Butterflies

"Do you like anime?"

When that question was asked to me, in the breakfast line at the middle school, I was in the middle of a conversation about an episode of Pretear that I'd just seen on Anime-on-Demand. My friend and I had loved that anime to death.

I remember turning to look at the boy who asked the question. He was chubby, short, and Hispanic, with a large afro of messy, curly dark hair.

"No," I answered, and immediately he looked disheartened. Quickly, though, I finished my sentence.

"I obsess!"

That was my first ever meeting with Domingo Toro-Winters. It was a bit convenient, and perhaps a gift from some deity, our meeting. I remember the night before, having prayed to the (Shinto) gods that I needed a guardian angel, someone to watch over me and make me a better person.

So Domingo waltzed into my life.

He and I chatted over things. Gackt. Sailor Moon. So many other Japanese things that I can't even begin to remember. It was strange. I'd only ever known Domingo from my chorus class, where he was the only bass in a room full of sopranos, altos, and tenors. But there we were, talking like we'd known each other for years.

He introduced me to so many new people. Old friends that I'd forgotten, new ones that I'd love for years to come. Every second with him was magical.

My home life was never the best. So when he gave me a large hug one day, the first one I'd ever gotten from someone other than a grandparent or aunt or cousin, I was stunned and flustered.

"Haven't you ever had a hug before?" Domingo had asked, laughing the whole time.

"Not really, not like that." I laughed right along with him.

There was one day, I remember. We sat up on the roof of the school shed after class had let out, while I waited with him for his ride. He told me something I'd never forget.

"You're still in your chrysalis, but you'll come out soon."

At first, I didn't understand what he meant, but he explained it to me with a smile on his face.

"You ever heard the term 'social butterfly?' It's like that. You're still in your chrysalis, and you were a tiny caterpillar when I first found you. But you'll break out of that chrysalis soon."

It was a strangely calming and beautiful metaphor. I suppose he meant for me to break free. I did.

Domingo was, in a way, my first love. Even though he was gay and I knew it, I couldn't help but stay just a bit attracted. It was in some sort of nature. But now, I love him as a brother, a confidante, and more importantly, my absolute best friend.