All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com
A Very Ordinary Boy (Part 2)
From Chapter 1:
What's that, is Bruno hot? Well, like I say, he's great-looking, friendly and had lots of completely professional reasons for touching me. Yes, really! But even when he's supervising me in the shower -- a must for nut-jobs in the psych ward - no reaction from me in the cock department. Nothing. Not even when he's soaping my back. It was like being six years old again, you know, before you have any idea just how much fun can be had from that piece of flesh hanging about between your legs. And, if I'm honest, it's been like that since I've been home too. I haven't looked at porn, not once. It's like my hand has forgotten where my cock is. And what makes it worse is that I'm totally not bothered. Yeah, it's a bit of a worry, and, you're right, I probably shouldn't be getting stressed about it, not after what happened. But can it really be completely normal, like Doctor Knobless says it is, "considering the traumatic events experienced with a, supposedly, close friend"? I bet he would just love to get his teeth into it. No!! not like that. That's a disgusting idea. Time you went home. See you tomorrow?
Chapter 2:
So, how was school today? Anybody ask about me at all? No? Well, I `spose that, by now, I'm totally yesterday's news. I've been out of school for, what, nearly a month now and that's, like, more than a million times the interest-span of most Greenside kids. If it's not flashing up on their screens every ten seconds, then there's no room for it in their heads. At least the teachers have still got me on their radar, even if it's only to sort out work for you to bring home to me. Course, I never had a chance to see if social media picked up on what, exactly, I did to get myself banged up in the hospital, what with me having my phone taken away, "to aid my recovery." Thanks Doctor Dickless. Yeah, I know, I should be thankful that, at least, I've got this old Nokia brick, but texts and calls only -- really? Totally sad.
Something must have got out there though, onto social media I mean, cause Chalky White came to visit me. It was about a week after I'd done ... well, you know what, and I was still feeling mostly out of it, you know? And if he hadn't known before, he would totally have realised exactly what I'd done as soon as he clocked the bandages up both arms. But he was really good, didn't ask any stupid questions or give me a lecture about self-harm and throwing my life away. None of the obvious shit. No, he said how he'd missed having me hanging round the art room all the time and how I was one of the most promising students he'd had in a long time. In fact, he said he'd come to ask me if it'd be okay if he entered my Saint Seb picture for some big competition at the city art gallery. Said he thought I stood a good chance of getting, at least, a Highly Commended', maybe even one of the smaller prizes. There's one for an artist under the age of 25 apparently, and he thinks there's a half-way decent possibility that I could win it. Yeah I know, as if! But even if nothing like that came of it, he said it would be a big positive to put in my college application. Said it's the sort of thing that admissions tutors like to see cause not every applicant would have had that sort of exposure. I was really surprised I can tell you. Surprised that he'd think it was good enough to enter and even more surprised that he'd take the time and trouble to come and ask my permission. And, yeah, I was totally lit up. I mean, a picture by Jack Ordinary' Smith hanging on the wall of the city art gallery with all those real artists? Maybe not so ordinary after all. It was later, when I told my dad about it, that's when he said about my mum being super proud of me, and not just cause of my art or any exhibition, but proud of me for being me, and that's when he said that it really would be okay to tell her about the gay thing and it would definitely make absolutely no difference to how she felt about me. Made me cry again. But then I got to thinking, if she's so proud of me, how come I hardly ever see her, especially since I got home from the hospital? If she cares that much, why isn't she cutting back on her time at work to spend more of it with me? Rosa and Granny Smith have both been watching me like hawks. Oh, maybe that's it, maybe mum's sub-contracted the keeping an eye on Jack' thing to them. If she has they're doing a fucking good job of it. And as for the no closing the bedroom door' rule, what's that about? Yeah, I know it's cause they're worried after what happened, but unless they're gonna put CCTV up here (no, don't even think of suggesting it), what difference is it gonna make if the door's open or closed, with me here up in the roof and them all the way down there? It makes no sense. Okay, yeah, it probably makes them feel less anxious but, really, if there was genuinely a danger of me having another stab at it -- pun intended, there's no way Doctor Cheerless would have let me come home. My mum, of all people, should know that and have confidence in a fellow mental health professional, especially the one that she recommended.
