Date: Fri, 6 Apr 2012 14:29:31 -0400
From: Cy-kun <cysanonymouslyanonymousemail@gmail.com>
Subject: Oh Radio Tell Me Everything You Know Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Sex: This story has it, eventually. And it's between boys. If
that bothers you, or you don't like stories that don't jump into the sex
right away, then this probably isn't for you. Copyrighted material: Again,
this story has it. I don't own the copyrights, I don't pretend to, and this
is free so I can't get sued anyway. True stories: This is not based on one.

Introduction: Well, here it is! Early like I said. Again, sorry for the
depressing last chapter, but also like I said that's as bad as it's gonna
get :) Things get better in this one. Just....not at the very beginning so
don't read like the first 5 paragraphs ten yell at me for not being all
sunshine and puppy dogs, lol. Ok. That's all I got this time. So, enjoy
b^_^

	-Cy

---------------------------------------


	Getting out of school didn't help as much as I thought it would.

	Maybe if my mom waited at least two seconds after we got in the car
to start in with the "You really don't look good" and the "Are you sure
you're ok?" with more than a little "Maybe I should take you to the
doctor's" thrown in, I might have had enough time to feel the relief I'd
been dying for all day. But since she didn't I spent the entire ride home
getting even more stressed out. I didn't even think that was POSSIBLE. It
was a bit different though. All my other stress was about getting beat up
and shoved into lockers and humiliating stuff like that with a good bit of
self esteem mutilation in there too.

	THIS stress was all about my mom taking a close enough look at me
to realize that I wasn't really sick and trying to pry out why I still
looked like I'd just caught the plague. Totally different type of stress
and apparently different stresses are kinda like filling up two different
cups with water. Once you get done filling up the first one, you get to
start all over again going from empty to full on the second. Translate that
from filling up cups into filling up my already completely shot emotional
center and you get an analogy that really doesn't make a lot of sense to
anybody but me.

	But since I'm the only one about to throw up from it I guess I'm
the only one it needs to.

	Thankfully we pulled into my driveway before I did.

	I'm not gonna get all boring and go into detail about everything my
mom did or said after we got home. Mostly because I don't remember much of
it. I think it was finally hitting me that today could literally break
me. Completely and totally. I already had literally everybody but Cheryl
and Nurse Amy at school hating me. I had the worst day of my life, the REAL
worst day of my life, not the other worst days that were really just
leading up to THIS worst day. And to top it all off there was a pretty
decent chance that today could also be the day my mom accidentally finds
out my biggest secret. Does that sound too dramatic? Good. Because that's
how I feel. Dramatic. I'm being CRUSHED by the drama. And it was
distracting. Hence the not really remembering what my mom did thing.

	I guess that was kind of a stupid time to zone out considering how
petrified I was about my mom getting suspicious but seeing as it all ended
with me tucked into my bed and my mom leaving to make me soup it all ended
well enough anyway.

	My blinds were open and the sun made the whole room pleasantly
bright, but that didn't stop me from feeling like I was trapped in a storm
cloud. Thoughts that are usually locked more or less securely behind my
walls started flying through my brain with gleeful laughter.

	What is it about me that makes people hate me so much? Is there
something just completely wrong with me, something that I don't notice but
everyone else picks up on? Maybe I give off some kind of rare chemical that
immediately flips some switch in everyone's brain to "must destroy
emotionally". I mean, there are guys smaller than me, guys gayer than me,
guys shyer than me, guys with LESS friends than me. There are even some
guys that are combinations of all those. But no one gets even half the shit
that I do, even before the whole Jarred thing.

	It gets.....tiring. Being constantly crushed under the boots of the
world. I thought I could deal but apparently that was only a part of my
now-oh-so-useless defenses. I couldn't deal. With anything. I completely
understood why people killed themselves now. If I didn't have Cheryl or if
I never talked to Owen or if my parents didn't have their normal moments
and acted like they did the day I got grounded all the time, I think I'd do
it. We don't have guns or prescription pills in the house so I'd have to
try cutting my wrists with one of my Dad's disposable razors or jump off
the roof head first, but I could imagine myself holding the razor or
standing on the edge of my roof and just DOING it.

	Maybe a few people at school would even feel bad about it
afterward.

	Thoughts like those scared me. Not because I wanted to do it, but
because I didn't, and I could see how easily that could change. It wouldn't
take too much. I was already so close to rock bottom I could see the
rocks. All it would take was one of those things, Cheryl or Owen or my
parents, to get taken away and I think that'd be enough. Without my walls I
couldn't hide from what I felt anymore.

	It was a good thing my eyes started to get blurry then. It was
distracting enough to drag me out of my thoughts and I got the tears wiped
away before my mom came back.

	My mom smiled at me when she walked in -without knocking I feel the
need to note- and held out a steaming cup of homemade chicken soup. I never
ate soup from a bowl. Like the bagged lunch thing it just seemed wrong
somehow. "You know," she said wryly as she put the soup on the nightstand
next to me. "Your father and I were gonna give your dinner privileges back
today. Guess we didn't pick the best day for that, huh?"

	My heart seized in a momentary panic as I remembered exactly WHEN
we usually eat dinner. Right during Owen's show. If I didn't go to Nurse
Amy and get sent home I might not have gotten to talk to him
tonight. Suddenly, I had a very strong and disturbing urge to run to
Cheryl's and give her a big, sloppy kiss for bringing it up. I covered up
though. "Yeah." I said almost breathlessly. "Guess not." I never said it
was a good cover.

	My mom sat down on the edge of my bed and felt my forehead with a
way warmer than usual hand. "You feel a bit hotter." she frowned.

	As bad as I was feeling there was just way too much "mom" in the
moment to keep me from rolling my eyes. "That's because you just carried
the soup with that hand, mom."

	She snorted softly before taking her hand off my head and ruffling
my hair playfully. "Guess you can't be too sick if you can still be a
smartas-um, alek."

	I smiled slightly. Ever since she got the job coaching at the
middle school she'd been trying really hard to keep her
"raised-in-New-Jersey mouth", as she called it, under control. Results
sometimes vary.

