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You pull up the collar on your barely warm jacket and risk the night again. Your routine is down to a science and the past few years you have gotten used to the harsh winters. You have almost grown to like it. Cause then when you find a warm place, a warm body, you enjoy it more. It almost makes you forget. Makes you numb to the feeling of someone you don't know deep inside you. The feeling of someone's body on yours that makes you want to shower for hours afterwards. The feeling of disappointment and disgust you feel when it's over; when they pay you your wage and you stuff it deep into your pocket and head back out into the cold. That's the moment you welcome the cold after the warmth. Cause all you want to do is get as far away from the warmth as possible.
Yeah, winter is definitely your favorite season. You can bundle yourself up in layers of clothes so no one can see the evidence of the ones who get too rough with you. You can give people around you at the coffee shop the illusion that you aren't starved to death. That you have a little meat on your bones. It gives people the false impression that you're just a normal boy with a mother and a family and you are in the city for anything other than what you really are. Maybe you are going to school. Maybe you work at an insurance company. Maybe you are an artist. Maybe you just work at the McDonalds. Sometimes you ache to be doing any of those things other than the truth.
You yearn for the opportunity to be anything, something than what you are. You long to be someone else. People brush by you on the street, and you wonder what their life is like. Sometimes you get lucky and a rich business man takes you up to his penthouse apartment. Those clients aren't so bad. They feed you and talk to you like an adult. Not what you really are. A child in a man's body. But other clients, the in the closet husbands who fuck you hard and fast and don't even look at your face. They shove the money and you out the door of the rundown motel so fast; you barely have enough time to pull your pants back up.
So you sit on the bench at the park, sketching and feeding the birds the rest of your bagel; the only thing you will eat all day. You watch people jogging by doing their morning exercise routine. Or couples, holding hands, talking quietly. You wish for normalcy like that. You crave the touch of your mother's arms around you. You even sometimes miss your father's voice, even in its most deafening of times when he was screaming at you.
But all that is the past now. All you have in this moment is your cup of coffee and a barely paid for every month apartment. It's enough for you. You've learned to live without. You've learned how to live day to day; fuck hour to hour even. You've learned how to know the warning signs of a dangerous man. And you've learned to lie and tell desperate sad men what they want to hear so they will pay you that little extra for being that little extra attentive. You've learned not to get too close to people because the second they find out who you are, what you are, they wouldn't understand and go running the other way. No, never get too close. No one stays long enough anyway. Sure you used to have friends. Good friends. You used to go to school. You used to have a family. But all that is gone now.
You used to trust people so easily it was almost like a disease. Your head screamed not to, but your heart couldn't be reasoned with. Your trust, your disease is what got you here. Your want to believe in love and everything that goes along with it got you hurt in more ways than one. It left you broken and beaten down so you decided you might as well just stay that way. You couldn't trust anyone, so this was the best way to get close enough to a warm body for a few hours, sometimes quicker, without having to tell anyone your life story.
You make up names. Frank. Joe. Johnny. It doesn't matter. You make up ages too. Sometimes you are as young as 17. Sometimes they believe you are as old as 25. It doesn't matter to them really except for the old perverts that want the young ones and will pay up to 500 for someone under 18. So you lie. You tell them what they want to hear. You bat your long lashes and give them a cute innocent smile and their old hands wander around your body and you imagine anyone, anything, except the person on top of you.
You don't do repeats. A lot of them ask to see you again, loving your tight ass and pale skin. You won't do that. You know you could make a better living doing that, but you don't do attachments. And you could rationalize how sex with strangers could never really be an attachment, but once you hit twice with strangers, they aren't a stranger anymore. And it doesn't work that way. In and out and gone back into the night.
Your landlord thinks you work nights at a club. You probably could if you wanted to. There's a gay club, Chaos, right up the street but when you applied there the boss expected him to let you blow him. That would go against your one time only policy. Cause you then would have to see him every night after that. And he would want it again. And you couldn't have that. So instead you do this. You sleep with anyone who wants it. You lie awake at night and know you don't have to be this way. That you could go back home, tail between your legs, broken and hungry and your mother would take you back with open arms.
But you're too proud for that. You made this bed and now you will lie in it. Time and time again.
There are places you want to see. Paris at night time. Spain and the ruins of ancient civilizations. You want to paint on the beach in Hawaii. You want to sketch people as they touch the Berlin wall.
You want to be an artist. You used to draw. And paint. But you haven't picked up a paintbrush since you were 17. Nothing would ever come of it. The thing that once used to bring you the most peace in your life, now the very thought of makes you sick with fear and self hate. It reminds you of a time; a place you never want to visit again. A place that if you never think about can just disappear into a world of guilt, pain, loss and heartache. A place where broken dreams and broken bones go. A place that you know if you paint will only be scattered on blank canvases for everyone to see. But more importantly for you to see. For you to relive. And you refuse to do that. You won't relive it. You won't feel that way ever again. You won't live that life.
Not that this is any life. What life is this? What world is this? You often wonder if you're crazy. Someone who has been through what you have been through should hate being touched. But it's the people who look at you that are worse. The people online at the coffee shop who strike up meaningless conversations. They are the ones who make your skin crawl. No one can really see you. No one can hear the real sound of your voice. No one can know your real name. You're Tyler to the coffee shop owner. Rob to your landlord. And whoever to anyone else as long as they pay you.
A car drives past and slows a few feet away. They back up and you shake your hair into your eyes and put on your sexy smile. The window goes down and he looks like a married in the closet freak. But he's not bad looking. And he's driving a beamer.
"How much?" He asks.
You lean down into the window and enjoy the warmness on your face.
"Depends what you are looking for." You say in your most sexy voice. He smells like cologne. Not cheap shit either. This guy has money. You eye the ring on his left hand. Bingo. You're always right.
"What can I get in an hour?"
You smile at him and run your finger seductively over his lips. "A lot can happen in an hour. One hundred for an hour."
He considers this, glances at the clock on his radio again and gives you a nod. You shake your ass on the way to the passenger side door and get cozy in his heated leather seat. He immediately rests his hand on your crotch and you arch up into his palm.
"Nice." He purrs.
"Wait till you see my ass." You feel sick to your stomach because this isn't you. Talking like this is just part of the job. What they want to hear. What they need to hear to feel like they are the only one you want. At least for the next hour. But after the words fall off your tongue you feel like a piece of you just left your body. No one ever notices. It's not their job to.
You're on your own in this life. You learned that the hard way.
He pulls into a nicer hotel. One you have been too many times. He tells you to sit tight while he runs inside for a room. This is the normal routine. He takes the keys to the car though. Most of them do. Who would trust a hooker with a fucking BMW? No one you have ever come across. You watch him emerge 10 minutes later and wave you out of the car. You get out, messenger bag in hand and follow him up to a third floor hotel room. It's nicer than the ones you have been used to the last few days and you think this might be an okay night for once.
But as soon as the door closes, he pushes you against the wall and wraps his hand around your throat. You gag and try to struggle but he is stronger than you imagined.
"We're gonna have some fun. Okay, whore?" He growls, shoving his hand down your pants roughly.
You nod because he is right.
You are a whore.
"Coffee. Black." I tell Roger at the counter. He eyes me, like everyone else does, trying to figure me out. No such luck Roger. No one gets that close. I hand him a dollar as he slides the coffee across the counter. His eyes linger on me a moment longer, which makes me feel uncomfortable. I don't like when people look at me. I know it sounds weird, considering what I do for a living, but those guys are different. They only want one thing from me. They don't want to have a conversation. They don't want to know what interests I have or my last name. And I like it that way. So when people stare, like they are trying to figure out what's going inside my head, it makes my skin crawl.
I quickly move through the crowd of people, looking down the whole time, never making eye contact with anyone. I make it over to my normal table by the milk and condiment station and stare down into my coffee. I think about the day ahead of me. I think about what is to come. I rub my neck through my scarf, remembering how rough that guy got with me last night. It still hurts to swallow.
People maneuver around me, getting milk or sugar for their coffee and I keep myself as closely pressed to the window as possible. Someone kicks my foot and I jump a mile in the air. I look up out of the corner of my eye and see a man dressed in a very nice expensive suit, mixing his coffee with a stirrer. I quickly look back down. He must not have known he kicked me.
"If you don't want to be kicked, you shouldn't pick the table the nearest to the condiment stand, genius."
The voice barrels through my ears like a Mack Truck. I finally raise my eyes all the way to look up into the face of the man who was just so rude to me.
"I like this table." I say softly.
"Then don't get pissed when people step all over you." He raises an eye brow at me, and sips his coffee, testing it. I can feel my blood start to boil. How dare this man who doesn't even know me make these remarks to me. Who does he think he is?
"I didn't say a word to you."
He steps out of the way and stands at the other end of my table. "No. But you had that wounded puppy look on. Unless that's your normal face."
I look down, wrapping my hands around my cup of coffee. 30 seconds in and he already knows too much. I remain silent.
The man chuckles softly to himself and with his non coffee holding hand, wraps his scarf around his neck tighter. "I'm just trying to help you."
"I don't need your help." My words barely make it out of my mouth.
"Of course you don't."
By the time I look back up, he is gone.
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Nameless man number I have lost count hands me my hundred dollars in five twenty's and I give him a tiny smile as I head toward the door.
"We could go out, you know. Go to a club. Or dinner?"
He's lonely. He isn't bad looking but I don't get involved.
"No thanks. Already ate." I slam the door shut behind me and take a few deep breaths. Okay that's one down for the night without getting strangled or bruised. This one was actually really nice. Gentle. He just wanted someone to be close to. So I let him worship my body and I paid extra close attention to his cock when I blew him. Took my time running my tongue up and down his shaft. He wasn't huge but I wasn't swallowing a tootsie roll either. He was just…another guy.
But this one didn't make me feel uneasy. So I let my guard down for just a moment. But now the consequences of this comes out. He wants me to stick around. He wants to do dinner. No dice mister. Sorry. You want to take someone to dinner, find an escort service. Don't pick some blonde haired boy up on the side of the road.
I face the cold again, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. It's late and this guy gave me a fifty dollar tip, so I decide to head back to my apartment for the night. It must be not even ten degrees out and the idea of standing around, waiting for another chance to turn a trick wasn't my idea of a relaxing night.
I unlock the door to my one room apartment and immediately head over to turn the oven on. It's my heat. I put the call in for the broken heater. The landlord said he would get to it hopefully by next winter. I put some water in a pot and turn it on to boil. Tea sounds amazing. Tea and just a relaxing night looking out the window out at the stars. The night was so clear and on nights like this I can stare up and sometimes remember the constellations that I learned about in High School. One night I saw a shooting star. I squeezed my eyes shut and wished and wished until tears sprung in my eyes.
I'm still waiting.
I sat on my mattress on the floor and held my hot cup of tea between my hands. I could feel it slowly warming my body and I smile that I get a night to relax. Not that I deserve it. It's not like I'm working on fucking Wall Street all day or being a doctor in a hospital that I deserve anything. I'm a fucking prostitute. I deserve nothing. I barely deserve this life.
My mind wanders back to this morning and the rude but beautiful man at the coffee shop. I remember the way his hair wisped across his forehead. I can even remember, even in the brief moments I looked into them, the exact color of his eyes. I feel my hands start to itch and I put my tea down on the floor next to me and dig my dusty sketchpad out from under the mattress. I swallow, touching the cover like it was an old photograph from a time I wasn't a part of. A time I don't remember. In a way it was.
I flip it open, revealing sketches that I hadn't seen hadn't thought about in ages. Sketches that I do not even remember drawing. Sketches of a time that runs parallel with the one I am living now. Sketches that were created in a world that only hurt and pain comes from. I get to a blank page and dig a pencil out of my bag. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I'm literally having a panic attack just thinking about drawing. Just holding this pencil makes me want to throw up.
But my hand starts across the page and within minutes it's like I'm in a different place. It's like my mind; a mind I didn't even know still existed inside my skull is taking over. Stroke after stroke; shade after shade of the pencil makes a story, an image of something inside my brain onto the page. It makes me hard. I'm literally hard as the creation comes to life before me.
When it's done, I pull back and set the pad down onto the bed. I press my hand down onto my crotch, trying to will away my erection. It's been a while since I have gotten an erection on my own. Over something that really makes me happy. Gets me excited.
I smile; a real smile that hasn't been shown since before this life I lead now.
I giggle and cover my mouth.
He stares up at me from the page below me.
The man from the coffee shop.
I'm doubting myself. I have sat at the same table in this coffee shop since I moved here. I like being in the corner. I like feeling enclosed and secluded. But he, whoever he was, had made me doubt myself. He made me…feel something. And it's unnerving.
If I sit where I normally sit it would prove that I didn't care what he thought. That I was going to do what I want, be who I want to be and no stranger was going to get under my skin or into my head. But what does it matter what he thinks?
I breathe a sigh of relief to find a young couple sitting at my normal table. Problem solved. So I sit as far away as I possible can from the condiment stand. I keep my scarf wrapped tight around my neck and just hold my cup of coffee between my hands and stare out the window and into the crowds as they shuffle by to work. Gliding in and out, on their way to their lives. Some might be lawyers. Some doctors. Some might even be just waiters. But they all had things to be proud of. Jobs that challenged them. Made them happy.
I don't expect pity. I don't want it. I chose this life. But sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been if I had just been a little bit stronger.
I play with the napkin dispenser and my mind floats back the feeling I had last night while I was sketching. How free and focused I felt. I jerked off before falling asleep last night and it was the best orgasm I have had in years. I stroked and played with my balls, thinking of a hot warm mouth on my skin. Eyes burning into mine as he lay on top of me, fucking me from the inside out. I imagined his fingers inside my ass, as I fucked myself. I came, an explosion of white hot ribbons all over myself. I laughed and then fell asleep instantly.
"Daydreaming?"
I jump a mile in my chair and spill my coffee on the table. I look up into hazel eyes.
"Calm down, kid." He hands me some napkins he had in his hand and I mumble a thanks while I clean up the mess. He doesn't go away.
I slowly look back up at him. "What?"
He wrinkles his brow. "What? You ask me what?"
"Um. Yeah. What? Why are you just staring at me?"
He gives me a tiny smirk and rolls his tongue in his cheek. "Maybe you're interesting to look at."
And then I blush. I fucking blush. I don't blush. Men tell me I am hot every night. Men touch my skin, my cock, my ass and breathe words of utter love and lust in my ear. But I never even flinch. It means nothing to me. But he says a couple simple words, words not even resembling hot or handsome or even cute and I blush like a god damn school girl.
"I'm Brian." He puts his hand out and I wince and it back. Too much contact.
"Oh. Sorry. Little phobic huh?"
I nod.
Brian gives me a sad look. "What's your name?"
I think fast. I pick of one the ones I love to use best. For the rich clients. The ones who don't hurt me and always tip well. "Aaron."
Brian nods. "Okay. Now what's your real name?"
My eyes widen. "Excuse me?"
"I know that's not your real name. I can tell by your body language and you had to think about it." He takes a sip of his coffee. "That's okay though. Someday I'll know it." He raises his cup to me and turns around and heads toward the door. Part of me wants to scream my name out into the mass of people in the coffee shop. But I don't. I can't. No one can know. No one can know anything about the real me. Including Mr. Fucking Wonderful.
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His cock is small and deep throating him isn't a problem. I barely have to any work. I'm on my knees in an alley, a 40 something business man's cock in my mouth. I lick and suck and still do my best work, because hey it's not his fault he is so small.
Besides, its guys like this that always tip. The ones who have stuff to make up for. He grips my hair tight in his fingers and it almost makes me bite down. I hate that. But it's a part of the job. Makes them feel in control. So I keep going as his hands push my mouth farther down on his cock. I'm not sure he realizes I am already all the way down. There's nothing left buddy. I'm hitting pubic hair here.
His body stiffens and I feel his balls draw up on my bottom lip. I open my throat and he explodes with moans and more hair tugging and hot cum deep into my throat. I swallow, and clean his dick nicely before pulling back. I look up at him and give him a sexy tiny smile. He caresses my cheek and I stand up slowly. He zips up and goes in for a kiss. I turn my cheek to him.
"I don't do that."
He looks at me puzzled.
"Sorry." I mumble. I look at him waiting for him to pay me.
He gives me my fifty plus an extra ten.
Cheap skate.
I tuck it deep into my pocket and head back out onto the busy Thursday night streets of the city. I figure I can head over to Rockefeller Center. It's almost Christmas and I know there must be tons of rich business men over there looking for someone to make them feel special tonight. Maybe I'll even get a warm place to stay. Sometimes, if I trust them and they feed me after the fuck, I allow myself to fall asleep in bed with them in the nice hotel they put us up in. Only sometimes though. But Christmas time brings lots of lonely older men out and about, either doing shopping for their wives and kids or for the family they never see in the middle of the country. Either way, one more fuck and I meet my quota for the night.
And if I play my cards right, I may get some food out of it.
I walk slowly past FAO Swartz and eye prospective clients. It's easy to tell the in the closet gays. They eye the hot guys as they walk past, trying so hard not to be obvious. But they always have a silver or gold wedding band their fingers. I see one man, late thirties, brown hair. Tall. He eyes a young twenty something model looking guy and his boyfriend as they breeze past holding hands. The mans eyes linger on the guys ass a little too long and I smile and decide that is my cue.
I stand a little too close to him, eyeing the window display.
"Do you have the time?" I ask softly.
He looks startled, eyeing me and then slowly smiles. He checks his Rolex. Perfection.
"Um, eight thirty five." He looks me up and down and I give him my sexiest come hither smile.
"Thanks so much."
"You shopping?" He asks, moving closer to me. He could protest he was moving out of the way for other people who wanted to look in the window. I know better.
"Mmm. You could say that." I purr.
I play these cards well. I have to. If I don't do it the exact right way, he could get scared off.
He nods and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his long winter trench coat. He offers me one. I take it.
"I like your scarf." He spits out. He's nervous. But it is nice. The nicest thing I own actually.
"Thank you." He lights my cigarette and I inhale deeply. It's been a while since I've had one. Rent is more important than a nicotine habit.
We stand in silence for a while, just smoking our cigarettes and feeling out the sexual tension between us.
"So, where are you headed?" He finally asks. I smile. I knew it.
"No place special." I raise an eye brow at him. Your move.
He clears his throat. "We could…go somewhere." He says cautiously. He's still not sure how this is supposed to work.
I raise an eye brow at him. "Someplace where?"
He looks embarrassed and stubs his cigarette out with his expensive shoe. "Like…the Hilton?"
I lick my lips. "A hundred dollars for a fuck."
He nods, considering this. I'm surprised he wasn't surprised at who I was. "How much for the whole night?"
I think about it. He wants it. Bad. I could really score. "Two Fifty. Plus dinner." I run my hand down his arm. Now it's his turn to lick his lips.
"Alright. I'm parked right here." He waves his hand over to the street in front of us. Bingo.
"Okay."
I follow him to his Mercedes and get inside, enjoying the feel of leather on my legs. He immediately turns the heat on and I thank him.
"How long you been doing this?" He asks, driving up town.
No small talk.
"A while."
"You're beautiful." He says softly.
"How long you been married?" I turn and look at him and he grips the steering wheel.
"Ten years."
"And how long have you been in the closet?" Two can play at this game.
He doesn't answer.
That's what I thought. Like I said. No small talk.
300 dollars and breakfast later, I find myself RUNNING down the street trying to get to the coffee house before 8:30. If I don't get there in time…
Pathetic, aren't I? I want to see him. I dreamt of him last night. His face so close to mine, his voice in my ear. I imagined while Tom, that's what he told me his name was, fucked me that it was Brian. When he told me how good I felt, how tight my ass was, I just squeezed my eyes shut and opened myself up, pretending he was someone else. We were someone else. Somewhere else. It got my through the night. I even enjoyed it to a point.
I swing open the door to the coffee house and quickly look around. Fuck, I'm too late.
"Looking for someone?" I hear his voice behind me and goose bumps raise on my arms. I can't help but smile. I slowly turn around to find him standing in the way of the door, people pushing past him.
"No one special." I bite my lower lip and he gives me an impressed look.
"Little late today aren't you? Had a hot date last night?" He asks, maneuvering his way to the counter.
"Maybe. You're late too." I follow behind him and take out my wallet.
"Oh I had a hot date last night." He winks at me and orders 2 coffees black. He hands me a cup and I give him a surprised look.
"You didn't have to do that." I say softly.
"It's a dollar. I can handle it." He pays and takes his cup, making his way to the condiment stand. I follow him like a puppy.
"Thanks." I put my wallet back in my pocket.
"I can't stay and chat today…" He eyes me. "What was your name again?"
"Aaron." I mutter.
"Ah. Right. Aaron. Well AARON, I can't stay and talk today. Running too late. But if you play your cards right, I'll be here tomorrow morning too." He gives me an eye brow raise and heads toward the door before I can say another word.
He knows I am so full of shit.
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With the good night I had last night; I decide that tonight I am taking a night off. I make it seem like I am deserve a night off or something, but to my own selfishness I do. I stop at the art store on the way home and buy another sketchpad and some charcoal. When I feel it in between my fingers for the first time in almost 3 years, it makes me feel…complete. Almost whole again. The saleswoman at the store gave me a smile when she saw how I was handling the charcoal. She told me all artists have he same look. I told her I wasn't an artist.
I make my nightly tea and I even bought some peanut butter and a loaf of bread. I make myself a sandwich and settle in on my bed. I eat half the sandwich until my fingers start to itch to feel that charcoal between them again. I open the bag and as soon as I smell them it brings me back to the place where nothing bad can happen. Nothing can touch me. No matter what bad happens, I would always have art.
I pull out my new sketchpad, taking in the smell. I love new sketchpads. At least I used to love them. Now I don't know what I love.
A nice warm bed? That isn't a bad thing.
I press the charcoal to the paper and take a deep breath. I immediately feel my body start to react. I know what I am thinking about. Who I am thinking about. The first man in over three years that has made me feel something. Anything other than guilt and sadness. He makes me feel…a slight twinge of happiness. Even for a moment.
Something else takes over and the charcoal glides across the paper as if something else is forcing my hand. Something I have no control over. It shadows across the paper, putting an intimate picture in my mind down on onto it. A picture I have made up in my mind of Brian, laid out, naked, his cock hard and leaking against his lower stomach. My tongue is lying out between my lips as I draw; my own dick hard and leaking in my pants. I stare at the paper, making sure to make Brian's imaginary 10 inch cock the perfect shade and width. I put the sketch down and slide my pants down and throw them onto the floor.
With my dick free, bobbing and hard and gently stroke it, looking down at the drawing I just did of who I am sure now, is the most beautiful man I had ever seen. When my clients fuck me, sometimes I cum. Sometimes I don't. Some seem to notice when I don't and offer to finish me off. Most of the time I decline unless the guy is wealthy and seems generally concerned for my pleasure. I'd say most of the time they don't give a fuck if I enjoy it or not, hand me my money and show me the door like the whore I am.
I haven't pleasured myself, strictly for the purpose of making myself feel pleasure in a long time. I don't feel I deserve pleasure. Because I don't. But tonight, I can't ignore my hard on. I can't ignore the feeling I have deep inside myself that…even in the few brief moments I have had with this man, I feel something for him. Something I am not sure I have ever felt for anyone. It wasn't puppy love like in High school back in Pittsburgh. This was a feeling that could only come from…dare I fucking say it. The heart.
I take my time jerking myself off. I take my time rubbing my thumb over my head, smearing the pre cum own my shaft as I stroke again and again. I massage my balls with my other hand, pretending its Brian's hand as he feels how heavy they are. How filled with cum they are for him. Only for him. The first time in a long time.
When I finally explode, sounds pour out of my mouth that I am not sure I have ever made. They echo through my empty apartment and I shoot cum everywhere. It drips down my hand and I fall back onto the bed, exhausted. I smear the cum on my stomach and moan at the thought of Brian coming all over me, and mixing it with mine.
The very thought of that makes me shoot a little more and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
I want him. I want him in so many ways I can barely even stand it or comprehend it. But I know it will never happen. It can't ever happen. For so many reasons. No one can know the real me. No one can know who I really am deep inside. The things I do. And besides, who would want to be with someone like me after they knew. After they knew how weak I am. What shame and pain can do to a person. How tragedy can make anyone a coward.
The loud banging on my apartment door wakes me out of my wonderful dream. I can't really recall what it was, but it sure as hell wasn't the same nightmares I have been having for the past 3 years. I sit up frantically and realize I am still naked and covered in my own cum. I grab my shirt and pants and struggle to put them on as I stumble to the door. I yank it open to find my landlord standing in all his disgusting glory in front of me.
"Need the rent kid. Already gave you one extension." He rolls his toothpick between his teeth and I can feel myself cringe.
"Right." I dig deep into my pockets and hand him everything I have all wadded up except 50 dollars.
He takes the money, counts it carefully and then raises an eye brow. "Well this keeps you living here for the next month. But if you want to keep the electric and hot water on I need another 50."
I sigh heavily and hand him the last of the money in my hand. I have emergency money in my back pocket for my bagel and coffee in the mornings. It should last me the week.
"Nice doing business with you, Kid." He gives me a slimy smile and I close the door, leaning against it. I probably could live in nicer places. Places that don't have creepy landlords who can raise the rent whenever the hell they want or keep the heat off for their own amusement. But those places make you sign a lease. They make you give your real name and do background checks. I couldn't have that. So I'll stick to here.
Kids like me live here. Kids who have run away from whatever past they left behind. Kids who are dancers, or strippers. Kids who sell drugs or possibly even hook like I do. The landlord knows this. And he takes full advantage.
I walk back over to my bed and look down at the sketch I had done last night. I feel myself start to smile again at the very sight of him. It was Saturday morning so I knew Brian wouldn't be at the coffee shop this morning because he wouldn't have to go to work. I look outside the window to find it not snowing for once. In fact, it was even a bit sunny. It's a good park day.
I take a quick bath in cold water, and wrap myself up tight in my coat, gloves and scarf and pack my bag full of my supplies I had bought. For the first time in a long time I am going to do what I always did on Saturday Mornings. I was going to draw.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I spent the whole day people watching, feeding the birds and sketching in the park. A little girl sat on a bench next to me and asked me about my sketches. I showed her one I was doing of the birds and she laughed and giggled, telling me which one was her favorite. Soon her mother came along, pulling her away. She was a good mother. Who wants their child talking to some stranger?
I even treated myself and had a hot dog from the stand around 2 o'clock. It was a good day.
Now it was time to work. All my money was gone since I paid the rent so I had to start all over to make sure I had enough for next month.
