pain hurt his parents, but he couldn't help it. “That's my choice. I'm choosing my career over my happiness. Because if I don't…I haven't got anything else I can do with my life.” He tried explaining again, hoping to make him see the truth. He was decently smart for school, but not for any other job than what he loved: rugby.
“Yes, you do. You can do a million things with your life. There are jobs out there where you won't be penalised for being gay,” his dad argued.
“Are there? Name one that you know, definitively, will not care that I'm gay. One job where no single person will discriminate against me,” he asked, standing there waiting to hear his answer. Only silence filled the space and he knew he'd temporarily won this fight again. “Exactly. So if you don't mind, I'm going to school.” He sighed and left the house, taking the walk to school slowly to give himself time to get his head together.
His dad just couldn't face facts. Yes, it was twenty-nineteen and the world knew enough that they should have been more enlightened than they were, but the fact was that a lot of people were still ignorant. People used excuse after excuse; religion, laws, discrimination, history and violence. They used them all to justify the fact that they were scared. Decades after the AIDS crisis of the eighties, they were still using the same old excuses to keep gay people in the dark and hidden away from the rest of the world.
What was even worse were the recent, horrific attacks on gay clubs, couples and openly gay men and women of the world, by ignorant homophobes who couldn't bear to see anyone different exist in the world. On top of that, they had gay men stuck so far in the closet that they lashed out at other gay men, just to hide their own sexuality and the fact they hated themselves.
But would his dad listen? It was never going to end. Not as long as hate existed.
It wasn't even about which careers were gay-friendly or which jobs, sectors or laws would come into the matter. The issue was individual people. He could go into the gayest industry there was and still come up against some narrow minded ass who thought he was a freak or 'wrong' just because he was gay. They didn't have to show that attitude openly for him to suffer for it.
Karsyn often wondered if he was the only one who felt lost. Like he was something to be hidden away, tolerated or just plain ignored. Like he was sinking in an ocean and a hundred people were swimming right past him, leaving him to drown. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was all alone.
Karsyn gave his hazel eyes another rub as he stood in front of his locker, knowing damned well that he looked a state.
The tan lines from his uniform were on fine form, thanks to the extra burst of sun lately, forcing him to leave behind the comfortable school shirts and go for something with a more rounded neckline. He had a touch of sunburn on the back of his shoulders, his freckles were in full force, and his blonde hair was limp, like s
omeone had implanted a wig that didn't sit right.
Yet, he didn't give a crap about any of it. How he looked was of no consequences. The coaches, the scouts, and the teams looking for a good player wouldn't care that he was a middle-class white kid, Scottish to the core, with some distant Irish ancestry. They wouldn't give a shit that he was nearly six foot, except that it made him good for line outs and rucks.
How he looked didn't bother him in the slightest. It was just those damned words. He was trying so hard not to let his father's words get to him.
He was tired, emotionally and physically. He'd had a tough game at the weekend and was sick of pretending that he wasn't gay, especially with his friends. It was draining the life out of him, but he couldn't tell his parents that. His dad thought the world was shiny and bright, that he could have everything he wanted as long as he was honest about it. But that wasn't how the world worked. Not yet. But it would be, he hoped.
If he could come out to his friends and trust that no whisper or hint of it would slip past their lips to the other students in the school, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But Freddie and Ginny were fourteen and gossip was like an Olympic sport to them. Harrison was absolutely trustworthy, but had a boyfriend Karsyn didn't know all that well. Sterling and Fearghas would keep his secret between them, as would Kenichi, but he couldn't take the chance.
All it would take was one whisper, one word between boyfriends, best friends or their group and everyone in school would know his secret and it wouldn't be a secret anymore.
Letting out a sigh, he unlocked his locker and opened the door the minute it clicked free. Then he froze. There was a piece of paper sticking out the back of the vent on his locker door. He looked around and couldn't see anyone looking at him, so he yanked the paper free of the small air vent slats and unfolded it.
Karsyn,
I know your secret. I know that you're gay. I just wanted you to know that I'm here if you need me. I won't tell anyone and I won't make a scene that will expose you.
I just want you to know that you're not alone,
Anonymous.
Karsyn looked around again, viewing his fellow students a little more closely. No one was making a show of avoiding him or looking at him. There was no one who looked uneasy, cocky or unusually friendly.
He read the note again, then panicked over what to do with it. He couldn't carry it around, in case he dropped it and someone read it. He couldn't leave it in his locker, in case anyone broke in or one of his friends grabbed it before he could stop them. He could burn it, but then he might get caught. He'd have to leave school grounds to do it, which meant he would have to wait and find somewhere to stash it until then.
Full of indecision, Karsyn crouched down to the floor as if to tie his shoelace and slotted the note down the inside of his boot. He didn't have gym class or practice today, so it should be safe there until he got home and he could store it somewhere safe.
Now a bigger question burned in his mind. Who knew he was gay? And why tell him they knew but wouldn't tell anyone?
Just know that you're not alone.
Those words rung through his head like an old record that kept skipping over the last line. Was it true? Was there someone else who felt how he felt and wanted him to know that being happy wasn't an elusive dream?
“Karsyn.” Someone spoke far too close to him and he jumped.
Slowly, he got to his feet and smiled at his best friend, Kenichi. He nodded to him in hello and set about grabbing his books for first period, trying to act casual.
“You okay, bud?” Kenichi asked, clearly noticing something was wrong.