	"Just eat your soup." she said with a small grin. She got up. "Oh,
your father's gonna be working late tonight but I'm sure he'll want to
check on you when he gets home. I'll tell him to keep quiet though so he
doesn't wake you up if you fall asleep. Get some rest honey." With that and
another smile, she left, closing the door behind her.

	I let out a tiny, relieved little breath. She didn't notice I
wasn't really sick. Finally! Something's going my way today. The mom stress
immediately started to fade and I actually started feeling the way I should
have felt when I got into the car. Safe. Calm(ish). Slightly separated from
everything that happened. It may not sound like much but it was like
bathing in warm, scented water for me. My room was once again an oasis of
peace and I just wanted to soak that in while I sipped my insanely tasty
soup.

	Sadly when the soup was gone I didn't have anything to do except
wait for Owen's show.

	And think.

	The funny thing about safety is that it's pretty damn
temporary. Nothing could touch me in my room but tomorrow I'd just be
forced to leave it again. Same bus ride. Same school. Same kids. Same Coach
fucking Williams. I fumbled in my pocket until I found the ribbon Cheryl
gave me and put it on my nightstand. There. Maybe that'll actually help
with the Coach Williams thing. He can't make me wear a pink scrunchie if my
hair's already tied back, right?

	Don't answer that.

	But the rest of it was still there and I really didn't know if I
could take it again tomorrow. Hell, I couldn't even take it today. Life as
Andy was never very appealing, but from now on it seemed pretty damn
unbearable. I sighed again, but this time the relief flowed out with it and
all that was left was a cold dread. If there was ever any part of me that
thought that waiting for today was bad because I didn't know what was gonna
happen and my imagination was thinking up the worst possible stuff, and
that maybe from now on it wouldn't be so bad because at least I'd KNOW, it
was totally dead now. I'd LOVE to go back to not knowing. At least when I
didn't know there was some hope that it only WAS my imagination. Hope that
I really didn't even realize existed until right now -pretty fucking
typical- but still, it was there.

	But now I knew. And it was pretty much as bad as I thought it would
be. Except the locker thing. I never would have expected that. And Coach
Williams. And those weird few seconds with Simon. And-ok, yeah, maybe it
was worse than I expected. But that's just WORSE! Its....its worse. And now
the "worse than I expected" was actually what I WAS expecting so if
tomorrow was worse than I expected then how fucking horrible is that gonna
be? What if the rest of my life is a series of worse than expected days
until I graduate high school? Could I survive that? Could anyone? Suddenly
the future seemed bleaker than it ever had before. Even the escape to
college that'd always been my light at the end of the tunnel type thing
wasn't anymore. College would mean leaving everything I hated behind, but
it would also mean leaving Owen.

	And yeah I know I'm getting depressed about leaving someone I've
never even met before and, yeah, if we DID ever meet and if we got as close
as I hoped/wanted/needed/daydreamed about/yelled at myself for then we'd
probably make some kind of effort to go to at least close colleges or
something but, dammit, I couldn't let that kind of logic reassure me!
Things don't work out for me. The current state of my life is all the proof
I need. If I put all my hope on that, something would happen to fuck it
up. So it would just be better not to try and-'goddammit we're back to this
now?' I could practically feel the icy contempt of the Cheryl voice. 'I
thought you were past your mopey, "anything with Owen will end in tears so
I need to cut him out of my life first" crap.'

	I ground my teeth and covered my face with a pillow. Now was NOT
the time to start arguing with the voices in my head. Mostly because then
I'd have to actually acknowledge that there ARE voices in my head and that
would make me more than a little crazy and I think being crazy would
actually drive me crazy right now so, fine! I'm not gonna force myself away
from Owen, happy?

	I tried really hard to pretend I didn't imagine a smug smile after
that thought.

	I sighed. It's not like I'd be able to do it anyway. I'd tried and
we all know how well that turned out. Even just thinking about not talking
to him tonight made my chest feel like pre weight loss Jennifer Hudson was
sitting on it. I needed to talk to him. And right now the only thing scary
about that thought was how not scary it was.

	I stayed with the pillow covering my face for a bit longer even
though I stopped holding it there. It felt weirdly comforting, having a
soft weight covering my head. Eventually I had to take it off because I
couldn't see the clock through it, thus making it the first time in my life
I wished I had x-ray vision, and when I did I saw that it was almost time
for Owen's show so I turned on the radio.

	I'd never really tried to pay attention to the show that was on
right before Owen's, I was always too nervous and anxious about talking to
him, but this time I did. It took me about three seconds of listening to
some kid talking up the spiritual healing powers of polka to decide that I
was better off not bothering. It was weird, well, weirder than a show like
that would normally be anyway. After the day I'd had and the things I'd
been thinking it felt like there should have been some dark and depressing
goth rock show or something on while I waited. Not something that was
kinda, well, whimsical and quirky. The guy was disturbingly passionate
about polka. It seemed wrong that anyone could be anything other than sad
and depressed when I felt this bad.

	I didn't have to listen to him too long though. Pretty soon it was
six and I started bouncing on my bed and chewing my bottom lip in
anticipation. I didn't even wait until he got done with his usual intro and
unoriginal Mike's Auto Parts plug before I started dialing.

	He finished his thing and started playing Blink 182's 'Wendy Clear'
before he picked up. "Hey Andy, you're early tonight." he said with more
teasing lilt to his voice than usual.

	My eyed immediately teared up and before I even knew what was
happening I started sobbing loud, unmistakable, embarrassing sobs. I
couldn't help it. If having my mom buy me being sick was like bathing in
warm water, hearing Owen's sensual, mischievous, velvet voice was like
bathing in pure bliss. Everything that I'd been feeling, everything that
was weighing me down and making me feel like my life was as good as over
was washed away in that voice.

	But it wasn't just the voice. It was Owen. His voice wasn't any
less amazing than it always was, but hearing it now brought back all the
memories of him joking with me, laughing with me, being nice to me, in one,
huge, emotionally overloading rush. All I could do was cry.