I stand on my normal corner, leaning against a lamp post and trying to look adorable. I felt good, so maybe the energy would shine through to some clients.
An old vintage corvette slows down along the curb and I stand straight up, and run my fingers through my hair. This looks like a good one.
The window slowly comes down, making a mechanical sound in the dead air of the night. I feel my heart go to my throat.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" He smiles at me and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.
"I…waiting for the bus." I lie.
Brian nods, looking me up and down with that hint of curiosity in his eye that he always has. "Did you eat dinner?"
I swallow, running a million scenarios through my head. If I say no, and he asks me to eat with him I wont have any money to eat. BUT if I say YES, I could miss out not only him possibly PAYING for dinner and let alone eating. Also having a chance of spending some time with him.
"No." I finally answer. It seemed like the safer bet.
"Get in. I'm starved." I hear the automatic door lock click and I just stare down at him.
"You got some where else to be or something?" He asks; eye brow rose.
"N-No. But…you want to hang out with me?" I ask carefully.
He gives me a confused look. "I'm not asking you to fucking move in with me. I asked you to come grab a bite to eat. But if that's too much commitment for you…" I see him start to put the car back in drive.
"NO! Wait. No. I'll go." I run, like a pathetic loser around the side of the car and get in. The heated leather feels good on my cold skin and I settle in, taking in how nice the car is.
"So what you in the mood for?" He eyes me, and I stare out the window. Too much contact.
"Doesn't matter. I'll eat anything." This is true.
"There's a good Chinese place right around the corner from where I live." He says it so nonchalantly. I whip my head and look at him.
"Where you live?" I choke out.
He laughs and pats my leg. "Calm down kid. Dinner first. Then I seduce you." He winks at me.
The drive is silent the rest of the way, but he keeps his hand on my knee. If it were anyone else I would have moved it away the second he touched me. But with him…he makes me feel safe. For all I know he could be some fucking serial killer. Worse things could happen I suppose.
He stops in front of a little hole in the wall Chinese restaurant and we get out. The people inside know him and he sits at a tiny booth way in the back. The waitress brings us Chinese tea, which I pour immediately and sip before he can even say a word.
"Cold?" He asks, sipping his own. I nod.
"So where do you live?" He asks.
"Village." I mutter.
He smirks. "Figures."
My eyes narrow at him.
"No offense. Just all the young gay kids live there, these days."
I cough and spit some of my tea out onto the table. I quickly use my napkin to clean it up and blush a dark shade of red.
"What?" He asks confused. "I mean…you are gay, right?"
I look up into his eyes. My heart is hammering away in my chest. "Y-Yes. I'm…gay." I whisper the last word and look back down at the table.
"Are you ashamed?" He asks softly.
I shake my head. "No. It's just the first time I've said it out loud in a long time."
He seems to get it, in a weird way in that moment. Like he knows…I've got some secret.
The waitress comes back and even though I don't have the money to spend I order beef with snow peas and a wonton soup. Brian orders steamed chicken with vegetables and a miso soup. He leans across the table after she leaves.
"So you gonna tell me your real name now, since I'm buying you dinner?"
Well thank god for that. I'm fascinated with the napkin in front of me. "What makes you think my real name isn't Aaron?"
"Because I can tell when people are lying." He says pointly.
"What are you psychic?"
He chuckles. "No worse. I'm in advertising."
I look up at him and feel myself start to smirk. "That's really cool. That must be such a fun job."
"It pays the bills." He pauses. "What about you, AARON, what do you do?"
I tense visibly and sip my tea. "Odd jobs here and there."
He takes my hand in his and flips it over. He eyes my fingers. "You an artist?"
I yank my hand away and put both of them on my lap under the table. "Not really."
"Hey, I'm just making small talk. We could sit in fucking silence the whole time and have it be weird and awkward but that totally goes against my whole seduction tactic."
"What makes you think I'm going to sleep with you?" I blurt out.
His eyes widen at my outburst. "Because why wouldn't you?"
I scoff at his confidence. "You're an asshole."
"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you." He winks at me. The waitress brings our food and the sexual tension between us while we ate could be cut with a knife. At one point his foot brushed my leg and a shudder went up my spine. He eyed me, giving me a look that made me want to leap across the table at him and tear his fucking clothes off. I have never in all my life wanted to pleasure a man so much.
I clear my throat and push my food around my plate. "Fine. I'll come back to your place." I lift my eyes to meet his. "But I'm not telling you my real name."
His place was fucking amazing. Top floor loft on the Upper East Side, filled with top of the line appliances and Italian leather furniture. I felt…intimidated. Like I didn't belong here. He was too good for me. I knew I was going to sleep with him without asking for money. He wasn't a client. I wanted him. I wanted him for me. I was being selfish.
Some people could look at this and say how is this selfish? How it is selfish to want to feel something? To want to be intimate with someone you are attracted to? But some people don't know what it is like to be inside my own skin. Inside my mind everyday. To relive what I had gone through over and over in nightmares and faces as I walk down the street. Some people don't know and they shouldn't have to and never will.
"You have a really nice place." I tell him as he removes his coat and scarf. I remain fully clothed. You'd think for someone who does this professionally I wouldn't be so fucking nervous. But Brian made me nervous. He made me blush. No one makes me blush.
"It does the trick." He says softly, walking toward me. He unwraps my scarf from around my neck. I lick my lips and he slowly unbuttons my jacket. "This doesn't look very warm."
"It's all I could afford." I shamefully admit.
"I might have a warmer one. It would be big, but you could get it tailored." He slowly lowers the jacket off my shoulders and my breath hitches. I'm already achingly hard and he has barely touched me yet.
"It's okay. I don't need…" He kisses me before I can answer. I pull away quickly. "No."
He gives me an odd look. "No? No I can't kiss you?"
I blink, trying to regain my thoughts. I don't kiss on the mouth. But he isn't a client. And I want him to. I want to feel…
"Sorry, it's just…" I look away, embarrassed.
"Are you a virgin?" He asks with a smirk.
I laugh. "Hardly."
He nods. "Kissing too…intimate?" He says sexily. He runs his fingers down my neck. I shudder.
"Something like that." I whisper, arching my neck into his touch. "But…I want to."
He smiles and leans down, capturing my lips again. I melt into him, allowing myself to just feel for once, instead of think. He slides his tongue into my mouth and it's warm and inviting and all I want to do is pull him as deep inside me as he can go. I moan, and he pulls me closer to him. His arms wrap around me and I press myself against him. He runs his hand down to my ass and squeezes gently.
"Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?" He whispers against my mouth. I feel redness form in my cheeks and I nuzzle my nose against his.
"I've been told a few times." I smile and lick his bottom lip. He growls and lifts my t-shirt over my head, throwing it anywhere he wants on the floor. He attacks my neck and chest, licking and sucking any part of my skin he can reach. I moan and grab at his hair, pulling his face back up to mine. I kiss him, sucking on his tongue, grinding my cock against his through material. Too many clothes. He pushes back toward the bedroom as I unbutton his shirt. When I see skin, I let my mouth wander, tasting him, breathing everything that he is in. He's so fucking amazing.
His skin, sun kissed even in the dead of winter, felt like silk and smelled like coconut. He pushes me down onto the bed and kneels above me. His eyes are dark now, filled with lust and fire. He rips open my pants and I arch my hips, allowing him to yank them down along with my underwear. My cock springs free into the warm air and his eyes wander down. He brushes his finger over my tip and I writhe at the contact. No one has ever made me feel this way. No one has ever made me anything close to this.
I scramble up onto my elbow so I can reach his pants and he watches me through hooded eyes as I unbutton and unzip with shaky hands. He helps me push them down and when I see his cock I gasp. It's just like how I drew it. Thick, long and cut. A dark red as it is filled with blood and need for me. I graze my hand around it and his breathing grows heavy. He pushes it deeper into my hand and I sit up all the way, pushing him down onto his back.
He lies down, folding his arms above his head. He gives me the 'show me what you got' look and I smile up at him as I position my mouth above his cock. I lick the tip, tasting everything he is. Fucking beautiful. I draw circles around it, under the fold and back over his slit. He moans softly and reaches down to touch my head. He doesn't push it down or grab at my hair. He just…caresses my head. Pets me. And I purr like a kitten.
I slide my lips down over his dick, feeling his vein pulse. I reach under him and bounce his balls in my hand. He gasps and stills his hand on my head. He liked that. I knew he would. I take him all the way in my mouth, causing moans and gorgeous sounds to pour out of him. I mimic the movement again, taking him all the way into my throat. He arches and finally grips my hair between his fingers. For the first time I welcome that feeling. That feeling of someone owning me. I want him to. The need to have him inside me is almost too much to handle.
I start to suck fast and hard, spit running down my chin and onto his balls. His hands go to either side of him, gripping the sheets. He writhes under me and I keep one hand on his balls, the other on his stomach to still him. He arches and floods my mouth and I swallow every drop like its water in a desert. I clean his cock until it grows limp against my tongue.
I look up at him and he stares down at me, chest heaving. I give him a tiny smile and he quickly sits up, shoving me down onto my back.
"Who are you?" He asks, licking my lips. I moan and arch against him, spreading my pre cum onto his stomach. I can feel him slowly harden against my leg and I giggle inside because I'm making him hard again. Just being near me, needing to have me is making him that hard.
I don't answer him and instead let my mouth do the talking. I kiss him softly at first, getting him needy and desperate. He runs his hands down my sides gently, feeling how warm my skin is. I spread my legs, showing him I want him. He can do what he wants to me. His fingers slide down my thighs and between my legs. He delicately fondles my balls and slides down further to my opening. I bite my lower lip as he circles my hole with one finger. I shudder and his mouth hangs open, tongue between his lips as he stares into my eyes.
"So fucking hot." He breathes out as the tip of his finger finds its way inside my body. I let out a slow moan and he pulls out. I give him a pouty look but he just smiles, reaching for the lube on the bedside table. I nod and he slicks three fingers generously. His hand returns to my ass and with perfect ease pushes two fingers deep inside me. I press my feet flat against the bed and open up for him. He works his fingers inside me, slow at first, making sure to stretch and tease in all the right ways. Sweat starts to form on my forehead and chest and I am making noises I have never made before. It feels so good. Like pleasure I am sure you would feel in heaven, if I were to go there.
I could die right now with him touching me and never have another regret again. This is all I want. He is all I want and I know nothing about him. My whole body is shaking with pleasure and need that my lips are quivering. He makes soothing noises as he works a third finger into me, and I know in this moment, he is a professional just like me. He knows his way around a mans body. He knows how to please someone. This makes me feel better about myself, about how experienced I am. But suddenly I start to tense. Maybe he feels how loose I am. Maybe he wanted someone not experienced. Innocent. Pure.
I look into his eyes and he cocks his head, knowing that I am thinking too hard about something.
"What's the matter?" He gives me a cute smile and keeps brushing his fingers over my sweet spot. I let out a whimper and squeeze my eyes shut.
"Am I…I mean…" I blush and shut up immediately. How does he do this to me?
He leans down, putting his lips softly against my ear. "Tight?"
I nod.
He moans and picks up the face and finger fucks me hard and rough. "Fuck yes."
I relax and feel my cock tingle. I start to breath heavier and he suddenly pulls his fingers from my ass. I make a protested sound and he grabs a condom from the bowl on his table.
"You're not coming yet. Not until I'm fucking you."
Yes fucking sir. I take the condom from his hand and glide it down his cock, fitting it snuggly. He brings his lips into his mouth as he grabs a hold of my legs behind my knees. "This okay?" He asks.
I nod again.
He puts my legs on top of his shoulders and guides his sheathed dick to my hole. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is what I have been waiting for.
"Open your eyes." He orders. I slowly open them, to find him inches from my face. His eyes are a soft hazel again. Just as I imagined in my head the past few nights.
And then he pushes in. He's thick and long and bigger than anyone I have ever been with. But that's not just all. He knows exactly how to angle his cock, just the perfect way to fit inside me. Maybe its just technique. Maybe its just experience.
Or maybe, we just fit together perfectly.
Romantic thoughts don't come to my mind often anymore. Hardly ever at all. I don't allow them to. Because no one has ever been worth romantic thoughts. Plus romance doesn't exist. Romance is for teenagers and straight people.
But right now all I can think about is spending the rest of my life with this man. In this bed. In his arms.
He slides all the way inside me and I throw my head back, moaning. He lets out a groan and stills. "Christ."
I kiss his neck and he pulls out just to push back in harder. "Fuck."
He's pretty vocal. I wrap my legs around his neck and pull him closer to me. "Fuck me." I moan. He growls and takes my orders. Every thrust makes my bones quiver with pleasure. Every brush of my prostate with his tip makes my cock jump and leak onto our stomachs. I'm close and I dig my nails into his back to signal to him. He needs to cum first, that's the rule. But I reach down between us and jerk my cock slowly. It's all too much.
"Cum." He groans against my lips, slamming his dick deep inside me. I cry out, my balls drawing up. I whimper and he slams in again, causing an eruption of white hot heat to shoot from inside me. It coats our stomachs and my hand and he lets out a sound I have never heard come from another human being. It was a mixture of a scream and a moan, filled with a whimper. I feel the condom expand inside my hole and warmth flood inside me. He grips my hair and with the last seconds of his orgasm, smashes his mouth to mine. I kiss him frantically, never wanting the moment to end.
When he is finally done cumming, he collapses on top of me and pets my head again. I moan softly, my heart hammering away in my chest. My legs slowly slide down onto the bed and I am like Jell-o in his bed. He kisses my shoulder, neck, cheek and finally my nose. I smile, my eyes closed gently.
"Fuck." He moans. "That was…"
"Amazing." I purr. He laughs and twists my hair in between his fingers.
"Right." He pulls out, causing coldness to run through my blood. I frown, but try hard not to show my disappointment. He climbs out of bed, snapping the used condom off and chucking it into the nearby garbage can. He heads into the bathroom and I try hard not to get upset. This is what men do. In and out and over. They are all like this with me. Why would I think he would be any different?
He returns a minute later with a wet washcloth and kneels down onto the bed and cleans my stomach off. He washes my cock and balls and throws it onto the floor, before climbing back into bed and covering both of us with the soft duvet.
He reaches for his pack of cigarettes and takes two out, lighting them and handing one to me. I take it, staring at him while he smokes. I smoke silently, letting whatever was between us float through the air like the smoke.
"It's too late and too far for you to go all the way home now. Just spend the night." He exhales a smoke ring without looking at me.
"Okay." I choke out.
We finish our cigarettes and he settles into the bed. He holds one arm out and motions for me to come closer to him. I'm shocked and somewhat scared…but it feels right so I slide next to him, fitting perfectly into his side. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heart beat in my ear. He rubs my back and we steady our breathing.
"Justin." I whisper.
"Huh?" He says groggily.
I clear my throat. "Justin. My real name is Justin."
My body is warm, and I can feel sunlight on my face. I stretch and make tiny sounds from my throat. I can smell coffee and I smile before I even open my eyes. I was right. This is heaven.
I feel the bed dip and I slowly open my eyes to find Brian slowly pushing the duvet down off my body.
"Rise and shine, Sunshine." He whispers, placing a soft kiss on my stomach. I touch his head and giggle.
"Oh, it's rising." I tell him, spreading my legs. This is what life is all about. I can feel it.
He laughs a little and kisses the tip of my now semi hard cock. "Coffee first. Then blow job in the shower. You slept all fucking morning."
I glance at the clock to find it reading 10:17am. My eyes widen. I haven't slept this late in years.
"I'm sorry." I sit up running my fingers through my freshly fucked and slept on hair. "Your bed is just so much more comfortable than mine."
"I bet." He snorts and holds out his hand to help me up from the bed. I take it, and he pulls me up and into him. He kisses me, long and deep and I feel my knees turn to marshmallow.
"You made me coffee?"I purr.
He nods and walks naked down into the kitchen. I follow close behind, eyeing his perfect ass. "Figured you'd need it."
I nod and he pushes a cup across to me.
"Black right?" He asks.
I just nod again.
"Not talkative in the morning, huh?" He grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter and takes a large bite.
"I'm just not sure how this works." I admit.
"How what works?" He wipes some juice from his chin.
"This. The morning after." I make air quotes.
He gives me a confused look and rolls his eyes. "You have some coffee and then you go home."
I frown and swallow. Right. I knew that. I take a gulp of my coffee and head back toward the bedroom. "Okay, well I'll get a head start."
"Oh god. Justin." He calls my name and I stop abruptly. No one has said my name in…
I feel his hands on my shoulders. "Stop. Just calm down okay. This doesn't have to mean anything. Or it can. Just relax. You're freaking me out here."
"I just…don't get close to people." I close my eyes at his touch.
"Neither do I. But…You're different." He murmurs. I feel his lips on my neck.
"Different?"
"Yes. I don't…know why. But you interest me. I want to get to know you."
I scoff. "Not gonna happen." I pull away from him and search for my missing clothing on the floor.
"Why's that?" He follows me up the stairs to the bedroom.
"Because."
"Oh that's genius." He grabs my shirt out of my hand throws it on the bed. "What the fuck is with you huh? You so eager to run back to your rat infested village apartment, huh?"
"You don't know ANYTHING about me. How fucking DARE YOU!" I scream, throwing my pants on.
"I know you're a scared little shit. You think your some tough street kid? Are you even FROM New York?" He yells back in my face.
I wince. "Fuck you."
"In your dreams." He picks my shirt back up and chucks it in my face. "Fine. Fucking go. I don't give a shit." He stalks down back into the kitchen and quickly finishes dressing.
Fuck this. Fuck him.
I grab my messenger bag by the front door when I hear his voice across the room. "You know I used to be just like you. Never get too close. Fuck anyone. But eventually it grows old. And one day you wake up to realize that you got exactly what you wanted. You're alone."
"It is what I want." I tell him.
"Then its better you go."
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the emotions I feel deep inside and slide the door open and walk away from him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He opens the door to the motel and lets me walk in first. It's dirty and the comforter looks like it hasn't been washed in months. I close my eyes and remind myself its 100 dollars and it will be over soon. He starts to take off his clothes and motions for me to do the same. This should be easy for me. No, I take that back. This is never easy. But…I guess used to it is the word. But I feel…uncomfortable now. Uneasy.
I get naked and sit on the edge of the bed. He runs his hand over my face and down my neck.
"You're a pretty little thing." He growls. I wince and close my eyes. He kneels in front of me and strokes my cock to get it hard. Normally it doesn't take long. But tonight I'm having a hard time. No pun intended.
"It's okay. Relax. I'm sure you are a pro at this." He licks my tip and I shudder. And not because it felt good. I feel gross.
I push him off and lay on my stomach on the bed. I spread my legs so he can get the hint that this is a fuck only and to get it over with. He runs his hand over my ass and spreads me. He gently pushes his finger against my hole and I feel myself clench. Think of Brian, I tell myself. I keep my eyes closed and remember his smell. The sound of his voice. The way his hands glide over my skin. His skin. Tanned and flawless. His eyes, burning deeply into mine. His lips and tongue as he worshipped my body. If I only think of him.
He pushes inside me and suddenly I tense and push back, sending him flying off the bed.
"What the fuck!?" He screams. I roll over and look at him, sheathed and ready to fuck. I feel bile form in my throat and I quickly stand, grabbing my discarded clothes on the floor.
"I can't. I'm sorry." I quickly dress and he grabs my arm.
"You're not going anywhere." He smacks me hard across the face and pushes me back down onto the bed. I grab my cheek and try to race to the door. He catches hold of my shirt and rips it a little.
"STOP!" I throw my arms up, hitting him in the eye. He growls and grabs me by shoulders and slams me against the wall.
"Listen, whore. You will take what I'm about to give you." He turns me around, pushing me face first into the door. It hurts and I feel tears brim in my eyes. I struggle, trying to get him off me, but its no use. He slams into me, filling me, tearing me open in so many ways.
He puts one hand around my neck, the other on my hip, keeping me still while he takes what he wants from me.
All I can do is cry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I find myself wandering the streets till late after that. I don't want to go home. I don't want to lie on my mattress in that cold apartment and be reminded what the hundred dollars and a bruised neck and face later was paying for. I walk for miles, avoiding people and walking around people so they cannot brush my shoulder. I cry the whole time.
I step into the building and the doorman eyes me curiously. But he doesn't stop me. I press the elevator button and wait patiently, wiping my face. I wince as my fingers brush the fresh bruise on my face.
When I reach the top floor I hesitate outside the door. It must be after 2am. I close my eyes and knock softly.
I hear footsteps stumble to the door and the lock click. The door slides open and sleepy eyes widen when they see me.
"What the fuck happened." He reaches out, gently touching the bruise.
"I-" I try to speak but instead just sobs come out.
"Okay. Okay. Get in here. You're freezing." He pulls me in by my arm and I wince. He sees this and as soon as the door closes he tries to help me out of my coat.
"No." I protest.
"Justin. Take off your clothes."
I look at him through wet eyes and slowly unwrap the scarf from around my neck. He gasps.
"What the fuck happened to you? Who did this?" He screams.
"I-I don't know." And that is the truth. No names exchanged.
"Jesus Christ, Justin. Did you get jumped?" He asks, unbuttoning my coat.
I just nod.
He touches my torn shirt and shakes his head. "You live in a horrible neighborhood."
"I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry. I just…" I cry harder.
"Shut the fuck up. Come on, let's get you in some other clothes." He pulls my elbow gently and leads me toward the bedroom. I sit on the edge of his bed and welcome the warm familiar feeling I am getting from being here.
"Do you want to take a shower?" He asks, kneeling in front of me.
"Yes please." I whisper. He wipes the tears from my eyes.
"Okay." He gets me to my feet and leads me into the bathroom. He turns the shower on hot, and turns to me. "Use whatever you want. The towels are right there. I'm gonna find you some clothes to fit you."
"Thanks." I get in the shower and welcome the scalding hotness on my skin. Maybe it will wash the shame away. I take a while in the shower, crying in between washing my body and hair. When I am done, I grab a fluffy red towel off the bar and dry myself. I look at my reflection in the mirror and almost don't recognize myself. I am covered in bruises and my face is red and swollen from crying. I haven't cried in a long time.
I step back out into the bedroom to find Brian lying in bed waiting for me. A pair of sweatpants and an old black t-shirt lie on the bed next to him. I dress quickly, embarrassed now by my body. He never takes his eyes off me. He folds the duvet down and I climb clumsily in next to him, like a child climbing into his parent's bed after a bad dream. He covers me up and sighs heavily.
"You should move out of that neighborhood."
I close my eyes. "I can't afford anything better."
"Listen. There's an opening for an intern at my job. Nothing fancy. Coffee maker, copy maker. Answering phones. Easy shit. But it pays well." He looks at me. "I'll make sure of it."
Application. Real name. Social security number. Back ground check.
"No thanks."
"Justin."
"Listen if me being here is just going to make you give me a bunch of shit, I'll just go." I snap.
"Okay. Okay. You had a rough night. I'll let it go." He pauses. "For now." He slides his arm around me and pulls me to him. I moan a little in pain and he kisses the top of my head.
"It's going to be okay." He promises.
I almost laugh.
I've been told that before.
It never is.
Every muscle in my body hurts. I can barely open my eyes. The warmth that I had been feeling all night is now just emptiness next to me. I don't smell coffee and I don't hear anything. I sit up, squinting at the bright light from the windows coming in. I look to Brian's side of the bed to find a note lain on his pillow.
Justin,
Had to get to work. Didn't want to wake you. You need some rest. Stay as long as you need to.
Brian
I smile and trace my finger over the handwritten words. Stay as long as you need to. I wish I could. I need him more than I have ever needed anything. In this instant it feels like I need him to breath. I feel panicked now when I'm alone. I'm usually fine alone. I've been alone the entire time I have lived in the city. But right now, after being with him the past 2 nights, being alone is the hardest thing.
I get out of bed and pad barefoot down into the kitchen. He put a sticky note on the coffee machine that says: Turn me on. I smile at the pun. I flip the switch and listen how the beans are grinded. Wow. Fresh ground. No wonder it tasted so good yesterday morning. I grab an apple from the bowl on the counter and sit on a stool. I take a deep breath and take in how warm his place is. I wish I never had to leave. I wish that I could pretend that this could work. That I could get a job where he works, stay here with him. Have a normal…life. But I'm far from normal and I know once Brian really got to know me he wouldn't want me. Why should he? He's successful and beautiful and smart. I'm a hustler from PA with a broken brain and a broken soul.
No one would believe it, but despite the way I represent myself with my choice of a living and strategic way of never letting anyone get close, I am quite emotional. Part of the reason I choose to be the way I am, do the things I do, is because emotions are what get you hurt. Get you into trouble. One night when I first moved here, I was talking with another young hustler who had just moved up from New Jersey. He asked me a simple question that I honestly could not answer.
What are you even living for?
What do I really have? A dirty cold apartment. Some clothes. I have no contact with my family, which is better in the long run for all of us. I have no friends. Any friends I did have I left far behind when I came here. Another thing that was for the best. So what did I have really? Nothing.
So why do I live? Why not END IT ALL? How dramatic would that be? I'm a drama queen, but I have to draw a line somewhere. The truth is I know I am destined for better things. And maybe someday I may be able to do those things. But right now, this is what I need to do. The voice inside my head screams "You don't NEED to do anything but get yourself a real job and go the fuck back to school." That's the parental voice in my head that is carried with me now without my parents. I'm sure Brian feels the same way.
I have no idea why he is doing this. Why he is letting some kid off the street he barely knows alone in his house. I could steal from him. I could clean him out and the only thing he knows is my first name. Yeah he could try and find me in the village, but I'm smart and if I don't want to be found, I won't be.
But the idea of stealing from him never even crossed my mind. I have stolen from men before. As they slept, I lifted a few extra bucks from their wallet. I didn't clean them out, just enough to get me some food for a week. I stole someone's watch once, but that was in the very beginning of my journey into prostitution. But no jewelry anymore. Just money once in a while.
But I won't steal from Brian and in a way I think he knows that. I trust him. I came to him hurt. I came to him for comfort. And that's what he is. He's comfort for me. I don't feel nervous around him or uneasy. For the first time in years I feel like myself. I feel like I can laugh and cry and feel things I haven't been able to feel. He makes me feel wanted. And not just sexually. Like my company, my presence here alone makes him feel better.
And I let him hold me. Sometimes some of the richer clients try to hold me in the middle of the night but I always roll over or pull away. Too much contact. Too comfortable. Not allowed. Those are the rules.
But Brian…I want him to hold me. I crave it. All I can think about is his strong arms wrapped around my strong frame. His breath on my neck. The sound of his voice whispering things in my ear. The other night when he fucked me he kept telling me how amazing I was. Not how amazing I FELT just was. No one has ever said it like that before. No one has ever made me feel amazing.
