Sing me to sleep.
Sing me to sleep.
I don't want to wake up on my own anymore.
Sing to me.
-The Smiths
"Where are you going?" Dawson asked standing from his desk-chair as Cole came out of his bathroom, fully dressed and ready to go out at twelve-thirty am on a school night. He wore a tight black shirt and skinny jeans that hugged his legs. He was even tinier then, at fifteen. His hair was a little longer and fell over his eyes messily.
"Out. I'll see you tomorrow in class." his demeanor was cold and bleak, but he grabbed his bag and headed for Dawson's door.
"You can't leave," Dawson moved between Cole and the door, crossing his arms and widening his stance. He was beginning to fill out - bypassing Cole in width and height. Cole couldn't push past him if he tried. "You're mom thinks you're staying here, and so does mine." It was a lame excuse and they both knew it.
"I don't care what my mom thinks. Get outta the way." Cole scowled.
"Where are you going?" Dawson made his voice deeper - the change in it had happened nearly a year ago, but it still gave Cole the shivers every-time he used in on him. Cole's phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached for it, but before he could answer Dawson swiped it from his hands. He stared at the screen quizzically before hanging it up and stuffing it in his own pocket. "Why is Keith Gram calling you?" Dawson shifted on his feet, a lump of hot anger rising up his gut to his chest. "Are you meeting him?"
"It's none of your business." Cole snapped.
Dawson gave a sharpened unamused laugh, "The hell it is. Why are you meeting him this late?"
Cole's eyes turned bitter and his face twisted cruelly. "'Cause he wanted me to. Because he wants to fuck me."
Dawson blinked rapidly, his mouth gaping, "He's a senior. Are you out of your mind?" the anger was back - full-throttle. He pushed Cole back further into the room roughly - not in-control of his strength yet. Cole stumbled but stayed upright. "You're not going to go out and have sex."
Cole glowered hatefully and pushed back - like hitting a brick wall with a plastic bat. "You've had sex!" A few months ago with the neighbors sisters daughter who was visiting from Georgia. She'd been pretty and charming and older - ready to do whatever with whoever.
"That's different." Dawson stated lowering his voice - his parents were sleeping downstairs and his brother was only down the hall.
"How is it different?" Cole was seething now. He'd dropped his bag and his hands were balled into fists at his side. "Because she was a girl? I don't like girls Dawson. I want a boy." He sounded pitiful as he voiced the words they'd both suspected for a while now.
Dawson was undeterred, staring down at the other with a hard expression.
"I can have sex with whoever I want Dawson. You can't stop me."
"And you think Keith can give you what you want? You're barely five foot and skinny and not even half his size. You think he wants fuck someone like that. He's practically full-grown." Dawson's anger was turning into spite - a method of controlling it so it didn't turn into violence.
Dawson watched as Cole's eyes glossed over, but the smaller boy still had a derisive simper across his mouth. "I know he does. Everyday, while you're at your stupid football practice - he waits with me. He touches me and he loves it. He says I'm sexy." Cole gulped as Dawson's chest heaved and his fists jerked forward. "Now he wants to have sex with me - and I'm gonna let him." he rushed out the last sentence and reached for his bag again, but Dawson pitched forward and wrapped his hands around both Cole's upper-arms, pushing him against the wall - his snarling face inches away.
"He touches you?" was all he said, but his hands were cutting off Cole's circulation in his arms and he held him against the wall so only the tips of Cole's shoes touched the floor. But he wasn't afraid. Annoyed - but never afraid.
"Yes. Everyday while you practice. Sometimes in the back of the library, or the locker room, or behind the bleachers, or in his car. At first I didn't want him to - but then I got used to it." Cole tried to shift but couldn't, "I liked it."
Dawson's face smoothed out and his eyes slowly trailed up and down the other boy in a way that made Cole close his eyes and rest his head against the wall. He liked it when Dawson took control, when he was at his mercy - it inflamed him.
Dawson released Cole, only to push him to the unmade bed and force him onto his back. "Don't move." Dawson said, using his full-toned voice and Cole quivered and obliged.
Dawson went to the door and locked it, before flipping off the overhead light so only a small plug-in football light and the streetlights brightened the room. Cole hadn't so much as breathed too heavily as Dawson moved back over to him, shedding only his shirt as he crawled so he was poised over the other boy.
