Consider this the second edition of my story. I looked back at my early works and saw how much I have improved as a writer and thought it only behooved me to polish up what I had written. So, I went through and edited the story stylistically and structurally. The story is still the same, just shinier.
Disclaimer: This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much encouraged, so hit me up at bluedragon314@gmail.com.
Ch.7
That night, I had a restless, dreamless sleep. In retrospect I guess it was a good thing because any dream would surely have been of the horrible argument I had with Brian. But the body needs a good night's rest, and I quickly found out why. When the alarm woke me up to get ready for school, I felt terrible. My head was throbbing, I was disoriented and I would have given anything to stay in bed just a little longer. I don't know first-hand but, judging from James' reactions, this must be what a hangover feels like.
I quickly drifted back to sleep and had the dream I was dreading. I was sitting on Brian's bed and he was standing in front of me, yelling. I didn't know what he was saying, but he was crying and I felt very bad. I felt angry, upset, betrayed and just a twinge of shame. The alarm went off again and I quickly got out of bed, despite the searing headache that ensued. I didn't want to risk another dream like that.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I sat at the table, staring into my cereal. I wasn't hungry at all. I just moved the floating pieces around with my spoon. James walked in wearing a nice, blue business suit and paused when he saw me. "Still upset over last night?" he asked.
"How'd you guess?" I said, dryly.
"Right," he said. "Stupid question." He walked over and sat down across from me and asked, "What are you going to say when you see him?"
"I hope I never see him again," I said. "I hurt him and he hurt me. We're even. Now I can get out of his already messed-up life."
"You're just going to leave him?" he asked.
"He left me!" I exclaimed, throwing my spoon down on the table. I bent over the table with my face in my arms and started crying. I felt so bad about hurting Brian, but I felt really bad that he had rejected me. I kept wondering what he meant when he said we were too similar. I figured two people who were the same would get a long great.
James sat there, watching me cry. "You know," he said, "somewhere Brian is out there and he's feeling just as bad as you."
"Why should I care?" I said. "He's the one who decided to walk out and break my heart last night."
"But^Åit sounded like you walked out on him first," said James.
"What?" I said as I sat up straight. I felt attacked by this unfounded accusation. I knew I treated him like a trophy boyfriend, but when did I walk out on him?
"He just wanted a friend who could be there for him, not someone to gawk at him. He trusted you to be that friend, but you weren't. You walked out on that job."
"So, you're taking his side?"
"I'm not taking anyone's side."
"Why couldn't he be my boyfriend? What's wrong with me?"
"Kyle, you were expecting too much too fast. He's still adjusting to the whole gay thing just like you are. He isn't ready for a boyfriend, and neither are you."
"But what's wrong with wanting him to like me?"
"But he does like you. He likes you a lot. It's just got nothing to do with sex."
"But that's not what I want from him. I want to be closer to him than that."
"It's not about what you want, Kyle! And you are close to him, but you call too much attention to his sexuality. He's still scared and he neesd someone to just be there for him. And when your wants take away from someone's needs like that, something's wrong."
James was starting to sound like that teacher on the playground who always spoiled your fun by telling you to stop running. I knew he was right, but I really didn't want to admit it.
I just picked up my spoon and kept toying with my cereal. James let out a sigh and said, "Sitting here won't going to get you any closer to Brian. If you really want to be his boyfriend, just play by his rules for now. Go to school, apologize to him and let him know you still care. If you still stand a chance of being with him, he'll let you know. The ball is in his court and you have to wait until he makes a play."
"Thanks for nothing," I said.
James walked over to me and hugged me. "I hate seeing you act this way," he said. "You feel bad and you have every right to. But don't get mad at me or Brian because it's nobody's fault. You shouldn't have been so selfish, Brian shouldn't have been so cold, and I should have told you."
It was for reasons like this I trusted James so much. How could I stay upset when he cared so much for me, even when I was a little jerk? I'll admit I was being selfish, and Brian sure was cold when he left, and James^Åwait!
"What do you mean, 'I should have told you?'" I asked. James let go of me and walked towards the door without a word. "Hold on!" I shouted getting up to follow him. I got to the door as he was getting in is truck. "What do you mean you should have told me?"