I eat my apple and drink my coffee and do some investigating around his place. He has tons of CD's of bands I had never heard of before and some I had. He had CD's of bands my parents listened to and I wonder for the first time how OLD Brian really is. The thought never even crossed my mind.
He doesn't have a lot of pictures. He has paintings, beautiful paintings that I myself love and could stare at for hours. But pictures…intimate pictures of family and friends are no where to be seen. He has two that I noticed on his dresser in his bedroom. Him holding a baby, in which Brian himself looks very young in, and him at about I'd say 16 or 17 with another boy about the same age giving the camera the finger.
And that's it. No pictures of parents or siblings. Nothing. Other people might find this strange. I don't. I know what its like to have no commitments. The less you have the easier it is to let go. That's my motto. Fun, right?
I yawn and think that lying in bed all day would be the best thing for me considering how sore I am. But the earlier I leave, the easier it will be. I have to run at least two tricks tonight to stay on schedule for my rent. I'm going to have to be without Brian. I'm going to have to let this be the last time I see him. I'm getting too close. Too attached. And that could end up dangerous. For everyone involved. But I am taking the clothes he lent me. Even though I slept in them, they smell like him. His bed. This place.
I grab my bag and lock the door as I leave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He's sucking my cock and I bite my thumb nail. He rubs my ass and I barely feel it. He looks up at me and I give him a tiny smile. Keep going buddy. You're almost there.
He isn't bad. But he isn't great. After you've experienced perfection everything else just seems trivial.
I finish and he barely sucks me clean. I tuck myself away, knowing I need a shower as soon as possible. He hands me my money and I give him a smile before heading out of the alleyway. Another satisfied customer. I wrap myself tightly in my winter garb and start my long walk back to my apartment. I ventured out a little farther from home than normal, looking for some new clients. One given and one received blowjob later I had to admit it was a good idea. I was asking for trouble, being so close to Brian's place, but a guy's gotta go what a guy's gotta do. I stop to admire a wool pea coat in the window of a department store and touch the glass gently, thinking maybe it would radiate the heat I know it must give off being worn. No such luck.
My breath steams up the glass and I am glad it's past ten, so the store is closed and no one will yell at me.
"Blue is your color."
I jump a mile in the air and clutch my heart. I whirl around and find Brian smirking down at me.
"Asshole." I whisper, trying to regain my composure.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asks, lighting a cigarette.
"Just…walking around. Going home." I lie.
"You weren't there when I got home. I was…surprised." He admits.
He looks so vulnerable right now. I've never seen this side of him. He's nervous. He keeps pushing his hands into his pocket and then taking them out again to adjust his gloves.
It's fucking adorable.
"I didn't know I was supposed to stay."
He rolls his tongue in his cheek. "Supposed to? No. I guess I thought you would have wanted to."
My mind races with the right thing to say. The truth or a lie.
"I had things to do." I blurt out. He almost looks hurt. "But…thank you for last night and everything. I shouldn't have shown up like that. I just…"
"Shut up." He pulls me into him, covering his mouth with mine. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and coffee and it's the best thing in the world right now. He presses me against the window and I feel myself give myself to him in that kiss. I wrap my arms around him and whimper into his mouth. I need him. He's all I need.
"Come home with me." He murmurs against my lips. It almost makes me cry.
"Why?" I whisper.
He presses his cheek to mine and holds me against him. "Because I want you to."
I tense slightly. "Because you want to fuck me?"
He chuckles. "That, yes. But…maybe I just like having you there."
I feel myself start to smile. "Is that so?"
He pulls back and looks down at me. "Yes."
I feel my stomach flutter and my knees grow weak. This is it. This is what it feels like.
To fall in love.
Brian feeds me a chopstick full of sweet and sour shrimp, his face close to mine. I chew slowly and stare into his eyes. My god he's beautiful.
We're sitting naked on his white shag carpet in front of the TV in the living room. He's been feeding me Chinese food for the past 10 minutes. He hasn't touched his food.
"You're too skinny." He complains, shoving more food toward my lips. I take it and shake my head.
"I'm naturally skinny." I tell him.
He narrows his eyes and leans back against the couch. I hover some shrimp in front of his mouth.
"Now you eat. You're skinny too." I tell him. He takes the bite and I lean my head against his shoulder. "Why don't you have any pictures of your family?"
He pulls back a little and I lift my head to look up at him. His brow crinkles. "Mr. I'm not going to tell you my real name, is asking me about my personal life?"
I laugh and sit up, turning cross legged to him. "It was just a question."
"Well you don't answer any of mine." He spews back. One point for Brian.
"Fine. We'll play a game." I already know I'm going to get myself in trouble. I already know this is a bad idea. "You tell me one thing about you and I'll do the same."
He perks up a little and slides his ass back further to put himself in a full upright position. "Do I get to ask the question?"
My heart starts to hammer loudly in my chest. "O-Okay." Oh god I am in so much trouble.
"Fine." He sighs heavily and reaches for a cigarette. "The reason I don't have any pictures of my family around is because my father is dead, my mother and I…don't see eye to eye on a lot of things and my sister is a cunt." He takes a long drag of his cigarette. "Okay my turn."
"No wait…" I begin.
"Nuh uh huh. I answered the question. If you want more information you will have to ask, after MY question."
I take the cigarette from his fingers and smoke, waiting.
"I want to know your last name."
I cough violently and shake my head. "No."
"NO?"
I look into his eyes, trying to plead with mine. "No."
"Why?"
"Because. I…" I look down.
"What the fuck are you hiding? What do you think I'm going to do? What are you a fugitive?" He sounds annoyed.
"No." I answer quietly.
"Then what?"
"I made a promise to myself I would never get to close to anyone!" I blurt out. "You already…we already…"
He pulls my chin up to meet his level. "You can't run forever."
I yank away and move away from him. "I'm not running."
He snorts and stands. "You're right. You're not running. If anything you're going fucking BACKWARDS." He yells. He starts to clean up the food.
"Excuse me?" I yell up at him.
"You think I don't know? You think I don't see what you are?" He stalks into the kitchen, dumping the food without care onto the counter. I feel my stomach churn and panic rise under my skin. No. Please no.
"You don't know anything." I say quietly.
"You're a street kid right? You live on the street with a bunch of other hoodlum kids? You steal and run around like fucking assholes." He holds the edges of the counter and stares at me with strained eyes.
Is he serious?
"I don't live on the street." I tell him. "I do have an apartment."
"OH? Does it have heat? Electricity?"
"Sometimes."
He shakes his head. "Unbelievable."
"What the fuck do YOU care huh? You got what you want from me!" I throw myself up and grab my jeans.
"Yeah, a fucking headache." He walks up into the bedroom.
"NO. You got MY ASS. That's all you fucking wanted." I should have known. I should have known this would happen. It was too good to be true. I let myself get too close. I let myself fall for his…
"If that's all I fucking wanted, why would I have let you come here last night and NOT ONCE try and touch you? Why would I have TOLD YOU you could work for me? Why would I have OFFERED for you to STAY HERE?"
He has a good point. "I don't need your help."
"Same old tune. It's getting old, Justin."
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" I finally lose it, tears streaming down my face.
"WHY? THAT'S YOUR FUCKING NAME." He storms back down to me and grabs my shoulders. I try to pull away, but he is too strong. "Say it. JUSTIN. That's WHO YOU ARE!"
"NO!" I flail, smacking him hard in the face. "NO I'M NOT. THAT PERSON DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE."
"Why? WHY JUSTIN? What are you RUNNING FROM?" He doesn't even flinch that I hit him.
"Please just leave me alone." I beg. I can feel my body start to go into convulsions. My hand starts to twitch and I pray I don't have a panic attack.
"You're fucking beautiful. You're smart and strong. You don't have to be this way." He whispers in my ear, pulling me into him. I struggle but not as wildly as before.
I shake my head into his chest. "You don't understand."
"Make me understand. Tell me who you are." He pleads.
"WHY? Why do you care so much?" I hit his chest with my fists, but he doesn't let go.
"Because I used to be just like you, I told you. I used to push anyone who came too close away. I used to drink and do drugs and fuck anyone that came along. And I ended up losing everyone that meant anything to me." He pulls back and holds my face between his hands.
"I don't have anyone to lose anymore." I admit.
"I bet wherever it is you came from, you left a lot of people behind."
I don't answer him.
"Just tell me." He whispers. He kisses me softly, but I don't reciprocate. I shake my head.
"My name is Brian Kinney. I'm 33 years old. My birthday is May 24th. I have an older sister who like I said I don't speak to. My father was an asshole and I'm glad he's dead. My best friend's name is Michael." He nuzzles my nose. "You're turn."
I feel my whole body ice cold. I want to. I want to tell him everything. I want to wrap myself up inside him and never come out. I think of my mother and her face the last time I saw her. Pained and begging me not to walk out that door. My little sister clinging to me, begging me over and over to stay with them and not leave.
I remember the last time I saw my father's face, disgusted and angry. His harsh words in my time of healing, my time of distress. The way he just dismissed me. The way he could just walk away.
I had decided the moment I walked away from all them that they would be better off without me. That my presence alone only caused them pain and disaster. And I would do the same for Brian. That's the price of me being in people's lives. So it's better that I'm not.
But every cell in my body wants to be here. In Brian's arms. Everything about him makes me want to learn to trust and love another person. It makes me want to take a risk. He makes me feel I can change my life. That it really IS that easy.
But I can't.
"I'll tell you my last name." I whisper. "But then I'm leaving. And I'm not coming back." I'm sobbing. I'm shaking so hard my teeth are chattering.
He looks…hurt. And confused. But he will be strong. And he will respect my decision. Because he understands. He's been there too.
"Alright." He chokes out.
"Taylor. Justin Taylor."
3 1/2 Years Earlier/ Pittsburgh, PA:
"Hey Taylor!" Chris's voice bellows behind me and I stop in my tracks. I try not to grin and slowly turn around.
"Yeah?" He walks quickly to me; gym bag full of what I am sure is his football gear.
"I'm not gonna be able to…"he clears his throat and looks around. "…study tonight. I have to go and get a tux with my parents for the prom."
I nod and shift my book bag from one shoulder to the other. "No problem."
"But uh, thanks for helping me these past weeks. I think I may ace my finals after all." He gives me that adorable smile I had fallen for from day one.
"You're welcome." We stand in uncomfortable silence as he looks around, trying not to seem so obvious that he was talking me. God forbid any of his friends see. They might find out.
"You going? You know to prom?" He finally asks.
I shrug. "Hadn't really thought about it."
"Oh well, I'm going to Cindy Patterson. She's easy, you know." He grins down at me.
I frown a little and nod. "Right."
"You should take that girl, uh, what's her name. The curly haired girl."
"Daphne."
"Right!" He snaps his fingers. "Take her."
I shrug. "Maybe."
He looks around again and I swear he is going to get whip lash. "Well I gotta run."
"Okay."
"If you're at the prom, I guess I'll see you there." He's so close to me and I want to touch him.
"CHRIS! You coming anytime soon? Or are you too busy talking to your BOYFRIEND?" His friend Kevin screams from down the hall. Chris's head whips around and he scowls at his friend.
"He's not my boyfriend! I wasn't even talking to him. He was fucking asking ME to the PROM!" He looks at me with an evil look in his eye. I look up at him, sad and confused.
"No FAGGOT." He pushes me hard back against the lockers and I wince as one of the locks digs into my lower back.
Kevin appears at his side and he laughs along with Chris. "Aw how cute." Kevin drawls. "He likes you Chris."
"Yeah well I'm not a FAGGOT. So dream on QUEER." Chris and Kevin laugh, high fiving each other. I feel the anger rise inside me, making my blood boil.
"Yeah, well that's not what it seemed like when I had my mouth around your dick the other night." I blurt out.
Chris's eyes widen and his lips draw into a straight line. He SLAMS me hard back into the lockers. "Shut your fucking mouth, TAYLOR."
"What? You mad because I ratted you out? Or that you LOVED IT?" I scream up into his face.
Kevin just laughs at me, there's no way he would ever believe it. But Chris, Chris looks like he may kill me where I stand.
"You're fucking DEAD, Taylor. DEAD!" He slams me one more time and heads down the hallway with Kevin.
My heart hammers in my chest and it aches with fear and disappointment. I should have known better. I knew Chris was in the closet. And it wasn't even like he WAS gay. We got paired together for studying by the guidance counselor because he was in danger of failing and not being able to graduate. Rumors of me being gay had already started to filter around St. James. So when he came over to study, he right out asked me. I skated around the subject as long as I could before coming right out and just admitting that yes, I was in fact a great big queer.
He then proceeded with the questions. Had I sucked dick. Had I been fucked? I answered no to them all because I hadn't. Yes, I knew I was gay. I had known since I was eleven. But I hadn't met anyone or done anything with anyone yet. One thing led to another and before I knew it I was blowing him.
That was two weeks ago and we had done it 3 nights a week since then. But I knew he would never come out. But I also thought we were past the whole I was a geek and he was a jock thing and him being seen speaking to me in the hallway wasn't a big deal anymore. Especially since we were graduating in 2 fucking weeks. I mean seriously, who cares anymore?
Apparently, he does.
And so I had just outed him. Not that Kevin believed anything. Chris had a way to manipulate people into thinking whatever they wanted. Like the fact that he might have actually cared about me.
"Hey." Daphne appears next to me and I finally peal my aching back from the lockers. I wince and start up the hallway toward the front doors.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asks, falling in stride with me.
"Just got to know the lockers a little better, thanks to Hobbs." I explain.
She pushes open the front doors and gapes at me. "I thought that was all over? I mean what the fuck!?"
"Kevin was with him. They started calling me a faggot." I eye her. "So I kinda outed him."
She bursts out laughing."Nice."
"He told me I was fucking dead." I tell her as we round the corner away from the school. As far away as possible.
"Yeah, right. What is he gonna do? I mean we have two weeks left and then it's hasta la vista." She pulls out her cigarettes as soon as we are far away enough from school grounds. She hands me one.
"Yeah, you're right."
"I still can't believe he's even gay." Daphne laughs. "Are you SURE?"
"Daph, I sucked his cock. He jerked me off. He moaned and told me how hot I was. I think he's pretty damn gay."
She nods. "He's taking Cindy Patterson to prom. She is such a slut."
"That's why he's taking her. He needs to keep up his appearance." I do air quotes.
"But even if he was out, it's not like you two could like date or anything. You know how homophobic everyone here is."
We walk in silence for while.
"You going to prom?" I ask.
She coughs and looks at me. "What? Why would I do that?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I kinda think we should you know? Rite of passage or some shit."
"Justin Taylor, are you asking ME to prom?" She giggles. I bump her shoulder with mine.
"Maaaaaaaaybe."
She walks ahead of me and turns around, now walking backwards. "I would love to. You fag."
"WHAT!? " I yell and she breaks out into a run down the sidewalk. I follow close behind her, our laughter echoing down the street and through the trees.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I look up at him as I run my tongue over his cock. He told me he wouldn't be over to "study" but at 8:15 he came to the door, math book in hand and my parents, oblivious to everything, let him in with smiles. And now here I am on my knees in front of him, his cock in my mouth, his hands in my hair. He looks down at me with soft eyes. His mouth hangs open, tongue resting against his bottom lip. He moans and brushes his thumb over my cheek.
This is the Chris I know. The gentle Chris who cares about me.
I pull off his cock and kiss the tip, tasting his pre cum. I smile a little at him and he returns it. He runs a finger over my bottom lip and moans softly.
"You have the best blow job lips. So much better than any girl I've been with."
He constantly reminds me of this. Reminds me of how many girls he's been with. Maybe he does it because he is trying to convince me or himself that all this is just that. A blow job. It means nothing. But it does. I have heard rumors, horror stories of girls Chris has fucked and never spoken to again. Girlfriends he has had who he dumped on the phone or through a note, never giving an explanation and leaving them crying in the school parking lot.
That is not the Chris that is in front of me now. The Chris that is here is the soft spoken, a little shy, normal boy that I have gotten to know in the past two weeks. Not the football star Chris. Not the most popular boy Chris. This is my Chris.
I take a chance, feeling my insides start to shake.
"I…love you." I whisper to him.
He pulls back a little, his cock still bobbing and swollen. He starts to breath heavier and looks up, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters and starts to tuck himself back into his pants.
I stand, wobbly on my feet from being on my knees. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know."
"I'm not some faggot!" He yells. I shush him and step closer to him.
"Calm down. I…"
He pushes me back, shaking his head. "No. I'm not sure what you thought this was….but it isn't that. Men don't LOVE each other."
I look down at the floor. "I don't expect you to feel the same way."
"WELL I DON'T. YOU DISGUST ME." He grabs his math book and jacket off my bed. "I'm so fucking out of here." He throws open my bedroom door and thunders down the stairs.
Somehow I knew that would happen. I flop down onto my bed and groan. Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot all the time? I had to ruin it. But, I've always been a firm believer that you say how you feel. You may never get the chance again.
"Chris left in an awful hurry." I hear my father's voice from the door way. I look up at him. "Yeah his mother gets pissed if he's too late."
He nods, walking into my room and looking around. "I sent Dartmouth a check."
"Thanks."
"It's a great school, Justin. You're really going to make something of yourself there. I'm glad you got all these silly ideas of being an artist out of your head. I mean its fine for a hobby. Dartmouth might even have an art elective you could take." My dad stares at a painting I did on my wall. I watch as his eyes slowly analyze it.
"I know. Thanks dad."
He smiles at me and leaves my room, shutting the door behind him.
I stare at the painting he was looking at. It's my favorite of mine. When I had told my father I wanted to go to art school, he yelled at me for hours. He told me that I would never be an artist. That in order to succeed in life I had to be a business man. That he went to Dartmouth and so did my grandfather. And I was also going to go there.
I don't want to disappoint him. I want him to be proud of me. So I'm going to Dartmouth.
I could still take some art classes there, he's right. I already looked into it. I could even take some classes off campus. I would have to get a job in order to pay for them. I know my father wouldn't. But my father is right. I need to go to Dartmouth. It makes sense. My SAT scores were over 1500. I probably could have gotten into any Ivy League school I wanted. But Dartmouth was close to home and what my father wanted.
I roll over and pick up my yearbook off my floor. I flip to a candid picture of Chris in his football uniform. I trace my fingers over the page and curse myself for being so fucking stupid. I just ruined everything. If I had just given him more time. Given him a chance to get used to the idea that he was gay….
But now it's over. They always say first loves always die hard.
This one sure as hell will.
From the second I stepped in here I wanted to leave. Prom was stupid. But Daphne seemed to be having a grand old time dancing around in her pretty dress. Daphne, even though she knew I was gay, I think she still has this fairy tell notion in her and I were going to live happily ever after together. Maybe she thinks us being here together means something other than what it is. Other than best friends just at the prom together.
Chris saw me as soon as I walked in. He looked so fucking hot in his tux and there was Cindy permanently attached to his arm. His expression was soft at first, eyeing me up and down as I made my entrance, but then turned to disgust and quickly looked away. I occasionally looked at him while he danced with Cindy. Or kissed Cindy. Or fondled Cindy.
It's not like I expected us to run off and get married in queer bliss. In fact I didn't even expect him to be my boyfriend. I shouldn't have been so naïve to think that just because I had sucked his dick a few times and I got a hand job that he was suddenly a new person. In fact, it just made him even more of an asshole. To find out something that huge about himself and still have to hide from it.
Emotions were tricky things. Especially in high school. Too much emotion. Not enough. For some people it's hard to know who they really are this young. But I did. I was smart and talented. I was kind. I was artistic. And I was gay.
For people like Chris, I assume, it's not black or white. He had a reputation, parents who possibly wouldn't understand. Not like mine really did. My mother attempted to understand but then figured if she never talked about it, maybe it would go away. My father simply refused to believe it or acknowledge it. I wasn't gay. I was just sensitive. Artistic.
I am those things.
I'm also gay.
For Chris, it must be worse. When you start off with the expectations of being good in sports and strong, admitting who you really are can't come easily.
Daphne laughs and dances close to me. I see Kevin out of the corner of my dancing near by. He sees us and an evil smirk forms on his lips.
"Hey Chanders, don't waste your time. Taylor only likes DUDES." He and his date laugh and he waves Chris and Cindy over.
"Fuck you." Daphne yells over the music.
"Well at least you two have something in common. You both like GUYS." Chris tells Daphne and he and Kevin burst into a loud thunderous hurricane of laughter.
I feel the rage rise in me again and something inside me snaps. I grit my teeth and turn toward Chris and Kevin.
"Well so do you." I scream. The dance floor stops moving.
"What did you just say to me?" Chris yells, getting in my face.
"You may not like guys but you like when guys suck your dick." I push him back roughly and he falls into Kevin. Chris lunges for me but Kevin and his other friend Trevor hold him back. Daphne grabs my arm to move me out of Chris's wrath.
"FUCK YOU TAYLOR. YOU ARE SO GONNA PAY. FUCKING FAGGOT!" Chris is struggling in his friend's arms. Principal Rivera grabs Chris by his shoulders and pulls him away. I stand there, breathing hard, near a panic attack when Daphne yanks my arm hard.
"Let's just go. Come on." We move in and out of people until we get outside the hotel. "Jesus Christ, Justin. Are you nuts?"
"I'm sorry…I just…" I kneel down and bring my knees under my chin. I need to get my heart back to a normal rate.
"I know. I get that he makes you angry. But Justin…" She kneels in front of me. "You need to be careful. He's HUGE."
I laugh. "Tell me about it."
She hits me playfully upside my head. "Haha."
I stand, taking her hand and leading her up with me. "Stay here; I'll go get your car."
She hands me her keys out of her purse and I head around the side of the Hotel and up the stairs to the parking garage.
Was it level B or C we were on? I cannot remember for the life of me.
I whistle as I make my way through the aisles, searching for Daphne's blue neon. I click her lock and unlock button, hoping to hear a beep. I do and follow the sound around another wall.
I can't remember anything after that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Near death experiences are nothing like you hear about on TV. There are no white lights. There are no angels or pearly gates or beautiful music.
There is nothing. Nothing but nothing.
You remember nothing from the time whatever tragedy happens to you which causes you to almost die and the moment you reopen your eyes to look at the life that has changed around you while you were almost dying.
It doesn't matter if its 3 seconds or 3 weeks. That moment you open your eyes back up and realize you were almost just dead, nothing is ever the same.
So when my eyes flutter open and the first thing I feel, not see, but feel is the sharp stabbing pain in my head. The lights are too bright where I am and I moan and realize I can't because something is lodged deep into my throat. My eyes widen and I grab at my throat only to feel a long tube running my mouth to somewhere to the left of me. I struggle, trying to pull it out of my mouth.
Suddenly I hear voices and screams for help and I'm trying to scream for help too.
"Justin. Justin. Calm down. You need to stay perfectly still so we can take the tube out of your throat. Do you understand?" A woman's soft voice speaks and I look into her brown eyes from above me. I nod slowly and finally still.
I see two other people hovering over me, but my eyes are filled with tears now and I'm shaking so hard I can't make out if they are even men or woman. I am told to open my mouth and cough. I do and I gag as the tube is slowly removed from my throat. Once I can feel real hair flow to my lungs I gasp and cough harder and harder with each breath. I go to sit up but my head hurts so badly I can barely focus my eyes.
"What…" I choke out.
"Justin." I focus my eyes on an Indian man in a white coat standing in front of me. "I'm Doctor Patel. Do you know where you are?"
I shake my head.
"Do you know your last name?" He asks.
"Taylor." I barely whisper.
"You are in the hospital. You have a severe head injury."
"I do?" I touch my head to feel my head bandaged. I wince. "How long have I been asleep?"
Dr. Patel scribbles down something on the chart he is holding. "You have been in a coma for the past 3 weeks."
I feel myself start to get sick to my stomach. I make a gurgling sound and one of the nurses is there instantly with a garbage can. I heave into it, just spitting bile into it. She helps me wipe my mouth.
"What happened?" I whisper.
"How about I go get your mother." The nice nurse tells me, touching my shoulder. I look at her name tag. Melissa. She's nice.
Dr. Patel walks over to me and starts to look into my eyes with that annoying Doctor light they all have. He makes me follow his finger and continues to ask me questions about where I live, my birthday, my parents names, etc. I get them all right.
The door to my room bursts open and my mother in all her frantic glory rushes over to me and throws her arms around me.
"Justin! BABY! Oh my god. Thank GOODNESS you're alright!" She squeezes me and I make a whimpering sound.
"Mom. Stop. Crushing…" I choke out. She pulls back suddenly and wipes her eyes.
"Sorry. I…" She touches the side of my face.
"We'll leave you two alone. I'll be back shortly Justin to check on you." Dr. Patel informs us.
"Mom. What happened?" I ask, closing my eyes. God everything hurts.
"What do you remember?" She asks, her voice shaking.
I think about it. "I…remember putting on my tux. Dad helped me with my tie."
She sniffles. "Yes. And?"
I blink and squint, trying to make sense of the jumble inside my head.
"I…nothing." I look at her. "Why can't I remember?"
"You have a very severe brain injury, Justin. We were afraid once you woke up you wouldn't even be…you anymore."
"Mom…tell me what happened." I go to raise my hand up to reach for her. But my hand won't move. I look down at it and send the waves from my brain to my hand to move.
Nothing happens.
"Mom! I can't move my hand! WHY can't I move MY HAND????"
It's like a story that happened to someone else. You don't remember any of it. You don't remember dancing with Daphne. You don't remember the apparent altercation, that's what the police called it, that took place between you and Chris at the prom. You don't remember being in the parking garage. The events that led up to the "incident", that's what the police are also calling it, are from another life. The life I had before all this. Before I was lying here in this hospital bed. Before I had a "severe brain injury". Before my right hand, my drawing hand, my jerking off hand, was now not working.
I could already tell I wasn't the same person. I never would be. I don't remember what happened to me but I doubt that is the reason. I think even if I did, it wouldn't matter. But would it be worse? Is it worse to remember or not. I kicked my mother out of my room and I refused to see Daphne. The nurses came in time to time to check my stats, etc, but I never said a word. I wouldn't eat. But my mother sat outside my room almost all day and night, waiting for the moment I felt like talking again.
But what was there to really say? If I don't remember what happened, and no one…no one but him, was really there to tell you what happened, what does it matter? It's all hear say. It's all a tragedy that happened to someone else. It couldn't have happened to me. I don't remember it. So that means it didn't happen right? But it did happen. This bandage around my head isn't a dream. The inability to feel my right hand is not some story that happened to someone else. It happened to me.