"You want to be touched." it wasn't a question. Dawson ran his hands under and boys shirt, slowly lifting it to his neck. "Arms up."
Cole complied, and Dawson moved leisurely to the buttons on the smaller boys jeans. He popped them open, one at a time, masking his nervousness magnificently. He arched his back and hips so Dawson could slide them down over his butt. Dawson was not surprised by his own excitement - gay or straight, Cole was a sight to behold. He was flushed and his lips were parted and his eyes were hooded as he looked at Dawson reverently. Far too trusting.
Dawson leaned down and ran his nose and lips down Cole's sternum and ribs to his hips. Cole was making noises and squirming, his fingers heedlessly winding in Dawson's hair.
Dawson lifted slightly and his mouth just barely grazed the hill of Cole's underwear. "Did he touch you here?" he asked, his fingers like vises on Cole's ribs, holding him in place.
Cole nodded a fraction and the other boys fingers tightened painfully,"B-but only over my clothes." Dawson sighed, his breath against the other boys front and Cole wriggled, the side of his knees braced against the side of Dawson's chest. "Please, Dawson please." his hands turned gentle and rubbed Cole's sides, his callouses rough against Cole's skin.
"If you want sex - ever again, you come to me." his voice left no room for argument and Cole nodded eagerly - agreeing to whatever the other wanted - too lost in the prospect of his best friend having him. Of having the first taste of many to come.
*
Dawson woke to the smell of sex. He groaned a little, feeling an aching in his muscles - and though he was well sexed, he was still tired. He glanced at the clock on the dvd player which read eight-thirty. Less than two-and-a-half hours of sleep. And he'd have only an hour at most until his family started to come home. Immediately he stood and stretched, grabbing up the box of condoms and lube and running it up to his room - hiding the more incriminating evidence. He opened all the windows in the living room, and though it was chilly it wasn't paralyzing.
"Really?" Cole asked coming out of the downstairs bathroom, a towel low on his hips and his curly hair wild. He nodded at the open windows and scowled, "My throat already hurts."
Dawson laughed and walked over to Cole, his hands itching to touch. "That's because you were half-naked outside in the rain yesterday. I told you you were going to get a cold." Dawson's eyes ran down Cole's chest and he smirked, shaking his head. "Shit."
Cole looked down at himself and his mouth fell into a playful frown. "Yeah I know. It looks like I was playing with a suction-cup. Thanks for that." Dawson trailed his hand over a particularly dark one above Cole's collar-bone.
"Guess it's turtle-necks for the next few days." The taller boy grinned impishly.
"Great. 'Cause everyone looks fabulous in turtle-necks. Just wait until you see your back. You'll be changing in a stall after football practice the next few weeks." Cole winked and headed upstairs.
Dawson could feel the shredded skin smarting on his back - his older ones had only just healed up well. Cole had a tendency to draw blood.
When he got out of the shower and changed the living-room was back in order and he could hear muted voices from the kitchen. He knew there'd be chocolate pancakes before he smelled them. His parents were sitting at the counter, each with a plate and a glass of orange juice and Cole stood barefoot at the oven in a black turtle-neck sweater and shredded-up jeans. The kitchen radio played The Beatles mutely.
"Hey sweetie." his mother said smiling brightly at her son as he entered the kitchen. Dawson smiled at her warmly and moved to stand beside Cole raising his eyebrows in question and holding out a plate.
"Morning dumpling. Want a pancake?" Cole asked batting his eyelashes and wrinkling his nose. He slid three onto the other boys plate.
"Watch it Colton." Dawson said with a smirk and went to sit across from his parents at the bar. "So how was the thing?"
His father said boring the same time his mother said delightful. The couple looked at one another and smiled as if they were sharing some lame joke.
"Alright then." Dawson said eating his pancakes as Cole took the seat next to him, close enough so their thighs brushed.
"Well what did you two do?" His mother asked cocking her head curiously.
Dawson shrugged, used to lying about his and Cole's affairs. "Watched Rocky, ate Twizzlers." he took another bite.
"Really?" his father asked, "Because curiously enough the windows are open in the living room so I have the sneaking suspicious there may have been weed involved." he raised a dark eyebrow and eyed the two boys.
Cole nearly spat into his drink trying to contain himself.
Once Dawsons father had caught him and Cole passing a bowl back and forth in the back yard - and now he liked to bring it up anytime he was able to.
