Dark Star - Chapter 4

Chapter 4, everyone. If you'd like to message me about the story, give me a shout! - archhunter420@gmail.com

ARCH HUNTER

Dark Star

Chapter 4

Sunday can't come fast enough. Rufus and I ignore each other at school, but that's nothing new. I hope nothing comes up this time because we have to present the project on Tuesday. It would be sad if our grade suffered because of a little beef, after all the work we put into it.

On Saturday evening, I text him, "I'll come over at 11, okay?"

"Okay," he replies.

After ten minutes of silence, I write, "wyd?"

It takes him a while to reply, "I'm at a friend's house."

"Okay, sorry for bothering you," I text. He reads it but doesn't reply.

I sigh and move on with my day. I spend it hanging out with the boys in the city. We have a great time, but for some reason, it makes me feel lonelier than ever. Like there's not a single meaningful thing in my life. This must just be one of these moods.

Dad's campaign for the council is gaining momentum, and he's barely home. Mom takes care of the house, and in the afternoons she drinks wine with her friends or alone. Later she sleeps on the couch while the TV is running, and around midnight, she turns it off and goes to bed. She has a sewing club on Thursdays, but she never talks about it - not that I want to hear.

I start my laptop and check if any of my friends are online in League. Of course, they are, like every evening, so I kill time playing a few matches. There are evenings when I can play for five hours straight, but today I can't put my heart into it. I go to sleep well before my usual bedtime.

I wake up early and at 8, I'm already showered and slowly finishing breakfast. Three more hours. Ugh. I take off all my clothes and lie on the bed naked, waiting for 11 o'clock to roll around. The clock is ticking away, and I'm still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I have no idea what to do. Should I call him? Text him again? Why can't I be normal like I was just a week ago?

Luckily, Rufus saves me from the agony.

"Can you come earlier? Something came up," he texts me.

"Sure. How much earlier?"

"Whenever you're ready."

"I am ready. I'll be there soon."

My heart beats faster, and I jump to my feet to get dressed.

"I'm going to Rufus, Mom," I say, opening the front door.

"Don't be late for lunch!"

Rufus lives in a cheap suburban district on the upper floor of a two-story building. The house is ordinary enough, with white walls and brown window shutters. The doorbell doesn't work properly, so I knock instead. He opens the door wearing gray track pants and an old oversized t-shirt. I've never seen him wearing anything like this, but I don't complain. It's like he looks cuter every day.

"Hi, Rufus," I say.

"Hi, come in." He moves aside and lets me in. Not even a hint of a smile on his face.

I step through the door and take off my shoes. "Is your mom home?"

"No, she's at the church. I'm by myself."

"Cool. And your brother?"

"No," he says. "He moved out a few years ago. As a matter of fact, he's moving in with his girlfriend today. I have to help him move his things; that's why I asked you to come earlier."

"It's fine," I smile. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

He looks at me strangely but leaves it without comment.

His room is simple but pretty big. It's even bigger than mine. I scan a large wall unit filled mostly with books, a few board games, and family photos. A calendar hangs beside the bed showing a picture of the Eiffel Tower. His bed is made neatly and there are two pillows on his bed, both with different types of patterns.

"I used to share it with Tim, but now I have it for myself," Rufus says.

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-one."

"You're wearing his shirt, right?" I ask with a smile.

He glances down as if it only just occurred to him. "Yes, actually." Finally, a weak smile.

"So, what's the agenda, boss?" I ask.

"I divided the presentation into roles. I thought we could change every slide or two to make it more interesting. It's not final, so we can still change..."

"It looks great. I love it," I comment.

Rufus blushes and smiles awkwardly. "I just wrote our names in the corner, nothing else."

"Always humble, eh? So, where do we start?"

Rufus scrolls up to the first slide. "Here. You can do the introduction. If you want, of course."

"Don't mind if I do!"

Over the next hour, we get through it twice. We come up with some pretty creative ideas, and I can't wait to do it in front of everyone. At first, Rufus is a bit shy even though there is no audience, and he stutters a lot.

"Speak slower," I tell him. "You're doing great; just don't rush."

"Sorry, I'm nervous," he says.

"No need to be. You have a great voice. Remember about the vibe. Imagine you're telling me a bedtime story."

Rufus laughs out loud at my comparison, covering his mouth. No way this boy is ashamed of his smile.