	I've never used this word before in my life, but it
was....mortifying.

	"A-are you ok?" The teasing was gone now. In fact I don't think I'd
ever heard him so concerned. Not that I would have had much of a chance
to. I swallowed a few times and tried to say....anything, but I couldn't
stop crying. I felt warm inside for the first time all day. Owen was
worried about me. ME. Aside from how Haley's-fucking-Comet-rare that was,
that HAD to mean something, right? For the first time since we started
talking I had actual, not made up or easily explained away, proof that I
meant more to Owen than a fan or a casual, sorta-friend.

	And all I could do was cry like a girl.

	I almost hung up. I could feel my face burning with tears and
humiliation and as much as I wanted to talk to him, as much as I NEEDED to,
I couldn't stand having him see me like this. Hear. Whatever. But before I
could he spoke again, "Andy, you're kinda scaring me here. What's wrong?"
Again with the worry and concern. It made my chest tighten up in a really,
really nice way at the same time it made my stomach clench with nervous
embarrassment. That voice shouldn't sound that worried. It should be happy
and laughing and I won't even yell at myself for thinking something so
sappy later because that thought was the only thing that kept me from
hanging up.

	I swallowed again, hard, and forced my voice out through the
bawling. "I-" I sobbed. "I'm sorry I-" Sob. "-I don't-" Sob. "-I'm not-"
Sob. "-I don't know why I'm-" Sob. "-crying I-" Sob. "-had a horrible-"
Sob. "-day and I-" Sob. "-I-" Sob. "-I-" This time when I sobbed I just let
it go and stopped trying to explain. What the hell was I gonna say? I just
had the worst day of my life but hearing your voice made it all better
because I have this big gay crush on you?

	A disturbingly big part of me wanted to. I had no idea who Owen
really was, I didn't know if he was gay, if he had a boyfriend, a
girlfriend, if he would even be interested in me if he was and he didn't,
but I still wanted to say something. I still wanted to KNOW.

	I was actually trying to get the words together when I felt my
defenses struggling to reboot. Deep down inside of me that tiny voice of
common sense that had been pretty much absent since that day Jarred and his
group cornered me started screaming at me to shut the hell up. That if Owen
wasn't gay or single or interested, and I found that out right now when I
was more emotionally fucked up than I'd ever been before in my life, that
it would kill me. Probably literally. That voice screamed and screamed at
me, drowning out the Cheryl voice that wanted me to confess to Owen and my
normal inner voice that was just sitting back, wringing its hands and
watching with a fascinated terror. It screamed until I couldn't hope to
form the words, even if I could get them out.

	It probably didn't even need to. All this happened in my head in
less than a few seconds and Owen wasn't waiting around for me to try and
finish my thought. "Andy." It was almost a whisper, soft and sad, and for
that second he sounded exactly like I'd imagine one of Nurse Amy's smiles
would. "I-" he hesitated. "Ok, I don't know if this I gonna help but, I
have this theory." The soft sadness was gone. His voice wasn't quite back
to normal, but he seemed to be trying to force himself to seem like it
was. Even with how messed up I was I knew he was gonna say something
different before. Part of me wanted to know what it was, but another part
thought that it might have been something pitying or consoling and that
maybe he decided that wasn't the way to talk to me when I was like this. If
so, he was probably right. Although, I don't have much, ok any, experience
with anyone but my parents or Cheryl trying to make me feel better. I had a
suspicion that if it was Owen pitying me, I might actually kinda like
it. "The theory is that no one can feel bad when a Caramell song is
playing. So, I'll be right back." he paused, then added quickly. "I'm not
leaving! I swear I'll be back, ok?" he didn't wait for an answer, probably
smart considering how I was, and I heard the familiar 'on hold' silence.

	It was probably a good thing he reassured me. Normally, I never
would have thought that Owen would run away from someone this upset, but I
wasn't exactly at my best here. I might have actually thought he was
abandoning me. But he said he wasn't, and I believed him. With the hand
that wasn't holding my phone I roughly palmed the tears away from my
face. I didn't know how hearing a song would stop me from crying, but I was
determined to at least try to make myself less pathetic when he came back.

	And then I heard him through the radio.

	"This next song is 'Caramelldancing' by the Caramella Girls, and
it's dedicated to Andy. I hope this makes you feel better."

	I didn't think it was possible, but I swooned mid cry. Owen, OWEN,
just dedicated a song to ME by NAME on the radio. My previous melting had
NOTHING on what that made me do. I felt that same tightening in my chest,
but this time there was no embarrassed clenching in my stomach. I barely
even noticed that I wasn't crying anymore as I fell back on my bed with a
very embarrassing, very happy, little sigh. The only thing that ruined the
potential romanticness of the moment was the sniffing I had to do to clear
my stuffed nose.

	And then the song started.

	I laughed, I couldn't help it. I recognized the song the second it
started. God, anyone who'd used the internet for more than ten minutes in
2008 would. But I'd never heard the English version before. Never even knew
there was one. The song was actually really stupid. Just some girl singing
about dancing. But it was peppy and upbeat and just so damn bubblegum that
it went right past annoying and straight to amusingly catchy.

	And Owen was right, it would be pretty hard to feel bad when it's
playing.

	I listened, and every once in a while I'd laugh. The laughs
eventually turned into giggles and then into a big, stupid smile. I turned
on my side and hugged my pillow to my chest as I listened to the rest of
the song. I didn't exactly pretend the pillow was Owen, I'm not that far
gone, but I did kinda wish it was. Maybe. A little.

	"Are you feeling any better?" Owen's slightly tinny voice came from
the phone that I hadn't even realized I'd let go of next to my head. I
jerked, startled, and realized that the song was over. Worse than that, I
didn't know when Owen got back on the line. Did he hear me laughing and
giggling and all that? I felt my face heat up even as I scrambled to find
the phone and say something.