Anyway, he didn't stay very long, Chalky I mean. It seemed like he'd just called in to ask me about Saint Seb, you know, entering him for the competition, but then, just as he was leaving, he said a strange thing. He said he knew I must have felt like I was in some dark, scary cave with no way out, but really it was a tunnel and that there was light at the end of it, even if, maybe, I couldn't see it, and that I might need someone to help me find the way out. Don't you think that's weird -- talking to me like he knew exactly what I'd been going through? Gone through it himself, maybe. I bet my mum would have some thoughts about that. Will I ask her? Dunno. I doubt it. I mean, it'd be like opening up Pandora's Box (just Google it) cause I'd have to explain what made me do what I did and that would mean doing the whole COMING OUT' thing. What's that? Yeah, I know my dad said it'd be okay and I totally believe him but I don't think I'm ready for all the whole interrogation thing that she'd definitely be wanting. You know, how did I know? How long? Why didn't I tell her? Who else knows? No, I really couldn't face it. I'd rather talk to you. Or even Doctor Pointless. (I can't believe I just said that.)
Oh, and talking about who else knows, Rosa does. Fuck, it was so embarrassing. You remember I said she kept bringing me stuff, when I was in the hospital? Well, one day, about three or four days after I'd been admitted, it wasn't just brownies she brought in. She waited until Granny Smith was out of the room -- gone for coffee or something -- and then, from out of her bag she pulls a handful of some kind of fabric. At first I thought it was just some old rags and I couldn't work out why she'd brought them in with her or why she wanted to show them to me. But then she held those `rags' out to me, said she'd found them when she was doing the laundry, and I realised what she was holding. I could have died. I felt my ball-sac shrivel up like it'd been dipped in an ice bath, just like before, you know, with Noah. And then Rosa, who's always got something to say about anything and an opinion about everything, well, she just stood there, holding out the briefs that I'd peeled down my legs that morning in the rain before stuffing them into my pocket, and she looked at me with such a weird expression on her face. She wasn't angry or accusing or disgusted, and I could have understood any of those. No, what she looked was a sort of mixture of puzzled and sad. So there we were, me sitting up in my bed and her standing beside it holding out the bloody, cummy evidence of that fucking awful night with Noah, the night that I'd been trying so hard not to think about. And failing. Obviously. And it didn't need a genius to work out that she was waiting for some sort of explanation, and there I was with tears streaming down my face and not able to say a word. What a picture the two of us must have made.
But the tears stopped and I told her. Not every little detail, obviously, and I definitely didn't tell her Noah's name, but I explained that, yes, there was a special boy that I'd always liked from a distance and how I'd got to know him when I was working at FfT, and that he'd asked me to go on the camping trip -- just as friends I thought -- and that, yes, we'd ended up having sex. I tried to leave it at that but Rosa was having none of it, waved the underwear at me and asked me straight out if this "so-called special boy" had forced himself on me and I said that, well, I hadn't actually told him that I wasn't into it or that I wanted him to stop. But I must have hesitated before I answered or maybe there was a look on my face, I dunno, but she clearly wasn't convinced and was totally about to do a real number on me. But then we heard Granny Smith coming back -- she was talking to someone on her phone -- and the next second those disgusting briefs were back in Rosa's bag and she was droning on about the weather as if that's what we'd been talking about all the time Granny had been gone. She'd make one hell of an actor. Oscar-winning. But I love her for being so concerned and so caring.
Seconds later, when Granny walked into the room, Rosa said she had to go `cause she needed to get dinner ready for my mum and dad. As she bent down to kiss me goodbye she whispered in my ear that our conversation wasn't over and that we'd talk some more the next time she visited. She was half way out of the door when she turned round and looked straight at me and gave me one of her looks. She didn't have to say anything for me to know exactly what she meant -- that she was very well aware there was more I hadn't told her about the camping trip and that she expected to hear the full story when she visited again later in the week. All I could think was that I wished I'd kept my big mouth shut. But there's something about Rosa that makes it pretty much impossible to keep her in the dark.
So Rosa's gone and now Granny's on duty and she settles herself in the chair by my bed before coming out with another bombshell. No, nothing like the briefs, I'm glad to say, and definitely not as shocking. It was more of a surprise really, cause I'd pretty much given up on Dyl and Si. I'd been thinking about them a lot, of course I had, but it had been stuff like, "Those two deserve each other," and "It'd serve them right if I'd bled to death" and "If I'd died it would have been totally down to them". Yeah, I known pretty sick, eh? But I was still really pissed off with them hooking up and not telling me and for Si accusing me of being jealous. Jealous! I don't think so. What do you mean, you're not so sure? You mean you're saying that you think that I really might have resented them for getting together when I didn't have anyone special in my life? As if! And do I honestly think them getting together had nothing to do with me getting so low that I wanted to die? Oh well, I spose, yeah, it's possible that them fucking the daylights out of each other might have had something to do with it. But not the main reason, only a really tiny bit. Yeah, seriously. It was being gay and still hiding and the Noah thing and my mum and having no friends and the Noah thing and ... and ... well, everything. So yeah, Dyl and Si were in there somewhere, but pretty much near the back of a very crowded line.
