This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected under copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproduction is allowed without the author's consent.
Conversations and feedback are appreciated to Greyson B. via email at hokkaidohotel86it@gmail.com. The emails I have received thus far are greatly appreciated.
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This story will contain graphic depictions of sex between male teens (m/m). If this is an issue for you or the laws where you live, you are obviously in the wrong place. Also, this is a story with plot, not merely wank material. There will be potentially triggering subjects, including language, violence, and bullying. You have been warned.
You can also check out my other story, Cadence, in the Gay / adult-youth section.
A Ghost Finds a Body
Chapter 2
Kyle had left the school that day, rather than stay, and had walked the eleven miles home, taking most of the day, rather than face his parents. He had hidden his torn, bloody shirt and cleaned up his own wounds without his parents noticing. He had missed lunch, but since it was past dinner before his nausea went away, he wasn't sorry. He was a bit worried about his shoulder, as well, as it actually turned out to have a nice gash, rather than just a little scrape. He did his best to keep it clean and kept his injuries secret, lest he get into even more trouble.
After two days at home in his room, Kyle's parents became completely fed up and forced him back to school. Kyle slipped in the side route to get to his locker. He was carrying an older backpack, a new notebook, and was contemplating ways of getting new History and English books. By the time he had braved coming out of the bathroom that day, he had found his backpack, ripped open and empty, stuffed halfway in a trashcan at the end of the hall. He had no idea why someone would steal textbooks, but they were gone, along with his notebook and two paperback novels. He still mourned his paperbacks.
He made it to his locker and then to his first class without incident. He kept his head down and made it to lunch without talking to anyone. He caught a few people whispering about him in the cafeteria, but tried to ignore it as he scarfed down his simple lunch and went to go hide in the library. As he entered, he spotted someone who brought it all back. The big guy who had intervened from three days before was sitting in one of the cubicles, those rows of desks with the high dividing walls between seats. He was reading a book and ignoring everything else. Still working on the nerve to say `thank you', Kyle took the cubicle next to him and sat down, tossing his bag on the desk.
The freshman gave it a few minutes, hoping he would look around on his own. When the boy didn't look up from his book, Kyle tapped him gently on the shoulder. Engrossed in his book, Marcus jumped at the tap. He looked over, saw who it was, and smiled.
"Hey there."
"Hey," replied Kyle. I heard you didn't make it to school the day after the back lot." He asked hesitantly, "Were you okay?"
"Well, you know how it is," said Marcus. "We chatted about the weather, made fun of a few teachers, you know how it is." He chuckled, and then nonchalantly added, "You know, those are a couple of really nice guys."
"Ah," Kyle said blankly. He could tell the older guy was nervous about something, but humor was the last thing he had been expecting.
"I heard you didn't make it much past the next day yourself," Marcus said quietly. "Were you okay?"
"I'll live." Kyle paused, and then asked the question that had been killing him for two days. "Why did you do that?" He forced himself to meet the older guy's eyes. "Why did you try to fight those guys by yourself? I though you knew them?" His throat caught a bit as he added, "I didn't know you were trying to fight them for me."
Marcus looked at Kyle for a moment, but looked down before answering. "In a way I do know them. They're assholes. I mean, I know of them, but I'm just not friends with them. I'm sorry, but I wanted you out of there so you wouldn't get hurt."
As he paused, apparently finished, Kyle said, "It didn't matter. We both got hurt."
"I'm sorry," Marcus said softly.
Kyle looked up. "Why are you sorry?" he squeaked, his voice cracking. "It's not your fault this happened. If anything, it's mine. It's my fault you got hurt trying to keep them off of me."
Kyle softly began crying. The last two days had been embarrassing, with random crying sessions, but this was a hundred times worse. At least he had spent the last two days in his room, alone. He felt like such a wimp. He turned his head away, hoping the other hadn't noticed.
Marcus waited awkwardly for him to finish, unsure of what to do. When the freshman continued looking away, he put his hand tentatively on the Kyle's shoulder. The friendly touch caused the younger boy to begin sobbing harder. He threw his arms on the desk and buried his head in his folded arms. Totally thrown, Marcus began rubbing his shoulders, whispering soft words to him.
"It's alright," he said quietly. "You're gonna be all right. Things will work out." He repeated these types of phrases over and over, providing a quiet mantra of comfort.
At one point, Kyle winced and pulled sharply away from Marcus's touch. Marcus was confused and hurt, until he saw that a few dark spots were appearing on the boy's shirt.
"Oh, damn!" he said. "I'm so sorry. Did I do that?"
He watched in horror as the tiny dots spread until they became dark, connecting patches. Kyle reached back, slapping his hand over the spot. It gave a slightly wet slap, and he pulled the shirt forward over his shoulder so that he could see the mess on the back of his shirt. He winced as the shirt scraped over his skin.
