Like a stolen gun, the cold metal of the hard silver bleachers felt like street fire burning a hole through the back of Raymond's black jeans. Raymond was completely alone and he liked the way that the stillness of the late hour wrapped its arms around him like a gentle hug. Here, he could cry. Here, no one would bother him while he waited.

He had felt the tears rising in his throat since dinner when his parents had asked him about college applications. They sat on both sides of him at the dinner table, their faces pinched and creased with parental concern and their mouths mashing bites of leftover lasagna with angry teeth. He waited until they had fallen asleep and the rumble of his father’s snoring had careened around the dark, shadowy corners of the cramped third story apartment before Raymond made a quick escape.

The urge to cry was a powerful feeling for Raymond because it was a sensation he had rarely felt in his life. But now, he sat alone and the icy air seemed to cling to the edges of the tears that were swaying in the corners of his eyes and when he blinked, the first one fell and sliced his cheek.

He looked down at his watch, as he did when he was unsure of what to say or do or feel. It was twelve-twelve on a Friday night and a low scarlet moon blanketed the empty, omnipotent high school football field with a pale crimson glow. The Berkeley air seemed drunk with its usual odd smells of disgruntled protesters, incense, marijuana and the discontentment of the sons and daughters of retired hippies and Dead Heads. Behind him, beyond the cluster of hovering oak trees, an occasional carload of teenagers would zip by, blaring car radios and young voices that had to shout to be heard.

Raymond sat, like he always sat, with feet apart, toes pointed outward, right shoulder leaning a little more forward than his left. One hand was around the green neck of a wine cooler bottle and the other brought the last drag of a Marlboro to his lips.

Raymond breathed in deep, smelling his own fear and anxiety, which was becoming strangely all too familiar. He flicked his cigarette and the sparks scattered as the Marlboro landed gracefully on the dark field like a muted firecracker.

Raymond had chosen his seat on the bleachers carefully, smack dab on the fifty-yard line. It seemed appropriate because Raymond wasn't sure which way to turn. In his life, there was a girl named Mariah who desperately wanted him to be something he wasn't. There was also the only happiness he had over known in the form of a guy named Derek, a transfer student Raymond had met only four months ago.

Raymond was seventeen and the spitting image of his Italian mother and Puerto Rican father. He was guilty of his mother's temper and his father's depression. Being like his parents irritated him so much that he had decided to really piss them off and not go to college in the fall. Instead, he and Derek had planned to run away. Their destination was still unknown. "It doesn't matter," Derek had told him when they were sitting across from each other in a red vinyl booth at Skate's, sharing a basket of mozzarella sticks and vanilla cokes. "It doesn’t matter. As long as we're together." Raymond wondered what that meant, being together. Did that mean telling Mariah the truth and watching the defeat crumble in her eyes? Or perhaps it meant finally accepting the fact that his feelings for Derek extended way beyond the outward appearance of two guys who were best friends and rarely spent a moment apart.

Raymond looked down at the blades of grass, licking the sides of his Doc Martens. Next week was the prom. Mariah had said that her prom dress was something tight and burgundy and that it would definitely bring out the new highlights she had streaked her brown curls with. She promised Raymond that when he saw her in the dress, she would take his breath away. He would oblige: rent the tux, buy the corsage, pick her up on time, smile through dinner and feign adoration while they swayed to a love song. Naturally, his mind would be elsewhere but his smile would not falter. Raymond had mastered the art of "not letting it show". Perhaps he had inherited this trait from his father who secretly fueled dreams of becoming a professional magician and constantly irritated Raymond’s unimpressed mother with botched tricks. Raymond fooled the best of them but none of them mattered as much as Mariah. She hadn't done anything wrong. She just fell in love with the wrong guy. But she deserved the truth. Her family was messed up and in a sense, Raymond was all that she had.