I am floored how anyone can do that. How anyone can seek out to harm a person that way. How someone smashes someone's head in with a fucking baseball bat. How they hunt them down, pick a weapon and plan to do something so horrible. So dramatic. So life threatening.
According to testimonies from kids at the prom, Chris and I had a heated argument. I said something, he said something and it escalated into something that turned very ugly. None of this I recall. But by the harsh words spoken, that is what instigated the "attack" in the parking garage. But it still dumbfounds me. Who would do that?
My mother voiced concern that some of the police felt I instigated a fight between Chris and forced my "homosexuality" onto him. They don't even know the half of it. But I didn't force anything. He was willing and able. But who knows what kind of story Chris gave the cops. What kind of bullshit excuse version of the circumstances that happened. The cops were coming tomorrow to speak to me. To hear my side of the story. The story I don't remember. The story that happened to someone else.
I asked my mother where my father was.
She didn't answer.
He knows. He knows the reason I got my head bashed in was because I was gay. And he blames me.
That makes two of us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Mr. Taylor, Christopher Hobbs claims you made sexual advances at him." Detective Martinez tells me. I shake my head and look down.
"That's not how it happened." I say quietly.
"Well his friends made statements that you followed him around. Continued to pursue him even after he told you he was not…interested."
"Chris picked on me for almost 4 years. All through High School. He pushed me and knocked me into walls. Grabbed my books and threw them into garbage cans. I became his tutor the last few weeks of school. And things…changed." I explain.
"The way he tells it is that every time you two studied together you would make a pass at him and he would turn you down. So at the prom you instigated a fight and called him names. He said you also pushed him." Detective Martinez reads from his little note pad.
"That's not what happened either. His friends started to make remarks to my friend Daphne, according to her. Then Chris started in on me. I was just defending myself. I never laid a hand on him. I got in his face yes, but I never touched him."
"Ah yes. Daphne Chanders." He reads his notes. "She was not in the parking garage when the incident occurred."
"No." I shake my head. "She told me I offered to go get the car."
"Well Chris claims he was also getting his car and you started another fight with him. He said you went after him and he defended himself." The detective raises his eye brow at me.
"I went after him?" I laugh. "Have you looked at me? I'm 5'8 and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking fucking wet. He's over 6 feet tall and a football player. You honestly think I could do ANY damage at all to him?"
"That isn't the point, Mr. Taylor. If someone feels at risk, they defend themselves."
"You have GOT to be kidding me, right? HE SMASHED MY SKULL IN WITH A BASEBALL BAT." I scream. "I can't move my fucking HAND. Are you saying HE is the victim here?"
"It's his word against yours. And he has witnesses who will testify that you had been stalking him and persuing him all year."
I gape at him. "You have got to be kidding me!"
"There were no witnesses to the incident." The detective reminds me.
"IT WASN'T AN INCIDENT. IT WAS AN ATTACK. I WAS FUCKING ATTACKED!" I sit up in bed and all my monitors start to freak out. A nurse rushes in and checks me, trying to get me to lie back down.
Detective Martinez puts his pad away and nods. "That should be all for now, Mr. Taylor. Either way he is going to be tried for assault."
"Assault? ASSUALT? He tried to KILL ME."
"No witnesses Mr. Taylor and to be honest this doesn't look good for you."
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" There goes the beeping again. "NOW."
The detective leaves and my heart hammers away in my chest. I wipe the tears from my eyes with the only hand that works. I hear the door to my room open again.
"WHAT NOW?"
"Justin?" My mother's voice is soft and calming. I immediately calm down.
"Fucking assholes, Mom. Chris is saying it's my fault." I start to cry again.
"I know sweetie. The detective just told me. Don't worry. I promise. He won't get away with this." She sits on the edge of my bed and smoothes my hair back. I sniffle and she hands me a tissue.
"Mom, I didn't do anything. Chris and I…he wanted to do the things we did." I choke out.
"Shhh. It's okay. Like I said, we're gonna make him pay for what he did." She keeps stroking my hair and I slowly close my eyes.
"Mom, where's Dad?" I whisper, feeling suddenly very tired.
"Honey, lets talk about this some other time."
"No." My eyes fly back open. "Please. Why won't he come see me? He believes me right? That this wasn't my fault?"
My mother's eyes fill with tears. "Justin…" She takes a deep breath. "You're father and I are getting divorced."
I have decided that everything I touch turns to shit.
Anything that matters to me I fuck up somehow. My parents. Chris. Even Daphne is fucked up. She can barely look at me without crying. She can't even be in the same room as me. All she can think about is my body lying there on the cold cement, bleeding to death. It makes her want to cry to see me all broken. Inside and out.
I myself refuse to look at myself in the mirror. I haven't since I woke up. That was 3 weeks ago. My internal organs are finally healed enough for me to be able to start physical therapy for my hand. To try and get it back into functioning order again. The damage my brain has endured from the attack and from the coma I was in, has severely damaged my fine motor skill and neurological damage on the right side of my body.
They said I may never draw again.
The doctor's honesty didn't think I was even going to live. Maybe I shouldn't have. Look at all I have caused just by waking up. Chris is going to walk free. Daphne is fucking damaged for life from almost watching her best friend die right in front of her. My poor mother having to watch her son lie in this hospital day after day, not knowing if he would ever wake up. My father, so sickened by me that he couldn't even stay married to his wife and my poor neglected sister in all this. I'm not worth all this. I'm not worth anything.
I should have just died.
They get me up and bring me upstairs to physical therapy. First exercise is just trying to roll a ball. My hand can't even lie flat. My fingers are deformed. All mangled and unable to grip anything. I was a fucking mess. I didn't even want to do physical therapy. What was the fucking point? But when my hand suddenly flattened out on a push over the ball, my eyes widened and adrenaline surged through my body. I look at the therapist and she smiles widely at me.
"See? It's gonna take some time but that's why we practice. Every day it's going to get better." She promises.
Yeah my hand might. But nothing else would.
My mother watched outside the window as I did my therapy. I would occasionally smile at her when my hand did something it was supposed to, but normally my sessions were spent with me cursing when I tried to pick up fucking paper clips and put them in a cup. That was the hardest. Grasping thing. Rolling a fucking ball was easy. But being able to hold anything between my fingers may never happen again. Hence the no drawing.
In a way, I honestly felt there was no point to life if I couldn't draw. But where would it even get me? I have no goals now. The only goal I had was to get out of this fucking hospital and away from this town. Away from all the people I caused pain to so I never do it again.
"Shut the fuck up Justin." Daphne snarled when I told her my plan to take off when they released me. "You're being a fucking drama queen."
"My parents are getting fucking DIVORCED, Daph. You're in fucking therapy. They LET CHRIS WALK! He got fucking COMMUNITY SERVICE. He tried to KILL me and NOTHING HAPPENED TO HIM. How can I stay here? So people can look at me at the fucking grocery store. 'Oh there's that gay kid who got bashed in the head.' I can't go to art school now. I can't hold a FUCKING PENCIL!" I push my dinner tray over and onto the floor.
Daphne jumps a mile in the air and wipes her eyes. "I can't imagine what you are going through. But running away isn't the answer, Justin."
"No you don't know what I'm going through. You have no idea." I snap.
She narrows her eyes. "You're LUCKY. You don't REMEMBER what happened! Well I do. I saw YOU. Bleeding…I couldn't do ANYTHING!" She sobs. "You're fucking LUCKY."
I feel the anger boil over inside me. "LUCKY? Oh yeah, Daph. Fine so I don't remember. I don't remember HOW I got this HOLE IN MY HEAD. I don't remember WHY the whole right side of my body doesn't work. I don't remember so Chris got off with fucking attempted murder. Yeah, so fucking lucky because I don't REMEMBER."
She just cries harder.
"If it's so hard to be fucking around me, if it's too hard to look at me and have to REMEMBER, then get the fuck out." I lie back in my bed and pull the blanket up.
"Justin…"She whispers.
"GET THE FUCK OUT."
She wails, picks up her purse and storms out of the room.
It's better this way. One person down. Two to go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm a stranger here. I'm a stranger everywhere. Anywhere. But in this house, if you can call it that, I'm even more of a stranger.
My mother had to move. Get a new place. While I was in the hospital recovering, my parents sold the house and filed for divorce. My mother moved all my things into this new place and a new room for me. It's my same bed. It's my same stuff. But…I feel unwelcome. I feel unsafe here. But I feel unsafe everywhere.
I carefully sit on the edge of the bed and rub my right hand. My mother is just staring at me from across the room by the window. The sun is shining in through the large windows. She told me she gave me this room instead of the one on the other side of the condo so I had a lot of light to paint with. I don't think she gets that I'm not going to paint.
"I got you some new paints." My mother arranges my desk with new pencils and my laptop. She's trying so hard.
"I don't need them." I can't look at her.
"Justin…it's going to take some time to get used to this. The new place. Being back out in the world. But, you're going to make it. I promise, honey. Everything is going to be okay."
I raise my head and feel hotness flood my cheeks and my eyes narrow. "Okay? No it's not going to be OKAY! My life is FUCKED Mother! Chris Hobbs saw to that."
She closes her eyes, and I know she is trying not to cry. "Maybe we should get you some help, Justin."
I laugh. "Like a shrink? No thanks."
"What happened to my son?" Her voice cracks. "What happened to the loving caring sweet boy I raised?"
I stand up. "He died in a parking garage."
My mother winces and wipes her eyes. "Don't say things like that, Justin."
"I shouldn't be here!" I walk over to my dresser and stare at the old pictures she had taken from the old house. Me and Daphne when we were fourteen. A family photo. My sister Molly and I at the beach during a summer vacation. I grit my teeth and clench my fists.
"Where else should you be??? Of course you should be here." I can hear and FEEL the hurt in her voice.
"I ruined everything."
I feel her hand on my shoulder. "No honey. You didn't. Your father and I were having problems way before this happened."
"Because of me. Because Dad can't accept…" I trail off, feeling myself start to get to the point where I could cry and I don't want to cry. Not anymore.
"And why would I want to be with a man who doesn't accept his own son?" She asks softly.
"I shouldn't have woken up."
She turns me around roughly and holds my face. "Don't you ever dare say anything like that again! You deserve to live. You deserve to have a normal life. And I promise you, you will. This is all gonna pass and you are going to be FINE!" She's shaking.
I don't want to upset her anymore than I already have. I don't want her to feel anymore pain. No more pain for anyone.
"Okay, Mom."
She kisses my cheek and let's go of my face. "I'm gonna go get dinner ready. Why don't you take a nap?"
I nod and watch her as she leaves the room. As soon as the door closes, I dig around under my bed and in the closet for my black duffle bag. I wasn't sure where I was going or where I would end up, but all I did know was that I couldn't stay here another day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I once read that the strongest people know when to walk away.
I know I am not strong but I know when it is time to walk away. I have hurt everyone around me. I'm beginning to think all those things that are being said around about me are true. That I forced Chris to do those things. That I instigated that fight with Chris that led to him attacking me. It could be true. I don't even remember. And sometimes lies become the truth if they are said enough.
My father wanted nothing to do with me. My mother cannot look at me without crying. My best friend has to take medication and go to therapy three times a week because of what happened. And Chris gets to walk free, while my whole life and the people around me fall apart. He didn't just bash my skull in. He destroyed my whole fucking life.
And I didn't have a life here anymore. I look around my room at all the new and old things that my mother decorated it with and realize I own none of this. I own nothing in my past because it seems like a life that I never even led. The father and mother and happy little family that was in the past doesn't exist anymore. Maybe it never did. Maybe I made it all up in my head. I own nothing of my present. I don't know this life. How can I live in the present when I can't remember something from my past? And my future looks dim. What do I have to live for now?
I left note on my bed. I packed my bag of just mostly clothes and shoes. I left all my art supplies behind, even my computer. I didn't need them. Not anymore. I stole some money, which I still feel guilty about, from my mother's purse and got on a bus at 1:30 in the morning. The only one running that late was leaving for New York City. I took it.
And I never looked back.
Present Day/New York City:
I left Brian that night and swore to myself I would never see him again. I had broken all my rules. Sleeping with someone twice. Telling someone my real name, let alone my last fucking name. I had let down my guard. And I fell hard.
But he's all I think about. I barely function. I'm going to lose my apartment because I haven't been able to "work" in over a week. All I do is sit in my place, drawing picture after picture of him. His face. His arms. His cock. I jerk off thinking about his hands on me. His lips. The way it feels to have him breathe my name into my ear.
I was falling apart. I was slowly dying inside. All because I had allowed myself to get too close to someone. That's how I got here to begin with.
I can't trust anyone. No matter how beautiful and perfect someone seems, they aren't. They can't be. Because beautiful perfect people don't exist. This world is just filled with hate and fear. I see it every night in the men I have sex with. Married men who hate themselves so much that they fill the void inside them with meaningless dirty sex with a blond haired boy in an ally way or a dirty motel room. And more married men who fear being who they really are so have soft passionate sex with blond haired boys in penthouse hotel suites.
I am reminded every night, every day of just how evil the world can be. I have experienced it first hand, I have seen it. Heard it. Felt it. Smelt it. I breathed it in and it consumes you on the streets of this city. It makes you jaded. It gives you thick skin. And that's good. Because I need it.
But everything I had worked for the past three years disappeared the second he touched me. No. It was probably the second I heard his voice.
I had been with hot men. Hot married men who I could have easily fallen in love with. Men who could have put me up in a nice apartment, taken care of me. Men I would have been a good boyfriend to. As long as I didn't tell their wives.
But I never once felt anything for them. Yeah the sex was better with those men than say the dirty old man in the broken down Chevy around the corner from the bus station, but it never went past that.
But Brian, he never offered me the world. He offered his bed to sleep in when I needed it. And some fresh ground coffee. He didn't want anything from me. Not even sex. He just…wanted me. My company. I interested him. He wanted to know me. What made me who I am. That could never happen. The second people get too close to me something bad happens. Everything I touch turns to rust.
And he's…a precious metal.
But he has ruined me. He's ruined my outlook on life. The philosophy I had set for myself all those years ago. The attitude that kept me alive and got me through everyday. Now I am barely alive. I am barely living. He's destroyed me.
I'm afraid to leave my apartment because I am too afraid to see him. I'm so afraid to even have him in the same city as me. He was allowed to ruin me. But I couldn't do the same to him. Being with me, even knowing me could cause a kind of pain no one deserves. I had allowed him to already get hurt. Just surrounding himself with me is poisoning him.
But I needed food. I hadn't eaten in days and I couldn't starve to death. Even though I would eventually freeze to death because I was going to get evicted. I grab my jacket and money in my drawer and decide to head down to a different coffee shop then the one I normally frequent. It's after 8 at night and I doubt Brian would be there, but I didn't want to take any chances. I am already taking a chance going out. I can never see him. I know this. And it destroys me inside.
The coffee shop is empty except for an older gentleman sitting and reading the paper with his cup of coffee. He keeps it clutched in his hand like it's the only friend he has in the world. I know that feeling. I feel for him in a way. Ever since I had met Brian I feel things differently than I ever had before. My empathy, my perceptions on things have changed.
I eat my bagel and drink my coffee and watch this man as he pours over his paper. There is no ring on his finger. He never once checks his watch or touches his cell phone. I'm not sure he even has one. I find myself wondering about him. Wondering where he comes from. If he has a girlfriend. A boyfriend. Children. I wonder what he is doing at a coffee shop at 8:30 on a Tuesday night. I wonder if he is waiting for someone. Or running from someone. Or something.
Aren't we always running from something?
Our eyes catch and I quickly look down. I'm not trying to score. I was just watching him.
I sip my coffee and enjoy the warmth for a while. I see out of the corner of my eye the man get up from the table and make his way over to me. He sits across from me. I tense and curl up into myself.
"Like what you see?" He asks. I look up into his eyes.
"Sorry. I have a staring problem." I mutter.
"No. It's okay. Worse things could happen than you staring at me." He smirks.
He's hitting on me. I get the vibe from him he knows I'm a prostitute. I don't feel that uncomfortable around him and I could score tonight and get some money. This might not be so bad.
I give him a tiny smile and as if on cue he asks, "How much?"
I knew it. I can always tell.
"Depends on what you want." I sit up straight and put on my game face. Have to have confidence. That's what they want. A professional. If not they would be at club trying to find some inexperienced twink.
He leans across the table and lowers his voice. "I want to fuck your ass so hard you feel me for weeks after."
He's going to be a kinky one I can already tell. I can handle this. I have to handle this. If I don't, I don't eat, let alone have a place to live.
"Two hundred." I look him in the eyes.
He nods and pulls out his wallet to make sure he has the cash. "Alright." He stuffs it back into his pocket and stands up. "I have a van."
That was a severe red flag in my head. Vans=danger. I remember from being a kid. People get stolen in vans. Children get molested.
But that's what I do for a living. I get molested. For money.
I swallow and stand, following him out of the warm coffee shop and out into the cold winter New York air. His van, which I had noticed parked across the street when I came in was blue and didn't actually look as skeezy as I expected it to. I guess I automatically think Van and beaten down ratty van where pedophiles rape children.
We get in and he starts to drive, somewhere I don't know. He says nothing the whole way and I actually start to feel a little nervous.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Don't worry. It's not far." He flashes a smile at me and I realize this is completely different than other time I had done this.
He was in control, not me.
How did this happen?
"Uh, listen. Maybe we should do this another time." I don't know how to get out of this. I never had to before.
He pulls into a dark alley way not too far from where Brian lives. I think if I can get out of the van I can run and get to Brian's before he can catch me.
"No. Now's a good time." He turns off the engine and I quickly reach for the door handle. It's locked.
"I'm not feeling so good, so if we could do this some other time…" I struggle with the door handle but its no use. I search by the window for the lock. There is none. It must be controlled by something else in the car.
I feel my heart in my throat and my stomach churn. I am going to be sick.
"You're a faggot, huh?" He growls. I whip my head to look at him.
"What?"
"You're a faggot. A disgusting queer. Not only are you that, you're a whore." He reaches out and grabs my hair roughly and I whimper.
"Please let me go." I beg.
He laughs, all the way from down into his stomach. Suddenly I feel cold steel at my throat.
Oh god. No. I'm going to die. This is it. I close my eyes and wait for it. I don't struggle. I welcome it. I deserve this. It's all I have ever deserved.
I feel the sharp pain take over my head and hot fluid run down my face.
And then I feel nothing else.
The pain is gone.
I don't have my father's eyes. I have my mothers. I don't have his smile either. I'm not sure where that came from. My mother used to say my smile could light up Armageddon. Whatever that means.
But everyone used to tell me how much I looked like my mother. Never like my father.
I can see him, arms stretched out, crouched down waiting for me. Waiting for me to run into his arms like I would when he got home from work. But I'm not running.
"Come on Justin!" He yells. He smiles and I he looks nothing like me.
It seems to take forever to get to him. By the time I reach him he is already standing. And I can see his eyes. Dark and distant.
"You're an embarrassment." He scolds. I try to turn and run but I hit a brick wall. I claw at it until my fingers bleed. I can't get it to come down.
"It's no use." I hear behind me. I know that voice. "You're stuck here. This is it for you."
I turn slowly to find Chris Hobbs in his football uniform, in all his glory, standing there, a smirk plastered on his face. "Faggot." He taunts.
I lunge at him but I fall, someone else's arms catching me before I hit the ground.
"Mom." I sob, clutching her coat. I remember this coat. It hangs down almost to her ankles. I used to hide under it when I was a kid.
"Shhh. Everything's going to be okay now." She holds me, petting my head like she did after a bad nightmare when I was young and I would climb into her and my father's bed at all hours of the night.
I let her hold me. I welcome it. I just want it all to end. I realize I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe now, my nose buried in her jacket. I look up into strange eyes. Evil eyes. Eyes I have only seen one other time in my life.
"Whore." I feel the knife go into my stomach and the blood pour out of my head.
"Old wounds never heal, honey." I hear my mother's voice and I try to look to find her but there is too much blood. Everything is red.
I collapse to the floor and begin to crawl. Where I don't know. But I claw at the ground, feeling wet mud between my fingers. I can smell the dirt and the grass under my nose. I try to wipe my eyes on my sleeve to find I am not wearing a shirt. My eyes flutter open, still watery and cloudy. A side of a bed sits in front of me and I pull myself up onto it. I touch my stomach to find blood pouring out of me. I'm dying.
"I want my hundred dollars worth."
A man, a man I recognize, someone who has fucked me before, lying flat on his back naked and hard. "Well what the hell are you waiting for?" He growls.
I shake my head and move back off the bed, stumbling. I'm naked and covered in blood. I can barely see. I can barely walk.
"You can't run, Taylor! This is who you are! Just accept it!" Chris's voice follows me as I try to run. Run away from me. I hit the wall again and collapse down onto my knees. I scream. And I can't stop. It feels good to scream. It feels good to cry. I can feel the blood pouring out of me. I can feel my body starting to give out. I just want it over.
Strong hands lift me up under my arms and I fall against him.
"Be strong." I hear whispered in my ear. "I'm here, Justin."
My eyes fly open and suddenly all the pain, all the fear, is back. I can feel the soreness in my body. I can feel every nerve ending tingle. Every muscle tense. I can't move. No please no not again.
"Justin." That voice again. The voice that broke me out of wherever I was. The voice that the second it hits my ear drums makes the pain a little less bearable.
I shift my eyes because I cannot move anything else in my body. He's here. He's right there? How is he here? Where am I?
I try to speak but I can't get any words out. It hurts. My throat hurts so much.
"Justin. Don't try to talk." He is right next to me now, his face inches from mine. "Stay still."
I give him a pleading look. His face falls and I swear he looks like he is about to break. "You're throat was cut, Justin. Just…don't talk."
My eyes widen and I start to thrash on the bed, but the pain in my stomach is too much. I make the attempt to scream but nothing but gurgling noises escape.
"Justin. Shhhh." Brian's hands are in my hair now, petting me. That even hurts. I press into his hand as tears stream down my face. I wiggle my fingers and cry harder when I realize I can use my hands.
I let him run his fingers through my hair for a long time. We stare into each other's eyes and I am thankful to have him here. He is the only one I want. The only one I need. I haven't been this thankful in years.
"What the hell happened, Justin? Who did this to you?" He asks against my cheek. I shake my head. I really don't know. I'm not even sure what happened. How anyone found me. Who found me? I should have died. I waited to die. I wanted to die.
I push his face off mine and I give him a confused look. I'm hoping he reads my face. I'm not sure why, but I know he can.
"The owner of the coffee shop. He found you on his way to open the shop. He got you to the hospital, but he didn't know your real name. When I came in the next day he remembered he had seen us talking before, so he asked me if I knew you or your full name. And here I am." He keeps petting me.
I close my eyes. Dumb fucking luck.
"All I knew was your name. I don't know your address or anything."
My eyes fly open and I grab his arm. I shake my head violently. No. No one can know.
"Shhh. It's okay. I know. No job. No medical insurance. It's okay. I'm taking care of it." He gives me a tiny smile.
No he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand. I grip his arm tighter. If they knew my name, they can get records, they can find out…
"They called your mother, Justin."
…where I came from.
I let go of his arm and look away.
"She's on her way here. She told the doctor she hasn't heard from you or seen you in over three years. She had no idea where you even were."
I squeeze my eyes shut and think if I wish and I wish that when I open my eyes all of this will be a bad dream.
He doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't. How could he? It didn't happen to him.
"Tell me…w-what happened." I choke out. I barely even recognize my own voice.
I hear his breath hitch and his fingers wrap around mine.
"They cut your throat and stabbed you what seems to be 3 or 4 times. They also smashed your head. With what the doctors don't know." He can barely get the words out his voice is shaking so much.
I slowly turn my head and look at him.
"Dashboard." I whisper.
His eyes tense. "What were you doing in his car?"
I look away and pull my hand away from his.
"You do know him don't you?" Brian demands to know.
I shake my head.
"Then what were you DOING in his CAR, Justin? Were you hitch hiking or something? I mean you should know better…."
"No."
"Then…" He takes my hand again and pulls it a little, causing me to look at him. Please don't make me say it Brian. Please don't make me reveal any more than I already have to you. Please don't…
"Justin, if we are ever gonna catch the guy…" He reminds me. It won't matter. It wont matter if they caught him red handed, no pun intended. He'd find some way to get off. I made a pass at him. I provoked him. Isn't that how it works with us fags? That's all we do.
"Justin. Please. Tell me the truth."
I take a deep breath that makes my throat burn and itch. What does it matter now? My mother will be here in a few short hours and it will all come out anyway. I give him a LOOK and let him see the truth behind them. I also beg him with these same eyes not to make me say it out loud.
"You…" He whispers.
Yes. I…
"He was going to pay you." He says flatly.
I nod.
His lips form a firm line and I see something behind his eyes I had never seen before.
Disappointment.
"Why didn't you make me?" He tone is dry and crushing.
I close my eyes and I pray I won't begin to cry. "Stop."
He gets up off the bed and starts to pace. I hear his keys clang in his pocket as he walks back and forth.
"You should have told me!" He raises his voice to a LOUD whisper. "We were safe and all but…"
I nod. Everything he is saying is right.
"So you…this is what you do? This is your JOB?" He finally breaks into a full out yell.
I nod. There's nothing else I can really do but that.
"Jesus Christ." He mutters, rubbing his hand over his face. "And that's so much better than what I offered you?"
"No." I force out. Tears start to fall.
"Then why? Why would you walk out on me…what I offered you, for…THIS?" He waves his hand over my battered body on this hospital bed.
"Because…I-I can't…" I swallow hard.
"WHY?" He demands.
I look deep into his eyes. "B-cause you don't want the real me." I force out.
His eyes soften. He slowly makes his way back over to my bedside. "Yes. I do."
"No. Y-you d-don't know the real m-me. Y-you know w-what I want y-you to see." It burns so badly to speak.
"Shhh." He rubs my head, he can tell. Why is he still being so nice? I just told him I was a fucking prostitute. I could have exposed him to god knows what. I lied. I deceived him.
"I don't want you." I blurt out.
He pulls back, a hurt look on his face. "Oh?"
I look straight into his eyes. "N-no." I lie.
Brian went to work in the morning. He left at about 5am to go home, shower and change and he told me he would be back after work. I told him not to bother. I told him I didn't want him here.
He knows I am full of shit. He's all I want. The fact that he isn't here right now makes my skin crawl even worse than it already does being back in a hospital. I feel deja vu all over again when the nurses come in and out to check my stats, take my blood pressure. I didn't sleep all night. Not because of them, but because of me.
