You Cannot Run Away from Weakness
“You cannot run away from weakness; you must sometime fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where to stand?” - Robert Louis Stevenson
Esca stretched, the muscles in his legs slowly and deliberately, warming up for his run while simultaneously watching the football team run drills on the field in the center of the running track. He momentarily wonders what genius decided that ringing a practice field with a track was a good idea, but his bitterness dissolves as he catches the quarter back’s shirt hike up, his arm raised to throw the ball. For a few long seconds not a single thought but the smooth, glistening, tan flesh of Marcus Aquila’s lower back can occupy his thoughts. And just as quickly as it comes, the too short glimpse ends and Esca has to force his gaze back down to the red clay beneath his feet. No matter how many times he tells himself getting caught would be a monumental disaster, he cannot deny himself these small pleasures throughout the day.
Unable to stall any longer he sets out along the track, pleased with the envious looks shot his way due to the natural grace that is evident in each and every one of his measured strides. As he runs circles around all but the most seasoned runners, he tries not to stumble and fall whenever he catches a peek of Marcus, sweat shining across his body, face serious and concentrated, body twisted in a manner that makes his athleticism clear. Esca doesn’t honestly remember the first time that he noticed Marcus, but he does know that was when he became certain that all the slurs the other boys threw at him were true.
It never bothered him, his sexuality; except perhaps for the fact that it enforced the whole “only gay guys are in the ballet.” He never gave anyone the satisfaction of confirming or denying the rumors that followed him on a snickering wind, but he thinks that if Marcus ever asked, there would only ever be one answer.
Problem was- Marcus would never ask. Esca was almost entirely certain that the high school quarterback had absolutely no idea who we was, or even that he existed. The two of them lived in entirely different social circles, and aside from this time on the field, never crossed paths in school. Naturally. To say that Esca went a little out of his way to see Marcus more than on the rare occasion, was a monumental understatement. In fact, Esca was fairly certain he could be given a restraining order if someone ever documented his attempts to see the other boy throughout the day. But instead of feeling ashamed or embarrassed about this, he felt quite proud that whatever he set his mind to he could excel in. Even stalking.
~~~
Sitting in math class, doodling in the margins of his mostly incomplete notes, Esca took great delight in imagining all the different ways that he could make Marcus breathe as heavily as he had been after practice today. No matter how hard he tried, after a certain amount of time his thoughts always drifted back to this place, and he had given up on trying to stop long ago. At some point he thought that he ought to be worried about his behavior, but after seeing some girl actually writing Mrs. Aquila with hearts all around it, he decided his obsession was pretty tame. He also decided that he hated that girl. If only he could remember her name….
~~~
The rest of the day seemed to pass in much the same manner, only stopping once more to focus on the incredibly difficult concept of a school meal in which both french fries and potato chips were necessary on the same plate. Afterwards, in his last class of the day he was just about to write off the day as completely wasted (damn the football team and those jerseys which were just an inch too short). English had long been one of his favorite periods, even if he usually zoned out during the actual class time, he took the reading and essays home and genuinely enjoyed putting a great deal of effort and thought into them.
Today they were going over Victorian era writers and he had been caught daydreaming. Giving a sheepish smile to the teacher and a petulant sneer to the rest of the class, he quickly found the place in the textbook they were examining and began to read aloud. The section was detailing the life and works of Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Halfway down the page, a blocked out section housed a quote the author of the textbook had found prudent for the, all to know. “You cannot run away from weakness; you must sometime fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where to stand?”
After finishing, Esca found his mind to be completely stuck on something for the second time that day, only this time it wasn’t half naked images of another boy.
~~~
For the first time since he could remember, Esca couldn’t focus in ballet and made more mistakes that day than he had in all the previous ones combined. He missed his stop on the bus and when he finally did make it home, found that he had left his keys in his bag, back at the dance studio. Figuring it wasn’t technically breaking and entering if you practically lived in the place, he discretely smashed a window pane in the back door and let himself in.
