Boys. Boysboysboys. Malformed men-to-be in overalls and faces smeared with dirt, grubby hands reaching out to display worms and lizards found under rocks by the pond. Laughing too loud and kicking the backs of chairs during class, making his seat jolt from the movement—sometimes spilling him out onto the floor, which was awfully embarrassing, and sometimes not, which might've been worse than being humiliated.

All the boys wanted to be race-car drivers and spent days at the playground running around repeatedly in circles, their arms spread out next to them. Making airplane noises, crashing into the girls and watching them fall down in a flurry of cotton. Just like dandelions.

ShoutingRunningKickingScreamingNeverSeeThemCrying boys. They beat each other up for lunch money and started food fights, their mouths wide and displaying loose teeth (either from natural causes or somebody's fist). Spitting into gardens, putting gum in Kairi's hair, teasing the next-door-neighbor's cat. Those tough boys, those rough boys.

Hayner was not a boy.

Stay-inside, don't-let-them-see-you, baby-not-everyone-understands-you-i-just-don't-want-you-to-get-hurt-you're-so-precious-to-me creature. He talked in loud voices (boy). He drew on the walls (boy). He was friendly with the girl across the road, put on dresses and spoke in high-pitched voices and drank tea (like a girl). He pursed his lips, stomped his foot when he got angry (girl).

Wrote love letters to the boy down the street (…alien).

(really?)

"HAYNER! HAYNER! COME BACK INSIDE, PLEASE--"

(yeah. weirdo.)

"IT'S SCARY OUT THERE, AND THE PEOPLE IN THIS TOWN--"

(what a fucking weirdo. what a fucking queer.)

"-ARE FRIGHTENING, THEY COULD HURT YOU, BABY--"

(hey, y'know what?)

"AND I KNOW YOU'RE PROUD TO BE WHO YOU ARE BUT MAYBE YOU SHOULD--"

(what?)

"--JUST WAIT A WHILE UNTIL THEY BECOME A BIT MORE ACCEPTING, DARLING--"

(queers don't float.)

"--AND EVERYONE WILL LOVE YOU, SWEETHEART, I KNOW THEY WILL--"

(really?)

"SO JUST SIT STILL AND COME BACK IN WHERE IT'S SAFE--"

(really really. you wanna find out?)

"--I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO GET HURT."

(but boys will be boys and girls will be girls and aliens aren't supposed to, yanno, exist, right?)

Boysboysboys. And girls and teachers and mothers and fathers and the mayor with his jack o' lantern smile. Walking hand in hand with Hayner like they loved him, marching him up and town the street while he grinned and waved to the public. Seifer patted his hand and kissed his cheek.

"Can you swim?" Seifer cooed, curling a lock of Hayner's sandy hair around his finger.

"I can do anything." Hayner beamed. He was confident (boy). He was oblivious (girl).

"Show me?"

Hayner couldn't, really. He wasn't sure. But he was scared (girl). But he wasn't going to show it (boy).

There were girls and boys and teachers and mothers and fathers and postmen and the mayor—gathered down at the pond on Thursday to watch Hayner step into the pond.

"I'm swimming!" Hayner crowed, waving excitedly. He clambered on top of the rocks at the end of the pond, his thin arms moving rapidly through the air. "You see? You watching, Seifer? Look, I'm—"

---But it turns out that perhaps queers may be able to float, but they certainly do drown.

a/n: There is nothing to say, really. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it but--whatever. It's done.