I don't remember again. I remember him banging my head against the dashboard. After that I remember nothing. But the most important question through all of this is I don't remember how I lived. Again.
How am I still alive? How am I still breathing with my fucking throat slit? How did I not bleed to death with 4 stab wounds to the stomach? Who knows how long I was lying in that ally. What if the coffee shop owner had not come by? How was I lying in THAT ally? I have never believed in a higher power. Even when I was a kid and my parents dragged me and my sister to church I always had questions. My father used to yell at me all the way home about how I was NOT to ask the pastor questions about things in the bible. The bible was TRUTH and that was the end of it.
But now…how could any one explain how I almost died, should have died, twice and I am still alive. Dumb luck? Couldn't be. And it couldn't be because Jesus loved me or whatever bullshit religious people can spew out at me. Not with what I do for a living. Not with the things I have done. Not with the type of person I have become.
Part of me still wants to die. Part of me wanted to die that night. As soon as I felt that knife on my throat I thought 'this is it. I'm going to be free now.' And now look at me. Barely able to eat. Barely able to breath. I have months and months of recovery ahead of me. I can't walk. I can't do anything. Brian said he would take care of me when I got released. He would take me to his place and for the times I couldn't be there he would hire a nurse's aid.
Why? Why would he do that? He doesn't know me. He fucked me twice and I did nothing but lie to him the entire time. People just aren't this good. People like him don't really exist. They can't. Not in a world where people like who did this to me, not once but twice, exist. How could I believe in good people?
"Oh god."
Well maybe one.
I blink at my mother as she stands in the doorway of my hospital room. It's early morning and she looks like she drove all night. She hasn't showered and there are bags under her eyes.
"Justin…" She whispers, still not able to move from her spot at the door. I don't answer. I spoke too much last night with Brian and I'm not sure I could speak another word right now. And anyway, I honestly have nothing to say. What could I say to her after all this time?
She carefully and slowly makes her way over to the bed where my motionless body lies. She touches the blanket, but not one part of me. Her eyes are wet with tears and her lower lip trembles. She just stares at me, trying to make sure what she is seeing is real and not some dream. I'm sure when she dreamt of seeing me again; this is not how she pictured it. Not here, dirty and with his throat cut.
"Honey…" she whispers and reaches out to touch my head. I wince and pull away. Something that once used to give me comfort as a child only makes me sick with guilt now. She pulls her hand back quickly.
"I-I'm sorry." She chokes out. I close my eyes. She's too fucking beautiful to look at. I can't even stomach that I'm her son.
She says nothing for a long time. I mean what do you say? You look good? Wrong. You look horrible? Well that's right but she would never say that to me. So what do YOU say?
"When they called me…I thought they were calling me to tell me you were…" She sobs and I open my eyes to find her face buried in her hands.
"No." The words barely make it out of my throat.
"Oh, Justin." She finally gives in and bends down to hug me. It hurts, but I welcome how familiar it feels to have her hold me. She still smells the same. Like vanilla and lavender. Her sweater is soft and it must be new because I don't get any memories of feeling this material on my skin before. I feel the tears stream down my face and all the bullshit I had spewed the last 3 years about not needing anyone I now know was just that. Bullshit.
She pulls back and she looks into my eyes. "Hey blue eyes." She says softly. She used to call me that when I was a little boy. Whenever I was sad and would climb up into her lap she would hug me and let me snuggle her and then look deep into my eyes, eyes that mirrored hers, and say that to me. It was cheesy and silly, but it always made me feel better.
"Hi, Mom." I croak.
She cries harder and sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in hers. She doesn't lecture me. She doesn't ask me where I have been. I can tell, at least for right now, she doesn't care. All she cares about is being here right now.
She finally pulls up the chair next to the bed and sinks down into it. She's exhausted and so am I. Her eyes slide shut and I feel mine heavy and mimic hers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I open my eyes to some commotion in the room. A nurse is taking my blood pressure, again, and my mother is standing off the side, watching with fearful eyes. Don't worry Mom. This is normal. The nurse writes something on her chart, gives me a tiny smile to me and my mother and leaves. She sits back down in the chair next to my bed and leans over. She takes my hand and I give her the best smile I can at the moment.
"Sorry I fell asleep so long. It was a really long drive." She says. I nod and let out a tiny sigh.
"Nurse brought you some chicken broth." She wheels over my tray but I shake my head.
"Justin you should eat." My mother begs. I shake my head again.
"Stubborn as ever." She murmurs.
"I keep saying that too." His voice is deep and echoes through the room. My eyes fall upon him in the doorway, a tiny adorable smile on his face. He is carrying a brown paper bag.
"Hi. Brian Kinney." Brian walks to my mother, his hand outstretched.
"Jennifer Taylor." My mother looks…confused.
"I'm Justin's friend." Brian explains and my mother looks between me and Brian; still confused. I nod to ease her confusion.
"How do you two know each other?" She asks hesitantly.
"We go to the same coffee shop." Brian quickly explains. I thank him with my eyes.
My mother nods and sits back down in her chair.
"Here. I brought you some clothes." Brian takes a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt out of the bag and lays them on the bed. I smile at him.
"He has clothes at your house?" My mother LOOKS at Brian. Oh god mother. I'm an adult now thank you. But I can tell Brian is amused by her.
"They're my clothes. It's okay. I don't need them." He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes my hair from my face. "How you doing?" His hand and voice are both so soft.
I nod and close my eyes. I can feel the smile already form on my lips and heat rise on my skin.
I hear my mother clear her throat. "Um, Mr. Kinney I appreciate you being here for my son, but I am here now and I think I can take care of him from here."
I shoot my mother a look and reach out to grab Brian's arm. No. He's not going anywhere.
"Mrs. Taylor, I understand you haven't seen Justin in a long time but…" Brian begins.
"You're right. I haven't. I haven't seen my son in over three years. And I would appreciate it if I could be with him." She barks back.
Brian nods and rolls his tongue against his cheek. "Alright." He looks back at me and gives me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'll be back when they release you. I already called some home aid nurses…"
"Excuse me, but Justin will be coming back to Pittsburgh with me." My mother says sternly.
"NO!" I yell hoarsely.
"Shhh. Justin." Brian soothes me.
"Yes, Justin. This is nonsense. You're coming back with me so your family can take care of you, and that's final."
"I'm an a-adult! And I'm not going anywhere!" My monitors start to go nuts.
"Yeah, some adult. LOOK at you, Justin. What the hell has happened to you?" My mother yells.
"Okay, I really don't think NOW is the time to talk about this…" Brian interrupts.
"I don't think you have ANY right to say what you think about anything!" My mother barks back. "IS this what happens when he is friends with someone like you? Is it? Is this what happens when my eighteen year old son runs away from home and comes here to live in the BIG city? Is this what happens when he spends time with people like YOU?" She's screaming so loud. I have never heard my mother yell like this before.
"Someone like me?" Brian asks through clenched teeth. "You mean someone who's gay?"
My mother's hands form fists at her side. "This has happened before. When he has gotten involved with…"
"SHUT UP." I scream suddenly. No Brian can't know. He just can't.
"Justin, please stop yelling, your throat." Brian reminds me.
"Justin does not need to be here with you. He needs to be with me and his sister."
Mom, shut up. Please shut up.
"I think Justin is an adult, and yes he may have made some mistakes…" Brian gives my mother a challenging look.
"A few mistakes? Look at my SON! His throat is SLIT. Living here is DANGEROUS." My mother starts to shake violently. I know she is scared. I get that.
"This didn't happen because living here is dangerous." Brian explains.
"Then tell me, HOW did this happen? HOW?" She screams in Brian's face.
"B-Because I'm a-a h-hooker Mother! I'm a p-prostitute!"
The room falls silent and Brian rubs his face hard with his hand. My mother just bursts into harder tears and starts to pace. I just close my eyes and pray for silence. I can hear my mother muttering words of blame and guilt. Brian says nothing. I just want to go back to sleep and never wake up.
This is yet again, another reason why being close to anyone only cause's pain. I haven't seen my mother in three years, she has been here not even 24 hours and I have already caused her more pain than she deserves. And Brian? How does this man whose life was perfectly fine before he met me, want to be here? Doesn't he see the damage that gets caused?
"Go away." I mumble.
Brian and my mother both shoot me looks of anger. Oh great.
"You don't get to make decisions like that anymore, Justin. You obviously cannot take care of yourself." My mother scolds.
"Mrs. Taylor, with all do respect, Justin if fully capable of taking care of himself." Brian interjects. Oh god. If looks could kill, Brian would be a puff of smoke by now.
"Well, with ALL DO RESPECT Mr. Kinney, I do not call my son…working the streets, taking care of himself. Look what happened to him!"
"I couldn't agree more, but the point is sometimes people do what they need to do." Brian doesn't really agree with what he's saying. He is just trying to get my mother to lay off me.
"And what Justin needs to do is leave this god awful city and come back home with me." She practically growls at Brian.
"No." I tell her.
"Justin, this isn't up for discussion."
I know my mother is only trying to help me. Make it up to me. She blames herself for everything. But doing this, dragging me back to Pittsburgh, kicking and screaming is only going to make me hate her. She doesn't want that.
"You aren't doing t-this for m-me." I say slowly.
She gapes at me. "What?"
"I-It's for you. So you can s-stop feeling g-guilty."
Tears form in her eyes, but I see the truth behind them. She knows I am right. I don't blame her for wanting to make it better. For wanting me home. To take care of me like she feels she should have all those years ago.
I sigh and continue. "N-none of this is your f-fault, Mom. But, I-I'm staying in N-New Y-York."
She shakes her head. "No, Justin."
"Yes." I argue. "I-If you make me go, I-I'll just resent y-you."
She sobs and collapses into the chair next to my bed. I close my eyes. I'm just so tired. I feel fingers in my hair and I feel so much warmth from this fingers. But I know they aren't my mothers. Which scares me more than it should.
"Brian…" I whisper.
"I'm here." He promises. I feel his breath on my face.
"Mr. Kinney, may I ask…why you are here? I mean…I can understand being someone's friend. But considering what…my son does for a living…do you know him intimately?" My mother's voice cracks as she mentions my career of choice.
I slowly reopen my eyes to see Brian staring into them. It's so hard to breathe when he does that.
"Yes." He answers without hesitation.
"So you're a client?" She isn't sure how to ask.
"No." I answer for him. "He didn't pay me. I…w-wanted him." I can feel myself blush. Brian smiles gently and tugs on a lock of my hair.
"I want to get to know your son better, Mrs. Taylor. I have tried, but he isn't an easy person to get close to."
"He used to be. He used to be so outgoing. So happy before…" She trails off and I beg her with my eyes to please stop talking. Don't talk about it. We need to pretend it didn't happen.
"Before?" Brian asks, running his fingers over my face and over my throat. I feel the tears form in my eyes. Please stop. This is bad enough.
"This isn't the first time something like this has happened." My mother begins to explain.
"P-Please no." I beg her. I'm starting to cry. I can't cry. I can't…talk about this. Hear it. Not again. I already have to live with it every night in my dreams.
Brian can see the fear in my eyes. How tense my body has become. He knows I don't want this.
"It's okay." Brian says. "I don't need to know."
"Do you have any idea how hard it has been, Justin? To live all these years not knowing where you were? To think that something happened to you. You were barely well, Justin! I thought you were dead! I had posters up. Daphne…" She wipes her eyes.
Daphne. Oh god.
"D-Daphne…" I whisper.
"She moved away. California I think. Transferred out to go to school there. I got a Christmas card from her this year. That's about it." I can hear the disappointment in my mother's voice.
"I c-couldn't stay there." I explain. "I-It wasn't because of you."
I can tell Brian is uncomfortable. But yet he seems calm. Like he wants to be here. Like this may be the only chance he has at getting to know me.
"You never get used to it, you know." My mom moves closer to the bed. Brian moves out of her way. He knows his place. "You never get used to someone you love not being around. The pain gets a little less everyday but the hole gets bigger."
I look into my mother's face and it brings back comforting memories of when I was little. I got lost in Macy's once. One of the sales people found me and it took them over a half hour to find my mother in the store. It felt like years. I remember seeing her coming through the crowd to me and feeling like my heart was going to burst. To have that feeling that she was there and I wasn't lost anymore.
I feel like that right now.
"I was never gone, Mom. Just…m-moved away." I swallow and I wince because FUCK that hurts. "I'm sorry."
My mother wipes her eyes and gives me a tiny smile. "I don't care anymore. You're alive. That's all that matters."
She leans down and puts her arms around me and the scent of vanilla and lavender fill my senses and I feel whole again. It's not much, but it's a start.
She pulls away from me and turns toward Brian who has moved toward the door, waiting for his moment to say goodbye so he can finally leave this awful place.
"You want Justin to stay with you, Mr. Kinney?" My mother asks.
"Brian. Call me Brian. And yes. I doubt he can go back to his apartment and even if he could I don't think that is the place for him to recover. If he wants to stay in New York, he can stay at my place. I can hire a nurse for when I am at work. And when he is healed, he can then decide what he would like to do." Brian runs his hand along the railing of my bed and I get a shudder through my body when I remember those fingers all over my bare skin. I lick my chapped lips and he mimics my movement. Fuck he is so hot. At least my dick still works.
"As long as I have your word that you will take care of him and he can be in constant contact with me and visa versa, I guess there is really nothing I say about it." She moves closer to Brian and puts her hand out. "You're a kind man, Brian. I can see what my son sees in you."
Brian nods and shakes my mother's hand. "I will give you my home and cell number. I will even get Justin a cell phone if you wish."
My mother's eyes widen a little as do mine. "What is it exactly you are getting out of this, Brian? I mean…Justin is only twenty one years old. You must be…"
"Thirty three." Brian answers.
"Okay. So what is it you want from Justin? I'm sure you could be with anyone." She lets go of Brian's hand and awaits his answer. I hold my breath because honestly I don't know either. I have been wondering this since the moment he first spoke to me. Why someone like him would want someone like me.
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine for answers. Answers I cannot give him yet. Answers I may never be able to give him.
"He's not just anyone."
I finally told Brian where I lived. I can see my minimal belongings placed perfectly next to the front door as he pushes my wheelchair into his loft. I told him I could have easily walked but he insisted he wanted me using little energy as possible. Doctors orders. Great. That means no sex.
I automatically feel happy as soon as we get into his place. Memories, as few as they were, come flooding back to me. Memories I held onto while I was in the hospital. Memories I hold onto everyday. Memories that for the first time in what seems like an eternity bring me joy.
He drops my bag that he had gotten me for my stay in the hospital next to the couch and I begin my slow but steady attempt to stand from the wheelchair.
"Easy, Justin." Brian grabs my arm to help me. I look up at him.
"I'm not broken." I mutter. He just laughs.
"Sure you're not." His hand remains tightly held against my arm as he helps me to the couch. I'd rather be in his bed, but I'm on a strict meal plan and I need to eat at certain times everyday. Apparently I was malnourished. Nonsense.
I sit upright on the couch and point to the remote on the coffee table. Hey, if he wants to treat me like a child, I'm gonna act like one. He sighs and hands me the remote.
"I'm gonna be subjected to crap reality TV from now on, aren't I?" He groans. I give him a million dollar smile and shrug.
"Until I leave." I turn the TV on and settle in, trying to find a decent show. I can't remember the last time I have watched TV.
"Who says you're ever leaving?" Brian winks at me and goes into the kitchen to make my lunch I am sure.
"You know you don't have to do this." I tell him over my shoulder. I hear the fridge open, then the cabinet and finally a drawer slam.
"Oh, cause you wanted to go back to Pittsburgh with you're mother?" I can hear the amusement in his voice. I wince. He has a point.
"No." I admit.
"Didn't think so." He brings me a sandwich within minutes and hands it to me with a bottle of water.
"Turkey okay?" He asks, sitting carefully down next to me.
"Yeah. Turkey is good. Been a long time." I take a bite and savor the comfort of it. Who knew a fucking turkey sandwich could mean so much to someone?
"Since you've had turkey?" Sadness radiates from his voice.
"Since I've had a sandwich." I don't look at him. I can't. So I just eat.
He seems happy I am eating and we sit in silence, me eating and watching some mindless show on VH1 and him, his hand settled warmly on my leg. I don't make him move it. I want it there. I need the comfort. I need him.
It's fucking scary as hell.
He takes the plate from me when I am done and sets it on the coffee table.
"There are some things I want to talk to you about." Brian tells me. He doesn't look at me though. Oh god. Here we go. I knew this day would come. I knew he would want more information about me. I swallow hard and take a sip of my water.
"Oh?" I ask.
He clears his throat. "Apparently we have more in common than you may think, Justin." He keeps his hand on my leg and rubs it gently. I can't help but smile. I place my hand over his and our pinkies link together. Something so simple…so innocent. But so meaningful.
"Like what?" My voice shakes. Something so simple…so innocent. So scary.
"Well, these past few weeks I have learned a lot about you. Your past. I know I don't know all of it. I may…never know. But I feel like it's only fair to share some things with you." He finally looks at me, his eyes so green they literally take my breath away.
"Okay." I whisper. He could tell me he killed someone right now and I wouldn't give a shit.
"When I told you I used to be like you, I meant it. For years I was with a lot of men. Sometimes two or three men in a day. Every man wanted me and I took full advantage. I felt like love was bullshit. It didn't exist. I didn't mean anyone. All I had was myself." He searches my eyes for the hopes that I am understanding what he is telling me. I do. More than he may know.
"But people around me, my closest friends started to get tired of the scene. They found people to settle down with. They stopped going to the clubs every night. Then my best friend got married. Michael was…happy. Used to be only I could make him smile like that. But then he met Ben." He continues. "I realized a little too late that I spent years of my life…alone for no reason."
I bite my lower lip and squeeze his hand to tell him he can continue.
"When Ben got sick, I saw how Michael…just…got stronger minute by minute. I mean I had never seen such love. He never gave up. He really felt like if he was strong for Ben, somehow it would seep into him and Ben would make it." He clears his throat and I can tell its getting a little too personal for him. "I realized in that moment I wanted that. I wanted to feel what Michael felt. That urge, that strength to love someone that much."
"Brian…" I whisper. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
"I got offered a job here in New York and I took it. It killed me to leave Michael especially with Ben being positive and the risk of him getting sick again, but…I couldn't let this job go. And Michael understood. So I picked up and moved here." He moves closer to me. "I've been here a year. I've met guys. I've fucked guys…but no one…gave me that feeling."
"What feeling?" I ask softly.
"I…wasn't sure. I knew I would know when I felt it. At least that's what Michael always told me." He smiles. "And then I saw you. Sitting there in that coffee shop. Your scarf wrapped so tight around your neck, like it was the only comfort you knew. Your hands gripping your coffee. You looked so…"
Pathetic? Scared?
"…beautiful." He finishes.
My eyes widen slightly and he presses his forehead to mine. "It doesn't matter to me Justin what you've done. The past is called the past for a reason. You can't go back and change the beginning but you can always change the ending."
I shudder and I want to pull away. I can't do this. I can't handle any of this. But I don't. I can't pull away either.
"I've…felt like this one other time." I confess to him. "Someone in high school."
He nods, nuzzling the side of my face. Oh god, he's so warm.
"But…he lied to me. He didn't…care about me at all. He hurt me. Badly." I wince at the thought. The thought that I don't remember. A story that happened to someone else.
"So you think just because he hurt you, everyone will?" Brian asks; a hint of confusion in his voice.
Duh. Of course.
I have to laugh at how naïve he is. "Of course."
He pulls back and cocks his head to look at me. "I've been hurt too."
I try to imagine a younger Brian in love. A high school student, hot in all his glory in love with another boy. I smile a little.
He doesn't.
I slowly dissolve it.
He doesn't continue so I know that's a part he isn't ready to talk about yet. That's ok. We all have secrets.
"Ben once told me something while he was sick that stuck with me. He told me that nothing matters other than right now. And right now all I want is for you to be here and to get better." He looks down at our intertwined hands and I feel my heart about to burst. I want to believe him. I want to believe that this feeling in the bottom of my stomach is real. All I want in this horrible world is for him to mean every word he is saying.
"Thank you." I choke out. I'm about to lose it.
"For what?" He brushes my hair back from my forehead.
"Everything." I sigh out.
He snorts. "No need to thank me."
I shake my head. "No, you don't even know me. I mean you paid the hospital bill. My mother's hotel room. My medications. I…" He puts his fingers to my lips.
"Shhh. It doesn't matter. It's just money."
I let out a short laugh. "Money matters when you don't have any."
He slowly brings his lips to mine and the taste of him is enough to end me right there. My heart starts to beat faster and my breathing becomes erratic. He barely even touched me. I'm so fucked.
"It doesn't when you do." Another gentle kiss and I move my hand up his leg. He lets out a small moan. "We shouldn't. You need to take it easy."
I smile against his lips and squeeze the bulge in his pants gently. "So I'll take it easy. Nice and easy down my throat." I push him gently off the couch so he stands in front of me. I look up at him as I ease the zipper on his jeans down. He runs his thumb over my cheek bone and I release his cock slowly from his pants. Jesus Christ I swear it must have grown.
"You don't have to." He whispers. I run my hand ever so gently over the folds in his dick. But the soft moan I get is enough to make me cum right there in my own pants.
"I'm just thanking you." I lick the tip but he pulls my chin up abruptly. Our eyes meet and his lips are thin and straight.
"No. You don't have to do this."
He thinks I'm resorting back to what I only know. In a way he may be right. But I'm not doing this like he is some client. He never was. He's way more than that. More than anything in my whole fucked up world.
"I know. I want to. I want you. I always want you." I eye his cock again and suck gently on the tip. He grips my hair.
"Only me?" He asks. I stop sucking, his cock lain against my tongue. It throbs in my mouth and I feel my heart do the same. It's the hardest question I've ever been asked.
And the easiest.
"Yes." I whimper, taking his whole cock deep into my throat. He groans, grabbing at my locks again. I moan around him, humming and sliding my tongue along the underside of his dick as I deep throat him. He pants like a dog in heat and I feel my cock leak in my underwear. I reach down and do something I have never ever done.
I take my own cock out and jerk slowly as I suck him. I've never once pleasured myself while doing this to someone. That wasn't part of the deal. My own pleasure never mattered. I know it does now. I know now, my own happiness matters. Brian taught me that.
He realizes what I am doing and he growls. "That's it, Justin. You like that?"
Oh god. His fucking voice. I nod, continuing to suck with everything I have. Soft long licks as I shove his dick down my throat with every bob of my head. I jerk my cock, my pre cum acting as lube. This has to be heaven. This has to be the best feeling I have ever felt. Pleasuring him. Pleasuring me. All I want to do for the rest of my life is suck this dick. His dick.
Him. All I want is him.
I feel his cock start to throb heavier in my mouth and I know he's close. I use my free hand to juggle his balls in my fingers and he gasps, thrusting his hips causing me to gag on his dick. He stills when he hears me gag and I just moan loudly and wrap my hand around his leg, pulling him into me, causing his cock to gag me again. I fucking love it.
He uses both hands, guiding my head down. He fucks my mouth slowly and I caress his balls and jerk my own cock over and over. He lets out a sharp grunt and I feel his balls tighten in my hand. I open my throat wide and he explodes warm heaven deep into it. The taste and smell of him makes my own orgasm pour out of me and onto my hand. I wait until he is fully deflated before pulling my mouth off him. I lick him clean, making sure to get every ounce of him I can. He kneels down in front of me and brings my cum covered hand to his mouth. I watch as he licks every finger clean, rolling my semen on his tongue. I can't help but breath hard and moan with every flick of his tongue over my the tips of my fingers.
When he is done, he kisses me, combining my cum with his. Better than fucking ice cream.
When the kiss ends we both don't open our eyes for a long time. I wait for my breathing to go back to normal and he wraps his arms around me gently, making sure not to hurt me. He asks if I am alright and I nod into his shoulder.
"I like now." I mumble.
He pulls back and rubs my head. "Huh?" He raises an eye brow. I love when he does that.
"I like now. Now is good. Let's stay in now for a while." I smile and he lets out a whole hearted laugh.
"Sure. Now sounds good."
I hang his jeans neatly on the hanger and put them into the closet. I stand back and admire my work. See? I can clean. I can be normal.
I'm bored out of my fucking mind so I decided to rearrange Brian's closet. Well, our closet. My stuff in here too. Last weekend he finally decided I was well enough to venture out for a few hours and he bought me some new clothes. Nothing fancy. Just some new jeans and some shirts. He said all the clothes I had made me look seventeen. I told him that's because I haven't had new clothes since I was seventeen. He petted my head and kissed me in the middle of the store.
Normally that would have bothered me. It would have made me feel too exposed. But not with Brian. He makes me feel…normal. Like I deserve this.
I hear the loft door open and I smile. I had already started to boil water for dinner and I walk slowly down the stairs toward the living room. I was healing, little by little, but still certain times it hurts to do normal things. I guess being stabbed does that.
I can tell from the second I look at him something is…off. He doesn't look like the normal Brian I know. He slams his briefcase down onto the counter and I jump a little.
"Hey." I say softly. I touch his arm but he doesn't look at me. He just throws his suit jacket off and heads toward the bedroom. Okay. Um…
"Brian?" I follow him and wince when I hear the closet door slam.
"Did you touch my clothes?" He screams walking toward me at full speed. I back up, stumbling back when he gets in my face.
"Yeah, I just rearranged the closet. I put the jeans with the jeans…"
"Did I fucking TELL you to touch my clothes? Did I tell you I wanted my FUCKING closet rearranged!!???" He's yelling so loud and hard he's spitting in my face. I turn my head away. I feel my heart start to pound and my defenses go up.
"No, I was just trying to…"
"Don't EVER touch my stuff, understand? My stuff is MINE." He bumps my shoulder as he brushes past causes me to stumble again. He throws open the fridge door and takes out a beer.
I blink, unable to form normal thoughts. I had never seen him like this. The past few weeks he has been…wonderful. Caring. Attentive. He wasn't a morning person, but hell who is?
I stand in the same spot, just staring at him. I honestly have no idea what to say.
"What the fuck is this?" He waves his hand over the boiling pot on the stove.
"I was gonna make pasta…" My voice is cracking and that alone makes me want to throw up.
"Of course you were. That's all you fucking know how to cook." He barks back. I gape at him.
"Well you don't fucking cook either. All you want to do is order out!" I find my voice and it surprises me.
He raises an eye brow. "Oh so now you don't LIKE eating? You don't like all this?" He throws his arms up, his beer spilling some onto the floor.
"I didn't say that, I was just trying to cook for you." I won't back down. He's just in a bad mood.