He closed the door and rolled down the window. "Don't forget to talk to Brian when you see him. Regardless of last night, I know he still cares," he said and he backed out of the driveway and left for work.
'What the hell?' I thought. 'He should have told me what? What does he know that would have any bearing on the argument? What does^×oh crap!' I saw the bus coming a few blocks down the street. I ran inside and got my backpack together and got outside just in time to catch the bus.
When I got to school, there was a strange tension in the air. People looked paranoid and the cheerleaders seemed unusually gossipy. I knew what they were all talking about. I told Brian I would be by his side today, but I was feeling kind of uneasy about that since our argument. And seeing the school erupt in gossip and homophobia told me I should do my best to avoid Brian that day. I didn't have chemistry that afternoon, so it would be that much easier to get through the day without running into him.
PE was brutal. Not that it wasn't anyway, but the guys in the locker room were talking about nothing but Brian. All the jocks were shocked and appalled that their star quarterback was gay. The fact that he was one of the best football players in the state didn't matter. They didn't want to have to "tackle some queer."
After PE, I had health. It was full of sophomores, so I figured I could take a break from the gossiping seniors. But it wasn't long before the girls at the table in front of me started talking about how it was such a shame that such a hot guy turned out to be gay.
'Speak for yourself, girls,' I thought. Then I was painfully reminded that it didn't matter for me. 'Brian doesn't want me. All he wants is a brother. Well, I already have one of those and one is enough. He's going to have to look somewhere else.'
"You know who else is probably gay?" said one of the girls. "Mark Turner."
"I know," gasped the other. "I mean, have you seen the way he, like, walks around all weird and stuff and, like, how his clothes always match?"
"I know!" squealed the other.
'Oh, crap!' I thought. 'What if I make their list? I just learned over the weekend that, despite my best efforts, I am as gay as the day is long. Well, not flaming gay. But I may as well be, it seems.'
Soon the bell rang and it was time for lunch. As soon as everyone got their food and sat down there were two topics for discussion: the fact that Brian was gay, and who else might be.
The cafeteria was abuzz with gossip and accusations. A fight even broke out between two guys because one accused the other's friend of being gay. This was all too much tension for me and I didn't want to expose myself as a queer so I hid in the library for the duration of lunch. Sure I didn't eat anything, but I wasn't really hungry.
When lunch was over, I hastily made it to my CARE class (CARE is some dumb-ass acronym about developing job skills. The actual title doesn't even spell C-A-R-E. It was my least favorite class ever, and it takes a lot for me to hate a class.) When the class started, everyone was quiet for the first time that day. But everyone hated the class as much as I did, so they never really talked in it anyway. Our teacher started some inane lesson on how to properly look for an apartment when the kid in the desk behind mine leaned over and said, "Hey, Wilson."
I turned around and said "What?"
"Did you hear about Brian Fleishman?" he asked.
'Kid, if only you knew,' I thought. But I wanted to hear everyone else's impression of the situation, so I played along.
"Kind of," I said. "What's going on?"
"Well, it turns out he's gay," he said.
"No, really? The quarterback?" I embellished.
"Yeah! Isn't that weird?" he said. "They say he brought his boyfriend to his dad's retirement party and his dad got really mad and kicked them out of the house. Then his mom started calling all the other moms about it and that's how everyone found out."
"Who is his boyfriend?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said. "But I bet it's Ruben Coleman. That guy is such a fag."
My stomach lurched when I heard that word. It's so full of hate. But I was relieved that people didn't think it was me. It's nice to be in the clear.
Crappy-Ass Really bad Education got over and all I had to do was endure creative writing. It was all downhill from here. It would seem that while rumors were flying, I was not part of them. And all day, I had seen neither hide nor hair of Brian. And I didn't care. He walked out on me, so I didn't have to see him if I didn't want to.
My creative writing teacher was something else. There's no way to really describe Lidia Yuknavich. Hippie seems closest, but she's too smart for that. She's definitely laid back. Anyway, when class got started, she got right to the point.
"So," she said, "turns out Brian Fleishman is gay. How do you guys feel about that?"
To say I was uncomfortable at this point would be like saying Justin Berfield is cute: a huge understatement. But this is the kind of stuff Lidia did in class, so I wasn't really surprised.