Making a mental note to blame the irritating next door whelps for the glass, he bound up the stairs and into his friend Liathan’s room. Well, more of an acquaintance, but this place was better than his foster parent’s house. Lying back on the Spartan bedspread he tried to wriggle into a comfortable position and after being somewhat successful he gazed out the window and desperately tried to quiet his mind.
~~~
After a night of restless sleep and fitful dreams that could only mean one thing, Esca found himself standing in the same position as yesterday. It was eerily chilly and clouds had rolled in overnight, making the day appear as though it could only go one of two ways. He could fail and the sky could open up and drown him in all the sorrows that youth had to offer, or…. The bracing wind, the crisp clarity of everything around him that only weather such as this could bring, seemed to tell him that something great was just in his reach, if only he would grab for it. It looked as though all of nature was making this to be a good and proper teenage crisis and he cursed the open air for it numerous times.
The words of the Scottish poet rang loud and clear in his head again and again, insisting he do something besides just stand and stare, wasting yet another day in a life that was too short to allow such an affront. Breathing deep, gathering himself for the fallout, Esca steeled himself. If this was going to happen he was at least going to try and put some masculinity and strength in professing his undying love for another man. Waiting for the current play to break up, Esca began stalking across the track and then into the middle of the field. He received mostly glares from everyone around, a few quirked eyebrows, and more than a fair share of profanities. But all of that was just background noise to him now.
Today was the day, today was going to make or break his entire high school experience. Marcus finally seemed to notice the fact that everyone had stopped in the middle of what they were doing to watch as Esca marched through the grass, his target evident at this point. The hulking boy took off his helmet slowly, a myriad of emotions warring across his face before settling on confusion, brows drawn, lips pulled into a pout, eyes questioning.
Esca had been thinking all night and morning about exactly what he was going to say at this moment, but now that it had arrived he only had one clear thought. Without a second of hesitance and with absolutely no explanation he walked right up to Marcus Aquila, stood on his tiptoes, wrapped his arms around the boy’s beefy shoulders, and planted an open mouthed kiss on those damnably pouty lips.
Esca stretched, the muscles in his legs slowly and deliberately, warming up for his run while simultaneously watching the football team run drills on the field in the center of the running track. He momentarily wonders what genius decided that ringing a practice field with a track was a good idea, but his bitterness dissolves as he catches the quarter back’s shirt hike up, his arm raised to throw the ball. For a few long seconds not a single thought but the smooth, glistening, tan flesh of Marcus Aquila’s lower back can occupy his thoughts. And just as quickly as it comes, the too short glimpse ends and Esca has to force his gaze back down to the red clay beneath his feet. No matter how many times he tells himself getting caught would be a monumental disaster, he cannot deny himself these small pleasures throughout the day.
Unable to stall any longer he sets out along the track, pleased with the envious looks shot his way due to the natural grace that is evident in each and every one of his measured strides. As he runs circles around all but the most seasoned runners, he tries not to stumble and fall whenever he catches a peek of Marcus, sweat shining across his body, face serious and concentrated, body twisted in a manner that makes his athleticism clear. Esca doesn’t honestly remember the first time that he noticed Marcus, but he does know that was when he became certain that all the slurs the other boys threw at him were true.
It never bothered him, his sexuality; except perhaps for the fact that it enforced the whole “only gay guys are in the ballet.” He never gave anyone the satisfaction of confirming or denying the rumors that followed him on a snickering wind, but he thinks that if Marcus ever asked, there would only ever be one answer.
Problem was- Marcus would never ask. Esca was almost entirely certain that the high school quarterback had absolutely no idea who we was, or even that he existed. The two of them lived in entirely different social circles, and aside from this time on the field, never crossed paths in school. Naturally. To say that Esca went a little out of his way to see Marcus more than on the rare occasion, was a monumental understatement. In fact, Esca was fairly certain he could be given a restraining order if someone ever documented his attempts to see the other boy throughout the day. But instead of feeling ashamed or embarrassed about this, he felt quite proud that whatever he set his mind to he could excel in. Even stalking.
