Love is... 1 (Marcus and Justus) - 1. Chapter 1

To be honest, it’s not like we got along well from the beginning. Back when we were in middle school, he and I were in different homerooms. And when we moved up to freshman year, we ended up in different friend groups too. So even though we talked a little here and there, it wasn’t enough to really say we were close friends.

My name is Marcus, from Mars (the ruling planet of Aries), because I was born in April. His name is Justus, which means “just” or “fair,” representing Libra’s scales-of-justice motif. We were both born on the 17th. However, we didn’t think much of it—no one did; it was just a coincidence.

Honestly, I knew he was a good person—but I don’t know… maybe it was because he was quiet and calm, and always hung out with the “academics” crowd. That’s probably why I didn’t pay much attention to him. Or, worse than that—maybe I even kind of resented him a little.

Because if you compared us, I was the class athlete: loud, outgoing, with tons of friends. He, on the other hand, was one of the top students in class, always smiling, and constantly surrounded by people—not all that different from me, really.

It’s not like I was bad at school or anything. We never even had a falling out. But for some reason, I always saw him as this low-key rival—someone I didn’t want to lose to in anything at all.

Then we got paired up for tennis in gym class. And just my luck, the teacher wouldn’t even let us switch partners. It wasn’t like Justus was terrible or anything—he just wasn’t experienced. I had friends who already knew how to play, but I wasn’t allowed to team up with any of them.

“Hey, Justus. When it’s time for the skills test, the score’s by pair, alright? So, play properly, okay? Hurry up and learn how to play already. Got it?” I said to him while we were listening to Coach Davis explain the drill.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I’ve never played tennis before. But I’ll try, alright?” he replied without even looking at me.

“Are you being sarcastic right now?” I frowned.

“No. Is that really what you heard?” he turned to meet my gaze.

That was the first time I realized he could be such a smartass.

After that, I started feeling even more annoyed at him—because I never thought he’d actually dare talk back or mess with me like that. But more than anything, what surprised me was that he still kept talking to me and treating me like normal.

It made me wonder… maybe he really wasn’t being sarcastic that day.

Time passed until the third week of tennis. By then, Coach Davis had already finished teaching all the basics—how to hold the racket, footwork, the fundamentals. It was time for us to start rallying. Honestly? I really didn’t want that moment to come, because I seriously hated running around picking up balls. And the late-morning sun around 11 AM didn’t help calm my mood one bit.

“Dude, angle your racket properly, will you? If you hit it like that, the ball’s gonna fly every time.” I showed him the correct grip. “Come on—go pick up the balls yourself.”

“Alright, alright! I said I’m sorry!”

“Tighten your damn wrist! Are you even a guy or what? Damn!” I sighed and walked off to grab a loose ball near the net.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

“SHIT!! My face!” I yelled, startled, as his volley shot came flying straight at me so fast I barely managed to dodge.

“Shit! I’m sorry! Marcus, I swear I didn’t mean to!”

I turned to him, annoyed. “You really didn’t mean it, huh, Justus? You’re not trying to get back at me or anything, right? Shit, it almost hit my face. And is ‘sorry’ the only word you know how to say? Whatever. Break time—I’m burning up out here.”

“I really didn’t mean it, dude. Why the hell would I want to get revenge on you?” he said, jogging to catch up.

So the two of us walked off together to hide from the sun under the big oak by the fence.

“You seriously gonna make it through this? That was just a simple front-net hit and you already look done. I think you’d be better off practicing against the backboard before you try volleying with me again.”

“I’m trying, okay? But it doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted, crouching down with his head lowered.
“Trying what exactly? And what’s not enough?”

“I…” He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Forget it. Next time I’ll do better. But if you’re worried about the grade, you could ask Coach Davis to pair you up with someone else—at least for the skills test or whatever.”

“Really? We can do that? I thought she wouldn’t let us,” I said, a little hopeful.

“You could try asking, man. I don’t know either. It’s not like I want to drag you down and ruin your score or anything. I know I’m not good, but you already know how to play—and you’re pretty good too. So…”

I frowned and leaned in. “Are you being sarcastic again right now?”

“No. Why would I be sarcastic?” he said.

“Good. I don’t like people talking to me like that,” I snapped as I walked back to the court, annoyed.

To be honest, it’s not like I actually hated his guts or anything. And I didn’t really find him that annoying either—or look down on him for not being able to play tennis.