“Just a bit sore. I think I might have tweaked my back at the game,” he lied, although his lower back was aching after a rough tackle.
Kenichi nodded in understanding and reached into his bag to hand over a bottle of painkillers.
“Thanks.” Karsyn managed a real smile and took two pills to try to help ease the pressure. “Where's Alvin?” he asked, realising that his boyfriend wasn't with him. When his friend shrugged, with the same kind of indifference he'd tried to show the conversation, he knew they were both in a funk. “Fight or just him taking off without you?”
Kenichi chuckled and leaned back on the locker to kick his foot out in front of him. “Just a little fight. A stupid one, really, about him never coming over for long, always having a curfew and crap like that. I don't even remember why it's a problem, but I wanted to hang out with him last night and he left at six. He'd only been over for an hour,” he admitted, looking a little upset about it.
“Isn't that when his dad gets home from work?” Karsyn recalled, since his own dad got back from work around the same time. It made other people's schedules easy to remember. Especially since Alvin and Javon's dad had only just moved to the area recently, so it was all still fresh in his mind.
Nodding, his friend didn't look too pleased, but wasn't going to deny it. “Yeah. He says that they always have a family dinner together. But, you know, I'm sure they'd be okay with him taking off just for one night,” he reasoned, as though that was really what was important.
“Why don't you try a different tact?” Karsyn suggested, turning to give his best friend his full attention. “Instead of insisting he comes over for dinner, why don't you try convincing him to come over after dinner and staying the night? That way he can have his family dinners at home and still spend time with you,” he said, knowing that would be his suggestion if it was his boyfriend.
Not that it ever would be.
“Huh. Yeah, that might work.” Kenichi looked thrilled, slowly grinning and pushing himself off the lockers. “Maybe I'll go find him and tell him that,” he said, walking off before he could offer support or a protest.
Which suited him just fine. With Kenichi gone, Karsyn was left gazing around the hallway at all the students hovering by lockers and chatting amongst themselves. Which one of them was his mystery note writer?
Who was Anonymous?
Chapter 2
Karsyn spent the rest of the day trying to figure out who had sent him the note. He couldn't find anyone who seemed a likely candidate.
Until the impossible happened during the lunch break. Ryder approached his table, looking shy but curious.
“Hey,” he said, flashing a gorgeous smile that lit up his green eyes and showed off that Scandinavian heritage that he never talked about. He'd never explained the slight hint of a Swedish accent that still lingered, nor the classic Scandinavian good looks that rivalled even Alexander Skarsgård.
Karsyn smiled back, wondering yet again if Ryder had moved here young or if he simply had astonishingly attractive genes.
“Um…is it okay if I…” He let the sentence trail off, as he gestured to the seat beside him.
It wasn't the only seat at his table, since none of his friends had arrived yet. Karsyn had planned to have a quiet lunch, but he was too spooked by the anonymous note to be alone. He nodded, suddenly speechless as his two year crush sat down next to him. He half hoped that his next words would be to ask if he'd got his note. If there was anyone he wanted to be 'Anonymous' it was Ryder.
“I saw the game last weekend. You did great during that last push. Everyone else was frazzled, but you kept a cool head the whole time,” Ryder said, pulling the straw of his milkshake carton to his lips.
For a moment Karsyn was completely hypnotised by the way his lips gently curled around the straw and his Adam's apple bobbed as he took a drink. He was beautiful, truly stunning, but he had that innocent quality about him that made him nervous.
He shook off the thought. His crush was actually talking to him for maybe the first time since they joined high school. He couldn't sit beside him and get lost to his thoughts, and waste this once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Thanks,” was all he could think to say. Karsyn silently cursed himself and turned back to the bacon roll he'd bought for his lunch. He now wasn't sure he'd get it down his throat, past his twisted tongue.
“Are you going Pro after college?” Ryder asked.
“Well, not exactly. A scout came to the game about six months ago and offered me a deal,” he explained what he could about it, since he didn't know all that much. “I'll go Pro as long as I complete one year of college. They've picked a program for me and all I have to do is ride out the one year, before they can finalise a deal with a Pro team,” he continued. All he knew was that he had to go to classes for that one year, get some experience within a college team, and brush past his nineteenth birthday, which they claimed would make him more desirable to teams.
“That's great.” He beamed, like he'd done something spectacular.
Karsyn shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise, for no reason he could fathom.
“Really, Karsyn, that's fantastic. You're going to be great,” Ryder reassured him, placing his hand on his forearm.
For a second, he didn't know why, until he realised that he probably didn't look convinced that going Pro was a good idea. Damn his dad for putting doubts into his head. “Thanks. And,” he stalled, not sure if he should say it, but if there was ever a time to get it out it was while they were alone, “I'm sorry that we haven't stayed close over the last few years. It wasn't on purpose. I've…missed our friendship,” he admitted, adding a smile so that Ryder knew he wasn't patronising him or hinting at anything.
“I missed you too,” Ryder said, giving his arm a pat and offering a smile. “Maybe we don't have to miss each other anymore, though?” he asked, slowly reaching his hand out to his.
Karsyn watched with an erratic heartbeat as Ryder touched the back of his hand with light fingertips. Ryder then curled his hand around his fingers. Their eyes met and he knew. He didn't know how he felt it, but he did. Ryder felt the same attraction he felt and was trying to tell him without telling him.