"You aren't my wife! You're NOTHING to me!" He throws the beer bottle against the wall and a tiny scared noise escapes from my throat. I watch as he glares at me, his chest heaving in and out. I feel the fear build along with the hurt and pain. I grab my sneakers by the couch and shove my feet into the quickly. He doesn't move to stop me.
My jacket is next as it hangs next to the door and still I get no movement from him. He doesn't care. I throw the door open and walk as quick as I can, almost a jog down the stairs. I don't bother with the elevator, it takes too long. I need to be out of there.
I fucking knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew that all that bullshit about living in the now and caring about me was just that. Bullshit. He didn't mean a word of it. I knew he would get sick of me. He would end up resenting me. How long could you take care of, spend money on, some kid you barely knew. A hustler. I wasn't his responsibility. I should have just gone back to Pittsburgh with my mother.
No I couldn't do that either.
I get to the park by Brian's house and head into it. My stomach hurts. I'm pushing myself too hard by walking like this. I find a near by bench and sit down onto it. I grab my sides and bend over, praying for the pain to go away. All of it.
I'd go see my landlord and see if I can get my old apartment back. If not, I'd just…go somewhere else. Chicago. Boston. Anywhere. Away from here. Away from Brian. I'll go back to the way I knew things should be. I would be alone. Just surviving. That's really all I know how to do.
I let myself get too attached. I let down my guard and this is what happens. Love doesn't really exist. People tell themselves there in love so they can get laid. I don't need love to get laid. I don't need love. All I need is me. I'm the only person I can really count on. I'm the only one who should really matter.
I stay in the park for hours. Long after the sun goes down. The only people in the park now are the homeless and the pathetic couples who walk hand in hand down the paths. The guy doing something romantic so the girl will go back to his place or the back seat of his car and have sex with him.
Pathetic.
When it gets to be really cold, I decide with the few dollars in my pocket I'll go find an all night diner and drink coffee as I figure out how I am going to get my stuff out of Brian's and what my next plan is going to be. Forever is such a load of shit. Did I really think that's what was happening with him? That I was his boyfriend? That I was going to live there happily every after together with him? Happily ever after doesn't exist in my world.
How could someone like him possibly want someone like me?
I was nothing. I'd always be nothing.
As I walk toward the closest diner I knew of, I remember last week when I finally showed him some of my drawings. Most of them of him. He took the sketchpad out of my hand and stared at himself made of charcoal and shading in front of him. He told me how amazing it was and when I was back on my feet he wanted me to apply to the NYU art school. I laughed but he made love to me that night, telling me how talented I was. How I could do anything now. That I had my whole life ahead of me.
He worked his dick in and out of my ass, causing me to moan and writhe in pleasure. He had waited weeks to be inside me. Until we both thought my body was ready. And I was ready that night. He was inside me for hours. He would cum, pull out, put on another condom and fuck me again. My ass was so sore the next morning he had to put cream in and around my hole. But it was worth it. I had never felt so wanted. So happy.
So in love.
Pathetic. Just like those couples in the park. That kind of love doesn't exist. It never would for me. I was so stupid to let myself believe it.
"JUSTIN." I hear being yelled from the right of me. I see Brian in his Jeep pull up beside me.
"Leave me alone." I yell, walking faster. It hurts my stomach, but right now it doesn't matter.
"Justin, get in the Jeep." He demands, continuing to follow me.
"No. I get it. You don't want me. No harm. No foul." I get to the diner and I hear the tires on the Jeep squeal to a halt. Within seconds I feel his hand on my arm, yanking me back. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I'm shaking and he rubs my back, thinking it's because of the cold.
It's not. Whenever he touches me I shake. I can't help it.
"I didn't know where you went. I've been driving around for hours." He mumbles into my hair.
I close my eyes. "I went to the park."
He laughs softly. "I should have known. The birds, right?" He pulls back and looks into my eyes, his fingers brushing my cheek.
I nod.
"Justin, I'm-"
"No. I get it. I shouldn't have touched your stuff." I look down, embarrassed.
"I don't give a fucking shit about the clothes. That's not why…" He rubs his hand over his face, finally letting go of me. Now I'm cold.
"Christ." He mutters.
I just stand there in the middle of the sidewalk staring at him. He takes my arm and leads me to the Jeep. He puts me inside and comes around and gets it. He starts it, cranking the heat, but he doesn't drive.
"I'm not perfect." He blurts out.
I bite my lower lip. "I know."
"No, you don't." He looks at me. "You look at me like I'm some knight in shining armor. I'm not that guy."
I look out the window and remain quiet.
"I had a life before you. I have things in my life…" He trails off and hits the steering wheel with his fist. I flinch.
"I get it. I'm crowding you." I whisper. Don't cry Justin. Don't fucking cry.
"No!" He pauses. "Yes. I don't know. It's not that you're crowding me, I'm just used to being alone. When I've had a bad day I want to be able to come home and be in a bad mood without having to worry about hurting your feelings. I don't want to worry about coming home and not finding you there."
I turn and look at him. "I just wasn't used to seeing you like that."
He sighs. "I know. But sometimes I'm gonna be in a bad mood. Just like you are. If we run away or shut down every time one of us is in a bad mood, this is never going to work."
I smile a little. "This?"
He groans."You are so demanding. Yes. This. Us."
"You want there to be an us?" Honestly I am shocked.
His face grows serious for a minute. "We both have secrets. Things, we want to keep hidden away, for whatever reason. But there is something I want to tell you."
Oh god, he did kill someone.
"My sister called me today. My mother…is sick." He rolls his tongue in his cheek and looks away.
"I'm sorry." I reach for his hand. He tenses. He's more like me than I realize.
"Yeah. It's just a matter of days, so I need to go there and start the arrangements. My sister has no money and my mom drank hers all away."
"What about your father?" I ask cautiously.
"He's been dead for years." He confesses.
I nod.
"See that's all I'm good for. Money. It's all I've ever been good for with them." He clears his throat. "But it doesn't matter. I have to go."
"And where is that?" I rub his hand with my thumb.
He turns and looks at me, a look of what I can only describe as anticipation on his face.
"Pittsburgh."
I wrinkle my brow. "Pittsburgh? I'm from Pittsburgh."
He brings his lips into his mouth.
"So am I."
The noise from the heater in the Jeep is the only thing I can focus on. I'm not sure exactly why I am in such shock. Maybe because it was never brought up before. Maybe because I feel exposed in a totally new way but I'm not sure how or why. Or maybe because Brian just opened up to me a little, showing me just a bit of a world inside him I had never seen before.
No matter what the reason, I was fascinated with the sound of the heater.
Brian finally pulls his hand away and rests them on the steering wheel. "I know who you are."
I whip my head and I feel a heart attack coming on. "What?"
"You're…that kid. That got attacked at this prom. I remember when that happened. It was right before I moved here." He looks at me, his eyes full of apologies.
I look away, too embarrassed. Too…exposed for my own good.
"I think I always knew. I mean for a while at least. When your mother mentioned where you were from and how you had been hurt before. And then I called Michael and asked him if he remembered the name of the kid who got bashed. It was in the newspapers. When he told me your name…I…" He reaches for me, but I pull away.
"Don't." I'm not sure why I'm upset. Maybe because that life, that part of me doesn't exist anymore. That person died the second I got on that bus to come here.
"Justin. It's okay." He reaches for me again.
"NO! IT'S NOT OKAY! You have NO IDEA how long and hard I have tried to forget what happened. I came here to leave it behind. But it fucking follows me! I can't escape it! And I finally meet someone, someone…that could possibly make me happy, and he's from there! He's from the place I fear most in this world!" I'm shaking and spitting and tears are streaming down my face.
"You don't fear Pittsburgh. You fear the person that hurt you." He wipes the tears off my cheeks. I welcome his warmth.
"I used to feel like that for a long time." He continues. "I used to think if I could just move away, get away from that burg, everything would be better. But the scenery may have changed but everything else stays the same Justin. The same fears. The doubts. The pain. It has nothing to do with where you came from. It's the people."
I nod because I understand what he is saying and it makes sense. But…
"Go there with me." He pleads, putting his arm around me and pulling me close to him.
"I can't." I sob. "You don't understand."
"No. I do." He sighs, rubbing my head. "I haven't been there since I moved here. I haven't seen my mother…"
I cry harder, thinking of my mother and all I have put her through. He knows why I am crying harder.
"You're mother loves you. You should go see her. And while your there, we can face some old demons. Together."
I pull back and look up at him. He smiles and kisses my mouth hotly. I moan and wrap my arms around him. This is good. Now is good.
"I want to live in the now." I tell him, burying my face into his chest.
"I know. I know. But…we can never go forward without going back." He kisses the side of my head.
I shake my head and he holds me closer. "No."
He pushes me back into my seat and buckles me in. I'm like a rag doll. Crying and a fucking mess.
"Let's go home. You can sleep on it. I need to leave as soon as possible." He starts the Jeep and pulls out into traffic. I rest my head against the cool window and watch as the lights and buildings fly by us in the night. Going forward scares the shit out of me. But not as much as going back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I open my eyes to the sound of Brian's soft snoring next to me. I roll my head and stare at his beautiful face. I begin to think about my life here in the city before I met Brian. It makes my chest ache and my eyes well with tears. I wish away the thoughts quickly and then begin to think about what my life would be like from now on without him. And the same thing happens. The idea of him not being in my life from here on out, makes me want to die worse than I ever did.
He stirs and opens one eye. "Stop staring at me freak."
I burst out laughing and nuzzle his neck. I kiss his skin, feeling his warmth and smelling the only scent I ever want to smell for the rest of my life in the morning. "But you're just so hot."
"Mmm. True. So it's okay." He rolls over so he is on top of me, but remains gentle due to my wounds. He brushes my hair back.
"I'm gonna go." I tell him softly. His eyes soften and he brings his lips into his mouth.
"You sure?"
I nod and kiss him. I slide my tongue against his and he moans, gripping my hair in between his long fingers. I hold him close to me and he is resisting because he doesn't want to hurt me but I need him as close as fucking possible right now. I need to feel him. All of him.
"Careful." He moans, his lips reaching for mine again.
"Don't care." I attack his mouth again and roll so I am on top of him. I quickly reach for a condom and rip it open with my teeth.
"Whoa, whoa." He grabs my hand. "Slow down."
I stare down at him, chest heaving, cock hard and making a tent in my pajama pants. He's hard too; I can feel it pressed against my leg. He thinks I shouldn't be this rough. Don't get me wrong, the other night when he fucked me slow and deep was amazing. But right now I need a hot hard fuck. A fuck that makes me forget, for just a moment what I am about to do to myself by going back to Pittsburgh.
"I want you." I tell him, pulling my hand out of his grasp.
He licks his lips and let's go of me. While I remove the condom from the package he pushes my pants down my ass and legs. I kick them off and while I am lifted up he pushes his own underwear down. I've never ridden him before. I've never ridden anyone. And I want to. I want to be in control. And he can see it in my eyes. His dick may be in my ass I a few seconds, but I'm the one who controls him.
I roll the latex down his cock and he holds my hips as I position my hole over his tip. He swallows and I lower myself down slow at first. He slides in a little into me and lets out his breath sharply. I place my hands on his chest to balance myself and then SLAM myself down onto him. I scream and he grips my hips so tight I know there will be bruises in a few hours. I stay with him deep inside me for a few seconds and when I try to lift myself back up, he stops me.
"Justin." He says my name sternly. He's worried about me. I lean down and kiss him, showing him with my lips and tongue that I'm okay. I want him. I want this.
He pants into the kiss and I slowly slide his cock out of me and then back in. I growl and he grabs at my hair. I pick up the pace, pushing him in and out of me. It burns and he's stretching me at a whole new angle I have never been stretched before. He throws his head back and I sit back up, his cock burying itself balls deep into my ass. He opens his eyes, lips parted and nods. Fuck yes.
I dig my fingers into his chest and fuck myself on his cock. I feel the sweat bead on my forehead and chest and I close my eyes as he impales me over and over again. He pushes his hips up over and over, getting ourselves into a perfect rhythm. We've fucked maybe five times and we know each others bodies so well already. He knows my noises and I know his looks. His 'oh god yes harder' look. And my 'oh fuck please deeper' moan. My noise that tells him that I like what he's doing. And the look he gives me when he's about to explode and I need to stop clenching my asshole like that around his dick.
We stare into each other's eyes, mouths open, panting and moaning like a bunch of animals. It smells like sex and ass and cock and latex in the air and it just makes me fuck myself harder on him. I'm getting too crazy. I'm going so fast I can barely keep up. He grabs my hips and flips me over in one quick motion I can barely blink before I am up on my knees and he's back inside me riding my ass like Zorro. Fuck that is so hot. I push back against him and he pulls me into him over and over, his fingers gripping my thighs. My cock jerks and dangles hard in front of me, and I can feel the pre cum oozing from my tip. I go to reach for it, needing friction on it, and he slaps my hand away, growling.
"You're gonna cum just from this. Have you ever cum from just being fucked, Justin?" He breathes in my ear. I shudder and whimper, shaking my head.
"FEEL and learn." I hold myself back up on the palms of my hands and let him take me. He grunts and groans as he fills me over and over inside my tight little asshole with his huge monster cock. He hits that spot inside me and in this position it makes an electric shock shoot through my body. I scream and he moans in my ear. "So fucking hot." He does it again and my whole body trembles. He knows what he's doing. I thought I was a professional. I don't even come close to this. No pun intended.
I can barely hold myself up on my arms anymore. He senses it and pulls me down onto his lap and he sits on his heels. He wraps his arms around me, and pushes up up up into me, hitting my spot again and I let out a scream so loud it echoes off the walls.
"Cum." He demands just like the first time and I can't help but obey. I spurt my orgasm out of me, it hitting the duvet and my legs and even the pillows. I just keep cumming, it pours out of me like a fountain of pleasure. I tighten around his dick and he buries his face into my neck, moaning my name over and over before I feel his heat fill the condom inside me. His cock pulses and expands and he brings my face to the side and he licks the side of my mouth. I stick my tongue out, our tips meeting in the middle. Spit dribbles out of my mouth and fuck it's the hottest kiss I have ever experienced.
He holds me against him, his forehead rested against my cheek and I run my fingers through his hair. This is the moment I want to last forever. The moment after our orgasms have passed and it's just left in the room. The aftermath of sex and lust. Brian and Justin.
He moans and I lift myself off him, lying in my own cum on the bed. He pulls the condom off and chucks it into the nearby garbage can. He lies down next to me and laughs a little.
"Christ." He reaches for a cigarette on the bedside table.
"What?" I ask still catching my breath.
"That was hot. Possibly the hottest fuck I have ever had." He inhales deeply and hands the cigarette to me. I take a deep drag and turn to him.
"That will be a hundred dollars please." I joke.
His eyes narrow.
"Not funny yet?" I ask.
He shakes his hand and takes the cigarette back.
"Dually noted."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've never been in first class before. I've actually only been on a plane once when I flew with my parents down to Florida. But that was coach and I remember even at twelve I thought the seats were too small.
But first class was fucking amazing. Brian and I could fuck in my seat alone. I feel my cock stir thinking about it. I've been thinking about our fuck this morning almost every minute since it ended. I wiggle my eye brows at him and he ruffles my hair.
"Easy there, killer. We haven't even gotten off the ground yet." He sips his Jack Daniels and I stare out the window out onto the strip.
"Nice, huh?" He asks, kissing my neck. I nod and reach back to touch his cheek.
"Thank you." I turn my head and capture his lips. It's a soft kiss full of feeling and things unknown. He rests his head against mine.
"You gonna stay with your mom?" He asks softly. I turn and look at him.
"No. I'm gonna stay with you." I tell him. He sighs and pulls away.
"Justin, I'm gonna be busy. A lot. I'm not saying we aren't going to see each other at all, but I have a lot of family stuff to take care of. I need to finally take care of all this for good so I can move on with my fucking life." He blinks and leans forward. "Maybe you should take this time to do that too."
I frown and look back out the window. "I don't have anything to take care of. My mother and I are fine."
"What about your father?"
I tense. "My parents are divorced."
"Okay." He sounds confused. "What does that have to do with seeing him?"
"I don't see him."
"Maybe you should."
I push him away with my shoulder and pull away. "Maybe you should mind your own fucking business."
He laughs at me. "Yeah, you have nothing to take care of."
"I don't want to see my father."
He shrugs. "Fine."
"I don't."
"Okay." He picks up a magazine from the seat pocket in front of him.
I glare at him. "You don't believe me?"
"It doesn't matter if I believe you. You don't believe you."
I snatch the magazine from his hand. "What does that mean?"
He rolls his eyes and yanks the magazine back. "Justin, you don't want to go see your father then don't. But don't LIE about it."
"I'm not lying!" I screech. Brian looks around and puts his finger to my lips.
"Inside voice. And yes you are."
I smack his hand away. "Jerk."
He laughs. "I'm a jerk because I know you?"
"You don't know me."
"Mmm." He puts down his magazine and turns and looks at me. "I know the reason you don't want to see your father is because if he doesn't want to see you it will destroy you."
I gape at him. Bastard.
"Does he know you're gay?" Brian asks.
I nod.
"Is that the problem?"
I sigh. "He blames me for what happened."
"What happened with what?"
"Everything." I fidget with my hands. "The bashing. Him and my mom splitting up. All of it."
"Justin." Brian takes my face in his hand. "None of that was your fault. That kid…was evil. Only evil people do that. And maybe your parents were having problems before that even happened. My parents stayed married for over 30 years and hated each other."
I think about what Brian's childhood must have been like. Probably worse than mine.
"They had problems after my mother found out I was gay."
He nods and locks his seat belt. I do the same.
"Your father is probably an asshole just like mine. Either see him or don't. But I just think this is the time to finally put some shit behind you." He picks his magazine back up and focuses on an article about money market accounts. Smart and sexy. Fuck, I'm screwed.
The plane takes off and I stare out at the clouds while Brian naps. I hadn't thought about my father in a long time. My mother and I didn't even talk about him when she was here while I was in the hospital. I don't know if he is still even in Pittsburgh. I also never really thought that any of my issues stemmed from my father. I assumed all of them were because of the bashing and Chris. But as the plane heads back to where I came from, I realize I have baggage from many different things in my life. And maybe it's time I unpack and leave it behind.
Brian broke into a smile as soon as we pulled onto Liberty Ave. He parks his rented Honda Accord outside the Liberty Diner with this goofy as grin on his face. His eyes are sparkling like a kid at Christmas.
"What's up with you?" I ask, unbuckling my seat belt.
"What?" He looks at me, frowning suddenly. "Nothing."
"Awww." I lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're excited to see your friends."
"Shut up." He nudges me with his shoulder and gets out of the car. He waits for me on the side walk as I very carefully get myself out of the car. I link my arm through his and he tenses a little. Oh right. His friends don't know me. Or about me. At all. I slowly unlink our arms and stuff my hands in my jacket pocket.
"Sorry." I mumble. He sighs heavily and holds the door open for me. We walk inside and I smirk a little. I had never been in here, but I had heard stories. Streamers and glitter and the tackiest shit I had ever seen decorate the walls. It's filled with gay men, all laughing and eating and the clang and rustle of plates and newspapers makes me feel a little uneasy. This diner is nothing like the diners in the city.
"Oh. My. God. The Prodigal Son returns!" I hear squealed loudly. A tall thin and very very gay man stands up from a crowded booth and heads toward Brian. He puts his arms out and Brian puts his hand to the mans chest.
"I don't hug." But Brian smiles and pats the mans face.
"Of course you don't." The man turns to me and gives me a BRIGHT smile. "Well Well Well what do we have here? Aren't you just the most adorable thing I have ever seen?"
I blush and look at Brian.
"Emmett this is Justin. Justin, Emmett." Brian says and scans the diner.
"Nice to meet you." I put my hand out and Emmett shakes it lightly. Well, okay, more like girly.
"Mmm. Polite too. Where did you find him, Bri?" Emmett heads back to his table and a short, doe eyed man stands up and gives Brian a shy smile.
"My god. You look great!" The man wraps his arms around Brian and Brian hugs him with everything he has.
"Hiya Mikey." Brian whispers into the top of his head. Michael. His best friend.
They finally pull apart and both of them clear their throats like something just happened that shouldn't have. History. I get it. Sometimes it's hard to let go.
"You must be Justin. I've heard so much about you." Michael extends his hand and I shake it firmly. We smile at each other as if to make an understanding between us.
Brian takes my arm gently and leads me to the table where two other men sit. I wave at the table and one man smiles at me brightly. He is muscular and his facial features are that of a model. He may be the hottest guy I have ever seen. Besides Brian. The other man, older than the rest, with black hair and a raised eye brow, just stares at me in disbelief.
"Ben, Ted. This is Justin." Brian says, scooting in next to the older man.
I smile at them. The hot guy extends his hand and I shake it, admiring him even more.
"I'm Ben. Michael's husband. Nice to meet you." He holds my hand a little longer, like he knows things about me I don't want him to. But for some reason it doesn't bother me. Ben. The HIV positive one. Michael's husband. The perfect couple according to Brian. There is hope out there.
I slide in next to Brian in the booth and Michael sits back down next to Ben and Emmett.
"So Brian, why the sudden visit? Thought you'd never step foot back in Pittsburgh again?" Ted asks, turning back to his newspaper spread out in front of him.
"Family shit." Brian mutters. He pushes a menu toward me. "Eat."
I glare at him giving him the 'I don't need you to tell me what to do' look. He raises an eye brow with the 'really?' look. I cave and look at the menu.
"So Brian…is this your boyfriend?" Emmett asks giggling. Michael rolls his eyes and Ben just smiles.
"Honeycutt, shut up." Brian mumbles. This is a lot for him. I can tell.
"Well do you normally bring young men back to your hometown with you?" Ted teases.
I feel my cheeks growing red.
"Justin is staying with me." Brian admits. I GAPE at him. Wow.
Michael and Ben don't seem surprised. I figure they already knew that information. But Emmett and Ted, they are different stories.
"So he IS your boyfriend??" Emmett squeals. Ow. That hurt my ears.
Brian shrugs next to me and points to the bacon cheeseburger on the menu. I nod.
I hear a LOUD happy scream from across the diner and a red haired woman comes RUSHING toward the table. Brian groans and sighs heavily.
"BRIAN! I had NO idea you were in town!!!!" She leans over the table, and me, and grabs Brian's face and KISSES him square on the mouth. Brian just chuckles.
"Hey Deb." He wipes his mouth and Deb stands up, clapping her hands together.
"You look great!" She exclaims, and then her eyes fall on me.
"You're new." She smiles at me and I return the sentiment.
"I'm Justin." I put my hand out but she smacks it away playfully and grabs my face too, placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Any friend of Brian's is a friend of mine." She smacks her gum and takes out her pad. "So what will it be?"
"Um. Bacon cheeseburger. Fries and a coke." I look at Brian and he gives me a smile of approval.
"Good choice." Deb says and looks at Brian. "You gonna eat?"
"Turkey on wheat. No mayo. And a coffee." Brian gives Deb a wink.
"Some things never change." She walks away, picking up some dishes from a nearby table along the way.
"Don't mind my mother. She's a little…" Michael begins.
"Out there?" Emmett fills in.
"Insane?" Brian adds.
"She means well." Michael protests. I laugh and everyone at the table stares at me.
"So Justin, tell us about yourself." Ben is the one who finally breaks the ice between me and the table.
I bite my lower lip and shrug. "Not much to tell."
"Oh I think there is. Especially if you're with Brian. Brian doesn't just bring anyone home." Emmett giggles again and I look down at the table.
"Justin and I met in New York. To make a long story short, he's also from here. We decided to take the trip together." Brian tries to end the conversation there, but I know by the looks on everyone's faces, that won't be the end.
"I would think I would have seen an adorable face like yours before." Emmett leans across the table, examining me. I look away. I catch eyes with Ted and I can see the wheels turning.
"I know you from somewhere." Ted finally says.
"I've never even been on this street." I tell everyone. "I moved to New York right after high school."
"But I swear…" Ted begins but Brian quickly interjects.
"I doubt you would know him Theodore." Brian glares at Ted and he shuts his mouth quickly.
"Going to your Mom's after this, Brian?" Michael asks softly. Brian nods and they share an unspoken moment I am sure only they would understand. Brian explained to me a little on the plane ride here how he and Michael have known each other since junior high. That if anyone knows Brian its Michael. In a way it makes me so jealous I can barely think about it. But in another way it makes me happy that Brian has someone. I had Daphne. But I lost that a long time ago.
"How long they give her?" Ben asks; his eyes soft with concern.
Brian shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I'm just here for the financial support. Not emotional."
"Brian, it's your mother." Emmett tries to show he cares with words but by the look on Brian's face, he will have none of it.
"Yeah, she's mine and I will handle it the way I want to handle it." He slams his fork down on the table and we all jump a mile in our own skin. Everyone looks at me and I touch his hand gently.
"It's okay." I whisper to him. He whips his head to look at me, eyes black. I just stare at him silently telling him things like 'it's really going to be okay' and 'I'm here for you.'
Black slowly turns back to hazel and he gives me a tiny smile, nodding. We look back at the table to a sea of wide eyes. Guess they weren't expecting that moment between us. Neither was I honestly.
Deb brings our food and I eat and listen as everyone at table catches up. Apparently Michael owns a comic book store and Ben is a professor at Carnegie Melon. Ted is an accountant and Emmett does a party planning company. Ted has a live in boyfriend Blake, who is a substance abuse counselor. Emmett has no one serious, but I find out he did date the football player Drew Boyd for a while. They still seem to be on and off the way Emmett speaks about him.
Michael and Ben have an adopted son Hunter and Michael has a daughter through another member of the group Melanie. But they live in Canada now.
"Have you heard from Gus at all?" Michael asks cautiously.
Brian shakes his head. "I might go up there in February."
I look between Michael and Brian. "Who's Gus?"
The table falls abnormally silent.
"You didn't tell him?" Michael whispers loudly.
Brian narrows his eyes and turns to me, clearing his throat. "Gus is…my son."
I choke on my French fry and Brian quickly hands me my soda. "SON?" I yell.
Brian sighs. "Yes. I have a son with my friend Lindsay from college."
"Lindsay? The Lindsay that is married to Melanie?" I am so confused.
"Yeah."
I stare at my half eaten burger and feel the anxiety kick in full gear. I'm not sure why. Is it jealousy? Fear? I don't know.
"Hey." Brian pushes my hair out of my face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, just figured it was something we should talk about at a later date."
I push his hand off me. "No. It's something I should have known sooner."
"Why? What the hell does it change?" Brian pulls back to look in my eyes.
I shake my head. "Nothing. Forget it."