"No," he said, pulling the shirt back into place. "It wasn't you. This happened at the lockers."
"Let me see," said Marcus. He pulled the neck of the shirt open so that he could try to peer at the wound. While it wasn't really bleeding, there was enough smeared around for him to not be able to get a good look.
"This is from three days ago?" he asked sharply.
Kyle nodded.
"Well, if it can still bleed like this, then that's not a good sign." He gripped both of Kyle's biceps and turned him so that they faced. "Okay. Your choice. Nurse's clinic or my house. The nurse is gonna call your parents and cause all sorts of shit and paperwork. My house is, like, four blocks from here."
"What's at your house?"
"My mom's a doctor," Marcus said, chuckling. "What's not at my house?"
"Fine," answered Kyle. "Your house. When? After school?"
Marcus began glancing around the library, seeing who was around. "I was thinking a little more immediate than that. Like, right now."
He got up, leaving the library book at the desk and grabbing both backpacks. Kyle thought about saying something about his backpack, but decided to keep his mouth shut. They walked out of the school unchallenged and crossed the faculty parking lot. Kyle stared at the area around the back corner, trying to imagine what had happened there with just four days before. He hoped that what had happened with...
He paused in his train of thought. Out loud, he said, "I just realized. I don't know your name." He felt his face flush, embarrassed that he had failed to ask it already.
"It's Marcus. Good to meet you."
"My name's..."
"Kyle," interrupted Marcus, laughing good-naturedly. "Like I said. Good to meet you."
The walk to Marcus's house was only fifteen minutes, but was spent in awkward silence. The only things either of them could think of to talk about, they were too embarrassed to say out loud. At long last, they reached the house. Marcus opened the front door and ushered Kyle inside. The older boy did a quick walkthrough of the downstairs, calling out for his parents to see if anyone was home. Kyle waited near the door. Between skipping school again and being in an unfamiliar house with someone he barely knew, he was quite a bit nervous.
Satisfied that no one was home, Marcus led Kyle upstairs and into a bathroom off the hallway.
"Take off that shirt and have a seat on the pot while I go get my mom's bag."
Kyle stepped hesitantly into the small bathroom. It was decorated in such a way that you could tell that parents had dressed it up for kids. He could also tell that Marcus either had at least one sister, or some very weird tastes. Next to some nice, adultish items such as deodorant and hair grooming supplies, there was a toiletry set with cup, toothbrush, and other knickknacks from an older superhero movie, and a newer toiletry set done in pink with flowery princesses and unicorns. Hanging from the towel rack next to the bath tub and across from the toilet were two towels; one a deep brown, the other a pale lavender. There were other signs, such as a character-themed tube of toothpaste, which made Kyle really hope Marcus had a little kid sister.
The room was spotless. Reflections from the harsh overhead florescent bulbs above the mirror gleamed off of chrome and tile wherever he looked. It seemed like any place not gleaming was covered by slipcovers or bathmats. He wondered who the neat freak was, Marcus's mom or his dad. Maybe it was Marcus, and he just had his sister well trained.
He sat down on the padded toilet lid and carefully removed his shirt. He didn't want to make a mess, so he held the shirt in his lap. Looking it over, he was a bit alarmed at how much blood there was. He didn't think there should be that much blood after three days of healing. Not wanting to look at it any more, he folded the stained section in toward the middle of the shirt and wrapped it up.
Marcus was barely gone two minutes before he came back into the bathroom. He was carrying a tan leather case which reminded Kyle of an old camera or camcorder case. He sat the bag on the edge of the tub and looked the Kyle over.
"My mom is apparently out running errands. I called her and she should be home in fifteen minutes or so." Detecting how nervous the younger boy was, he gave a relaxing smile. "Don't worry. She's cool. She'll fix you up and not tell your folks." He chuckled as he said, "And don't worry. She won't charge you any more than some lame jokes."
Noticing the folded shirt in Kyle's hands, he gestured toward it and said, "Come on downstairs, and bring that." He picked the bag back up and began backing out of the bathroom. "Mom wants us to set up in the kitchen."
Making sure Kyle was following, Marcus led the way downstairs and into a fairly spacious kitchen. The cabinets were done in a honey colored oak which fairly glowed in the afternoon light. As with the bathroom, the candy apple red countertops were immaculate, with the few items sitting on the countertop having an obvious home. The gleam of the white-tiled floor was muted by the darker cabinet doors above. Marcus led him to an island bar in the center of the room, and motioned for him to climb up on one of the tall stools. He unzipped the bag and began removing layered trays of supplies and lining them on the island counter.
