MAIN CHARACTER 👆🏾
KHALIL💕
The room itself was smaller than I imagined A queen size bed took up almost the entire room, with one nightstands pushed against one of the sides, on top of it was a lamp which he went over and turned on helping me see better
The walls were painted several soothing pastel colors making the light soft and diffused. A framed print of a brilliant sunset over a beach hung on the wall above the head of the bed.
Ty jumped onto the bed, leaving vapor trails in his path. I jumped on behind him, and we both scooted to the head of the bed and leaned back against pillows lining the wall. He stretched up and flipped a switch hanging down from a bare wire, and the music from downstairs filled the room, but softly. There was a streetlamp glowing in through the curtains, from somewhere outside the tall, thin window at the side of the bed.
"This is the Dreaming Room. At least that's what I call it. If I'm not with Jet & Celia, I come here to come down. It was my room while I lived here. It's so peaceful and positive in here, all soft and comforting. Does it feel that way to you?" He didn't wait for an answer, "I feel like the room is ........what's that word? Ethereal? Yeah, ethereal. This room is ethereal," he nodded contentedly.
"Yeah, it is." I sighed.
I just layed there next to him talking to him for what seemed like hours. By 3am, we were both laying on our sides, propped up on elbows, facing each other.
"So what did you think of your first drug induced trip?"
"Well, I think I'm still on it a little. I mean, I still feel some of the sensations I felt earlier, but not nearly as intense-- and you don't distort anymore. I feel my cheek, and it feels like rubber, like I could stretch it out to here," I held my hand a foot from my face, laughing. "Anyway, it's been pretty amazing. It was a lot of fun. The intensity was a little scary at times, but with you here with me, it wasn't so scary. Did I say thank you?"
"I think you did. Hey, I just saw someone who was ready to come out of his shell and live a little, since Celia said you had your heartbroken an' all."
I nodded "What's the deal with that? How could she know something like that? Just by touching me?"
"Oh dude, Celia's one amazing woman. She 'gets things. She gets feelings, and she knows things. I know, that sounds like far out California shit, but she-- just knows things."
He looked up at the wall above me and I studied his gorgeous face, the maleness of his dark chocolate skin, his neck, with its very prominent Adams apple, the barely perceptible bit of stubble scattered about his cheeks and chin. I wanted to reach over and caress his collarbone, his chest, his jaw.
He continued,"Like, the first time I met her, my folks had just kicked me out of the house, for the second time. I hitched down here to, thinking I could just live on the beach-- like an idiot. One night, I was wasted on like, three shots of god knows what, and had just gotten mugged down underneath The Balinese Room, down on the beach. Celia and Jet were coming out of the Balinese, as I was sitting on the stairs from the beach to the Seawall with a bloody nose. She ran over and hugged me, and they brought me home, like some wounded stray animal. She knew my parents had kicked me out and I had no place to go before I even said anything. They brought me here and let me stay for a couple of months, then I went back home."
"Why did your folks kick you out?"
"Well, lot's of reasons, but it comes down to me being uncontrollable. Like Celia said, I'm a free spirit, and can't be tied down and molded into what the world wants me to be. Jet says I'm an old soul, who's preparing to spread my wings for some important thing I'm supposed to do, like to help people." He chuckled, "So now I have to figure out what that is."
"Well you did something important and helped me today-- you got me away from it all and took my mind off all my bullshit-- and believe me, that's a worthy thing," I smiled. "And it sure seems to me like you're a free spirit, like you just grab life by the balls and go for it!"
He laughed and his voice was musical. "Well, I guess I do that, but I don't feel like I've really found a purpose in life yet."
"Hell, you're just eighteen! Whatta you expect? I have no idea what I wanna do with my life yet. I don't know if I even want a life anymore."
"Whatta ya mean by that?" He asked. I froze.
Why did that slip out? My uncertainty and struggle was still boiling just under the surface all the time, but I had managed to bury it today. And then I found myself very attracted to him-- but chastising myself for wanting a straight guy. I told myself to not create a sexual situation here in my head, with a guy who was just being a friend. I told myself not to let this become frustrating-- just be friends-- but damn, he was just so sexy, beautiful and free...
"Umm, I... Well..." I looked in his eyes and they were inviting me in. For what, I don't know. He waited for me to continue. I looked at his wavy dreaded hair, falling over his chest. The first couple of strands on either side of his face were naturally curled in sexy ringlets.
"I just, think lately... I wonder if it's worth doing." I mumbled, looking at the bed between us.
"What, life?"
I glanced at his suddenly piercing brown eyes, then fixed my gaze on a small, thin shelf on the wall by the window, adorned with various colored candle wax drippings from the room's past. Had Ty burned those-- and was he alone when he watched the flames?
