Chapter 7 -- George
Mason browsed the file folders he'd made on the laptop to sort the pictures into different categories. He'd also figured out that he could move the folders back into the camera for backup storage, since the camera could hold so much.
He printed off a package of ankle socks, a package of boxers, a pair of basketball shorts, and a t-shirt with a basketball team logo. I was less than enthusiastic about his choices, and he could see it in my face. "Now who's the judgy one?" he pointed out.
I grabbed the stack of photos with a muttered, "whatever," under my breath, and started printing them off for him. I turned around without him asking me to so he could get dressed. He looked fine, but not amazing. Well, he looked amazing no matter what, but he didn't score any bonus points for wrapping his hotness in sexy clothes.
"Zac, why does what I wear even remotely matter to you?"
"It doesn't," I lied.
"It does, obviously. Don't pretend with me; I can tell when you're lying."
"I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's private."
He sat me down on the edge of my bed, then pulled my desk chair over and sat on it so he could face me. "You can tell me anything, Zac. You know I'm here for you." He thought that, but there was at least one thing he'd drop me over. Since my thing about clothes intersected with how I felt about him, it was too dangerous to talk about.
"Nope," I told him. "It's something not normal, and I don't want to get shit on for it. I already feel weird about it. I don't need you looking down your nose at me, too."
He was quiet for a while. "You know how I sit behind Lyssa and Casey in first period? Well, they kind of don't shut up."
"They sit behind me in Bio. I'm aware of how they are," I replied. "What do they have to do with anything?"
"They were talking about kinks a few months ago while we were supposed to be doing group work. It turns out Lyssa has a thing for athletes. Not just athletes though, jocks in sports gear. It's why I started wearing it more often. I was trying to get her to notice me. Do you have something like she has?"
I nodded.
"I'm going to put this very gently. Don't you think it might be a good idea for us if I try not to dress in a way that turns you on?"
It was my turn to pause. He had a point. I self-consciously laughed at myself. "You're probably right."
"So, what should I avoid wearing?"
I explained to him about the different clothes that did it for me and how they were ranked, and he made up a system so we could talk about it in code if we were among other people. It was a stoplight code. Red meant I would be horny the entire time he wore a particular piece of clothing, yellow meant I was into it, but at a controllable level, like his outfit from the dance, and green meant it was completely safe for him to wear. I threw in another color, below green on the color scale, which was blue. Blue was anything that repulsed me, like overalls, and actually made me uncomfortable to be around. He promised not to wear those.
In the process of explaining my kink, I told him the story of C.T., and how his stripping his button-fly jeans in front of me at that party made me need some time to myself.
"So, Zac. Um...the guy you came out to the other day, who told you to lose his number. Was that C.T.? Did you call him up and ask him out or something?"
I froze.
I quickly weighed the pros and cons of going with the lie Mason was handing me on a silver platter. As long as Mason kept it to himself, he'd be the only one whose opinion of C.T. would suffer. C.T. also didn't go to the same school as us anymore, so it was even less of a problem. It also wasn't fully inaccurate, since I had found C.T. really attractive. "Yeah," I told him. "I mean, it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be when I was still stinging from the rejection." I was softening the lie to make C.T. look better, as if it mattered one bit. "I may have exaggerated what he said because it hurt so much. He was more polite than I let on."
"So I don't need to kick his ass?"
"Please don't."
After that, we printed off and ate some breakfast from someone's instagram feed. It looked prettier than it tasted. The person had obviously put far more effort into making it look good than they did with the flavor. Still, it was edible and we were fed.
We didn't talk at all while we ate. I was reeling that Mason actually knew my kink and was just rolling with it. How was he so amazing?
"Hey Zac," he said when we were done. "So, you know how you admitted that you thought I was cute?"
Fuck! Where was he going with this? "Uh...yeah?"
"Back earlier in the year, I had a couple pairs of 501s. How bad was I torturing you?"
I fell back onto my bed laughing. "You have no idea," I managed to say.
"That bad?" He chuckled a bit as well.
"I'm going to show you something that's part of this whole mysterious magical crap," I told him. "Now that you get what I was thinking, I don't think you'll get mad." I went to my dresser and opened the underwear drawer, pulling out the envelope.
"You know how, when I was explaining to you how I got the projector and everything, I mentioned that the camera was from the future?"
He nodded.
"Well, there's a girl -- she wouldn't tell me her name, so I call her Time Girl -- and she's the one who gave me the camera. She picked it up for me in the future. She also gave me a couple pictures from the past. It was part of her payment to the weird shop person for getting her time travel powers. I can't actually get hold of her for anything, because she didn't want anything to do with me when she was done. She was kind of bitchy, actually. Anyway." I handed him the two pictures of him from earlier in the year.
"I guess these outfits had a bigger impression on you than I thought. What are you going to do with them?"
"I don't know. I thought I knew, but I'm learning that a lot of plans I'd made in the beginning are full of complications. For instance, what's the size of those waistlines?"