	"Y-yeah." I said. I knew I probably sounded like I just woke up,
but in a way I did. Today was a nightmare and, add this to the list of
things I can't BELIEVE I'm thinking but, Owen woke me up. "Thank you." I
said softly.

	"I'm glad." Despite his words, he seemed worried still. "You
sounded.....do you maybe, wanna talk about it?"

	Happiness and panic and that other, weird emotion that I had no
name for all started a war for most powerful emotion in my chest. Screw
what I said before, THIS has to mean something. There's even a small part
of me that isn't totally cautioning me not to read too much into it, that
this really could be a sign that he like-liked me. I had no actual, real,
logical reason to think that, but even a little part of me going against
reason and experience and just HOPING was a huge deal for me.

	But then there's the rest of me, and that ended up winning out.

	"No!" I yelled, then slapped a hand over my mouth and winced at how
crazy and defensive that sounded. But...I WAS crazy and defensive. There
was no way I could tell Owen what happened. There were SO many ways that
could go wrong, and any one of those could make me lose him. But so could
yelling at him like a psycho. Because, you know, he could think that you
don't feel comfortable enough to let him get closer to you. Which, yeah, is
completely true, but not in the way you just made it sound and you should
fucking say something before he starts taking that yell the wrong way. Like
what? Just fucking SAY SOMETHING!!

	It was like every voice in my head was shouting at the same
time. Even my defenses took a break from scavenging spare rebuilding
materials to join in. So saying something was pretty damn unanimous.

	"It's not!- I mean I don't-" I shook my head. God Andy, you've been
able to form complete sentences since you were three, how about trying at
least kindergarten level verbal skills here? I took a breath. "I-"

	"Dammit." Owen cut me off, swearing frustratedly under his
breath. "I'm sorry, you've been on the line too long, the stupid thing is
gonna auto hang up. Just," he let out a rough sigh. "Request a song and
call back ok?" His voice went from frustrated to worried and
pleading. "Please call back."

	"Ok, I will." Oh, yeah, NOW I can talk. Fucking typical. I tried to
quickly think of a song while wondering why I even had to if I was just
gonna get hung up on, probably some stupid rule or something, and out of
nowhere the chorus from a song suddenly popped into my head. It fit
everything I'd wanted to say, more or less, and I smiled to myself. "Mr
Roboto by Styx."

	There was a very short pause, just long enough to be noticeable,
but when he spoke the worry was dialed back and there was a bit of
amusement in his voice. "So, would I be Mr Roboto then?"

	I blinked, shocked that he seemed to understand what I was trying
to say. I....honestly didn't expect that, even if I did pick the song to
try and tell him how I felt. Then I had a horrible flash of panic as I
remembered a few of the OTHER songs I'd requested. God, did he pick up on
what I meant with those too? I was torn between being embarrassed,
terrified and hoping that he didn't and giddy, eager and hoping that he
did. Because if he did and he's STILL talking to me then that REALLY has to
mean something and-Andy, you're doing the not talking thing again, idiot. I
took exactly a half second to mentally slap myself on the back of the head
and started to say, well, probably something stupid and bumbling if I'm
gonna do the honesty thing, but before I could I heard a click and then the
soft beep of my phone signaling an ended call.

	Dammit! I forgot about that auto hang up thingy he mentioned. I
needed to call him back and....what? What was I even gonna say? Ok Andy,
this might be a good thing. Just.....take a deep breath, calm the fuck
down, and actually THINK about what you're gonna say before calling him
back. And make it good because this really has one of those "turning point"
feelings to it and if you screw this up....yeah, I know. Screwing "this",
whatever "this" was, up was not an option. I thought quickly, which isn't
something I'm all that good at, but by the time Owen finished introducing
the song and the first twenty seconds or so played I had a good enough idea
of what I wanted to say.

	I dialed.

	"I'm glad you called back." Owen said. The amusement was gone,
replaced with the worry and a bit of relief. My heart did the fluttery
thing at him caring enough to be this worried about me, but I tried to
ignore it and focus on what I wanted to say.

	It mostly worked.

	"I'm sorry." I blurted out. "Um, about yelling at you. Before. I
just-I don't wanna talk about it. But not because I don't wanna talk about
it with you! I just, don't wanna talk about it. But I do wanna talk about,
um, I mean, you really are Mr Roboto, you know? Because, you did the job
that no one wanted to, and you helped me escape when I needed to. So
really, seriously, thank you."

	It wasn't everything I wanted to say, but it would have to be
enough. I couldn't tell him how I felt about him. I couldn't even tell him
why he helped me so much, or how. I didn't know how. All I could do was
hint. And hope that my rambly, awkward speech at least sort of let him know
how much talking to him tonight did for me.

	He was silent for a few seconds, then I heard what might have been
a relieved sigh, or maybe a happy one, or maybe just him taking a
breath. "I'm-I'm glad." he said softly. It was the first time I'd ever
heard him even come close to stuttering over his words, and something told
me the turning point I'd thought about before was here. "I'm glad you're
ok. You...I was worried. You were crying and, well, you were there." he let
out a tiny laugh. "But," this time I could tell he was taking a deep
breath, and it sounded like he was steeling himself for something. "If you
ever want to talk, about anything, or you're feeling bad or, whatever, I'm
here."

	I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled serenely. I felt a
few tears fall down my cheeks, but this time there weren't any sobs. There
was no panic or embarrassment or anything even remotely negative inside
me. Just a warmth, that started in the middle of my chest and spread out
through my whole body. It wasn't a declaration of undying love, or even an
"I like you" or anything that was even that romantic, at least as romantic
things go in movies and stuff like that. But it was enough. It was the
proof I'd been secretly, then not so secretly, looking for since the first
day we talked. Proof that I meant SOMETHING to Owen. Like he meant
something to me.

	"Thank you." I said again, but this time I filled the words with
all the happiness and contentment that I could, as well as the
gratitude. And I had more happiness to fill them with then I ever thought I
could contain. "That means a lot."