His mother gasped and set her fork down loudly so it clattered against the granite, "Dawson Zachary Reed! Marijuana? I'm not going to be able to host book-club here anymore if my living-room smells like some middle-aged '70s-kids basement."
Cole erupted into a fit of giggles Dawson turned to grin at him - noting the moment of genuine, guardless, happiness.
An hour later Shelby came to pick Cole up for his shift at the Used Books, CD's, Vinyls, and More store that he worked at, and Dawson got ready to spend a good two hours at the gym. His mother came into his room while he was pulling on his socks and sat down on the edge of his desk.
"Cole looked well this morning." she stated off-handedly. She knew some about his abasement - and the incidents that had led to it. "He's much better I think."
Dawson knew where this was going. Cole's doing better. He looks healthy. He's laughing. You don't have to spend so much time with him anymore. You can pay more attention to your family now. She meant well - but she couldn't understand.
"Mother please."
She sighed, "I know you don't like talking about him with me. You're a good friend - have been forever and I love Cole and he is absolutely welcome here any time - but you don't owe him all your time Dawson. You can have other friends over and girlfriends and hobbies."
Dawson stood and grabbed his bag. "I have other friends and hobbies. Football, the gym, my job, Holly, the team. Please stop telling me I don't owe him anything because I know that. I spend time with him because I want to. Because he's my best friend. I don't appreciate this at all." he waved at the air between them.
She stood straight and her mouth turned down unpleasantly. "There's a difference between a best friend and you two. You're constantly revolving around him - it's not healthy. I know you don't want to hear it but it's true. What are you going to do in a year when you're both in college? Don't you want a wife one day? A wide circle of friends? To travel? To meet new people? Or are you always going to be stuck to Cole?" Her voice was rising but she breathed deeply - closing her eyes a moment before looking again at her son, calm and somewhat apologetic. "We're having a big lunch here tomorrow after church. Some of the people from the reunion will be here and your aunt and uncle and their kids. I want you to invite some people Dawson. Not just Cole. Maybe Holly? I've only ever met her once." she touched her sons face but he pulled away, moving around her for his door.
"I'll ask her."
"Thank you." she smiled. "Please don't be home late."
*
"We're having a lunch thing at mine tomorrow and my mom wants to meet you." Dawson shouted over the music. Holly turned to him, her purple-stained lips stretched into a wide smile. "It starts at one, if you want to come."
"Yes of course! Sounds fun. What should I wear? It's not formal is it?" her words ran together like water out of a broken dam.
He shrugged and studied the cheap beer in his cup, not quite in the mood for a buzz. "Whatever you want I guess. It's not formal. Just lunch."
She nodded and smiled giddily taking a long swallow of her drink. "So where's wonder-boy?" she asked as the song changed. People were screeching and laughing and swimming in the cloud of their own drunkenness.
"Work. He took an extra shift for inventory." It'd been spur-of-the-moment. Normally they car-pooled to these parties and took turns being DD.
"Oh, sucks." she murmured. A few of her friends crowded them then, and he slipped away to refill his cup which didn't really need it - but he had to do something other than stand against the wall. He hated the music that was being played - meaningless, whorish, techno, bullshit. It made him weep for his generation.
In the kitchen were a few of his team members, practically plastered against the wall and pissing at their own stupid jokes.
"Dawson!" Richard called from his small inner circle of cohorts. He stumbled forward, a stewed smile across his face, and he glanced behind Dawson and squinted. "Where's the little queer at?"
Dawson exhaled and moved around the other boy. He'd grown bored of Richards jokes rapidly their Freshman year - now it was just background noise. "Why is it every-time you see me you always ask about Cole?" Dawson assumed Cole intimidated Richard on a level. Richard in the past had voiced his gay slurs and jokes to Cole - but Cole had never acknowledged him. It wasn't as if Cole was trying to be the bigger person - it was just that Cole did not give one honest shit about what Richard said or thought. Like Richard wasn't even their - just some bird that squawked every once in a while.
Richard glared, his moods on a tightrope in his inebriation, and he puffed out his chest. "I don't give a fuck about Cole. He's a mutant weirdo."
Dawson ignored him, topping off his drink. A little bud of anger was kicking around in his stomach, but it was easily stamped out. He was going to stand around a little while longer - then leave. He was tired of high school all together. But there was a shove between his shoulder-blades and his drink came out of his hand, spilling all over the counter. On instinct, Dawson turned and let his fist fly into Richards face, just under the eye - only bruising the bone.
