Chapter 6 (Eric)

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Eric shut the door behind Quetzocoatyl, his hand lingering on the handle. His shoulders shook; he had hurt the other boy, he’d seen it in his eyes. Goddamn it, Eric, how can you be so stupid?

He drew a ragged breath. Why do things have to be so frustrating? He was so confused; he wanted Quetzocoatyl badly, so badly, but things were going too fast. He wasn’t ready for this. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

He could hear footsteps coming down the hall from the other side of the door. They stopped just on the other side. Curious, Eric pressed his ear to the door. He heard an unfamiliar voice and then Quetzocoatyl’s, pitched low in the seductive tone he had come to know so well.

His hand gripped the door handle as a lump formed in his throat. He wouldn’t, he was just in here, kissing me! He kept his ear pressed to the door. There was no doubt about the tone of voice Quetzocoatyl was using. He heard him stand up and two pairs of footsteps receding.

Eric’s knees felt weak and he slowly sank to the ground, his hand sliding down the door. Do I really mean nothing to him? He wondered as tears stung his eyes, Was I just cheap amusement?

He buried his face in his hands and drew in a ragged breath. He sat that way for a while, in a kind of numb shock. His thoughts chased each other through his head, all of them accusing and painful.

Footsteps were coming back; he sat up slightly. Two pairs. He heard the door to the next room open then close and then Quetzocoatyl’s voice again, still with the other boy. A shout, a murmur and then brief silence.

Eric stood up slowly. He needed air; he needed to clear his head. He grabbed his coat, a book (by David Levithan this time) and a snack; he didn’t plan to come back for a while. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and walked outside.

It was sunny outside, though not warm- Eric pulled his coat tight as he walked. The snow from yesterday was melting and footing was treacherous. The chill air burned his lungs and made his head ache.

He walked around to the back of the building, where it was more sheltered, and sat down on a bench. He drew his legs up and rested his head on his knees.  Maybe I’m overreacting, he speculated, maybe he was just joking with someone. It’s exactly something he would do. Eric lifted his head slightly. It was something Quetzocoatyl would do; he’d been brought up in a society  where flirting was a game, after all.

Eric’s mood began to lighten.

Of course he was overreacting, there was no way Quetzocoatyl would go hounding after someone else just because Eric had said he needed some time to think about their relationship.

He put his legs back down and reached for his book. His hand brushed against something warm and furry.

What the heck? He wondered.

He glanced down.

A ferret wearing a leather band around it’s neck stared up at him from next to his thigh. It tilted it’s head quizzacly as he stared at it in surprise.

‟Hello?” he asked, then immediatly felt foolish for talking to an animal. The ferret seemed to like it when he spoke to it though and climbed into his lap. He stroked it’s fur hesitantly.

“Who do you belong to?” He murmured as he checked the band around it’s neck. There was a tag which read ‘Millie, Room 3’. Eric looked up. He was sitting right next to the window to his room. The window next to it was open, presumably to let the ferret come and go as it pleased. The curtains were closed, mostly. There was a gap between them.

Movement from the other side caught Eric’s eye.

He could see a bare back, hunched over something, moving rythmically. He could hear soft moaning. The head tilted back and he caught a glimpse of familiar hair, a familiar face.

It was Quetzocoatyl.

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