"Hotshot.." a familiar voice perked me up and stopped me where I stood
"Hi.." an anxious smile made its way onto my face as Kevin Price approached
"Somebody's all dressed up.. nice tie" he smirked, taking ahold of my light blue silk necktie and inspecting it
"Thank you.. you look- you look good, too.." I stammered, heart pounding in my throat as his cologne wafted
"Yeah? ..you know, I didn't get that phone call.." Kevin tightened the tie gently around my neck for me
"Oh.. I'm sorry.."
"Don't be.. didn't scare ya off, did I?" He chuckled
"No, of course not, it's just- my father, he wouldn't.."
"Don't worry about it, Sunshine... you know, it's a long walk to class.. why don't I show you the way?"
"..show me the way?"
"Wouldn't want you getting lost..." his sly smile persisted
"..Yeah, we- we wouldn't.." a breathy giggle forced its way out through my nerves as my body buzzed like I had electricity running through me
Kevin placed a hand firmly on my shoulder and began to walk again
".. I like that cologne you've got.. what is that?"
"Oh- uh, actually, it's not cologne, it's my deodorant." I answered, mouth drier than a desert
"Well.. I like it.. Betcha girls go crazy for it, huh?"
"Girls? Uh.. not really.."
"What, don't tell me you don't have girls crawling all over you.."
"Not quite.."
"..so you don't have a girlfriend?"
"No, I don't.. girls never really seem all that interested in me.. what about you?"
"..not exactly." Another smirk grew
"...I would have thought for sure, you'd have one, I mean, you're- ...nevermind." I cut myself off as I found myself beginning to sound quite questionable.
I don't want to scare off the only friend I've made by making him think I'm .... Unusual. I'm not like that, really. I don't like boys. I wouldn't want to give that impression to the only person who even seems interested in talking to me.
-
-
-
I laid back comfortably on the sofa, a young man above me, straddling my hips. He left kisses all up and down my neck, hungrily, almost. Panting slightly in his entrancingly low voice.
"Mmm, Kevin, cut it out" I giggled, his fingers gripping my back so tightly, I swear it could've left an imprint. He kept kissing me, seeing easily past my charade of reluctance.
I stared up at him as he began to loosen my belt, leaning down to my lips. I finally gave in and grabbed his face, pulling him closer, and letting a muffled moan out into his parted lips. He wrapped an arm around my hips, keeping his hand steady over my trembling body. Suddenly everything slowly began to grow warmer. His breath. My body. The room. Even the sofa. Hotter and hotter. Until finally, the warmth grew to a burning, a painful sting. I looked around me but I could no longer see any of the room that I had been in just moments ago. I looked back up to Kevin for answers, for some sort of affirmation of reality. But it wasn't Kevin that I saw in his place. It looked like him, but there was something missing, something terrible in him. Seemingly identical, and yet not quite right. The sparkle in his eye, any semblance of hours warmth was drained from him.
"..Kevin?" my voice trembled as I stared frightfully into his empty eyes
He leaned closer to me, his breath like fire on my neck.
"You're going to Hell, Connor" he whispered hoarsely into my ear, before locking his lips down on my flesh once again. The burning was overbearing, blistering and melting my skin
I woke up in a full body sweat, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I wiped my eyes and collected myself only slightly before laying back down. It was so dark out that I couldn't see my own hand in front of me. I closed my eyes, just trying my hardest to stop my crying.
It took everything I had to keep myself from falling back asleep that night, out of fear of having another one of those dreams.
I stayed awake, staring at the once pitch black room around me which had slowly filled with light as the morning progressed.
With a heavy sigh as morning took its place, I got out of bed, still shaking slightly. I dressed myself and brushed my teeth, rushing out the door before my family could see how clearly unsettled I was and bombard me with an interrogation. I walked down the sidewalk for only a minute before hearing a familiar voice call out "Morning, Sunshine!" Great. The last person I wanted to see after that nightmare.
I looked up at him, without a word.
"You rushed home last night, I didn't see you... Why's that?"
"I dunno.." I mumbled, clearly distressed, and continued my stride
"..Hey, what's wrong?" He questioned seriously as he caught up to me and saw how pale I had become
"I-It's nothing.. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine.. What's got you down?
I shrugged and kept walking
"Come on, Man, you can talk to me." He said, dropping all of his strategic charm and confidence in the face of my clear discomfort.
"No- no, I can't.."
"Why not?"
"I can't, I'm not- ...it's bad, okay, I did something bad! And we don't- I don't even know you like that, and-"
"Hey, slow down!" He placed both hands firmly on my arms and stopped me in place, with a chuckle to diffuse the tension "it's okay, man.. what's bugging you? It can't be that bad.."
"..it's bad.."
"Talk to me.."
"...Kevin, I think I'm gonna go to hell" I admitted, eyes welling with tears
"..What do you mean? You're not going to hell." He assured with a confused scoff, drawing closer to me.
I dried my eyes and took a jump away with every step he took.
"It's hard to explain.."
I tried to speed up and begin walking, but I felt a large hand softly pull me backward.
"You're not going to hell, McKinley. I don't know what's making ya' think like that, but it's not gonna happen." He spoke in a reassuring voice that made me almost want to give in. Almost.
"...Yes I am" I shook my head and started off again, not responding to anything he said for the rest of the walk .