Raymond ran a hand through his dark curls, cut short on the sides and in the back; a contradiction of chaos and calm. He bit the inside of his cheek, contemplated another cigarette and hanging himself from the goal posts. That would solve the problem, wouldn't it? Prevent the inevitable misery for everyone: Mariah, his mother, his father. But what about Derek and the summer that loomed before them? Their plan was carefully devised to fill up Raymond's gas tank and disappear the night after graduation. They just had to go over a few more details and survive the next few months.

Raymond gulped down the rest of his citrus fruit wine cooler, shot the empty bottle across the field like a green rocket and reached into the brown paper bag from 7-Eleven to grab another. He pulled the bottle out of the bag, mesmerized by the sight of his own hand. As if it were moving in slow motion, his right hand wrapped around the body of the bottle and he held it like a commercial prop.

He softened his grip on it, holding the glass as if he were holding Derek's hand; not too tight, but firmly enough to show he cared.

Raymond always thought of his parents when he looked at his hands. He thought of his father and the two years of piano lessons that had been forced on him and the brutal summer his mother insisted he join the Little League team. The glove didn’t fit and the piano was slightly out of tune. He had the same tender palms and smooth skin and matching freckle on the knuckle of the left index finger as his father. Like his mother, Raymond's hands were always clean and always reaching for something to drink, smoke or throw. Raymond loved the class ring that he wore because he had paid for it with money saved from an endless job selling endless pizzas and because the stone was sapphire, Derek's birthstone.

Raymond fished the pack of cigarettes out of his leather jacket, flashed a silver Zippo and inhaled a deep drag on the cigarette. Eyes closed, he wondered what could
be taking Derek so long. They had promised to meet at precisely midnight. Raymond worried that Derek wouldn't be able to climb the chain-linked fence that made the football field look like a prison yard. Derek was smaller and not as strong and would probably hurt himself trying to climb.

Raymond's eyes fluttered, blinking back the tears and he stood quickly, aware of someone's presence nearby. Derek was there. Seventeen minutes late, but better than never. Raymond stared, catching a glimpse of the taunting goal posts. The sight of Derek took his breath away and Raymond felt a slight shiver ripple through his body, which mixed perfectly with the mild buzz the wine coolers were finally delivering.

Derek started to cross the football field from the opposite side. In the middle of the field, he stepped into pools of moonlight and his smile shimmered as he cast his eyes, silently explaining that sneaking out had been nearly impossible. They would have the whole night to plan their get away.

Derek trembled slightly, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his lettermen's jacket. He stood in the middle of the field and waited. Raymond sprinted towards him, moving with the agility and grace of a love struck gallant soldier returning home from years of heartbreaking war. Raymond felt his chest tighten and his breath catch in his throat, the usual physical response when he saw Derek. Immediately, Raymond looked into Derek’s eyes. He had the saddest eyes in the world, warm and brown and always glimmering like they were constantly on the verge of delicate tears. His hair was a teenaged mixture of peroxide, a few accidental strands of Bahama blue and the natural growth of toast brown. His hair had needed to be cut since Christmas, but Raymond liked his bangs long and how they always seemed to dance when Derek moved or the wind blew just right. Now, they pirouetted in his eyes, partially hiding the sorrowful stare he captivated Raymond with. Derek pushed his hair out of his eyes and managed a faint smile. His cheekbones reached amazing heights and the sad look seemed to fade, if only a little.

Raymond extended a hand, reaching for Derek's, knowing the comfort that awaited him. Raymond moved closer to Derek, counting each step as he neared the fifty-yard line, outlined and emblazoned on the grassy field in bold, stark white. They stood face to face, their feet pressed against
the numbers: Derek stood in the middle of the “0” and Raymond was planted on the sensual curve of the “5”.

The sound of his own voice startled him as Raymond felt Derek's fingers slide against his skin and lock in his own. Raymond breathed deep as the words and his smile collided into a sense of relief and freedom. “I waited for you,” he told Derek.

"You’ve been crying,” was the soft spoken reply. Derek’s voice had a calming affect on Raymond. It felt like a lullaby.