"Both were 28s," he said. "That's why I stopped wearing the blue pair. Growth spurt. Those," he pointed to the discarded khakis in the corner, "are 30s. I wonder if they even fit present day me anymore, I've grown so much this year."
"Yeah, well, I'm finding 32s snug on the waist, so a copy of those wouldn't do me any good anyway. I think I wasted my free pictures from the past on things that are useless to me."
"I'm sorry," he said, but it was soft and subdued. He was staring at the picture of himself in the super hot tight black shirt and white 501s.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. I was about to call bullshit on it because of his tone, the same way he'd called me out, but he continued. "It's not something wrong, really. It's something falling into place. I'm understanding now why I only wore this the one time."
He was still in the desk chair, so I sat on the edge of the bed as close to him as I could. "I'm listening."
"I remember all the looks I was getting that day. You weren't the only one who was turned on. Several girls who were already friends mentioned that I was looking extra fine. I even got a few numbers. I was so uncomfortable. I felt like I was being appraised all day. I convinced myself that it was because Lyssa wasn't into it, but...."
"But you were bothered by the sexual attention," I finished. I gently took the picture from him and slid it into the envelope, getting up to put it away again. "You know I got you on this," I told him. "When you were looking up the different categories of being Ace/Aro, did any of them scream `This is me!' to you?"
"Not really. None of them, but all of them? Depends on the day? The definitions were inconsistent and confused me."
I pulled up the browser on the laptop and pulled up a page on Graysexuals. "From what I understand, this one's like a sliding scale. Sometimes they're sex averse, and sometimes they get into more sexual states of mind."
"Hmm."
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, actually," he said. "A little relieved, to be honest. Where did you learn all this?"
"I think researching this stuff is just part of being a queer teen. I had a lot of questions and no one to answer them, so I did a bunch of research at the library computers. One wiki lead to another, and another, and another."
"I may be doing the same searches today," he said. "Got nothing else to do. The safe zone for me getting caught outside is over."
"Oh! I have good news on that front. If you don't mind walking around in another body, we can go out." I explained to him the body swapping technique.
"The fact that you have the doll and baggies set up tells me you've tried this one. What did you do?"
Busted. I considered making something up, instead choosing a version of the truth, but I swapped my fake crush into Mason's role. "I put Isaac's mind in C.T.'s body," I said. "It went poorly. Isaac was mad that I didn't like him for him, and had to make him someone else to want him."
"Dude! Didn't we talk about invading other people like that? C.T. turned you down, and using his body like that's just wrong. What would you have done if Isaac hadn't been pissed? What were you hoping to accomplish?"
"I wasn't going to go through with anything." Was that the truth? What would I have done if Isaac had been down for it? "I was testing to see if it worked. It did. I don't have to answer to you about testing what the magic can do, especially when I'm not actually going against your morals."
"You really wouldn't have followed through with him?" Mason asked.
"Of course not," I said, still not sure how true that was. Would my own morals have stopped me? They did when I was using Mason's body with a version of him inside, so I had hope I would have done the right thing.
"You hesitated," he said.
"Look, I don't know for sure. No one knows the truth about what they'll do in any situation until they're tested. I wasn't tested. What if I'd used someone else's body: someone I wasn't attracted to? Would that have changed anything in your mind? Is it only wrong because I have a physical attraction to the vessel being used?"
That made him stop and think. "See, now I'm leery about going out in another person's body, even if they're a complete stranger. What if I have to use the bathroom? I'd be touching someone else's junk." He shuddered. "I'd feel sketchy knowing there's some guy out there whose dick I held without them knowing."
A thought popped into my head. "I have an idea. One second." I darted to my mom's room and grabbed my mom's senior yearbook book off one of her shelves, bringing it back to Mason. "Hear me out. What if the guy wasn't out there -- not anymore, at least?"
I flipped to the page I remembered seeing. "Rest in Peace, George Carter," Mason read out loud. "Forever in our hearts, we'll hold a seat for you at graduation."
"Is it a violation if the guy's been dead for 25 years?" I asked. "It's not like he can get embarrassed now."
"The picture is so grainy. Will it even work? Oh, and yeah, this feels better somehow."
"I can make a mannequin version," I told him. "That'll tell us if the picture quality will be a factor. Well, it'll be alive, technically, but completely blank upstairs." The yearbook wouldn't fit in the projector while open, so I had to take a picture of the picture. It was a good thing the camera was so accurate, so the quality didn't get any worse. I printed it off and set the photo inside.
"Mason?"
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Would it be wrong to just make a copy of him and talk to him for a bit? I'm just really curious."
"If it's wrong, then I'm wrong too," Mason said. "I'd love to talk to someone from...," he paused to look at the cover, "1997."