	There was about a minute of silence, broken up by Owen putting me
on hold and playing another song, but it was a comfortable one. One where
we were both lost in our own thoughts. I didn't know what Owen's were, but
mine were filled with hopes and fantasies that suddenly didn't seem as
impossible as they were when I woke up this morning. Still mostly
impossible, but mostly impossible implies SOME possibleness so I was happy
with it for now.

	"I'm back." he said after playing the song. 'All Apologies' by
Nirvana, if you were wondering. Nothing with any meaning. At least, no
meaning to us or the situation anyway. "But, uh, I'm gonna need another
request from you." he sounded almost sheepish.

	I let out a tiny giggle that I only half tried to hold in. "Is that
some kind of rule or something?" I asked.

	"Yeah, if someone calls and stays on for more than a minute and
doesn't request anything it counts as a personal call and I'll get in
trouble." he sounded like he was rolling his eyes. "It's stupid, but I
don't wanna get kicked out."

	I definitely didn't want that either. "So, does it count if I ask
you to surprise me?" I asked playfully. I was at a comfort level with Owen
that I'd never been at before. It'd been slowly getting more and more easy
to talk to him since that first day, and this isn't even close to the first
time I'd joked with him, but this was different. It felt like I was talking
to Cheryl. Ok, no, that's actually more than a little creepy considering
the whole swoony, melty, like thing. But the comfort was the same. I didn't
break out in a sweat over how almost-flirty my question might be, I just
smiled to myself and waited for his answer.

	He laughed. "If I say you requested it, how will anyone know
different?" The unconsciously seductive mischievousness was back his voice
and I felt a tiny little shudder go through my body. I swallowed and tried
to keep myself from going back to Flustered Andy.

	"Ok, so, surprise me." I challenged.

	"As you wish." he said teasingly. We hung up, and I turned up the
radio.

	"This next song's from Jason and it's dedicated to 'his darling
Michelle, the love of his life', 'Bad Touch' by The Bloodhound Gang."

	I snorted out a giggle at that. Which is actually kind of hard if
you think about it. I didn't even have an internal debate about it, I just
picked up my phone and called him back.

	"Good enough?" he asked.

	I laughed. "You have way too much fun with that."

	"I know." he said matter of factly.

	I laughed again.

	And that's how it went for the rest of the night, or at least the
rest of our conversation. We talked and laughed with the comfort and ease
of people who knew each other a lot longer than we did. It felt great being
that way with someone other than Cheryl, and fucking amazing being that way
with Owen.

	I may have been imagining it but he seemed slightly different
too. Nothing I could point out and say "ha! There it is!" but just a
feeling I had. Like we both knew our -I dunno what word fits here,
relationship? Friendship? Acquaintanceship?- closeness had reached another
level. Maybe later on I'll talk myself out of thinking it means anything,
but right now it added another little layer of hope.

	Sadly, it only lasted two more callbacks. When I called back the
fourth time he quickly whispered that he wasn't allowed to take calls from
my number anymore tonight and hung up with a "Sorry. This sucks. Call back
tomorrow ok?" It did. Suck I mean. But it didn't even come close to ruining
the night. Actually, in a way it kinda made it better. He didn't sound
happy that we had to stop talking. In fact, I'm gonna do a seriously
un-Andy thing here and spit in logics stupid, smug face and say he actually
sounded a bit sad.

	His sadness gave me more hope.

	As horrible as that makes me sound.

	I listened to the rest of his show, smiling whenever he talked and
laughing a few times at some of his obviously made up dedications and just
feeling.....floaty. Light. Like without my life weighing me down I could
just fly away.

	His show had barely ended before my phone rang. I glanced at it,
even though I knew it was Cheryl, saw her name and answered.

	"Hey." I said dreamily.

	There were a few seconds of silence. "Um, hey." she said
hesitantly. "Are you....ok?"

	"I'm fine." I wonder if Owen's thinking about me right now? "So
fine." Or maybe he'll think about me later when he gets home and he's
laying in his bed? Or maybe-

	"Oh my god you're drunk." she groaned. "Or high. Or, what do they
call it when you're both?"

	-that pulled me out of my pleasant, floaty daydreaming enough to
roll my eyes and sigh to myself. "I'm not drunk or high." I said
exasperatedly. "I'm just.....happy."

	That got me almost a full ten seconds of silence. "You actually
sound it." she said wonderingly. There was another few seconds of silence
before "Oh my god! Radio boy told you he loved you, didn't he!" she accused
and gloated at the same time.

	THAT was enough to end the floatyness and bring me slamming back
down to reality. "NO!" I yelled, blushing for who the fuck knows why. "He
didn't say anything like that!"

	There was a pause -suspiciously just long enough for an eye roll-
and then, "Then you told him how you felt?"

	"No-?" My voice kinda raised at the end there turning it into a
question. Did I? No. No I didn't. God reality sucks. This was a lot simpler
when I was floating. "No." I said more firmly.

	"Then....what?" she sounded legit confused now. "Seriously Andy,
the last time I saw you today you seemed like you were a second away from
completely losing your shit. I was worried enough that I kept trying to
remember if your dad kept a gun in the house. And now you're 'happy' and
it's NOT because you got together with Owen? What happened?"

	I sighed, out loud this time. "First of all, my dad doesn't have a
gun. Second," I added quickly, knowing she was about to cut me off. "Even
if he DID it's not like I was gonna Kurt Cobain myself." Technically true,
but we'll just keep how close it would have been a secret. Forever. "Third,
didn't you listen to Owen's show?"

	Another silence. I kinda thought this one was her trying to figure
out which one of those to respond to. It didn't take her too long. "No, I
didn't. My mom made me go out shopping-" she spat the word out like it was
someone else's half digested vomit. (mental note: if you ever meet Owen,
never say anything AT ALL like that) Shopping and Cheryl don't mix. "-and I
missed most of it." She grumbled that last part. "So, what happened? And it
better be good because if it isn't I'm dragging your bi polar ass down to
the hospital and getting you put on something."