Mark Turner, who sat in front of me, said, "It's a big surprise to most people because being quarterback and stuff is such a masculine thing and being gay is anything but masculine."
"Ok, that's a good place to start," said Lidia. "Anybody else?"
"I agree with Mark," said Ruben Coleman. "Quarterbacks have the whole stereotype of being womanizers and getting lucky with the cheerleaders. And Brian being gay defies all of that."
"I see," said Lidia. "So guys like Brian are supposed to be all masculine and tough and have lots of sex with lots of girls. Am I right? Is that what we expect in our society?" The class silently nodded. "So when someone like Brian turns out to be gay, why does it bother people so much?"
"Because it's a huge shock to our paradigm," said Mark. "It's like going your whole life with your favorite color being green and then someone tells you that the color you think is green is actually blue."
"A little extreme, but I'll take that," said Lidia. "Any objections to Mark's theory? Anyone? Ok. Tell me, who here has seen Fight Club?" Most of the class raised their hands. I had never seen the movie because it looked like some dumb Brad Pitt action flick, and I'm not really that impressed with Brad Pitt. "Ok," said Lidia, "Who has read the book?" A few more hands went up. "Well," she continued, "Did you know that Chuck, the guy who wrote it, is gay?" The room went very quiet. The guys who had so eagerly raised their hands were now looking at the floor as if ashamed of the fact they liked the movie so much.
"It's weird, isn't it?" she said, "That a story that is all about guys beating the shit out of each other^×which is a very masculine thing to do^×was written by a gay guy. How about this: you know the band 'Queen'? They sang 'We are the Champions', 'Another One Bites the Dust,' 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' those songs. Well, the lead singer for Queen is gay, too." The silence in the room was deafening. "What, you guys didn't know that? God, you need to get out more! So, now that I have shocked your paradigm even more, is there anything else you guys wanted to talk about?"
Nobody said anything. Even Mark, who always had something to say, was quiet.
"Does it seem like society needs to redefine what it thinks of as masculine?" asked Lidia.
Mark's hand twitched, but he didn't say anything.
"Great," said Lidia, "because now you have more time for your story. Today, I want you to write a short story in which someone learns a lesson from someone else through a great irony, such as a big, masculine sports star being gay. You can write it here or go to the library and type it, but it's due at the end of class."
For the rest of class I kept trying to come up with something, but all I could think about was Brian.
'I guess it is a pretty great irony to be the quarterback and be gay,' I thought. 'But you know what's an even bigger irony? A boy like me being with Brian. Sure, I'm no Hayden Christensen, but I could have been a good boyfriend. He didn't have to walk out like that. He could have just said it's ok for me to think he's hot and hug me and sleep with me in his arms again. He didn't have to abandon me. I bet he's out on the street now, looking for the next boy whose heart he's going to break. I bet he'll never have a boyfriend because he's just too picky! What's wrong with me? You know what, there's nothing wrong with me! It's you who has the problem, Brian Fleishman!'
I left the class without finishing the assignment and felt really mad. I just wanted to get home so I could get away from all the shallow freaks who don't have a clue what was really going on. And I wanted to avoid Brian more than I ever had before. I even decided to walk out the little service door on the side of the school so I wouldn't risk running into him. Only stoners hung out there, so there was no way I would meet him, and no way he could hurt me again.
I walked out the door following the janitor as he left to take out the trash. On either side of me was a dumpster and in front was the dugout of the junior-varsity baseball field. I figured I would wait a few minutes to miss the rush to the busses while the janitor hefted the trash into the proper dumpsters.
When he went back inside, I heard a voice ask, "Is he gone."
I looked around to see who it was and heard another voice from behind a dumpster say, "I think so."
"Alright then, lest get back to work."
I heard the distinct sounds of fists on flesh and cries of pain from someone who was being beaten by what sounded like three or four guys. I knew trouble went down out here, but I had never witnessed it. My beatings usually took place in the cafeteria, and at the hands of Brian and his flunkies (another reason to not like the jerk).
"You had enough, fag?" said one voice. The victim coughed and let out a meek cry. Something pierced my heart when I heard that cry. There was something familiar about it. It sounded just like the one I'd heard all last weekend. I ran around to the other side of the dumpster and was horrified to see Brian crumpled on the ground in fear as four jocks, led by none other than Shawn Thomas, kicked the crap out of him.