But Richard fell back and held his face like Dawson had just ripped his eye-ball from its socket. A few people gasped and Richards friends moved to help their fallen comrade. Most people didn't even blink at the disruption. "Don't lay your hands on me Richard. I don't care if your drunk or dying or saving my life. Don't touch me."
Richard was still on the floor - too crocked to stand - and Dawson dismissed himself - wordlessly making his way through the crowd and down the house steps. He hopped into his truck and blinked a few times - decidedly sober enough to drive. He texted one of Holly's friends, making sure she'd be okay since he'd left her on her third bottomless red cup, and took off towards town.
He wasn't surprised when he pulled up at Cole's work. That was where he'd been headed for after-all. Cole's Camero was the only vehicle in the lot since Dawson had replaced an electrical fuse easily earlier that day and brought it to Coles work after the gym.
Dawson parked next to Cole and got out of the truck, rummaging through his keys for the spare to the store, which Cole had illegally made him. He entered silently, careful not to jingle the little bell on the handle too loudly. But when he was inside he realized his silence was needless. In the back of the store Cole sat at the old piano that was used to hold a tray of older more rare vinyls. There were only two lamps lit in the store but Dawson could still see Cole's fingers dance slowly over the keys. The music was sad and calm. Dawson recognized it but couldn't place it in his head.
He let the other go for a while, sitting in a chair between two shelves and propped his ankle on his knee. Cole was curled over the instrument - gleaning sounds from it and stroking it like a newborn child. Dawson felt everything drain from his body and he went boneless in his seat, stupefied. The music drowned him and he existed only in the notes. His brain was a haze of fog and his body was weightless and insubstantial.
He didn't notice for a few moments when the music stopped, only the voice broke his trance - or sent him into a deeper one.
"Shouldn't you be at a party?" he asked from his seat in front of the piano.
Dawson opened his eyes and smirked, "Shouldn't you be doing inventory?"
Cole sighed, "Finished, hours ago. Just killing time before I have to go home." he tried to sound nonchalant, but after all their years it wasn't an accomplished task.
"What was that?" Dawson asked nodding towards the piano, changing the subject.
"Gymnopédie No. 1."
"I thought I recognized it. Little morbid though."
Cole's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah well, it's me Dawson. Not fucking Holly."
He was falling into that place again. The light-less one where dark things danced around in his mind - beating out the good and making him mean and terrified. He was walking around with the gates of hell in his head, and when opened it soured and exhausted him.
"Come over here." Dawson said holding out a hand.
Cole glowered, staying put. "Why? You already fucked me once. Ready for another go already?" His words were acid melting metal - with an undercurrent of a sting and a hiss.
Dawson ignored him and stood, wanting more music - but nothing that would break the trance that was still harbored in some unnamed part of his anatomy. He had to stay calm himself - there was nothing else he could do.
He moved to the record player by the entrance and shuffled through the albums that smelled like old cardstock. He placed a Smiths album on the platter and let it play.
He sat back in the chair and didn't speak as the music loved his ears and the unnamed place. He looked at Cole who hadn't moved or spoken - and they stared at one another wordlessly. Finally he stood from the piano and crawled onto Dawson's lap, letting his face rest against the soft material of the his shirt. Dawson wrapped himself around the Cole - and they fed off each others heat and comfort under the blanket of music. For a while it was just them. The city - where men and women dressed up went from bar to bar, and college kids smoked weed in their parking garages, and fathers finally wandered into their homes where their children and wives slept after an unforgiving workday, and hookers sat on the curbside wondering what exactly had happened to their lives and the plans they had made - did not exist.
Cole coiled himself tighter against the other, shaking a little. Dawson knew Cole would never be whole again. He'd never truly be able to kill all his demons which had been pounded into him years ago. And once in a while they would bring him to his knees and make him cry and bleed inside. He could escape them only when he could learn to escape himself - and Dawson would rather have Cole in all his brokenness and anger than never again.
Even the unsound was better than the un-lived.
So I think I have like three readers total right now - but that's okay! I'm really enjoying this story and I love my characters. (:
Take a listen --->
It's a beautiful beautiful song.
Also here's the link to Gymnopédie No. 1 if you're curious. Also a great piece.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-Xm7s9eGxU
S'anks for reading lovelies.