I went through all of my classes that day, though I was unable to think about anything but that morning. The dream. The fear. The way my heart stopped when he put his hand on my shoulder to soothe me. He didn't strike me as the empathetic type when I met him, but I was proven wrong very quickly, in the face of distress. He cared. He cared a lot.
Why is this happening? Why me? Why can't I just be a normal boy and have normal feelings? Why can't I get this boy I hardly know off my mind? I stopped this, I changed. I put in the work, I made myself better. I did everything I supposed to. So why isn't it working anymore?
I walked out the front door of the school to head home, and found him waiting outside for my arrival. He shot a slight, sympathetic smile as I forced a similar expression onto my face, and walked up to him.
"You waited for me..?"
"Yeah.. You seemed pretty shaken up this morning, I wanted to make sure you were okay."
My heart swelled. Shit, there he goes again.
"Thank you.."
"I uh... I got you this.." he held out a bottle of Powerade from the hall vending machine "..I don't know how else to make people feel better... hope ya like the blue one.."
"..I do like that one" I finally broke a weak chuckle
Light conversation commenced as we walked. Nothing serious, more like uncomfortable small talk than anything else. But it was better than nothing. And as he spoke, familiarity grew once again. I didn't want to talk about this morning, and I don't think he did, either. We both just wanted to become comfortable again. Though as he set his hand on my shoulder and every muscle in my body immediately tensed in reaction, once again, he removed his hand in an instant, to comply with my comfort. But quite truthfully, I wish he hadn't let go. I enjoyed the feeling. As agonizing as it was.
I got so caught up in listening to him talk as we walked that before I knew it, we had passed my house without even realizing. I only noticed when I looked up, already halfway down the street.
"Shit- I'm sorry, I gotta go, that was me.. uh, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Talk to you tomorrow, Sunshine." He agreed and waved me off, continuing his way home.
I turned around and scurried back to my house, only to open my door to my father, looking furious as he stood in wait.
"Hi...what's wrong?" I gulped, though I knew damn well what it was.
"What the hell were you doing with that boy?" My father growled, staring straight through my soul.
"..he's just a friend from school.. w-we have the same walk home, that's all.. promise.." I immediately went on the defense.
"You think I'm stupid..?"
"O-Of course not... we hardly even talk, we-"
He only started to shout. I tried to reason, believe me, I did. But reasoning with a man like that isn't exactly easy. He just kept yelling over me, spouting accusations that I frankly wasn't in any state to handle.
After a good five minutes of no communication but being shouted over, I finally ran to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I flopped down on my bed and buried my face in my hands. What the hell is happening to me?
As if the stress of dealing with this feeling weren't enough, I have to have my father losing his mind on me just for speaking to another boy.
I just wanna talk to someone about it. More than anything, I just want to talk. To understand myself. But who could I even talk to? Certainly not Kevin. I can't see myself calling him up to tell him all about the way he makes my stomach fill with butterflies. And I certainly can't talk to my parents.
Write. I should write. Something. Anything. I need to tell someone how I'm feeling even if it's something as inanimate as a journal. I need to get it out, somewhere, I can't keep it inside any longer. Putting it on paper is better than nothing. It was all I had. I grabbed a pen and started documenting everything. It was somewhat of a relief, but it still didn't remove the guilt I felt for it all. Still, I told that paper everything. Everything that I had no one else to tell. The nightmare. His smile. His nicknames for me. His smooth way with words. His compassion. The way he made my stomach flip every time he looked at me. It was freeing to an extent. Yet somehow still, I was full of shame. I finished writing all I felt I could, and closed the journal, letting out a breath in my relief of the release.
My mother returned home not long after and called me downstairs for dinner, but I truthfully didn't feel very hungry at all.
I went down anyway, and avoided eye contact with my father, simply sitting at the table and picking at my fingernails, with my food untouched, in front of me
"What have you been doing upstairs all afternoon, Connor?" My mother inquired, however disinterested
I shrugged.
"Writing"
"About what?"
"I dunno... A ton of stuff."
"Like?"
"I dunno... My new school.. My new friend." I froze as the words left my mouth, realizing my father knew exactly which "friend" I was talking about. I just wish I had been fast enough to have stopped myself. He looked angrier than ever before, and I immediately regretted opening my mouth.
"Was it that boy again..? God damn it, Connor!"
It was obvious he was aware of my developing feelings for Kevin, however confusing they were to me. They were plain as day to my father.
He got up from the table and stomped up the stairs to my bedroom. Shit. He was gonna read my journal.
I ran after him, trying to stop him, but he was taller, stronger, and a hell of a lot drunker than me, he kept me away, with ease. I began to tremble as he picked up the notebook, nausea flooding into my body. He's going to kill me.
My father's eyes filled with more rage than I had ever seen in my life as he threw the notebook onto the ground, picking me up by my shirt collar, and slamming me against the wall.
"Dad, please.. please, I'm so sorry.." I whimpered in sheer terror.
He held me to the wall with one hand and swung with the other, swing after drunken swing landing sharply against my cheek as I called out in pain. I fell to the ground, bleeding by the time he finally let go of me, hitting the floor with an equally painful blow.
"You're not my fucking son, faggot" he growled, throwing one last kick to my abdomen before stomping away.
I sobbed as I wiped the blood that flowed from my lip onto my sleeve, curling into a ball and just praying he would leave me there to cower.
Sometimes I wish I were dead.
I know I shouldn't think like that, that's blasphemy. But I can't help it, I really do. I'd be better off. Then I wouldn't have to feel like this. Then none of this would be happening to me.