Okay, okay… maybe I did find him a little annoying and looked down on him a bit. I admit it. But it wasn’t that bad, okay? I’m not a jerk. In fact, I’d say I’m a pretty decent guy. The real issue, though, was that for some reason, every time I talked to him, I’d end up picking a fight, cutting him off, contradicting him, or just randomly shutting him down.

Sometimes I wondered if he hated me too—he always seemed to say stuff that sounded sarcastic or like he was trying to piss me off.

Still, we’d never had a real fight, which was honestly a good thing. Because if we ever did get into it, I’d have no idea how to deal with it—especially since we were stuck as tennis partners for the whole damn term.

“Hey, Marcus! Let’s play soccer before we go home!” Chubby—my closest friend, whose his real name is August—called out to me one afternoon after school.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go!” I replied without hesitation.

“You too, Justus! Come play soccer with us! Hurry!” Chubby shouted past me, calling out to Justus, who was sitting by the window.

“Dude, why are you asking him?”

“What? Why not? Justus’s actually pretty good at soccer.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

“Then what is the issue?”

“…Nothing. It’s nothing.” I gave in and let it go.

“Nah, I’ll pass. I have to head home early today,” Justus shouted back.

“Why not? Can’t play soccer? Or do you need to rush home to do homework? Wow, such a good boy, huh?” I turned to tease him. “Ohhh, right—you’ll practice hitting the backboard, right?”

“What the hell is your problem, Marcus?” he replied.

“Come on, it’s just a little joke since you really suck—you can’t deny it,” I laughed.

This time, he didn’t say anything. But I saw him sigh softly, swing his backpack over his shoulder, and walk straight out of the room.

“What the hell’s up with you, Marcus? Lately you’ve really been going at Justus all the time,” Chubby said as he plopped down next to me. “Or do you… maybe like him or something?”

“Hey!! What the hell are you saying, man?!” I shouted in shock. Luckily, there weren’t many people left in the classroom, and the few who were didn’t seem to care about the two of us.

I suddenly felt hot and cold all over. I couldn’t even tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “You asshole!! Who said I was interested in him?! I’m not interested, damn it!”

“Okay okay, you’re not. But just saying—watch yourself. Maybe you’re one of those ‘late bloomers’… or someone who just doesn’t know their own heart yet, huh?”

“Goddamn it, you fish-bone-faced bastard!! Chubby, stay the hell out of my business! If I ever had real feelings for him, I’d strip naked and backflip three times in front of you! Fuck!!”

“Yeah yeah, your business. But just so you know—I really don’t want to see your naked backflips, flame-frog face! Hahaha!” he laughed out loud.

Another lucky thing was that I normally talked loudly, so everyone was already used to it.

“Come on, I just thought it was like one of those manga where the guy secretly likes someone but doesn’t know how to show it, so he ends up teasing him all the time,” Chubby laughed.

“Cut it out, you jackass!” I grabbed my notebook and smacked it across his face.

“OW! You jerk!!”

“You’re the jerk, you eel-faced freak! Shit! Just because our school is all boys doesn’t mean I’d automatically fall for one, alright?”

“I never said it was automatic, you foot-stepped-on-shit-face! Besides, even if you did like him, or someone liked someone else, what’s the big deal? Our school’s all guys anyway. Nobody cares. Damn.” He rubbed his face gently before leaning in toward me. “But hey… did you hear about Justus’s rumor lately?”

“What rumor?” my interest piqued.

“Just a rumor that he’s gay or something.”

“No way, really?” Now I was getting a lot more interested.

“I’m messing with you!! Hahaha!!” Chubby burst out laughing with pure satisfaction.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t care? Look at you, why do you seem so curious, huh? You little fairy~ HAHAHAHA!”

I turned away, flustered and burning up. I didn’t even know if it was embarrassment or anger. “Fuck off!! Who said I was interested? I’m not interested at all!”

“Okay, I fucking know already. But be careful, bro. Maybe you’re one of those ‘late bloomers’ or one of those people who ‘don’t understand their own feelings,’ you know?”

I knew Chubby was gay. He was one of my closest friends, and he’d told me himself over a year ago. But my feelings toward him didn’t change at all. He was still my best friend. We were still close. Everything was still the same. The only thing that changed was this—back in middle school, we used to talk about girls. But now, he talks to me about guys he likes instead.

And it’s not like I was grossed out or weirded out by him. I could still listen and give advice like always. The only problem was—I had no one to talk to about my own stuff.

