Aaron Taylor || Classmate

The 2000’s were crazy years, to say at the very least. Huge parties, alcohol, drugs - you name it. But aside from that, it was also a perfect place for people to grow and expand their horizons. Especially privileged people like Aaron.

Aaron always had it easy - he was a white, straight guy who had everyone at his feet. Growing up, in the 80’s and 90’s, his parents always managed to get him the coolest stuff. Whether it was the hottest clothes, new CDs, or even posters, he always had it. He was the kid of the town, of course.

That continued, right up to University. It was 2003, and Aaron was eighteen. Moving out of his parents’ house and moving into a dorm was, probably, the most freeing thing he ever did in his life. And to say that he fit right in with the others was an understatement. He, quite literally, fit in like a puzzle piece.

He soon found friends which he trusted with his life, guys who shared the same interests as him. Games that were available on cheap, crappy computers which had to be hit to work, chugging down a copious amount of Gatorade bottles, and even partying. Which was Aaron’s main thing.

It wasn’t unusual for Aaron to bring a girl to his dorm. More often than not, his bed would be warm with a naked girl beside him, all blissed out and most likely asleep after the night. On occasions like these, he’d stay awake, looking up at the ceiling and sometimes running his fingers through the girl’s hair, thinking how lucky he was.

And oh, did he make sure that everyone knew he was a womaniser. As soon as he walked into a club, everyone knew he wasn’t going to walk out empty handed.

But there were things that Aaron did that weren’t as glamorous as picking up chicks. With his close knitted group of friends, he’d sometimes lean against the wall, scan the group of people in the building and pick out individuals who stuck out. And, most of the times, it was individuals who didn’t fit under the rigid societal ‘norms’.

For example, men who chose to dress more feminine. Men who wore make up. Women who presented masculine. Androgynous people, etcetera. Homophobia was something that Aaron grew up with, a nasty habit which he’d gotten into as a child. For most of his life, he didn’t see that it was wrong.

How could he when his mentality was that anyone who was different than him was in the wrong?

But fuck, did he start questioning himself. Real fast.

See, Aaron wasn’t exactly known for his brains. Sure, he had the looks and the charms, but his knowledge wasn’t the best. And if he wanted to get through uni, he surely needed to pass his exams. Damn well. But his limited knowledge made it extremely hard to complete that task.

So he did the most logical thing at the time. Turn to the smartest guy in his classes which was, coincidently, also quite cool. You weren’t one of those geeks which, to Aaron, took life way too seriously, but you also weren’t the type of guy who’d go around and flaunt himself.

But he did see you in clubs. Occasionally.

At first, everything went great. Aaron would sit next to you in lectures and seminars, copy some of your notes, ask you about bits and pieces, have you explain to him things he didn’t understand. But psychology was a tough subject, and having a thirty second explanation was surely not going to cut it. And when a huge project came up which was worth quite a bit of his grade? It’d only make sense to invite you over, maybe get some fast food on the way to the dorm before staying up all night.

That was the plan, anyway. And Aaron did indeed buy the McDonald’s. But when he got home with you, and the both of you sat down, something clicked. All of a sudden, the air felt different, there was more tension, and each time he looked up at you, your face would engrave in his memory.

Strange. So damn strange. Especially because when you talked, his gaze kept drifting down to your lips. You weren’t mentioning around with your hands, trying to explain a key idea, but at that exact moment, Aaron wasn’t listening. No, he was way too busy staring.

Staring at a guy’s lips. Something that, if he saw another person do, he’d probably make fun of it.

He tried shaking his head, getting back in actually completing the project, but he kept failing miserably. And it was only a matter of time before you noticed him staring blatantly at your lips. When you froze mid sentence, mouth open, he knew he fucked up, knew you were two seconds away from leaving and never coming up.

But then, in a split second, your mouth was on his and he was kissing you. There was no time to process what was happening, but there was time for exploration. Who cared about taking it slow - boring. A strong feeling settled in the pit of Aaron’s stomach, and he couldn’t differentiate the feeling from arousal or disgust.

He wasn’t disgusted that he was kissing you, no. Of course not. But he was disgusted that he was kissing a man. Hell, what was he doing with his life? God forbid one of his friends found out about this. He’d become the laughing stock, and his popularity would decrease by miles.

However, when he felt your fingers curl in his hair, your tongue pressing up against his… he couldn’t give a shit. It felt way too good for him to stop, and the thrill of doing something so forbidden drove him on, made him want to do unspeakable things, explore things which were always seen as ‘taboo’.

After that night, these meetings continued. Whenever Aaron was feeling particularly horny and in need of a warm body he’d text you on his flip phone - which was, debatably, his most prized possession - and wait for you to get over to him. Sometimes, he’d switch it up, going to yours and telling his friends he needed to catch up on work.

Juggling these two extremely different sides of his life was difficult. Way more difficult than he thought. At day, he’d often hear snarky remarks from his friends about gay people, hearing how disgusting they were, while at night, he was dozing off with you in his arms. He didn’t know how to continue this, didn’t know whether he could even take all of this.

Because, all in all, he cares for you. Over time, you grew on him way more than he had hoped. That night, when the kiss happened, he thought it would be a one time thing, maybe a quick fuck just to test the waters. But after countless of times of meeting up, his heart began beating faster each time he saw you, his palms getting sweatier when you gave him the ‘look’.

Which was very much unlike Aaron. Aaron didn’t get nervous. He was perfect, confident, masculine - the epitome of an ideal man. He was a womaniser.

And yet he was having feelings for a man.

Feelings which were getting increasingly harder to ignore.

“You don’t understand, you really don’t…” Aaron murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed down your neck. It was Saturday afternoon, a time where the both of you most often were together. You were at his, and, today was a little bit different.

Because for once in his life, Aaron wanted to talk. Wanted to say what was on his mind and what was plaguing him.

His hands were all over your body - caressing your waist, brushing his thumbs against your pebbled nipples through your T-shirt. He knew he was being greedier than usual, but he couldn’t help it, “I shouldn’t be doing this shit.”

Aaron pulled back, his cheeks flushed as he looked into your eyes. Fuck, you were handsome. The most handsome guy he’d ever seen. Obviously, since you were the only guy he’d ever do this with.

“I shouldn’t be wanting you. I hate it, because I know it’s wrong.” He admitted, cupping your face with his palms. His thumb swiped against your bottom lip, before he leaned in, claiming your lips in his, the butterflies exploding in his stomach before pulling back once again.

“But it feels so, so damn right…”