I stared at Brian as tears flowed from his eyes like the blood flowing from his mouth. He looked scared and utterly helpless. 'Why doesn't he fight them off?' I asked myself. 'The captain of the wrestling team should be able to do that, right?' But he laid there as these bullies kicked him and mocked him.
I felt a great swell of compassion for him. At that point, I didn't care how he hurt me. At that point, I didn't care that he left. I was his brother and he was in trouble. "Hey!" I declared in a shaky voice. "Leave him alone!"
The bullies all stopped and looked at me. I felt like each one was about to run at me and tear me to pieces. But they didn't. Shawn just walked over to me and said, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
I'm not sure what came over me at that point, but I had somehow managed to marshal the courage to say this: "My name is Kyle Wilson. The boy you're beating the crap out of is a very close friend of mine. In fact we are so close, you could call us brothers. [Cue Battle Hymn of the Republic] Now I know we aren't related, but genetics doesn't count for shit! It's not DNA that makes a family, but the respect and trust and love that we have for each other. And while we may have our hard times together, nothing can break the bond of brotherhood that we share. Not hateful parents or sociopath siblings or selfish arguments. He may be gay, but big deal. So am I! And I am proud to call him my brother!"
Or at least that's what I would have said if Shawn hadn't grabbed me right after "My name is^×" and threw me in one of the dumpsters that his cohort had so conveniently opened for him. I landed on the remnants of today's spaghetti and the lid was promptly closed on me.
I heard riotous laughter coming from outside. Then Shawn said, "Now, where were we? Huh? What the fuck!?" I heard more punches and more yelling and something banged against the side of the dumpster. I felt really sorry for Brian.
"Get him! Get Him!" yelled one of the bullies.
"I'm trying!" yelled another. It no longer sounded like the fight was going in their favor, so I got up and opened the lid enough to see what was happening. Brian was taking on two guys at once while another stood and watched. I didn't see Shawn standing anywhere and figured it was he that had just landed against the dumpster.
Brian had one guy in a headlock and was using his feet and fists to fend off the other. The guy in the headlock managed to struggle free and reared up to punch Brian, but Brian quickly punched him in the gut and sent him doubling over onto the ground. The one he was fending off decided to lunge at him in an effort to tackle him. Brian grabbed him by the arm and flung the bully over his shoulder in the style that James and Aaron had "taught" him. He landed on the ground next to his cohort and didn't get back up. Brian turned to face the onlooker who looked like a deer in headlights. And like a deer, he ran away.
It was over. Brian had taken out the bullies that only recently had him curled up on the ground. He looked around at his defeated foes as they lay on the ground. He wiped blood from his mouth and then he saw me in the dumpster. He smiled at me and said, "Hey, Kyle."
"Uh, hi, Brian," I said sheepishly.
"Thanks a lot," he said with labored breath.
"But, I didn't do anything," I replied. I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
"Yes^Åyou did," he said. "You kept^Åyour promise." And then he collapsed on the ground.
I climbed out of the dumpster and landed on top of Shawn. I went over to Brian and said, "But you sure put up a good fight^ÅBrian? Brian, are you ok?" I shook his arm and he didn't respond. "Brian!" I yelled. I rolled him on his back and looked for a pulse. I could see he was breathing, so he was still alive. "Wake up! You have to wake up!"
I went over to the guy he had punched in the gut and asked, "Do you have a cell phone?"
"Fuck off!" he wheezed.
I kicked him in the balls and he lurched foreword in pain. "I said, 'Do you have a cell phone?'" I knew it was a low blow, but I had no patience for negotiations.
With the hand that wasn't holding his groin, he pointed to a backpack on the ground and weakly said, "Small pocket."
"Thanks," I replied and went over and retrieved his phone. I dialed 911 and they said they would send an ambulance and a squad car to the school. I tossed the cell phone on the bully's backpack and went over to Brian. I moved his body so he was lying on his side and made sure his head was supported. I did my best to clean the blood off his face with the tail of my shirt. He had a cut on his lip and his face was swollen in a few places. I didn't know why he was unconscious, but he had probably taken too many blows to the head. I kneeled next to him, staring at the beaten form of my newest brother and watched over him until the paramedics came.