I didn't hesitate, but I did make sure to make a controllable version. The boy was smaller than I'd expected, maybe a couple inches shorter than me, and willowy. His blond hair was wispy and fell into his eyes. And he was pretty. I hadn't gotten that from the picture because it was so grainy, but damn. Boy was a snack. He was dressed in a tux, so it was probably a picture from a formal dance or something.
"George, you're frozen for a moment so I can let you know you're safe here," I told him. I moved into his field of view and gave him a small friendly wave. "I'm going to allow you free speech and movement in a second, but you won't be allowed to make loud noises or leave the apartment. Do you understand?" When he nodded, I told him he was free to move and speak.
He looked around and noted that Mason was there, too. "Where am I?" he asked.
"My room, Silver Rock, Michigan, but much later." I flipped open the laptop and motioned for him to look at the date.
"2022. Holy fuck." He caught sight of my mirror and looked himself over. "I still look like me. Did I time travel? Is this the X-Files?"
"Magic, not sci-fi," I told him. "I can pull people out of pictures, and I found this picture of you. I thought it might be cool to talk to someone from the past."
"Why me?" he asked.
"It's complicated," I said. "There's something about you that we needed. You see, my friend here is actually a copy of the real version of himself, just like you're a copy from an old picture. We want to go out, but he needs to disguise himself or people will know there's a second version of the same person. He'd like to copy your form, if that's alright."
"Wouldn't there be two of me then?" he asked slowly, as if he were putting things together. When we didn't answer, he asked, "let me see the picture you used."
"Are you sure?" Mason asked.
"Positive. Especially since I think I know the truth." Mason handed him the yearbook, and George flipped through the pages back-to-front, like he knew where to look. He came to the memorial pretty quickly. "Car accident?" he asked.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"It wasn't an accident," George said solemnly. "I've been planning it for a while. The guys found out about me and made my life unbearable. Would you still want to look like me if you knew I was a fag," he asked Mason.
Mason walked up to him and brought him into the biggest bear hug. "If I could go back into the past and beat the shit out of those guys, I would. Assholes, all of them."
George was crying in Mason's arms. "Isn't he the best friend a gay kid like me could ever ask for?" I said close to George's ear. He stiffened and looked at me, still being held.
"You're gay too?" he asked.
"Yep."
"And he's not, but he's willing to fight for you?"
"Absolutely," Mason answered. "And no, the world hasn't really changed in 25 years. Those homophobic fuckers are still out there. It's just that not all of us are like that. Some of us give a fuck." I could hear the anger in Mason's voice. The fact that George was bullied so much he killed himself pissed Mason off.
"Are you in love with him?" George asked me. "Cuz I think I'm a little in love with him."
"Like I said, he's my best friend. He doesn't like guys like that, so I have like a million walls up to keep myself from catching feelings for him."
George laughed. "Catching feelings? I like that. Who are you guys, anyway?"
"I'm Zac Chambers, and Mr. Dreamy there is Mason." I flipped to the seniors section and pointed to Kelli Bauer. "You know my mom, now Kelli Chambers."
He looked up at my face and grinned. "Kelli stood up for me if she was around when something went down. I adore her. Of course her son would be amazing. Does she know you're gay? Oh my God, does she know you have magic?"
"Yes to the first, no to the second. You know how this is a copy of my best friend?" I turned to Mason. "Still every bit as real, just not the original," I pointed out to him. I turned back to George. "The original doesn't know either. I don't know if it's a good idea to bring originals in on the secret. I don't know much of anything, really. I've only had this power for a few days."
"What happens to me now?" he asked.
I sighed. "If I end the projection, you just stop existing here. I can take a photo of you here, with this knowledge, and bring you back here as much as I, or you, want. As long as I keep taking pictures of you before `putting you away,' you'd keep building experiences and memories in this time. Just remember, you have no documentation here, so you couldn't just go off on your own. To the government, you're dead."
"Which is why you thought it would be safe to disguise Mason as me. Makes sense."
"That's not exactly why," Mason said. "You see, if I'm in someone else's body, and I have to use the bathroom, then I have no choice but to invade their privacy. It didn't feel so wrong if the person was no longer here to get embarrassed. Now, I feel like I need to ask permission."
"You're afraid I'd be offended if you touched my junk?" He laughed. He laughed a lot. I understood and started laughing too.
"Why is that so funny?" Mason asked.
George calmed himself. "Gorgeous, I would be honored for you to touch my junk. I'd only be upset that I wasn't there to feel it. Seriously, though. You have my blessing to use a copy of my body for your disguise."
Mason actually looked relieved. "Thank you, George."
"George, do you want me to bring you out to visit when it's safe to have you guys out?" I asked.
"I'd like that," he said. "I like you guys."
"We like you too," I told him, and took a picture. Then I ended the projection.
"That," Mason said, "is what's called consent."
Author Notes:
George, the living version, at least, wasn't a planned character. I hit the point of the story as I was writing it and got smacked with a huge `what if they talked to a copy of him?' Turns out, I like the kid and really felt for him, so he earned a spot in the story roster. What do you all think of him?
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