	She tried to make like she was joking, but I could hear the worry
that was still there under it. I didn't really blame her. I didn't exactly
handle today well. At all. If Cheryl had acted like that I'd probably be
freaked out too. More even. Putting aside the fact that I don't think
anyone would be able to walk for at least a few months after trying even a
tenth of the stuff I got today on her, if people were that stupid and she
got to where I almost was she could take a LOT of people out with her. And
that's without using any kind of, like, stick or pine cone or anything even
slightly deadly.

	So I got it. And I did feel a little bad. But, come on! Owen! He
said he's there for me! We had a moment! A moment!

	I started to feel that floatyness come back and I let out a little,
happy sigh.

	"Ok, I heard that. Now you HAVE to tell me."

	I blushed, but couldn't really regret the sigh. It felt GOOD to
have something to sigh over.

	So I told her.

	"-and maybe it wasn't some big, huge, romantic thing but it was
something, you know?" I was saying as I finished. It probably shouldn't
have taken as long to explain as it did, but talking about it made me
relive it and there may have been some, um, gushing, involved. I couldn't
help it. I felt.....I dunno, high I guess. High on Owen. "And it felt
good. It made ME feel good."

	Cheryl was quiet for a little bit after I finished and I started to
get nervous. I thought back to when I first told Cheryl about Owen, how I
pretended I wanted her to tell me that I was being stupid, to forget about
him. I was suddenly really, really scared that she'd do that now, even
though she'd been trying to get me to do the exact opposite since then. For
the first time since I heard his voice, I LIKED how I felt about him. I
liked feeling like there might be a chance that someone could care about me
LIKE THAT, you know? It's not something I ever wanted or expected before,
but now that it was a possibility I wanted to hold onto it with everything
I had. And I did NOT want my best friend telling me to let it go.

	I didn't need to worry.

	"Well, now you definitely need to woo him." Cheryl said matter of
factly, breaking her silence.

	"No! I-" I cut myself off. I was so used to auto-denying anything
like that, but, I actually kinda DID want to woo him. Or, you know, get the
same results as a wooing without actually calling it that. "Ok, yeah,
maybe." I said, half to myself. It was scary and new and I honestly didn't
know if I could do it, but I wanted to try. I needed to try. I gathered up
the tatters of what passes for courage from every corner of my body, balled
them up and hoped that would be enough. "Ok." I said again. "Yeah. I'm
gonna do it."

	"It's about fucking time Andy-cane." I could practically hear the
satisfied grin in her voice.

	I groaned. "That....is probably the worst thing you've ever called
me. And on today of all days!"

	"Hey, you said you were better." she paused, and her voice got
serious. "You ARE better, right?"

	"Yeah, I'm better." I thought of Owen and grinned sappily to
myself. God, so much better.

	"You're sure?"

	"Yes." I said, firmly and with more than a little
exasperation. "I'm fine." And then I felt bad about the tone. I mean,
Cheryl HAD been worried about me all day. She didn't deserve to get snapped
at like that. "And, thanks, you know? For, stuff."

	I felt stupid the second that was out of my mouth. This was Cheryl,
for fucks sake. I should be able to say "Thanks for worrying about me, it
really means a lot", right? I think so. But, I couldn't. I'd shown more
vulnerability today to more people than I ever had in my whole life and I
didn't even realize it until right now. Even with all the Oweny goodness,
it was still....unsettling, after all the years I'd kept things locked
up. But, since this WAS Cheryl, she knew what I meant, even if I didn't say
it.

	And she knew exactly what to say.

	"You don't need to thank me, idiot." she said with mock
exasperation. "It's apparently what I was born for. Just make sure you get
with radio boy quick so I can have some days off, ok?"

	I smiled to myself, immediately feeling better, and for like the
millionth time today blinked away tears. "Sure." I said, slightly
scratchily.

	If she noticed she never said anything. Which, again, makes her the
best best friend ever. "Alright, well, now that I know you're ok I have
about fifty hours of homework to do, so I should get going."

	Homework? I blinked. Wow, I totally forgot about that. For a second
I tried to remember if I brought any of my books home with me, but then I
gave up. Who cares about homework? I just had the worst day and the best
night of my life, practically at the same time. Getting a few zero's and
some disappointed looks from teachers really didn't seem like that big a
deal anymore. "Have fun!" I said cheerfully.

	She mumbled something under her breath and I laughed. "Oh, shut
up." she grumbled. Then in a softer tone added, "And....I'm really happy
for you, about Owen. You deserve happiness Andy, more than anyone else I
know."

	Dammit! Now the tears are back again. Thanks, Cheryl. I
determinedly blinked them away but before I could say anything Cheryl cut
me off. Does it still count as cutting off if I was still trying to think
of something to say? "And on that note, I'm gone. See you tomorrow." she
paused, then asked tentatively. "Um, ARE you coming in tomorrow?"

	Well, THAT broke the mood.

	I felt tension try to slide its way into my body and fought it with
everything I had. I didn't wanna think about tomorrow. Soooo....I didn't. I
thought about Owen instead. His voice, his laugh, the wonderful, nice,
perfect things he says to me. And that was enough. My body relaxed and even
though logically I knew this was a pretty stupid thing to think, tomorrow
didn't worry me as much. I'd still rather stay home though. "Yeah." I
sighed. "My mom was worried when she picked me up, I must have looked
pretty bad-"

	Cheryl snorted. "Putting it lightly."

	I ignored her. "-and I might be able to get another day out of her,
but I don't wanna risk it. If she doesn't buy that I'm sick
she'll....pry. And-"

	"And yeah, you suck at keeping secrets." she cut in. I'd argue, but
then I remembered all of the five minutes I could keep Owen a secret from
her and, you know, she's right. I kinda do. "I get it. Well, I'll walk you
to as many classes as I can. And DON'T argue with me! It's gonna happen so
just deal with it."

	I briefly wondered if she said something similar on her supposed
date with Brandon, but really quickly decided that I didn't wanna know and
pushed the thought violently away before it found its way out my
mouth. "Whatever you want." I said. I sounded appropriately sullen, but I
couldn't help feel a bit of relief. We didn't have many classes together,
and even less in the same parts of the school, but I'd take whatever
not-being-aloneness I could get.