"Yeah. It's like, I don't fit; with life. I don't fit anything, ya know? I don't have a life, or friends anyway. Today was so out of character for me. Taking drugs? Ditching school for a joyride to the beach?" I chuckled. "It feels kinda like, I dunno, a last fling. Do you ever feel like it's just not worth it all? Like you just want to get it all over with?" I put the questions out there, but answered for him, "Nah, you wouldn't. You got it all together."
I searched his eyes. His facial expression was somber, but there was something going on in there; something that drew me in. He stared back for a bit before he answered,
"Yeah Khalil, I feel that way sometimes. Actually, I used to most the time. Ya know, we all get days like today, once in awhile, that make ya feel so fuckin' good about life, and then the next day just slams you in the gut, and tells you one more time how fucking insignificant you are," he waved his hand in the air dismissively, then added solemnly, "I tried to do it before."
"What, kill yourself?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah," he held one of his wrist up and turned it towards me letting me see the deep scar that had now been covered up
"It wasn't 'til they put me in suicide watch in the Psych. Ward at John Sealy Hospital here, that I found out from the other nutcases that I did it wrong. To do it right, you slit up this way, not across." He mimed using a razor blade with precision up his arm, and a chill went down my spine.
"Oh my God. It looks like it must have been painful."
"Yeah, it was. I could hardly hold the blade to cut it." More chills went down my spine as I pictured him trying to do that, knowing a lot of what was going through his mind when he was trying. I started to get tears in my eyes thinking about it.
"What made you try it?" I was mesmerized by the rough, scar.
I could even see the little dots from the stitches.
He chuckled again, "Oh, life." Then his tone was matter of fact, "The same thing you just said, about not feeling like you fit in. Feeling like there's no one in the world who understands you, or accepts you the way you are." he looked at me and added, "Probably the very same reasons you feel like it."
"Yeah? Really? That is what I feel like. It's fuckin' depressing, ain't it?" And I added, "It seems kinda hopeless for me, for my situation."
"It definitely gets depressing, but it's really not hopeless, Khalil, really. I was so lucky to meet Jet and Celia, oh, I guess it was two or three months after I tried it. The stitches were all healed, but Celia did some kind of 'thing' over them, and I felt better all over, inside." He put his hand on his chest.
"It's kinda hard to describe what they did for me, but I guess the most important thing, is they taught me that I have to love myself-- cuz there's not always someone else there to do it for me," he paused and studied my face for a moment, and added,
"I still have a hard time 'loving' myself sometimes. Ya know, sometimes I still feel like it's all kinda pointless." He tossed his hair back over his shoulder with the back of his hand. I could see the scar across his wrist. I couldn't help but stare.
"So, who broke ya heart?" He asked, yanking my eyes from his wrist. "I mean, that's gotta be, like, the start for a lot of why you're feeling like that, I'm sure."
'Oh shit,' I thought to myself. 'Do I tell him? No, it would probably destroy the vibe we have going. I am really getting into this conversation, needing it. I've never had this kind of conversation with anyone before. I don't want to do anything to stop this sharing, this baring of souls-- and potentially cause an upsetting, or even nasty scene.'
"Um... I can't really talk about it, Ty." I tried to think of a way to back out of talking about it without turning him off, "You don't wanna hear about my bullshit anyway," I tried to sound upbeat.
"Yes I do. I wanna hear all about you."
My eyes darted to his, wondering what exactly he meant by that. "Huh?" I stalled.
"I said I want to hear all about you. I gotta know how anyone could break your heart, how they could be so fucked up, to do that to someone as nice as you."
I blushed, "Well, apparently, it was pretty easy for..." I looked down at the sheet. "It wasn't hard to do."
"I can't imagine it being easy to do. You're the kindest, most genuine person I've met in a long time. You definitely don't deserve to be hurt. So what happened?"
I looked at him, realizing we were laying on a bed together in a small, intimate room, after just having shared a wonderful day, a wonderful time together, and I was about to tell him the truth-- my deep dark secret-- that thing 'that dare not speak its name' and all that shit. I got dry mouthed, and wasn't sure I could speak. My heart was racing, and I was sure he could hear it.
"Ty, it's not, it's like..." I stumbled, and couldn't look him in the eyes, "I can't tell you, without telling you things about me, and I don't know if I can do that right now."
"Tell me about you, Khalil," he brought his fingertip to my chin to get me to look at him.
I was breathing hard and going flush. His eyes and touch set off a whole 'nother set of feelings and sensations, on top of what I was already rushing with.
My mind was swirling with all these conflicts, and confusion, and euphoria, and depression, and I just blurted it out:
"Ty, I'm gay." I closed my eyes-- every muscle in my body straining-- waiting for his reaction. I thought: 'I have my car here. I'm down enough from the drugs; I could drive right now if I have to leave.'
He said nothing. I couldn't open my eyes, anticipating his reaction one way or the other.
I felt movements in front of me...............