"Fine." He's tense now next to me and everyone is quiet and not sure what to say now.
Great. Now I look like a stupid drama queen.
"I'm gonna go see my mom." I stand up from the table and fish in my pocket for money. Brian grabs my hand and gives me a look. Oh right. He pays. Understood.
"It was nice meeting you all." I wrap my scarf around my neck. Everyone nods and waves as I button up my coat and head for the door. I feel Brian's hand on my arm and I turn around to look up into eyes that can end me where I stand.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Yeah." I lie. I look around. His eyes are just too much right now.
He lets go of my arm and steps back. "I'll see you later?"
I nod and walk out of the diner and out onto Liberty Ave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
The walk to my mothers is longer than I expected but I enjoy the time to myself. I pass old buildings and houses that I hadn't seen in over three years. I get feelings of sadness and guilt. Other times I want to run and hide and get the first bus back to New York. This isn't my home anymore. I round the corner on Main Street, wanting to walk by my old grammar school when I see it.
Taylor Electronics.
My father's store.
I start to hyperventilate and I clutch my chest. I can't believe it's still there. I can't believe he's still here. What is he still DOING here? I walk further down the street, my feet feeling like 100 pounds of cement. I have to do this right? If I don't…if I don't face whatever it is inside me that I haven't been facing, I may never heal. I may never be able to fully move forward. Even if it's not for Brian and I, it has to be for me.
I stand outside the store for a while, taking in the old familiar feeling it brings. I remember being here as a child. Running around the store after hours while my father finished paper work. I remember my dad putting cartoons on and sitting in the middle of the showroom as they played on 15 different TV's. I felt so small, but so powerful at the same time. I felt like I had my whole life ahead of me.
Sometimes my dad would bring me a snack and sit down next to me and watch Scooby Do with me. Scooby Do was my favorite. We would laugh and he would ruffle my hair.
Now I know why I enjoy Brian doing it so much.
I swallow hard and walk into the store, the bell on the door sealing my fate and introducing my presence in the store. A middle aged man in a white polo shirt with my father's stores name embroidered on the front, greets me at the door.
"Hello. Welcome to Taylor Electronics. How can I help you today?"
I bite my lower lip and look around the store frantic. "Does…Craig Taylor still work here?"
The salesman gives me an odd look and nods slowly. "He's in his office."
"Can…I see him?"
He cocks his head and stares at me. "May I tell him who is here to see him?"
I nod. "I'm…his son."
The man grows further with confusion. "Mr. Taylor only has a daughter. Not a son."
I feel vomit form in my throat. "No. I'm his son. Justin."
The man thinks for a minute. "No. Molly. That's his daughter. I've worked here over three years and I have never heard him mention you."
"I don't live here. I live in New York City." I explain.
The man looks toward my father's office door. "I think he is in a meeting."
"I can wait."
The man sighs. "Look, I'm not sure who you are, really but Mr. Taylor is a busy man…"
"It's fine Bob." His voice bellows through the store and into my gut like a sledgehammer. I see my father standing outside his office door, staring at me with a look of disgust. "I'll take care of this."
I walk slowly to my father, my heart about to beat out of my chest and my lunch about to end up on his shoes.
"Hi, Dad." I whisper.
His face hardens and his eyes grow cold. "Don't call me that. You are not my son. I no longer have a son."
Don't cry Justin. Don't let him see him knock you down.
"I came here so we can talk." I choke out.
His face remains hard and his eyes cold. "About what? About how you disgraced our family and tore me and your mother apart?"
I swallow. "No, about how and why I left."
"You left because of what you did." He spats back at me.
"What I DID?" I yell.
He grabs my arm and pulls me roughly into his office and closes the door. "Keep your voice down for Christ Sakes."
"I didn't do anything, Dad." I protest.
"Oh yes you did. Whatever happened that night you brought on yourself. You left because you couldn't handle the shame it brought on yourself."
Well, in a way he's right.
"Yes. I left because I couldn't bare to put the people around me in anymore pain."
He shakes his head. "You are some piece of work, Justin."
"Don't you even want to know where I have been?" I ask. My voice is starting to crack.
"No. I don't. It doesn't matter. You chose to leave instead of staying here and facing what you did." He sits down behind his desk and starts to sort through paperwork.
"I didn't do anything."
He slowly looks up at me. "You didn't? What do you call flaunting your lifestyle around in the faces of people who didn't want to see it doing?"
"You mean Chris Hobbs? Maybe you should ask Chris was he was doing at our house all those late nights back in High School!" I'm starting to yell and I don't care.
"Oh I know all about it. You were told to tutor that boy and all you did was try to seduce him every time he came over!" He stands, pointing his finger at me.
I laugh. "Oh so he didn't ENJOY or WANT me to suck his cock every night in my bedroom???"
My father leans across his desk and smacks me hard across my face. I stumble back and grab my cheek.
I shouldn't be surprised. This isn't the first time he has hit me.
"You're disgusting. You got everything that was coming to you. Now get the hell out of my store." He sits back down in his chair and lowers his head so he doesn't have to look at me.
"I didn't do anything wrong. Chris did. He tried to kill me."
My father doesn't even flinch.
"I've been fucked up for a long time because of that. I've done things I'm not proud of. But…I've found someone. Someone who cares about me. Who has made me realize nothing about what has happened to me is my fault." I explain even though I know he doesn't want to listen.
"Get out before I call the police." He growls, still not looking up at me.
"You don't matter to me anymore." I can feel the tears welling in my eyes but not out of sadness. "I'm not wasting my time on you anymore."
He sighs and looks up at me. "Get. Out."
I nod and walk to the door. "You can hit me and disown me all you want DAD but I'll still be your QUEER son." I slam his office door shut and walk across the showroom, my head held high for the first time in a long time. Confidence is new to me, but it feels so fucking good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hear the hotel room door open and I roll over to face the door. I see Brian dropping his wallet and keys on the counter before heading over to the doorway of the bedroom. Of course he had to get the nicest suite at the Hilton, but I wasn't complaining. This is the biggest bed I have ever been in.
"Hey." I say softly. He gives me a warm look and stands at the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing?" He asks, eye brow raised. I giggle and stretch out.
"Eating cashews and watching TV." I answer.
"Mmm. Naked?" He kneels down on the bed over me and runs his finger over my stomach. I shudder and I feel my cock come to life slightly.
"Bed's nice." I grab the back of his neck and pull him down into a deep kiss.
He slides his tongue into my mouth and I tug at the hair on the back of his neck. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and slowly breaks the kiss.
"You're in an awfully good mood." He whispers, sliding his hands down my body. "No more queening out?"
I shake my head. "I mean, you still should have told me, but…" I undo the first couple of buttons on his shirt. "…I saw my father today."
He stills and looks into my eyes. Then he sees it. The bruise on my cheek. He brushes his fingers over it.
"It's okay." I tell him.
His eyes narrow. "The bastard hit you?" He pushes himself off the bed and runs his hand through his hair. "Christ."
"Yeah, but Brian really I'm okay. I…"
"No! It's not okay!" He sits down on the bed next to me and examines the rest of my body. "What else did he do?"
I grab his face and make him look into my eyes. "Brian. Listen to me. I'm fine. I took control. He may have slapped me, but I don't care. I let him go."
His eyes remain hard but his body relaxes. "He shouldn't have hit you. No one should ever…"
And then the light at the end of tunnel flashes and everything about Brian automatically makes sense to me.
He was hit.
Probably a lot.
"How's your mother?" I ask running my fingers through his hair.
"She's on life support. They are pulling the plug tomorrow morning." He undoes the rest of the buttons on his shirt and I grab his hands.
"Brian."
"I don't care."
"You're lying. Don't lie to me." I help him get his shirt off.
"It doesn't matter. I'm just here to pay for the funeral and go back home." He throws his shirt on the floor and lays me down onto the bed.
"Brian. It's more than that."
He doesn't want to talk though. He wants to fuck and normally I would love to, but the only reason he wants to fuck right now is to forget. He licks my neck and oh god he's rolling his tongue and I…
"Did your father hit you?" I blurt out. Boy do I know how to ruin a moment.
He growls and rolls off me onto the bed. "I cannot believe you are doing this right now."
"I want to know."
He rolls his head and looks at me. "Why?"
"Because you know stuff about me. Really personal stuff I never wanted anyone to know." I roll to my side and face him.
"So you're telling me it's only fair?" He raises an eye brow and I smile.
"I want to know what makes Brian Kinney, Brian Kinney."
He sighs and rolls his lips into his mouth. "A lot of shit."
I move closer to him and wrap my arm around his waist, lazily. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."
He grins and kisses me softly. "Yeah. He did. He hit me."
I nod and wait.
"He was a drunk. And so is my mother. I usually…" He clears his throat. "I usually was trying to get him not to hit her or my sister."
I rub his arm while he talks. He can't look in my eyes. "They had a hateful marriage which in turn for a long time made me unable and unwilling to form long term committed relationships. But when I moved to New York and wasn't tied to them or this place anymore, I learned how to move on."
I smile because in a way, I tried to do the same thing. "And now?"
He looks back at me and brushes my hair from my forehead. "Now, I think it's not so scary."
"I'm terrified." I admit.
He gives me a tiny smile and pulls me closer to him. "I know."
"I want to go with you tomorrow."
He tenses. "Justin…"
I kiss his shoulder. "Please. Let me be there for you."
"Michael is taking off work."
I pull back and roll onto my back. "Oh. Okay."
He grabs my arm and rolls me back to him. "Stop being a jealous twat."
"I'm not." I lie.
"Justin, Michael has been my best friend for almost twenty years. He's…been through this with me. That's why he's going with me."
"And I want to go through this with you too!" My voice squeaks like a child's.
"You have enough of your own stuff to go through here. Things you need to deal with."
I shake my head. "You're what is important to me now."
His expression softens and he kisses me, slow and hot. I melt into his arms and I climb on top of his hard and perfect body. My dick is hard and awake against his leg.
"Where did you come from?" He whispers against my mouth.
I moan softly, because when he does that I just can't control myself.
"You found me." I nibble his bottom lip and he arches against me. I can feel his hard on through his jeans.
"Lucky for me." He attacks my mouth, sending my hormones into overdrive. I wrestle with his jeans to get them off because right now I could give a shit less about his mother, or my dad or anything else that has happened. Right now all I want is him inside me.
I throw his jeans halfway across the suite and bury my mouth over his cock. He groans and places his hands on my head, not expecting that. I love his cock. I love the feel of it jerking and throbbing in my mouth. I love the sounds I make pour out of him and then how I make his cum pour out of him with just my tongue and lips on him.
I work his cock, sucking and deep throating him. He's so beautiful. He's so perfect. I know it now. This is it for me. I don't want anyone else. He's the one. He grips my hair tightly and his breathing gets more raged and I know he's close. I pop his cock out of my mouth and look up at him.
His mouth is open, and eyes dark with lust. He stares at me, his tip pressed against my swollen lips. I'm leaking against the bed spread and I know it's now or never.
"What?" His chokes out. He wants to cum. Maybe this isn't the best time.
I slowly lick his tip, swirling his pre cum with my tongue. He moans and reaches for my face, getting half his thumb over my lip. He told me he loves my mouth. So I use it to my advantage.
I leave his thumb in my mouth and suck on it and the first few inches of his cock. I hum, causing vibrations to course through his nerve endings. He arches into my mouth and I pull away, teasing him.
"Christ, Justin." He practically whimpers, throwing his head back against the pillows.
"Look at me."
He slowly raises his head and looks down at me. I kiss his cock and it jerks against my lips.
He raises an eye brow in that sexy way where he thinks I'm trying to take control of this. Its okay, Brian. I know whose boss.
He cocks his head because he knows I am thinking. He knows I want to say something and he just can't figure it out.
I swallow hard, tasting his pre cum go down my throat. I take a deep breath and…
"I love you."
So we fucked. Actually no. We didn't. It was more like earth shattering, mind blowing, knee weakening sex that left me full of so many emotions I could barely take it. I fell asleep in his arms after 2 hours of being filled up by him in more ways than one. The sheets and comforter were pushed off the bed and when I awoke he wasn't in bed with me. I check the clock on the bedside table. 3:31AM. I slowly get out of bed, my body aching. I find him standing by the window, overlooking Pittsburgh. I can faintly see the red bud from the end of his cigarette in the dark.
I'm not sure if I should bother him but I too could use a cigarette right now. I walk up beside him, but don't say a word. Within seconds he hands me his cigarette and I take a long drag. I stare out at the lights and watch the snow fall lightly over the burg.
He's freaked. I can tell. He still had sex with me, but if there is one thing I know its love does NOT equal sex.
"Stop it." He mumbles.
I turn and look at him. "Stop what?"
"Stop over thinking it."
I hand his cigarette back. "Kinda hard to, don't you think?"
"Why?"
"Why? Because I just told you I loved you and you didn't say anything." I turn on my heel and walk toward our small kitchen in the suite. I grab a water out of the fridge.
"I'm not much for words, Justin. You should know that by now." He doesn't leave the window.
I know it was horrible of me to dump something like that on him, especially right now with everything he is going through. His mother is going to die in about 5 hours and here I am being selfish and whiny because he didn't tell me he loved me back. It's not like he had to. I don't expect him to love me. But…he could say something.
"I'm sorry." I mumble.
"Don't be."
I look at him and he is finally turned around, staring at me in the darkness.
"I just…I said it once. To someone else. A long time ago."
"Yeah?"
I nod; I doubt he can see me though. "Yeah. And he bashed my head in."
My voice cracks when I say it and I head back toward the bedroom because if I stand there any longer or if think about it I'll cry. I hadn't thought about that…about me telling Chris I loved him in a very long time.
I feel his arms come around me before I reach the bed and he places his palms flat on my bare chest. His breath is hot and wet on my neck.
"You're so brave." He kisses my neck and my knees go weak.
"Brian…" I whimper. He turns me around roughly and grabs my face.
"You are. You're so fucking brave. If that had happened to me…"
I shake my head. "You've been through a lot too."
He presses his forehead against mine. "I've never told anyone I loved them. Well Mikey, but that's different. I even have a hard time telling my own son I do."
I let out my breath. "You think it's dumb. That it's too soon. That I couldn't possibly…"
"Did I say that?"
"No. You didn't say anything." I pull away and sit on the edge of the bed.
"What do you want me to say?"
Good question.
I shrug. And he sits down next to me. He sighs.
"I care about you."
I snort. "Yeah."
"Jesus, Justin! What the fuck do you want? You're here right? In my bed. In my life." He gets up and starts to pace.
"I know. I know, you're right. I'm sorry. You have enough to deal with. I'm being selfish. I'm sorry."
He stops pacing and looks at me. "Don't be sorry. I wish I could be like that. So open. To know exactly what I want and to go for it."
I smile a little. "You make me like this. I was never like this before."
"No. You were." He walks to me and caresses the side of my face. I push into his hand. "You just said you told him…"
"Yeah. And look what happened." I can feel the tears forming in my eyes.
"I won't hurt you Justin. I mean…not like that. I can be mean and I can be distant, but…"
"No. I know. I know." I pull him toward me and back down onto the bed. We lie down, his arms going around me automatically. I lay my head on his shoulder, my normal place now and he strokes my head.
"Come with me to the hospital." He asks softly into the darkness.
I bury my face into his chest and kiss it lightly. I can feel my heart soar and goose bumps rise on my skin. I know in his own way…he's telling me the same thing I just told him. He isn't good with words. I know this. But actions mean more to him. And to me.
"Okay."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hold my cup of hospital coffee in my hands and wait in one of those uncomfortable hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. Michael stirs next to me. He can't sit still. I keep looking at him out of the corner of my eye, just to see…see Brian's life before I knew him. Michael's eyes meet mine and he gives me a tiny smile.
"Tell me about Brian." Michael asks softly.
I give him a confused look. "Huh?"
"Tell me about Brian. What's he like?" Michael's eyes are sad. I give him a tiny smile and bite my lower lip.
"Brian's…amazing." I tell him. "He's caring and considerate. He's gentle…but determined. Hard at times. He doesn't let me get away with anything. He wants the best for me."
Michael gets this goofy look on his face and I swear I see his eyes tear up. "That's Brian."
"But he's also…angry. I can see it just below the surface."
Michael turns to me and nods slowly. "What has he told you?"
"Not much."
Michael sighs. "He'd kill me if he knew I'm talking to you about this."
"I love him, Michael."
He doesn't look surprised. "Of course you do."
I groan because it's like no one believes me when I say it.
"No. No." Michael touches my arm. "I know you do."
"I want to know." I turn my body to him in the chair. We stare at each other for a long time. I tell him with my looks, my eyes, that this is it. I love Brian. I want to be with him. And I deserve to know.
"I met Brian when we were twelve." Michael begins. "I remember the first time I saw him. He was walking to school past my house and even at twelve I knew he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen." He smirks. "Until I met Ben."
I smile and he swallows. "I think the abuse had been going on way before I met him. Years and years I think now looking back. Brian's sister is the oldest. I think when Brian's mother got pregnant with him; his father didn't want her to have the baby. But she did anyway. And because of that, Mr. Kinney always resented Brian. He barely wanted Mrs. Kinney to have Claire."
"Brian told me his father hit him. A lot. And that most of the time it was to protect his mother and his sister." I tell Michael.
Michael nods. "Maybe at first, but as Brian got older, Mr. Kinney focused all his attention on Brian. He would come home drunk and Brian would breathe or blink the wrong way and Mr. Kinney would just…" Michael shakes his head and looks down. "He used to climb through my window in the middle of the night and sleep in my bed with me. Black eyes. Broken ribs. Once Brian even had his arm broken. He told my mom he fell off his bike. It didn't fool her. Or anyone."
"Why didn't anyone do anything??" I ask loudly.
Michael LOOKS at me. "Like what? His father worked for the union. His mother was a part of the church. The Kinney's were respected. My mother was a lowly waitress from the wrong side of the tracks with a gay son. You think ANYONE was gonna listen to her? And Brian would NEVER have told. Ever."
"But why???" This makes no sense to me. Why stay in a situation where you are abused….
Oh.
Wait.
I close my eyes. "Never mind."
Michael is quiet for a while. When I open my eyes, he's staring at me. "Brian told me…how you two met."
I look away, heat rising in my cheeks.
"Don't worry. I'm not…judging you. My foster son, Hunter. He did the same thing before we took him in. So…no judgment."
I nod but keep my eyes on the floor.
"I just want you to understand something. Brian…has come a long way. Him leaving here was the best thing he could have done. Yeah, I miss him. It hurts that he isn't here, but I let him go because I knew there was no other way for him heal. But he is still fragile. Really fragile. He hides it, but he is. And now…after all this is over, he's gonna need extra special care. I just worry that with what you're also going through that…"
"I love him. I'm going to be there for him." I interrupt.
"No. I know that. I believe you. But you both don't know what the future holds. I just…"
"Nothing matters but right now."
Michael's eyes widen. "What?"
"Brian told me when I was in the hospital but nothing matters but right now. We just need to get through each moment as it comes."
Michael's eyes soften. "That's what Ben says to me all the time."
"I know."
We both smile and we lean in and wrap our arms around each other. We hug, both of us knowing we share the same bond. We both love Brian. We both want the best for him. And as Michael squeezes my shoulders, I know Michael is letting go of Brian and "giving" him to me.
I hear footsteps coming toward us and we pull apart just in time to see Brian come to stand in front of us. We look up into his stone cold face. His eyes are distant. His face…expressionless.
"It's done. She's dead."
The next few hours are a blur. Michael tries to hug Brian, but he wouldn't let him. We offer him food, he doesn't want anything. We listen to him arguing with his hysterical crying sister down the hallway and he finally makes some calls on his cell, and hands Claire a check.
After that Brian didn't say another word.
All the way back to the hotel and now two hours sitting here in silence. I tried to watch some TV and even tried to sketch. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything except stare at Brian as he sits in front of the large window chain smoking. I haven't tried to talk to him or touch him. He won't even look at me.
Michael wasn't kidding when he said he'd be fragile.
I finally clear my throat. "You um want anything?"
He shakes his head and lights another cigarette.
"Maybe you should eat something."
"Not hungry." He mumbles.
"Brian…"
"I SAID I'M FINE! FUCK!"
I jump and close my eyes. I stand up and reach for my sweat shirt. "I'm gonna go for a walk."
He doesn't even answer me.
I don't slam the door when I leave. No reason to queen out. His mother just died. If he didn't want me to be there for him, I would give him his space. I need some air anyway. Being in that hospital all morning gave me the creeps and I was still processing everything Michael had told me.
I mean, it made sense. Even as understanding and caring as Brian was, I could still feel the distance he put between us. That distant look in his eyes. That fear that escapes when we get too close. Like last night. When we were having sex it got the point where I felt like I was losing myself. It got so intense I was shaking. And so was he. He just stilled inside me, his cock throbbing in my ass, his lips on my ear, hands in my hair. I wrapped my legs around him, trying to get as close to him as possible. It wasn't enough. It's never enough.
But then suddenly like a switch, he started to pound me. Fucking me hard and fast until we both came in loud groans and white knuckles on skin. When it was over he looked terrified. He had felt it. Felt how that fucking was starting to mean more, become more than either of us had expected.
I round the corner on Sixth Street and walk past a construction site. Orange cones and fences line the side walk so I walk around them and some workers. There is a large pile of debris and I practically have to jump over it, knocking into a worker as I do. I stumble into him, grabbing at his arms. I feel almost dizzy for a minute. I right myself up and look up into the poor man I slammed into.
"Sorry. I didn't see the…" I stop dead in my words and my blood runs cold. I swear for a moment my heart stops.
Chris.
His eyes narrow down at me. "Taylor?"
I jump back a mile from him, my back hitting a wire fence. I fold my fingers through the holes in the fence and feel my knees begin to shake. Panic rises inside me, and I seem to lose all my motor skills. My hearing goes to, like I am in a tunnel or water, slowly drowning.
"What the hell are you doing here? Looking for a job?" He snickers. "Well we don't have the kind you LIKE." He steps toward me and I turn my face away.
"Where the fuck have you been? Heard you ran away." He snarls in my face.
I don't answer. I feel my knees start to give and I know at any minute I am going to collapse onto the sidewalk. He wouldn't do anything to me here, right? In front of all these people.
He grabs the front of my shirt, dragging me up onto my feet again.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance, you faggot." He smells like metal. I remember that smell. It smells like blood.
"So tell me, where were you? Out sucking dicks for a living?" He grabs my throat and I try to scream but he just squeezes harder.
Suddenly he lets go of my neck and before I can blink he is on the ground, a hand wrapped around his own neck. Broad shoulders and strong arms and legs pin Chris down to the ground and I hear growling of an animalistic manner.
I slide down onto the sidewalk, clutching my now swollen neck. I can't even comprehend what is going on in front of me. My heart races, my limbs go numb and I'm breathing so hard and fast I'm getting lightheaded. I hear a loud crack before I pass out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I wake up, I'm sitting up on a bench and looking into hazel eyes. I feel lips on mine, but I'm too weak to even kiss back. His arms go around me and he runs his fingers through the back of my hair.
"Brian…" I whisper.
"You okay?" He mumbles into my shoulder. I find the strength somehow to nod.
"What happened?" I ask slowly, swallowing.
"I think you had a panic attack." He explains, pulling back and holding my face in his hands.
"Chris…"I lean against him, letting Brian hold me up.
"Don't worry about him. I took care of it." He brings me to my feet and helps me walk a few steps.
"No! What did you do? He…" I clutch his arm and stumble a little. Fuck. Why am I so tired?
"I said don't worry about it." I must not have walked too far from the hotel because before I know it we are walking back through the huge doors of the Hilton.
He gets me upstairs and undresses me slowly. He kisses me once in a while, as each piece of clothing falls to the floor. He lies me down on top of the bed spread and his eyes are glassy. Is he…crying?
I reach up, using all my energy to touch his face.
"I went looking for you. What if I hadn't…" He begins.
"But you did." I whisper.
"What were you doing?" I hear the anger in his voice. But mostly its fear.
"Just went for a walk." I explain. "I had no idea…"
He shakes his head and buries his face in my neck. "Stupid twat."
"I'm sorry."
He looks down into my eyes. "For what?"
"This. Everything. I feel like you're always saving me." My eyes are tired. I can barely keep them open.
"Justin…" He wraps his arms around me and fits my head on his shoulder. This is my safe place.
"Hmm?" MY eyes slide shut as I listen to his heart beating.
"You've saved me too."
The snow is coming down so heavy that the once dark cherry wood coffin is now layered in a sheet of white powder. All I can see for what seems like miles is white. White snow. White trees. White land. White faces with some rose red cheeks from either sadness or cold.
I didn't belong here. I didn't want to come. But Michael insisted. Not even Brian. Brian didn't say a word. I didn't ask to go. But when Michael showed up this morning to pick Brian up for the funeral, Michael insisted I get up and get dressed. Brian didn't even look at me as I borrowed one of his button down shirts. I wore my black jeans because I don't have any dress pants but I did have boots at least. Michael drove us past his house to get me one of his nicer winter jackets. My green and yellow puffy one was not going to cut it.
Claire's wails fill the winter sky and our ears as the pastor speaks. Brian stands stone faced next to Michael and who I assume is Lindsay. Tall, blonde haired pulled back in clip, neat and tidy. Beautiful black dress and hooker boots which still look elegant on her. She and Michael hold each of Brian's hand and he looks so uncomfortable I feel like he is going to spontaneously combust at any moment.
A little boy stands in front of Brian and Lindsay, arm wrapped around Lindsay's long leg. A shorter dark haired woman is positioned perfectly next to her, wiping a tear every once in a while from her eye. Melanie I suppose.
The little boy with big hazel eyes and a missing front tooth; is the spitting image of Brian. The olive skin, the dark hair. He looks up at his father every now and then and when Lindsay lets go of Brian's hand for a moment to take out her tissues, the boy grabs a hold of his father's hand. Brian looks down at him, eyes widening.
"It's okay, Daddy. Don't be sad." Gus whispers to his father. I lower my head and think how innocent this boy is. How trusting. How loving. It saddens my heart, making me almost want to cry thinking that he won't stay that way forever. Wondering god knows what is going to happen to him in his life that could make him lose that trust and innocence.
Brian kneels down and picks his son up in his arms. Lindsay cries harder and Michael rubs Brian's shoulder. I feel like an outsider. I'm not apart of this tight knit circle. That that I expect to be, but I know I don't belong here. Emmett leans in next to me.