Oh shit, you've made me go off on one of my rambles again, and this time it was definitely your fault. So, I was telling you about Dyl, at least, Granny Smith was telling me about him. She says she's just been on the phone with my mum -- that's who me and Rosa heard her talking to before -- and that she -- my mum - has been talking to Dyl's mum who's told her that he's been going crazy ever since he's heard that I'm in the hospital and messaging me and trying to call me and getting no answer, cause, of course, he doesn't know about Doctor Gormless taking away my phone and only having this stupid antique with a different number. And as soon as she tells me, Granny Smith I mean, I start feeling all guilty for the shitty things I'd been thinking and I can feel myself tearing up and wanting to hide under the bed covers. And then she tells me that, if I feel up to it, and only for a few minutes, then Dyl's allowed to come to see me later in the week. And only Dyl, and only cause we've been besties, like, forever and Doctor Chinless has decided it might be good for me to see someone my own age. Spose he thinks I'll be so grateful to see someone under the age of 90 that I'll instantly start to open up about what happened and why, and that it'll kick-start my recovery. Well, talking about it with Doctor Deathless totally hasn't worked, something we both know, so maybe he thinks it's time to try something new. Now, if hed known about you and how easy you are to talk to, well, that would've been different. But he didn't and, to be fair, neither did I, not back then -- fuck, it seems so long ago - but I do now, and, believe me, it's made the biggest difference.
When I got that message from Noah, yeah, the one about you being interested in me, well, I didn't know what to think, and to be fair, I wasn't exactly thinking straight about anything. To me you were just some random kid who was something big in swimming and I couldn't think how you would even know me, much less be interested', and, really, I don't think the message registered with me at all, cause it was totally at that moment that I noticed my Saint Seb sketch book and started looking through it and that got me thinking about ... Yeah, well, anyway, it was just about then that I lost the plot and did what I did and ended up in the hospital. And then, pretty much as soon as I started to get my shit together again, I had my phone taken away so that meant I had no choice about looking back at any of my messages, and even if I could have I don't think I'd have been looking for texts from him, or trying to get in touch with him again, unless it was to wait till he picked up and then blow a whistle down the phone or shouted every filthy word I could think of at him. Yeah, I know, very adult and mature. But would you blame me?
Anyway, when my mum told me that some boy named Grey was going to be bringing work from school for me to do, that's when I remembered Noah's message and worked out that there probably weren't two boys in my year at Greenside named Grey, so that meant that the boy who was going to be coming to see me, coming to my house, was 99.9% the boy who was `interested'. Believe me, that was a very big FUCK ME! moment. (No, that's not an invitation.)
I think it's really funny (peculiar, not ha-ha) that you were the one chosen to be the homework messenger boy. I mean, what are the chances that, out of all the guys in our year, you get to be the one chosen. Coincidence or what? Or maybe you fixed it, somehow managed to be in just the right place when they were wanting a volunteer. Or did you actually have the balls to go marching into the admin office and tell them that you lived around the corner from me and would be happy to do the job? And of course you'd have looked totally innocent and believable, even though you actually live way over on the other side of town. Hey, you've gone all red. And you're looking guilty. Yes, really guilty! So I'm right, you did blag your way into being my personal schoolwork monitor. That's so sick -- devious but sick. And it's taken me more than two weeks to work it out -- how dim am I? No, of course I'm not mad. No, not disappointed, either. If you want the truth, I'm, well, I'm flattered. As far as I know I've never had anyone be interested in me before, at least, not in a good way.
But, just a minute, does that mean you knew I was into boys? Shit! Is it so obvious? What gave it away? Does everyone know? Is it all over school? Who's been talking about me? What do you mean, "Calm down"? I suddenly find out that everyone at Greenside High knows I'm a fag and you tell me to calm down. What? Yes, you're right. I know. I mustn't call myself that. I just panicked for a moment.
Oh, so you didn't know I was gay, you just hoped. You'd never seen me with a girl and didn't think I'd ever had a girlfriend, hadn't ever seen me hang out with anyone apart from Dyl and Si. And you thought I was way hot! Now I know you're just pulling my chain. How can you say I'm hot? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? That's hot. Oh shit! Did I just say I think you're hot? Well, well you are. And fit. And kind. And a good listener. And a great homework monitor. And I think you need to go home before, well, before I say anything else to embarrass the shit out of both of us. Bye. See you tomorrow.
As an author, it's REALLY encouraging to know that there are people out there who are taking the time to read what I've written, and then bothering to send a response. So please, do feel free to write to me at the email address given at the top of the chapter. I welcome all comments and guarantee to write back. PJ
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