	"Alright. See you in school then. Night Andy-cane."

	"Night Cher-bear." I growled.

	With a similar growl and a "screw you", she hung up.

	I put my phone on my nightstand, laid back in my bed and
immediately turned my thoughts to Owen. I smiled as I replayed our
conversation for the fifty millionth time and thought about the best way to
find out who he was, which was the first -and only- step in my master plan
of wooage.

	 I didn't get far before I got distracted by wondering what he'd
look like.

	Would he be tall? Regular height? Thin? Bulky? Muscular? Trim?
Athletic? Would he have long hair? Short hair? Blond? Black? Redhead? Tan?
Pale? Would he be nerdy? Emo? A jock? A bad boy? What color would his eyes
be? Would he be just sexy, or model perfect? I tried every combination I
could think of in my head, but they all felt wrong somehow. It seemed wrong
that someone as amazing as Owen could be put into a group like
that. Someone like Owen was probably unique in every way. Someone who
everybody who saw him would notice and remember, even if they had no idea
why.

	Thinking about Owen was relaxing, which after the day I had
translated into exhausting. I ended up falling asleep before my dad got
home.




	The rest of the week....actually wasn't that bad.

	I dunno if it was because of the Owen high I was still riding or
Cheryl making an effort to be with me as much as possible but things didn't
even come close to being as bad as Monday. I still got made fun of, I still
got shoved, I still had my books knocked out of my hands, but that was
it. And, really, that had been happening for years. With my defenses kinda,
sorta rebuilt, I could take it.

	Sort of.

	It still hurt. Every time I saw Jarred or Amanda or anyone they
hung out with I completely bitched out and practically ran away, which
didn't exactly help my slowly recovering pride. Coach Williams still
treated me like complete crap, making me stay after every day to clean up
and never writing a late pass, making me run laps if I was even a minute
late and he never assigned teams anymore. He picked "captains" and had them
do the thing where they each pick one person until I'm the only one left
and they fight over who has to be stuck with me. Which he never breaks up,
of course. The one good gym-related thing was that the black hair ribbon
worked. Coach Williams never gave me another pink scrunchie.

	I didn't get over the feeling exposed thing though.

	But other than that, I could deal. Because of Owen. Well, actually,
because of Owen and my slowly forming plan. I even ended up getting
un-grounded Tuesday night.

	I talked to Owen every day after school during his show, just like
I had been, but now it was different. Every day he asked me how I was and
made a point to talk about something personal. Nothing huge, stuff like "I
have this stupid project I need to do later on, god I hate science" or "Did
you see 'The Walking Dead' last night" or "What's your favorite band", but
it was enough to make me feel closer to him. And like he wanted to be
closer to me. I could almost feel it, like he was sending out invisible
little signals that said "Let's be friends!", except less lame. Honestly,
it was the perfect opening to ask for his number or email address.

	But I'm still a huge pussy, so I never got the nerve to.

	I know! I'm being stupid. I tell myself I'm being stupid. Cheryl
tells me I'm being stupid. My defenses, which apparently replaced their
"don't think about Owen" part with an "attract Owen at all costs" part,
tell me I'm being stupid. But, I mean, have you ever ASKED someone for
their number? It's not easy! Even for normal people. For me, flying by
flapping my arms would be more possible.

	But I did decide to go all out on trying to find out who he was.

	The second I got my internet back I spent all night -minus Owen's
show of course- trying to stalk-um, find him. I searched the radio stations
website, but it didn't have anything on any of the shows or the kids who
volunteered there. I Googled, Binged and even Yahooed his name and the name
of my high school but nothing really came up that told me any of the Owen's
mentioned were him. I got a few last names and could have looked up numbers
but then I'd have to actually CALL them all. I doubt I'd be able to call
his house even if I knew it was his house. Calling up a bunch of people
that MIGHT be him? Yeah, not gonna happen. After that I kinda ran out of
ideas. All I was left with was my original plan of walking around the
school, listening to people's conversations and hoping I heard his voice.

	But I did the hell out of that.

	And now it's Friday and I still haven't found him and for the first
time in...ever, I kinda wish I had an extra day of school. I had to be
getting close, I'd walked practically every single hallway this week as
slow as I could without risking getting noticed too much. It wasn't THAT
big a school. I had to run into him sometime.

	I suck at math, but with how any times I'd ran into Jarred today,
statistically I'm due to run into Owen.

	Don't worry, I escaped before he could say, or do, anything to
me. But it was a bit weird how he always seemed to show up where I was
going. It got me so weirded out and nervous that halfway through the day I
started walking through the semi-out-of-the-way freshman halls just to
avoid him.

	To try and cut down on freshman bullying the school puts all the
freshman lockers and classes in one part of the school so they don't have
to risk running into seniors and getting beat up or shoved into lockers or
thrown into dirty urinals. Kinda says something about the school that
something like that's even necessary, but whatever. It doesn't even really
help much, since freshman eat lunch with everybody else and the people who
would have picked on them between classes and during bathroom breaks just
pick on the sophomores instead.

	But it was a good place to hide.

	And I actually had my best memories of high school here. Well, I
guess since this is my sophomore year it'd be pretty hard to have worse
memories that's kinda pointless to say, but it's still true. I even had a
few of my teachers from last year recognize me and say hi. I shyly waved
back and hid behind my hair even more when they did, but it was still nice,
being recognized for something other than how much of a massive loser I am.

	It was weird, but it actually kinda felt good, walking all over the
school looking for Owen. As lame as this is gonna sound it was like I was
giving him my time and energy without him even knowing it, and I liked
that. I liked the thought that somewhere in this school Owen was sitting in
class or talking with his friends or reading or taking notes and having no
idea that someone was spending every second of their free time thinking
about him and trying to find him.

	As I walked through the freshman halls I started humming '500
Miles' under my breath. I grinned to myself. I definitely know what song
I'm requesting tonight.

	And, of course, I listened. By this point I don't think I could
have turned it off if I wanted to.