~~~
Sitting in math class, doodling in the margins of his mostly incomplete notes, Esca took great delight in imagining all the different ways that he could make Marcus breathe as heavily as he had been after practice today. No matter how hard he tried, after a certain amount of time his thoughts always drifted back to this place, and he had given up on trying to stop long ago. At some point he thought that he ought to be worried about his behavior, but after seeing some girl actually writing Mrs. Aquila with hearts all around it, he decided his obsession was pretty tame. He also decided that he hated that girl. If only he could remember her name….
~~~
The rest of the day seemed to pass in much the same manner, only stopping once more to focus on the incredibly difficult concept of a school meal in which both french fries and potato chips were necessary on the same plate. Afterwards, in his last class of the day he was just about to write off the day as completely wasted (damn the football team and those jerseys which were just an inch too short). English had long been one of his favorite periods, even if he usually zoned out during the actual class time, he took the reading and essays home and genuinely enjoyed putting a great deal of effort and thought into them.
Today they were going over Victorian era writers and he had been caught daydreaming. Giving a sheepish smile to the teacher and a petulant sneer to the rest of the class, he quickly found the place in the textbook they were examining and began to read aloud. The section was detailing the life and works of Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Halfway down the page, a blocked out section housed a quote the author of the textbook had found prudent for the, all to know. “You cannot run away from weakness; you must sometime fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where to stand?”
After finishing, Esca found his mind to be completely stuck on something for the second time that day, only this time it wasn’t half naked images of another boy.
~~~
For the first time since he could remember, Esca couldn’t focus in ballet and made more mistakes that day than he had in all the previous ones combined. He missed his stop on the bus and when he finally did make it home, found that he had left his keys in his bag, back at the dance studio. Figuring it wasn’t technically breaking and entering if you practically lived in the place, he discretely smashed a window pane in the back door and let himself in.
Making a mental note to blame the irritating next door whelps for the glass, he bound up the stairs and into his friend Liathan’s room. Well, more of an acquaintance, but this place was better than his foster parent’s house. Lying back on the Spartan bedspread he tried to wriggle into a comfortable position and after being somewhat successful he gazed out the window and desperately tried to quiet his mind.
~~~
After a night of restless sleep and fitful dreams that could only mean one thing, Esca found himself standing in the same position as yesterday. It was eerily chilly and clouds had rolled in overnight, making the day appear as though it could only go one of two ways. He could fail and the sky could open up and drown him in all the sorrows that youth had to offer, or…. The bracing wind, the crisp clarity of everything around him that only weather such as this could bring, seemed to tell him that something great was just in his reach, if only he would grab for it. It looked as though all of nature was making this to be a good and proper teenage crisis and he cursed the open air for it numerous times.
The words of the Scottish poet rang loud and clear in his head again and again, insisting he do something besides just stand and stare, wasting yet another day in a life that was too short to allow such an affront. Breathing deep, gathering himself for the fallout, Esca steeled himself. If this was going to happen he was at least going to try and put some masculinity and strength in professing his undying love for another man. Waiting for the current play to break up, Esca began stalking across the track and then into the middle of the field. He received mostly glares from everyone around, a few quirked eyebrows, and more than a fair share of profanities. But all of that was just background noise to him now.
Today was the day, today was going to make or break his entire high school experience. Marcus finally seemed to notice the fact that everyone had stopped in the middle of what they were doing to watch as Esca marched through the grass, his target evident at this point. The hulking boy took off his helmet slowly, a myriad of emotions warring across his face before settling on confusion, brows drawn, lips pulled into a pout, eyes questioning.
Esca had been thinking all night and morning about exactly what he was going to say at this moment, but now that it had arrived he only had one clear thought. Without a second of hesitance and with absolutely no explanation he walked right up to Marcus Aquila, stood on his tiptoes, wrapped his arms around the boy’s beefy shoulders, and planted an open mouthed kiss on those damnably pouty lips.