Raymond looked down, perhaps ashamed or perhaps relieved. When he looked up, the red moon reflected streams of shiny silver in his dark eyes. Derek felt the need to touch him, so he did. He raised his right hand and his fingertips brushed against the side of Raymond’s face, cold from the night and damp from his tears.

Derek’s voice swam in circles around the empty space that enveloped them. “It’s a good thing football season is over,” he joked. “Or else this rendezvous would have been impossible. This place is kind of creepy at night.”

“I hate it,” Raymond said and then, by instinct, he wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled him as close to his own body as possible. There was a warmth that ignited between them and it tickled the fronts of their bodies and it swept over them and forced them to close their eyes to feel the rapture, rather than to see it. It was an addictive feeling for Raymond, feeling Derek next to him. It was only then that he truly felt at peace. He placed his hands on Derek’s face, gently guiding him, bringing his mouth to his own. The kiss was soft and slow and it seemed to suspend all sense of reality. The intensity of it all, of wanting to be so close to another person – so close that you wanted to crawl inside of them and stay there forever – caused Raymond to whisper, “I love you”. The words fell on Derek’s lips as their mouths parted. Derek raised his right hand, wrapped it around Raymond’s wrist and squeezed it tightly and it seemed to Raymond that Derek was afraid to let go.

“Raymond.” The tone in Derek’s voice sounded like a warning of some sorts; a spoken premonition, a slight quiver that seemed to be weighed down by an impending sense of doom. “I don’t know how to tell you this. My Mom – “ Derek stopped for a moment, long enough to move closer to Raymond and slide his arms around his waist. The right side of Derek’s face was pressed against Raymond’s chest and he closed his eyes, unhinged by the quickness of Raymond’s heartbeat and the urgency in his sharp breaths. “I’m leaving in the morning. She’s sending me to Chicago.”

It was a powerful combination of anger and sadness that surged through Raymond’s veins, like misguided adrenaline. “Don’t say that. You can’t leave. I need you more than ever right now. We’re supposed to go. We’re gonna leave this place.”

Derek lifted his eyes, kissed Raymond’s lips and his mouth tingled from the tangy remnants of the wine coolers. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

“Does she know? About us?”

“I didn’t want to deny it. She asked me. She said she suspected that we were...”

“Did you tell her that we’re in love?”

“She didn’t ask.”

“But, did you tell her?”

“Of course I did.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said that our love is a lie.”

Raymond tightened his grip on Derek, rubbing his back with his left hand, inhaling deeply and smelling his skin. “We can leave tonight, then,” Raymond decided. “I’ve got some cash. We can fill up the car and go. Disappear.” Raymond suddenly thought of his father and added, “Like magic.”

Derek seemed to crumble in Raymond’s arms, as if his soul were exploding and ripping his entire being into pieces. “I can’t.” He choked on his own words. “Spend the night with me. We can go anywhere you want. Then, in the morning, you can take me home and we can say good bye. I have to be with you, Raymond. This is killing me.”

A sliver of a tear rolled down the side of Raymond’s face. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You’ll be fine.” Derek gulped in the chilly air, his breath muffled by his sobs. “Everyone thinks that you and Mariah are in love. You’ll survive. You’ll get out of this place...and when you do...I hope you come and find me.”
“I will,” Raymond vowed.

They stood there for another few moments, clinging to one another, each overwhelmed by their own thoughts and fears. As Raymond held Derek, comforting him and reassuring him that they would be together again, his eyes moved to the goal posts. They seemed to tease him again, inviting him to take the challenge.

As Derek whispered, “I will always love you” and the words crept into his heart, Raymond knew his mind was made up once and for all. He would spend the night with Derek and he would take him home at the break of dawn. Then, Raymond would come back to the football field behind the high school and he would return to it alone. He remembered the coil of white rope in the trunk of his car that his father had him pick up at the hardware store a few days ago. It was supposed to be used for a new magic trick that his father was trying to perfect. But instead, Raymond knew that the rope would be strong enough to hold him, to make him disappear.