By the end, we're doing pretty great. Rufus's voice is still shaky at times, but nothing off-putting. In the meantime, his mom comes back home and we go to the main room so I can meet her. She seems nice enough. I can't help but notice that Rufus has her eyes and hair.

"Tim's coming to pick me up soon," he tells her.

"That's fine, Rufus. Tell him and Tess to come over when they're done unpacking."

"Any news from Dad?"

"I'll tell you later," she says dismissively after glancing at me.

Back in the room, Rufus clears his throat. "We can do one last time before Tim's here."

I sit on his bed and look up at him. "Uh, I think we're fine. We shouldn't practice too much, you know? Let's say it once before bed tomorrow, and I bet we'll smash it on Tuesday."

"I hope..."

"Hey, Rufus..." I start, moving to the topic I've been dreading. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry for acting like an asshole the other day. We talk shit to each other with the boys all the time, and I... I think it rubs off on me more than it should."

Rufus slowly sits on the chair across the room and looks at the floor. "It's okay," he says. "Like I told you, I won't put you in such a situation again."

I sigh with frustration. "What situation? Why do you make it sound like it's your fault?"

"You know. I embarrassed you in front of your friends."

"But... what..." I stutter, feeling my face going purple.

"It's fine. I get it. I know how it is. Hanging out with the losers is bad for the reputation."

"Come on, you're not a loser."

"In their eyes, I am."

"Even if, who cares what they think?"

"You, obviously," he says bitterly, and barely audibly.

It strikes me like a lightning bolt. Shit. He reads me like an open book. What else did I expect? I'm not a master of subtlety, and he's smart enough to figure me out. I open my mouth to argue my way out of it, but I change my mind after one look into his eyes.

"Who's the real loser now, huh?" I smile sadly. Rufus keeps looking at the floor, and the silence rings in my ears. I want to stand and walk away, but he finally looks up at me.

"It hurt a lot when you did that," he says slowly. "On that day, my dad got into a fight with an inmate, and... his condition was very serious. That's why I had to cancel our meeting. Then you..."

Now it's my time to look away. "Shit, sorry."

"I thought about it all day," Rufus continues, and I feel as if a fist squeezes my heart. "And most of the next day, too. You don't have to say anything more. I'm not mad. Let's do this project and go back to what we were before."

Nothing. That's what we were, and that's all we were ever meant to be. After all, did I really care about him and what he wanted?

"Is your dad going to be fine?" I ask, resigned.

"He took a knife under his ribs. But he was lucky. Doctors say he'll be fine."

"It's good to hear," I say with relief. "Do you see him a lot?"

"Twice a month."

"That's not bad. I hope he gets well soon. How much more time does he have?"

"Fifteen years. But he can apply for a reduced sentence in three."

"Would he come to live with you again?"

"I don't know. Things just got complicated. The investigation is still on, but I heard he started that fight. He hasn't been on his best behavior all those years. Anyway," Rufus shrugs, "even if they let him out sooner, I will be almost an adult by that time, so I don't think about it."

"Do you want to move out?"

"As soon as I possibly can," he says seriously.

"Where to?"

"Silicon Valley."

"I-I really hope it works for you, Rufus. You deserve it."

"Thanks. I don't want to..." he starts and gets interrupted by a car honking outside. "Crap, it's Tim. I gotta go," he says and picks up his phone and keys.

"Do you want to practice the presentation one last time tomorrow?" I ask hopefully.

"No need, I think," he says, moving around the room hastily. "You were right. We can practice our parts separately."

"Yes, but..."

"Tyler," he interrupts. "Thanks for all your help. Now, let's go."

The car honk sounds again as we walk downstairs. A black BMW is parked by the sidewalk, and a young dude stands next to it, smoking a cigarette. He looks nothing like his younger brother. He has short blond hair and an oval face. He's a little chubby overall, but he doesn't have that "I ate too much" look. He's just not skinny enough to be a model.

"Finally! I told you to be ready when I'm here," he scolds Rufus, ignoring me.

"I was. It wasn't even a minute," Rufus barks back.

"It was at least three. Now get in. We're late."

Rufus only gives me a quick, sad look before disappearing inside the car.