"How you holding up, Baby?" He asks. I nod and give him a tiny smile. He rubs my arm through Michael's coat and I try and count the snow flakes as they land on Brian's mother's coffin. I wonder what kind of woman she was like. I mean Brian and Michael had told me some stuff. Bad stuff. But there is a reason behind everything. She didn't just wake up that person. Who knew what things she had been through in her life to make her the way she was. Or even Brian's father. Even though deep down, I imagine Brian's father as just an old fashioned prick.
Look at my father. He used to love me so much as a child. But when it comes to beliefs and personal morals, even your own flesh and blood don't stand a chance.
When the service is over, Claire lays her rose on her mother's grave and Brian hands his son his rose so he can do it. He throws it on there and hurries back to his parent's side.
This is a Brian I don't know yet. The father.
I am one of the first to walk away as the crowd filters off. I lean against Michael's car and light a cigarette. I love the snow. It feels so fresh and clean. And when it melts it's like a new beginning. Like what's underneath has a chance to flourish again.
"I'm not sure we have met yet." Lindsay's soft spoken voice hurls me out of my thoughts. Her smile seems forced on her lips but she holds her hand out for me. "I'm Lindsay Peterson."
"Justin Taylor." I shake her hand and take another drag of my cigarette.
"Friend of Brian's?" She asks innocently. But I can hear the tension in her voice.
"Boyfriend." I correct her. I don't care. At this point, who does it hurt?
Her eyes widen slightly. "He didn't mention you to me."
"He told Michael." I know it's a low blow. But I'm not in the mood to be social right now.
"Hi, I'm Melanie." The dark haired woman interrupts us and her smile soothes me in a weird way.
I shake her hand. "Justin."
"So you're Brian's boyfriend…" Melanie sizes me up and I laugh at her.
"Yeah."
"How did you know?" Lindsay asks her.
"Well it's obvious. Why the hell else would he be here? Think Brian just picks up random guys on the street? Well…" Melanie laughs. "He used to." She eyes me. "But I guess not since he met you."
And that gets me thinking. Is he with anyone else? I mean we never discussed monogamy. I never asked if he was fucking anyone else. I mean, I'm not but that's just because I'm not hustling anymore.
I shrug at Melanie and Michael comes up behind her. "Brian doesn't want to go back to Claire's so I guess we can all go to Ma's. Plus I want to see my daughter."
Melanie nods and turns to Lindsay. "Where's Gus?"
"Still with Brian." Michael answers. We look out back at the grave site to find Brian standing hand in hand alone with Gus looking down at the coffin. They are talking quietly.
"This is Gus's first death." Melanie says.
"Brian seems like a good father." I tell her.
"Now. He wasn't always." Melanie answers with a tinge of bitterness.
"Mel." Lindsay scolds.
"What? It's true. But all that matters now is that he's doing better. He's trying."
Michael clears his throat. "Justin, you coming with me and Ben?"
"Yeah. Sure." Ben moves beside Michael and opens my car door for me. So considerate.
We all wait in the car, none of us speaking as we wait for Brian to come back. We watch as Gus goes with Lindsay and Melanie and Brian slides in the back seat next to me. I don't even look at him and as soon as the car door closes he just leans his head against the window. I want to reach out to him, hold his hand, anything. But I don't.
The ride to Deb's house is full of nothing. I don't think anyone knows what to say. If there is anything at all to say?
We all pile into Deb's small house and again I fee like an outsider. Everyone seems to have their own place here. Ted sits down on the couch next to Michael and Ben. Emmett takes the chair closest to the window. Mel and Linds sit together, Mel in the other chair, Linds on her lap. And Gus quickly scrambles to sit in front of the coffee table, picking up a pen and starting to draw on the front of a magazine. A kid after my own heart. I used to do the same thing when I was young. My parents used to yell at me because I always ruined all the new magazines that came in the mail.
When Deb sees me she hurries me into the kitchen to make me help her with the food. I happily oblige, needing to be doing something other than watching Brian be whatever it is he's being.
Deb and I talk quietly in the kitchen and I find it easy to open up to her. I talk about my father and what happened when I went and saw her. She tells me finally after I unfold the story about my parents to her that she knows who I am.
"What?" I ask.
"You're the boy who got attacked at his prom, aren't you?" Her voice is soft but I still feel uneasy all of a sudden.
"Yeah."
"Thought so. Leave it to be Brian to find you."
"Huh?" I arrange some olives on a plate.
"Well you know, just find it funny that he found you again in New York."
"Wait. What? Again?" I turn to her, putting the car down hard on the counter.
Her eyes widen. "Oh fuck. You…he didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what? What the hell are you TALKING about?"
"What's going on?" Michael walks into the kitchen, a confused look on his face. His mother swiftly walks to him and hits him upside his head.
"OW! What the fuck was that FOR!?" He screams, rubbing his head. That gets the attention of everyone in the living room as all their heads turn to peer in at the commotion in the kitchen.
"Why didn't you tell me Justin didn't know?" Deb hisses.
"Wait. What? You don't?" Michael's eyes widen.
"What the HELL IS EVERYONE TALKING ABOUT??" I scream. That was the final straw and now we have Emmett, Ted, Linds and Mel all piled into the doorway of the kitchen watching the show in the kitchen.
"He was there. He was the one who called 911." Michael explains.
"What…are you talking about? When? Where?" I'm starting to shake. What is he talking about?
"The night of your prom." Deb whispers.
"No. My friend Daphne found me. She called 911. She testified." I explain.
"Honey." Debbie touches my arm and I pull away. "She was there, you're right. But she only came in after she heard a man screaming. Brian was the one who found you in the parking garage."
I shake my head and back away. "No. That's impossible."
"Brian was there for a huge corporate meeting with his company. He was in the parking garage cause he was going out to get cigarettes. He saw the whole thing happen." Michael moves closer to me and I put my arm out.
"He went after Chris but it was too late. He was already gone. He's the one who called 911." Michael continues.
I look around at the other faces in the room. Everyone is nodding. How …they all know?
"Why didn't anyone TELL ME? My mother never said there was someone else…" I grab at my hair. None of this makes sense.
"Because Brian never even met your mother. His name was never released to the papers. He didn't ride in the ambulance with you. He did keep in contact with the hospital to find out if you were okay. But after that, nothing."
"So he knew who I was all along. And never said anything to me?" I begin to cry and Deb reaches for me. "NO. DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
"He didn't want to bring it up; especially since it seemed to be something you weren't over." Deb tells me softly.
"OF COURSE I'M NOT OVER IT. How do you just GET OVER something like that?" I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. "That's why he's with me. He feels sorry for me. He feels guilty. He doesn't even really want me!"
"No baby. That's not true." Emmett steps into the kitchen more. I cringe against the counter.
"Yes it is! Why would he??" I yell.
"Because I love you."
Brian stands in the door way of the back door, coat and hair covered in snow. His eyes are defeated and his shoulders slumped. He's tired.
All eyes are widened in the kitchen and I swear I even heard someone gasp.
"You should have told me!" I yell at him. I know I should be more excited at the fact that he just told me he loved me, but I feel lied to. Tricked. This changed almost everything.
Why I don't know yet.
"I know." He steps into the kitchen and over to me. "But you would have thought exactly what you think right now. That I wasn't with you or helping you for you. That I was doing it because of what happened. And that's not true."
I look away. "I never knew."
"I won't lie. At first getting to know you and being with you was because of who you were. When I realized it was you…I just wanted to know…"
"What kind of person gets their head bashed in?" I interrupt.
"No. The kind of person who lives through something like that."
I raise my eyes to his. Everyone is watching us, but I don't care.
"You're stronger than you think, Justin. You're capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for."
"You make me strong." I tell him. He gives me a tiny smile.
"You too." He brushes my hair off my forehead and leans down and kisses it. I close my eyes and melt into him.
I hear a bunch of "awwwws" coming from the group and I giggle before pulling back.
"Okay, Okay. Show's over." Brian wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me toward the living room. "Let's celebrate. My mother is finally dead."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the end of the night, Gus and I were best friends. We colored together on the coffee table and I watched as he showed Brian how to draw a bunny. Brian and mine's eyes kept catching over Gus's head and I could see in his eyes we still had so much more to talk about. So much more to get through. But he loved me. And for the first time in my life I truly believe that love might be able to conquer all.
After Brian and I both tucked Gus into Michael's old bed and said our goodnights to Mel and Linds who were staying over night with Deb, we went outside to have a cigarette. We found Michael and Ben all cozy on the front porch swing, watching the snow fall.
"Should have known you Stepford fags would be out here." Brian joked lighting his cigarette. He hands it to me and lights another for himself.
"Peaceful out here." Ben tells him. Brian nods and sits down next to his best friend.
Michael bumps his shoulder and Brian smile at him. "How you holding up?"
Brian shrugs. "Not sure how I'm supposed to feel I guess."
"You should feel however you want to feel." Ben chimes in. I stay quiet, just observing Brian with other people.
Brian thinks about that statement for a while, smoking in silence and looking out onto the white covered street.
"I think I feel…relieved."
Ben nods. "For you, that seems like a normal feeling to have."
Michael wraps his arm around Brian's shoulder. "Are you ever moving back?"
Brian laughs. "Mikey, who the fuck knows."
I stand on the front stair and look out into the streetlamps that line the sidewalk. The lights make the snowflakes sparkle and I will say again that winter is my favorite season. Cause after winter, spring starts. New beginning. The winter washes all the bad away.
"Justin." I hear Brian's voice and I turn to look at him. He waves me over and I join him. He pulls me down onto his lap and wraps his arms around my waist.
"What if we did move back?" He asks softly.
I tense and he automatically starts to rub my back.
"I…don't know."
"I know it's a lot. But you wouldn't be alone. And you'd be here with your mother." Brian strokes the back of my head.
"And my father. And Chris. What if…"
"He won't. I promise. I think in a way coming back would be a fresh start for us. Leave New York and all it represented behind." He looks into my eyes and my body tingles.
"Okay." I whisper.
Michael makes a happy noise from the back of his throat and Ben smiles at us as Brian kisses me hard on the mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck and the kiss deepens, causing my internal temperature to rise at least twenty degrees.
"Oh god. Get a room." Michael teases. We pull apart, breathless and now achingly hard.
"Good idea, Mikey." Brian raises an eye brow. "Back to the hotel?"
I nod and hop off his lap. We say our goodbyes to Michael and Ben and head back to the hotel. Brian drives slow cause of the snow even though the roads are pretty much abandoned.
"You were great today." He tells me as he rounds a corner.
I snort. "Right. Except for my stunning performance in the kitchen this afternoon."
"No. You handled that a lot better than I thought you would." He eyes me out of the corner of his eye. I shut off the radio.
"You still should have told me."
He brings his lips into his mouth and nods. "I know. I'm honestly not sure why I didn't. I mean at first I know why. I didn't want to freak you out even more than I knew you probably already were. But then when things got…more serious, I guess it just didn't seem to matter to me anymore that that's who you were. Because to me, that's not who you are."
"Then who am I?"
He stops at a red light and turns his whole body to look at me. "Justin Taylor."
"I'm still trying to figure out who that is." I bite my lower lip and shrug.
Brian just crinkles his nose and starts to drive again when the light turns green. "I don't think we ever really know who we are."
"Maybe not."
We're quiet the rest of the way and he holds my hand as we ride in the elevator up to the room. We get undressed slowly, just savoring the warmth of the room and the familiarity of it, even though this isn't our home. But it's our hotel. A place we have shared moments in. Made love in. It's not much, but it's ours. We climb into bed and I wonder how soon it will be before he is inside me.
I yawn and he wraps his arms around me as I pull up the blankets.
"So you're sure?" He asks. I yawn again and nod.
"I might be able to get my old place back." He says into the air. "You'd like it. It's like my place in New York, only better."
"Doesn't matter." I mumble, burying my face into his neck. "Home is wherever you are."
He sighs and kisses my head. "Then maybe Pittsburgh was home all along."
My eyes open and I think long and hard about that statement. I never believed in fate before. It's bullshit. It's just something made up by romantic heterosexuals. But…how could this between me and Brian be anything but?
"I think we make our own fate." I tell him.
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Like it only takes us so far. The situation is presented to us, but we always have a choice. The rest is up to us."
He runs his fingers down my arm, causing goose bumps to form on my skin.
"Maybe you're right."
He's asleep before me. I listen to his steady breathing and heart beat as I think about the past few months. How if I had never been in that coffee shop, I never would have met Brian. But then again…maybe he would have found me one way or another. Whatever is meant to be would be right?
I smile at the thought and decide not to over analyze it. Cause no matter what, Brian and I are still living in the now.
My mother hugs me tightly and I try to pull away with no prevail.
"Mom you're choking me." I gasp.
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just…I'm gonna miss you so much!" She wraps her arms around me again and I hear Brian chuckle next to me.
"Mom." I finally break free of her grasp. "We're moving back."
Her wet eyes widen. "You are?? But…why?" She looks at Brian.
"I miss it here." Brian tells my mother. "And I think its best for Justin to be close to you."
Her expression softens. "Thank you, Brian."
He nods.
I take a deep breath. "Mom. Do you remember the police telling you about the man who found me the night of the prom? The man who called 911?"
My mother looks at me, cocking her head. "Yes, but the police said they couldn't find him. He never left his name with them."
I look at Brian and he looks…nervous. Almost scared.
"Mom, it was Brian."
My mother sticks her neck out, the oddest expression on her face. She then slowly turns her head to look at Brian. "You…"
Brian nods, bringing his lips into his mouth.
"Why didn't you…" She swallows. "I wanted to thank you. If it wasn't for you…"
Brian puts his hand up. "You don't need to thank me. He was hurt. I helped him. It's what human beings do."
"And now? I mean…did you know…"
"When I saw him in the coffee shop I had an idea it was him. But at first when I saw him it was just like a really bad case of déjà vu, but as I started talking to him and getting to know him, I knew. And once he told me his name…"
"Why are you with my son, Brian? Is this just…pity? Guilt?"
"What would I have to be guilty for? I didn't do anything. And he didn't die. And this isn't pity. I admit perhaps at first…I may have paid extra attention to him because of who he was, but it's not like that now. I'm with him because I want to be." Brian looks into my mother's eyes and I pray she sees the man I do standing in front of her.
"I want to be with Brian, Mom. It's all I want." I tell her.
Tears stream down her face. She wipes them away quickly. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Justin."
"I am Mom." I hug her, burying my head into her shoulder. She smells the same. It brings me back to memories of my childhood when I hugged her after a bad dream. The bad dream is over now.
"Then I'm happy for you." She whispers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ah, home sweet home." Brian drops his bag down onto the floor next to the door and I follow close behind.
"Feels weird being back." I tell him.
He checks the machine and unwraps his scarf. "I know what you mean. Almost feels like we really don't live here."
I wrap my arms around him and unbutton his jacket. "We won't much longer."
"Mmm. I'm gonna call a realtor tomorrow. See about a place."
"What about your job?" I ask him.
He shrugs. "Vanguard will hire me back. And while I'm working there, I'm gonna see about starting my own business."
I beam. "REALLY?" I giggle and get up on my toes to kiss him. He laughs and ruffles my hair.
"And YOU are going to go to school." He tells me, eyes focused.
"What?"
"You heard me. What did you think you were gonna sit around on your ass all day?" He smacks my ass and heads toward the kitchen.
"Well, no. But I was gonna get a job." I follow him, a confused look on my face.
"You could, but what are you going to do? Work at the diner as a busboy? No fucking way. You're gonna go to art school." He takes out a beer and sips it.
"What? How the hell do you expect me to do that?" I gape at him.
"Um, apply?" He asks confused.
"And what if I get in!"
"YOU GO!" He throws his arms up. "Why is this so hard?"
"Money, Brian! How am I going to PAY?"
He gives the WEIRDEST look, eyes squinted, mouth half open, nose scrunched. "Justin, are you really that dumb?"
I just stare at him. He walks to me, setting his beer down on the counter. He pulls me into his arms. "We're together, right?"
I nod.
"Then what's mine is yours."
"Really?"
"Of course. So if you get into an art school there is no way I'm going to let you pass that up. You're going to go."
I feel my eyes brim with tears. This cant be real.
"I love how you'd do anything for me." I whisper.
"I'm making an investment. In a few years when you're a famous artist you can buy me a Ferrari."
I raise an eye brow at him. "Here's a dividend." I drop to my knees instantly and pop the first button on his jeans. He immediately makes a pleased sound from his throat and I nuzzle his stomach through his shirt while I slowly undo the rest of the buttons. He lifts his shirt up and over his head and my mouth attacks to his skin just under his belly button as his jeans and underwear are pulled down in one fluid motion. I can already smell his need, his cock half hard.
I lick around his navel, knowing what a sensitive spot that is for him. On cue, he moans softly, grabbing the back of my head gently. I continue to kiss his stomach, slowly going lower to nuzzle my nose in the soft hair above his dick. His cock hit my chin and he moves his hips, causing his now full hard on to slap against my cheek. Fuck. I moan and he chuckles softly. I pull back letting his tip rest against my lips. His dick jerks and a drip of pre cum oozes out onto my bottom lip.
I lick it off, moaning at the taste of him. I can never get enough. I never knew I could want one person this much. I could make this last hours, just savoring him, worshipping him like the god he is. But I can tell by the look in his eyes that is not what he wants right now. It's been almost 24 hours since he's cum and I know the idea of me sucking him off right here on my knees in the middle of his kitchen is driving him near his end already.
So I waste no time. I put his whole cock into my mouth and down my throat. He groans loudly and lets his hands fall at his waist. He wants me to the work. Another lesson. Do the work and get a reward. Yes, Mr. Kinney.
I run my tongue along the underside of his dick and hollow my cheeks as I bob my head up and down. I keep my hands at my own sides, showing him I don't need leverage. I don't need him to guide my head or to hold his hips as I suck him off. I know how to do this. I know how to achieve the things I want. Sometimes you need to go head first, no pun intended, and just go for it.
So I suck and lick until my mouth practically goes numb. I gag on his cock as he rocks his hips, fucking my mouth slowly. He leans against the counter for support and that's how I know I'm doing a good job. He can barely hold himself up. He's lasting a hell of a lot longer than I expected, but I don't care. I want this. I want to feel his cock throb and jerk in my mouth. I want the smell of his pubic hair in my nose. I know I'm a slut, but I now know I'm a slut for him. I was never a slut for all those men. Sometimes people just need to do what they need to do to get by. Am I ashamed? Of course. Do I regret it? In some ways, yes. But it kept me alive. And even though I know I could have gone home at anytime, I needed to do it on my own terms when I was ready.
And I'm ready now. With Brian by my side, I now know a little better who I am. And with that knowledge I can begin to move on and heal from what I have been through. I know I deserve happiness now. I'm going to be the best person I can possibly be. And I'm going to do it with Brian.
I deep throat him one last time and he explodes, finally gripping my hair tightly, down my throat. I swallow every drop, making sure to keep my mouth wrapped around his dick to get everything he has to offer me. I sit back on my heels when he is done and look up at him. He just smiles and shakes his head.
"Where the hell did you come from?" He asks. He's asked me this before. I just laugh.
"Pittsburgh." I answer.
He drops the last box on the floor of the loft and sits on top of it. Brian wanted to hire movers. I told him we could carry a few boxes up the stairs ourselves. Well, twenty five boxes later, even me at my young age of twenty one, I'm exhausted.
I flop onto the white Italian leather sofa and groan loudly.
"Thank god we didn't decide to do this in the summer."
"I still say we should have hired movers." Brian flops down next to me. I glare at him.
"You don't have to use your money for everything."
He snorts. "Of course I do."
I sigh heavily and look around. "So you used to live here before?"
"Yup." He smiles. "Good times here."
I frown and look down at my hands. "I bet."
He pulls me close to him and wraps his arms around me. "I wanted to move back here so you could see the past. And together, we'll make the present."
"Live in the now." I say.
"That's right."
We sit there, me resting against his body, his fingers tracing up and down my side through my t-shirt, both of us deep in thought. Sometimes I wonder what goes through his mind when he's quiet like this. Is he thinking about his past fucks here? Is he thinking about times with Michael? Maybe his parents? Or for all I know he could be thinking about what he wants to eat for dinner. I doubt I will ever know and that's okay.
"I figure in a year I will have enough start up capital to open my own advertising company." He finally says.
I look up at him. "Yeah?"
He nods. "And my art department is going to need a graphic artist."
I narrow my eyes and smirk. "Is that so?"
"Mmm. Yeah. Know anyone?"
"You don't owe me anything. And I'm not even sure I'll BE a graphic artist in a year." I settle back in on his chest when he gently pushes me off him and fishes in his back pocket. He pulls out an envelope.
"This came for you."
He hands it to me and I stare at the name on the front of the envelope.
PIFA. Pittsburgh institute of fine art.
"When?"
"Yesterday, before we left. I wanted to wait to give it to you for when we got here."
I take it out of his hand and slowly turn it over and over again.
"Well, open it." He sits up.
"I can't…" I hand it to him. "You open it."
"Justin. Open the envelope. Stop being a princess."
"I'm not! This is a huge deal. What if I don't get in?"
He sighs and pushes the envelope back to me. "Then we deal with it when the time comes. But we won't know until you open the fucking envelope!"
I bite my lower lip and slowly rip it open. I read slowly.
"Dear Mr. Taylor,
Thank you for your interest in attending Pittsburgh institute of Fine Art. We are happy to inform you your application for admittance has been accepted. You will be receiving further paperwork for enrollment for the fall semester soon.
Thank you,
Dean Worthington."
I look up at him and he smiles. "SEE?"
"Oh my god!" I throw myself on top of him so hard we hit the couch and roll off, slamming onto the floor.
"CHRIST! OW!" Brian yells but we are both laughing. He rolls so he is on top of me and runs his hand through my hair. "And you were all worried."
I giggle and reach up to kiss him. Our lips dance for a few minutes before he breaks the kiss.
"This calls for a celebration." He jumps off me and to his feet, pulling me up with him.
"It does?" I ask.
He opens one of his suitcases and throws out a pair of dark jeans and a black button down shirt. "Find some hot clothes. We're going to Babylon."
"What! No. Brian…"
He turns and yanks me to him. "Listen to me. I want to show you off and we have something to celebrate. So put on some hot clothes and let's go." He growls, licking my bottom lip and grinding against my crotch. "Plus, I know you can dance. I know how you fuck."
I blush and reach for my large suitcase and begin to rummage through it for the Gucci jeans he bought me right before we left New York. When I pull them out along with a long sleeved red shirt he moans in approval. "Good boy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Babylon is everything I imagined it would be and more. The music pumps through my body the moment I step foot into the club. I didn't even have to show the bouncer my ID. He remembered Brian, giving him a firm handshake and a 'welcome back'. The bouncer just smiled at me when he saw me with Brian.
Inside, sweaty shirtless men almost immediately rub up against me as I follow Brian through the sea of men on the dance floor toward the bar. 6 months ago, I wouldn't have been able to do this. But now, it doesn't bother me. Now, I have enough confidence and stability that the fact that these men are doing this is almost flattering. Brian gets a few reaches and caresses before he makes it to the bar, but he barley notices. He keeps looking back over his shoulder to make sure I am there. I smile at him to reassure him I am alright.
We reach the bar and find the gang waiting for us.
"You made it!" Michael exclaims, engulfing Brian in a huge hug.
"We're celebrating." Brian yells over the music.
"Yeah? The big move back to the Pitts?" Ted asks.
"Nope." Brian turns to me. "Tell them."
"Tell us what?" Emmett sips a pink drink and I shake my head.
"It's no big deal."
"Shut up and tell them." Brian gives me a 'you're so cute when you're dumb look.'
I sigh. "I got into art school."
An eruption of squeals and 'yes's!' filter through our little group and the first one to hug me is Ben. I wrap my arms around his huge muscular body and he whispers into my ear.
"You made it."
I nod and pull back and look up at him. "Thanks."
He gives me a confident smirk and Brian pulls me back against him. "Hands off the merchandise."
Ben puts his hands up in surrender and Michael moves closer to him. No worries Michael, I have who I want.
"Let's dance." Brian whispers in my ear and pulls me out onto the dance floor.
I'm not even sure I know how to dance. I barely got to dance at my own prom. But as soon as Brian puts one hand on my hip and pulls me as close as he possible can to him and I feel the music coarse through my body, I know exactly how to dance. Brian was right. If I know how to fuck, I know how to dance. I move my hips against Brian's, shaking my ass the right way. I press my chest against his, but bend back, gripping his chest to make sure I don't go all the way down. He rests his hands on both my hips, keeping my crotch against his as I sway and move seductively against him.
He leans down, licking up my neck and to my ear. "Every guy has their eye on you tonight."
I shake my head. "No way. It's you they are looking at."
"Maybe it's us."
I smile at him and wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses me, keeping our rhythm the same as the music changes.
Emmett dances next to us, arms in the air, twirling around without a care in the world.
"Feel that?" He yells over the music.
"What?"
"The thumpa thumpa! The gay beat inside our hearts!" He giggles and twirls again, as glitter starts to flow down from the heavens. I laugh and raise my own arms, mimicking Emmett's dance moves. This is what it feels like. To be gay and free and proud. To not be ashamed of whom I am. To not have to worry about who is going to see me, or worry about who I'm loving. I don't have to worry about my father anymore. I know I am the better person. I know I'm a good son and if he doesn't want one, he doesn't have to have one.
I know Chris is just an evil person. And I know evil people will one day get their day of their own hell. And when he does, I'll know I'm a better person because of what he put me through.
Brian laughs at me as Emmett and I dance crazily around the dance floor and he wraps his arm around Michael's shoulder as they watch Emmett and I make fools of ourselves.
"Oh honey, you are going to fit right in here." Emmett tells me, kissing the side of my head.
"Don't turn him into a fairy, Honeycutt." Brian says, pulling me back against him.
"I am NOT a fairy. And don't call me Honeycutt."
Ted pats Emmett's back and they start their own dance. Not as crazy as the one Em and I were dancing, but still too gay to function.
"So how does it feel?" Brian moans in my ear. I can feel his cock hard and aching against my leg.
"Feels good." I whimper.
He laughs and nuzzles my neck. "Not that, but it will later. I mean this."
"Feels good." I repeat.
"Good." He purrs, our bodies picking back up our rhythm that only our bodies together could produce.
"You did it." He pulls back and looks down at me.
"Did what?"
"Became the best homosexual you could possibly be."
I laugh. "Was that my goal all this time?"
He smiles. "So how'd you do it?"
I pretend to think. "Someone gave me the strength to face my fears and demons and make me realize I wasn't the horrible person I thought I was."
"Someone?" He asks with a raised eye brow.
I pull him close to me and rest my head on his shoulder. My safe place.
"Someone like you."