Because here’s the thing: my best friend is gay. But as for me, I still had no idea whether I liked girls or guys. I never looked at anyone specially before, girls or guys alike. And Chubby never pushed me to be gay or brought up anything like that with me. He only talked about his own life and never once pried into mine. So, I never really got to talk to him seriously about it. And now, it’s probably too late. If I suddenly asked him what he thought about my feelings, he’d probably just laugh at me.

Maybe I’m just a ‘late bloomer’ or one of those ‘slow to realize’ types like Chubby once said. I mean, here I am, and I still haven’t had a real relationship with anyone. And it’s not like I think I’m ugly either. In fact… I think I might actually be kinda good-looking.

And then time passed until it was tennis class again.

“Today we’re practicing serves and smashes—are you even holding the racket right yet?”

“I’m not that hopeless, bro.”

“Oh, how the hell would I know? Just last week you were hitting home runs like crazy,” I snapped.

“Yeah,” he replied bluntly, walking off to queue with the others for serve practice.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Still pissed about last evening?” I walked up behind him.

“No. Why would I be? You’re always saying stuff like that anyway.”

“There you go again—being sarcastic. You asshole.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic. I meant it,” he turned to me with a serious face. “Or are you gonna tell me I’m wrong? And more importantly, why the hell do you always assume I’m being sarcastic with you, Marcus?”

I didn’t have an answer, so I just shoved his head forward. “...Just move already. Step up. Damn.”

When I turned to look at my left, I saw Chubby standing at another court, looking at me with a grin. I flipped him off and quickly turned away.

At the end of class, Coach Davis announced that next time there would be a skills test consisting of three parts. One of them was hitting forty consecutive shots under net height. Everyone, including me, let out a collective groan of frustration. Maybe others were annoyed about the test, but for me, it was a whole different kind of annoyance.

“Think we’ll survive this, you and me, Justus?” I sighed quietly.

“I’ll try not to drag you down too much, Marcus.”

“Talking alone won’t do shit, man. You better practice your ass off if you really don’t want to slow me down.”

“Or do you want to pair with someone else?” he asked.

I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “Nah, screw it. We’re already paired up, so I’ll just do my best. And seriously, who the hell would I even switch with? If the teacher doesn’t approve, that’s gonna suck.”

Justus went quiet for a bit. “...Can you practice with me this evening?”

“With you?” I turned to face him.

“Yeah, with me. The test is coming up. No harm getting in some extra practice, right? And seriously, Marcus, think about it—since day one, how many times have we actually practiced together, like for real? I’ve only ever seen you helping other people. You’ve never once practiced volleying at the net with me.”

He wasn’t wrong. If it wasn’t a time Coach Davis directly paired us up, I’d usually end up just messing around or helping someone else, barely ever playing with him. Honestly, I didn’t even know if he was still just as bad as before or if he’d improved at all.

“Alright, I’m free anyway,” I shrugged.

“Thanks, man,” he patted my shoulder lightly before walking off.

It turned out that evening I realized Justus actually wasn’t that bad. I honestly had to admit—he’d gotten way better. Good enough to rally full-court with me. Even though he still hit out of bounds or into the net occasionally, overall, I had to say he genuinely surprised me.

“So, what do you think—think I’ll pass the test like this?” he asked, smiling and catching his breath as we walked off the court to take a break.

“Uh… yeah, I mean, you’ve really improved. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you could play like this? I wouldn’t have been so stressed, you jerk.”

He pouted slightly. “Well, how was I supposed to say it? Besides, you never really cared about me anyway, so I just let it be.”

Honestly, I kind of wanted to ask if he was being sarcastic again, but deep down I already knew what his answer would be. And more than that, I had to admit—what he said was true.

“You practice a lot or something?” I asked.

“Pretty much every evening. If I’ve got time, I practice until late at night.”

“Seriously? Where at?”

“At home. The court in my neighborhood.”

“Ohh, really?”

“Even Chubby and the guys have come by before.”

“What? When was that? I had no idea!”

“Last Saturday. Actually, it started when Thomas, Max, and some other guys called me up to play tennis at my place. When they all showed up, they randomly ran into Chubby and his crew, and they all ended up playing together.”

Justus told me the whole story. “Chubby even said he might come again when he’s free. You wanna come too? Anytime’s fine. Evenings work. My house isn’t far.”

“Nah,” I turned him down right away. “No idea why I should even go.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Justus glance at me for a second before he shrugged slightly.

“Yeah, I figured.”