BOYS OF SUBURBIA [boy x boy] [Wattys 2018]

✗ ONE ✗

The first time Sebastian laid his eyes on Niko Salinger was third grade.

Nicholas 'Niko' Salinger was small, dark-skinned and attractive, with a goofy-looking face and a wide smile bigger than heaven. It was the type of smile that lit the whole world up and when it's flashed your way, it made you feel as if he was entirely prejudiced in any choice you made, totally in your favour. It just made you giddy and high on life, like the serotonin bliss of ice cream on a hot sweaty summer day or the encroaching warmth of hot chocolate spreading through your cold chest in the dead of winter.

Sebastian didn't make much of Niko, because Niko was the type of boy who seemed pretty cool, running in the different social circles that were already set in stone within the levels of society. Of course, this fact was further proven in secondary school. Niko had his first kiss when he was twelve, his hands up a girl's shirt when he was fourteen, played rugby with a bunch of sports-obsessed wankers and smoked; generally, a whole different world from him, even though they came from the same suburban neighbourhood in Bristol where everything was nearly identical.

There were many times Sebastian laid his eyes on Niko. Sometimes at the grocery store with his mum, sometimes at the park with his mates, sometimes at that punk record store browsing music, sometimes smoking by the corner of the alleys, sometimes with his hands around a girl's shoulders at the movie.

But there was never a moment so potent when he laid his eyes on Niko at that same grocery store of their tiny suburban town, buying a whole lot of lighter fluid and wood chips and Sebastian had remarked, quite impulsively, later than night: "That's a shit load of fire you're making."

When he had first seen Niko, really saw Niko, there was a flimsy apron tied to his waist and a plastic name tag clipped to the breast pocket of his uncomfortable black shirt that read: "Hello, I'm Sebastian, How may I help you?", with his name chicken-scratched into the blank space with a dry pen.

It was 11 p.m at night, the very dead of night. Since he was working the graveyard shift due to his colleague, Colleen, being unable to stand in, he became the ultimate substitute.

Sebastian's eyes were already itching with fatigue, dying for sleep, but he knew that even after he had finished his shift for the night and closed up the store, there would be no rest. After all, there was a backpack full of study guides waiting for him in his study room, most likely to be hastily scrawled out at three in the morning with assistance from his "friend", Derrick. After he had bombed away his last finals, his stepdad had been pushing for him to reinvent himself to become a 'better man'. What with the added voluntary 'summer studying', the pressure to get his Math grades that was teetering on the precipice between a low C and a D into at least a B-plus, not to mention the late nights at the convenience store- his 'summer job' that his condescending bastard of a stepfather had promised would 'do him some good instead of playing video games'- had a purple hue blooming underneath his eyes and his fingers itching for the remote controller so he could battle out his demons on his PS4 with Assasin's Creed.

He yawned, though he tried to stifle it so the customer won't see. It was just that, Jesus, he was just so tired.

The only thing keeping him alive was the monotonous beeping of barcodes sliding across the red scanner as his fingers consistently placed the items into plastic bags at an insistent pace. He realised that the customer's items were all the same- neon yellow bottles of lighter fluid and cedar-toned bags of wood chips used for barbeque. Despite the odd items and the basic difference from the usual 'bread and butter' items he was used to scanning, he quietly did all his work as the beeping sounded, reminding him to stop nodding off into a sleepy haze. It was a shame his manager didn't let him listen to music while he worked, a logic he didn't quite understand as the convenience store seemed to pride itself on their 'service with a smile!' bullshit.

So Sebastian resorted into humming a Green Day song as he worked and found himself amused as he bagged the rest of the lighter fluid and wood chips, then found a variation from the rest of his customer's products, which were ramen noodles. There were about, like, ten packets of ramen noodle and Sebastian had squished in about five into one bag, jammed together like tuna in cans. When he was all done and was about to state the transaction stamped across the display screen, Sebastian finally looked up and find his gaze robbed by a boy.

The boy looked around Sebastian's age, so seventeen approaching on eighteen, with a dark mop of hair, cocoa skin and chocolate brown eyes. He was some sort of mixed, Sebastian could distinctly tell from his features, and recognised him as one of the boys who played rugby at his school. The boy was staring off into space. 

His gaydar was going off like a neon flare because Sebastian noticed that the boy was not conventionally attractive, not like male models on underwear catalogues, and there was a little dusting of acne near his hairline that he was trying to cover up with his floppy dark bangs. As Sebastian bagged the last packet of ramen noodle, he reached for the final item on the counter- a bottle of vodka. "Um, can I see your ID?"

"Sure," The boy reached into his pocket and shamelessly dropped the ID onto Sebastian's unfolded hand. Sebastian checked the card- with a picture that was clearly not the same face standing in front of him.

Sebastian sighed, tired of stupid shallow teenagers attempting to break the rules. "This isn't your ID. I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to purchase alcohol."

"Please?" The boy pouted and it would've been cute if it wasn't eleven o'clock at night and Sebastian wasn't tired as fuck.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian drawled out the practised speech irately, "But it is the rule."

The boy bit his lip, trying to gauge the hole for a plausible way to escape, "I'll share it with you."

"I can't let you buy alcohol," Sebastian tried again, getting irritated as the boy refused to let it go, glowering now, "It's against the rules and it'll get me fired!"

"So?" The boy prodded, eyebrow raised, shocking Sebastian with his apathy.

"So..." Sebastian was vainly searching for a good comeback, "So you can't, okay, kid?"

The boy scowled. "Kid? I'm the same bloody age as you."

Sebastian hated acting like the grown-up but he reasserted his dominance as a decent employee. "Well, you act like one."

"I'll pay extra," the boy pleaded, slapping a fifty-pound note with an extra tenner. "God, and I'll share it with you once you're off your shift."

"You can't just-"

"Too late," the boy said, tossing the money towards his face, snatching his bags, along with the Smirnoff and heading out the door. "I made up my mind."

"Hey," Sebastian called out, starting to stir out of his haze and getting out of his station: "Hey, kid- before I called the-"

"See you," the boy interjected plainly, as if their previous exchange never happened, before finally exiting out of the store and out of Sebastian's life, like Sebastian would expect, but not necessarily. 

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