"You ready for the bad news?" he asked.
Kyle nodded, feeling quite scared by the big deal Marcus was making out of everything.
"This is probably going to sting like a bitch." He picked up a gauze pad and a bottle and stepped behind Kyle, out of his line of sight. Kyle did his best to hide his panic at this point. "She told me to go ahead and start cleaning it, and then she will take a look once she gets here."
Kyle braced himself for the antiseptic bite. Cleaning the wound had hurt like hell when he had done it, and his body was expecting the worst. He was therefore surprised when all he felt was a wet cloth dabbing at the skin around the cut. When it still didn't hurt, he looked back to see Marcus smirking at him.
"I was teasing. It's just water."
It still had not hurt him, and he had relaxed somewhat, by the time they heard a door open and shut somewhere in the house.
Moments later an adult woman came into the kitchen. She casually set a duffle bag- sized purse on the counter and extended a hand out toward Kyle. Unsure how to act, he tentatively took the hand and they shook.
"So, this is the kid who is dying, huh?" She had a playful smirk on her face as she said this.
"I never said that," interjected Marcus. He leaned forward so that Kyle could see his face. He was grinning as he said, "Really, I never said that."
Marcus's mom looked up at Marcus. Her voice picked up a more businesslike tone as she said, "There is one bag in the trunk that has frozen stuff, and one more with refrigerated. If you could please bring those inside? The rest can wait."
Once she saw that her son was on his way, she turned her attention to Kyle. "So," she began, walking around behind him. "Is there a reason this hasn't been dealt with?"
Kyle really didn't feel up to a lecture from a strange woman, but was too nervous to say so.
"Don't worry," she continued cheerfully. "I'm not going to give you a hard time. I just wondered if there was anything I needed to know."
Kyle shook his head. Marcus's mom began inspecting his shoulder, poking and pulling the area around the wound.
"How old is this?" she asked. "When did you get this?" She sounded casual, but Kyle read a lot of concern in between the lines.
"It happened Tuesday," he responded. "Is it bad?" He began speaking faster, near tears again, feeling like he needed to explain himself. "I tried to keep it clean. I poured alcohol on it three times a day. I just didn't know what else to do."
She finished her inspection and stepped away from him just as Marcus was heard coming back into the house.
"Well, your friend here is lucky," she said to Marcus as he entered the kitchen, his arms loaded with plastic grocery bags.
Marcus nodded, looking over at the other boy and grinning as he began putting groceries away. His mother continued talking, addressing Kyle again.
"This really should have had stitches on Tuesday. You got lucky in that there doesn't seem to be any infection." She pressed on with her analysis of the wound in full medical swing. "That wound is right across a major muscle group. Every time you use that shoulder, you are tearing open the wound again. The fact that you were washing out the old, clotted blood is probably the only reason you don't have a hundred and four degree fever right now.
"Now, it is too late for stitches on this, so I am going to help close it with some butterflies and bandage it, then you are going to go lay down for a bit." She patted him on the other shoulder and said, "I'm not going to call your parents just yet, but you are going to give me a good reason as to why you didn't tell them about this.
"Now, where else did you get hurt?"
While Marcus continued busying himself with the groceries, pretending like he wasn't paying attention, Kyle went over the other places he had been hurt, backtracking several times to elaborate on how the injury had occurred. When he explained about his head, and how he had been ill all day, Marcus's mom took a moment to explain about concussions and, once again, how lucky he was. She kept him distracted by keeping him talking, while she patched him up.
Twenty minutes later, they were finished. Kyle's shoulder was cleaned and bandaged. His left arm was wrapped to his side to immobilize the shoulder muscles. In the end, it had been easier to explain everything from start, rather than keep jumping around in his explanations.
"That's what is so sad about all this," he said, wrapping up his narrative. "I don't even think I'm gay. I'm what they call `bi-curious'. I've just expressed some interest in what it is like being with another guy."
By this point, Kyle was quite relaxed with Marcus' mom, Dr. Veeson. She laughed at that last comment, but by now he was able to tell she just enjoyed the irony.
"So, that's what you get for doing online chats at school," Dr. Veeson said. "I guess that will teach you."
She playfully flicked him on the nose before helping him down off the stool.
Completely innocently, Dr. Veeson said, "It's been nice to meet you, Kyle. Now I see what all the fuss is about."
Kyle paused, not at all sure what she was getting at. Marcus, too, held back, waiting to see where his mom was going with this. Seeing the twin looks of confusion, she decided to elaborate. She was quite casual in her speech, as if commenting on the weather.
"Well, I just mean that it is good to see who my son was willing to get into a fight over. I mean, I agree. You're cute enough that I would have taken on two jocks, as well. Has he asked you out yet?"