The story of a young man struggling to find himself, hoping that if he keeps the key with him, he'll never have to unlock the closet door.
Just mix the colours...it shouldn't be that difficult.
Adding the red dye to the white icing.
It shouldn't be that difficult, Leighton told himself as he whipped the mixture in the bowl. A sudden moisture on his cheek made him realize the depth of what he was thinking. It's like people and the negros, he realized. Way back when, when that was a difficult concept that they were people, too. Wiping his eye with the back of his hand, he looked into the pink icing and thought...
What will they say about...me?
But he wasn't sure that he even was...different. He just cared a bit more about the way he looked...easily five times more than the bums who wore their pants around their ankles and looked like they had to pee when they walked...but...that couldn't mean...well, Zac Efron was totally shag-worthy, but doesn't every guy have a man-crush? They should, Leighton reasoned, taking the whisk out of the bowl, satisfied with the tinge he had successfully made and licking the whisk. Good.