	"-boy with blue hair the other night. He was so dark and mysterious
and-"

	"-look, dude! I think it's infected or something-"

	"-worst Final Fantasy game ever. Lightning sucks and-"

	"-boring I could barely stay awake. Anyway, thanks for letting me
borrow your notes, man."

	"No problem."

	I froze.

	It was like being struck by lightning and getting punched in the
face at the same time as I won the lottery. It was like being in a desert
and finding a Poland Spring vending machine that only took Canadian
quarters. It was hope and terror and laughing and screaming and dancing and
crying and a million different things that I can't even explain all at the
same time.

	It was Owen.

	I blinked. Once. Twice. Then my body caught up with my brain and my
head SHOT around to where I'd heard that wonderful, perfect, unmistakable
voice.

	I might have missed it. If I was just a second later I would
have. I saw a boy holding out a notebook. I saw a hand reach out and take
it, the person it belonged to hidden by the crowd walking through the
hall. I saw the first boy wave. I heard him thank the other one again as he
walked away. I saw the hand move back to be hidden by the crowd again. And
then, like one of those cheesy, cliched, perfect moments in romance movies,
the crowd seemed to just part perfectly and after almost three weeks of
searching and hoping, hating it and then loving it, there he was. Right
down the hall in front of me. Sitting between two rows of lockers on a
wide, bench-like window sill with his back against the window.

	Owen.

	He didn't look even close to how I imagined him, just like I
expected. He wasn't the leather wearing rebel with the muscle car. He
wasn't the athletic tennis player. He wasn't the brooding emo boy. He
wasn't even older than me. He was just a freshman boy in jeans and a
t-shirt sitting in a window stuffing a notebook in a backpack.

	His hair was an ash blond that looked almost gray with the light
shining down on it. It was long enough to fall into his eyes a little as he
leaned forward, a bit curly, but kind of unruly too. Sort of like one of
those angel statues forgot to comb its hair in the morning. His skin was
smooth and clear and slightly tanned. His nose was straight. His light pink
lips were a little thin and his mouth was just the tiniest bit too wide for
his face. He was wearing slightly baggy clothes, and he was sitting a
little hunched over, so I couldn't get a good look at his body or how tall
he was but he looked thin. Not as thin or as smallish as I am, but he
wasn't a broad shouldered lumberjack either. (Probably the one fetishy
stereotype thing I DIDN'T picture him as)

	He was....cute. Really cute. But not drop dead gorgeous or heart
stoppingly beautiful. He wasn't the model sex god that I'd pictured. He
was......normal. Above average looks, yeah, but normal.

	And, really, that just made him even more attractive to me.

	In every fantasy I had about meeting Owen he was larger than
life. He was tall and strong and confident and he swept me off my feet and
held me and -sigh, I'll admit it- protected me and always, always made the
first move. Because I couldn't. I was way too shy. I knew I'd never be able
to go up to someone as perfect as I pictured Owen and say, well,
anything. But, somehow, I never even thought about that when I thought
about meeting him for real. After I found him things were just....supposed
to work out. I know, stupid plan.

	 But that was with perfect, model sex god Owen. The Owen in front
of me, the incredibly cute, attractive, but still very normal Owen, was
different. Or, maybe he was different because of what I expected. And maybe
because I was expecting someone who was perfect in every way I wasn't as
intimidated as I normally would have been by normal Owen.

	And maybe that's why I didn't really have a problem walking up to
him.

	At first anyway. Before I really even realized it I was walking
slowly towards him, but when I did realize it my heart started to
POUND. This was OWEN. The same Owen I talked to every night. The same Owen
who I had about fifty million fantasies about. The same Owen who made me
feel better when nothing else could. The same Owen that I really, really
wanted to make a good first in-person impression with.

	That kind of pressure? Fucking TERRYFYING.

	I didn't stop though. I wanted to. I wanted to so bad. I wanted to
stop and run and then lock myself in my room and cry about how much of a
loser I am, but something kept me going. Oh god. I'm really gonna do
this. I'm really gonna LOOK at OWEN and TALK to him! My heart pounded
faster and I started to sweat.

	And then I was in front of him.

	He didn't notice me. He was still trying to shove his notebook in
his bag with this sexy little frown of concentration on his lips. God, if I
wasn't so fucking nervous that might actually turn me on. And THAT thought
was more than enough to make my throat go dry. I swallowed about a million
times trying to get some moisture back there, the whole time frantic
thoughts of him noticing me and me trying to choke out a raspy,
embarrassing greeting making it almost impossible. Somehow, by the time
he'd managed to stuff his book in the bag, I got my throat wet enough to
hopefully form words again. He zipped his bag and stood up -I absently
noticed that he was maybe half an inch shorter than me- and he never even
looked at me. I was in serious danger of having him just walk away when I
was almost close enough to reach out and touch him. I panicked, and said
the first thing that popped into my head.

	"Hell-" No! You're being too formal again! Be casual! Casual!
"Hey-" Stop whispering! He can't hear you! "Um, hi!" I said, too loudly. I
winced and blushed and of course THAT was when he turned around and noticed
me. The first thing I noticed when he did were his eyes. They were a kind
of light brownish hazel and they weren't as distinctive as sky blue or moss
green, but I thought they were beautiful. A thought that me from three
weeks ago would have rolled his eyes and made gagging noises over.

	They were also widened in what looked like....recognition?

	A tiny, almost too quiet to hear voice in the back of my head
started screaming out a warning that something was off here, but I was too
scared and happy and maybe a bit lost in his eyes to pay any attention to
anything other than trying to force out my next words. "It's, um, I'm
Andy."

	I don't know what I expected. I'd never really thought UP to this
point, never mind past it, but if I did I never in a billion years would
have expected what actually happened.

	His eyes widened more -looking....panicked?- and he swallowed
noticeably. "Shit." he squeaked.

	Then turned and ran away.

-----------------------------------------

	Hey, I said less depressing, I never said no cliffhangers :)
...I'll just hide now.