CHAPTER EIGHT: smile

The two boys with stars in their eyes and scars on their hearts soon found themselves stood in a dingy ice cream parlour, its best years definitely far behind it.

It was empty save the ageing man behind the counter, an apron typed sloppily around his waist. The floor was tiled black and white and the plastic bar stools popped a bright red. They picked their flavours and slipped into a booth in the far corner, concealed from the protruding eyes of the only employee.

"I can't believe you picked rum and raisin." Corey criticised once they'd taken their seats. He did what he always did and pulled his legs up onto the bench, his knees hugged close to his chest.

"Shut up, it's my favourite flavour." Dorian shot back jokingly. "Better than boring old strawberry."

"I don't even like it that much." Corey shrugged. "It was my Mum's favourite flavour. I always order it now, for her."

A stab of pity tinged Dorian's chest, "What happened?" He pressed gently.

"She died when I was eight." Corey said simply. No emotion, no weight, no feeling. It was a simple statement.

Maybe Corey's youth died with his Mother. His will to smile, to laugh, to live the life she lost. From the way Dorian saw it, Corey didn't think he deserved happiness. He thought he didn't deserve affection, passion, someone to tell him he meant so much more than words on a page. But he had no one. "I'm sorry." Dorian gulped.

"What about your Dad?" Corey asked, raising his perceptive eyes, burning into Dorian's very soul, if such a thing even existed.

"He left when I was a baby. My Mum wasn't stable and he couldn't deal with it any more."

"That sucks." Corey kept his eyes on Dorian as if he was scared to look away. If his gaze drifted, he might drift too. He might get lost in the storm of agonising thoughts and unsolvable puzzles whirling around his head.

Dorian shrugged, "So." He grinned, leaning forward to try and lighten the conversation. "Got your eye on anyone?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot we were still twelve years old."

"Oh, come on. There's gotta be someone." Dorian rolled his eyes.

"Not really." Corey lied. "What about you? Any girls you want to pretend to fall in love and then dump when you get bored?"

Dorian rose his brows, smiling in amusement. "I'm not like the rest of the rugby team. I don't do that."

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

"Only three. None of them serious." He shrugged. "And what about your love life? Any boyfriends?"

"Did you just assume my sexuality?"

"You just assumed mine."

"That's very true."

Dorian laughed and the boys paused their conversation as the waiter arrived with their sundaes, placing them onto the stained table along with two spoons. "Enjoy." He murmured before shuffling back to his position behind the counter.

"So?" Dorian pushed, digging into his ice cream hungrily. "Do you like boys or girls?"

"Boys." Corey shrugged, shovelling a spoonful of his strawberry ice cream into his mouth. He wasn't exactly ashamed of his sexuality, he just never talked about it. Most people from school already assumed he was gay, even before he realised it himself. Velvet never suspected, never asked, never even mentioned it. She just knew. Right from the start. And his Dad...well, he never spoke to his Dad.

Dorian didn't even bat an eyelid. "Do you want me to set you up? I know a really sweet guy who—"

"No." Corey interrupted before he could finish. "I'm fine. Seriously."

"Whatever you say." Dorian laughed. "How d'you think they're getting on?" He asked, referring to their two friends they'd left at the arcade. Chances are, they won't even notice their absence.

"I never knew she liked him."

"Lucky you. Ty never shut up about it. He's fancied Velvet since he was eleven."

"I couldn't imagine falling for someone like that." Corey leant back in his seat, leaving his ice cream barely touched. "Feeling something so powerful for someone you don't know. And the endurance of it...six years. It's hard to believe it's even possible to like someone with such intensity."

"I don't know." Dorian disagreed. "I think it's kind of beautiful. Seeing someone and just knowing that one day you'd fall in love with them."

"That's bullshit. You fall for the mind, not the face. Even the shallowest of people do it."

"So, you wouldn't even begin to like someone until you knew them?" Dorian questioned curiously, tilting his head to the side, twirling his spoon between his fingers.

Corey paused, studying Dorian's sharp features. His soft scarlet lips, his smooth skin, his long lashes, his sly half grin. "Not necessarily know them." He breathed out. "I wouldn't need to know their favourite season, their favourite pizza topping, their favourite Simpson character. That comes later."

"So, what does it take?" Dorian's interest was growing. Corey had such a way with words, a manner of speaking. It was enticing, addictive, mesmerising. He needed to hear more. Because no matter how much time he spent with Corey Winters, it would never be quite enough.

"Their hands." Corey answered softly. "What they do with them." His eyes automatically flicked to Dorian's fingers, twisting the metal spoon, his other hand resting on his cheek. "And the insignificant things they say. Throwaway comments, jokes, the way to react to something." His mind took him back to Dorian's response to the poetry competition. He seemed genuinely happy for him; it wasn't an act, a front, him trying to be polite. He actually cared.

"And that's when you start to like them?" Dorian was shifting closer without his knowledge, subconsciously leaning in, desperate to catch every word out of Corey's mouth. It was hard to believe that when they first met, he didn't speak a word.

"No. That's when I realise I have the potential to like them." He replied. "I realise I like them when they smile and it feels like the whole room lights up. That's when I know I'm fucked."

Dorian grinned, and Corey chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration. "Someone might like you, Corey." Dorian stated simply. "They might just be waiting for that smile that lights up the room."

If anyone could make me smile, it'd be you, he thought without meaning to. "That's not gonna happen any time soon."

"Why?" Dorian asked glumly. There was nothing sadder than the thought that Corey Winters didn't know how to be happy.

"There's nothing to smile about." He said.

"That's a lie." Dorian scoffed. "Puppies, babies, people who are confident in their own bodies, hugs, graffiti in toilet stalls, the way rainbows reflect in puddles—"

"Those things don't make me smile." He concluded. "They're not beautiful, they're just things."

"Beauty isn't what makes people smile." Dorian corrected. "Beauty makes you think."

"Bollocks." Corey cut in. "Beauty doesn't make you think, wonder, question the meaning of life. It brushes over you like a whisper, barely grazes you. It leaves as quickly as it came. All beauty leaves behind is a vague memory that fades with time."

Dorian was taken aback, struck by Corey's powerful words. He was a poet, through and through. "So, what do you think brings happiness?"

"Nothing." He sighed. "Happiness doesn't exist."

"You can't possibly believe that."

"It's all fake. True happiness isn't real, how can it be? There's always gonna be something ugly standing in the way. Something that will destroy you, piece by piece. Happiness can't mend a broken person."

Dorian didn't say anything for a few moments. "That's so sad. You're so sad." He whispered. The second he'd said it, he regretted it. The words weren't meant to be said aloud, Corey wasn't meant to hear them. But luckily, he didn't appear too offended.

"I know." He sounded defeated. "But I'm getting better."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dorian frowned.

"I'm not going to be happy, Dorian. But maybe I don't have to be sad."

"I want you to be happy." He said sharply, his voice stronger than he'd anticipated. It was shadowed in determination, in confidence. "I want to make you happy."

"You can't—"

"Watch me." Dorian smiled brightly, revealing glossy white canines.

And somehow — somehow he made Corey smile.

It wasn't a bright, glowing grin, but it was a smile. A twitch of the corners of his lips and a slight glint of amusement shimmering in his eyes. It was only a flash, a glimpse, a moment. If Dorian wasn't watching carefully, he might have missed it.

But Corey Winters had smiled.

And suddenly, Dorian understood everything Corey had said.

I realise I like them when they smile and it feels like the whole room lights up.

That's when I know I'm fucked.