***

On Monday, Rufus keeps his promise and sticks with Dale and the girls. I feel like a total jerk, and the more I think about it, the more I realize it's because I am one. I can barely participate in our regular shenanigans because I keep stealing glances at Rufus and how he's relaxed and happy with his little bunch of losers. I know I should do something, but I can't figure out what it is. Rufus is probably right. We come from different worlds. It would be selfish of me to keep hitting on him when he made himself very clear about his priorities. You can't always get what you want. The old song is right, after all.

I think a lot about Rufus and his family. I wonder if his brother got a bigger share of their father's genes. If Tim has always been like that, then sharing a room with him must've been hell. Another one to the pile of things I'll never know or understand.

On the day of the presentation, I meet Rufus before the class. He's a bit uptight but greets me with a little smile.

"Did you have a haircut?" I ask.

"Yes. I was starting to look like The Beatles."

"I liked it. But I do like it more now."

"Thanks," he says indifferently.

I check the time. Five more minutes. "Nervous?" I ask him.

"A bit. You?"

I pause to think about it. "No. Not about the presentation, at least."

"Then about what?"

"Well," I smile, "about talking to you."

He squints his eyes and chuckles. "Good joke."

We wait for the bell in silence. Mr. Hudson tells us to sit next to our project partners, and we do so. He draws little stripes of paper from a box to determine the order of the presentations. He makes a little show of drawing every stripe and reading the names like a ring announcer. It's more cringy than funny, but he earns a few laughs. His voice gets hoarse by the time he reads our names - our act gets to be the last one.

"Crap," Rufus hisses under his breath.

"What?"

"I hate going last. Too much time for stressing out."

I look at him, and he does look more pale than usual.

"I feel you, man. It's gonna be fine, I promise."

"Thanks."

"No one expects us to be George Carlin. They'll be too busy being blown away by our presentation."

"I really hope. My throat is dry already."

"I can take over your lines if you get a panic attack."

"Would you really?" he says with a nervous chuckle.

"Sure. But I won't have to because you're going to kill it."

For now, we have to kill our talking because the first presentation is about to start. As I suspected, it is boring as hell. Amanda and Kevin are just reading from printed paper sheets, showing some out-of-focus photos on the projector. Everyone is relieved when they are done and they're shown off with half-assed clapping.

Other presentations are mixed quality. Most are dull as dishwater, but some are pretty nice, including Jim and Clyde's fucking sticker board that actually shows some damn effort. Rufus and I exchange snarky comments, but as our act gets nearer, he becomes more silent and absent. When I notice his leg starts shaking, I become worried.

"Rufus?" I whisper.

"Huh?"

"Relax, okay? No one cares about this. Everyone's waiting for recess by now."

"Yes," he says, but I don't think my message came through. He doesn't look good, and I'm ready to destroy my life to make him feel better. So I do just that.

I place my hand on my knee, palm up, and wiggle my fingers invitingly.

"Hey," I whisper.

Rufus stares at my hand for a few seconds, then grabs it like it's the last resort. It's cool and a bit sweaty. He's really nervous. Still, my head spins from the feeling. It's not just the horniness I feel for him anymore. There's this soft spot I've grown for him, like a little sapling craving sun and water to grow tall. Does he get any sunlight from me? Or am I just a black hole, promising warmth, but instead sucking it away and exploiting his vulnerable moment?

I wince when I catch Jim staring stupidly at us. Not gonna lie; I almost let go of Rufus and pretend nothing happened. But at the last moment, I stop myself and grab him even firmer for another couple of minutes until Rufus whispers to me.

"It's enough. I'm fine."

I let him go. From the corner of my eye, I can see Jim still staring in our direction with an open mouth. Dang, Dad was right - he does look like a stoner.

Anyway, that's it. He saw us holding hands. I'm dead. There's no "let me explain" that can possibly make the boys nod and accept it as a valid excuse. Jim finally looks away, and just a minute later, it's our turn. We stand up from our desk and go to the blackboard.

I wish we had a chance to practice the presentation in the classroom, using the projector, sound system, and our other secret prop.

"Could we have the remote to control the blinds?" I ask Mr. Hudson.

"Sure," he looks at me curiously and hands it over. I press the button and watch them roll down with a soft hum. I sigh in relief when I realize they're not as loud as I feared. This would destroy the entire experience. I roll them back up, and now the class is looking at us with mild curiosity, a fantastic improvement from being almost bored to death for nearly an hour.

Meanwhile, Rufus connects the sound system and the projector to his laptop. Then he starts the presentation in full screen, with a big "please turn off your phones for the duration of the show" text on the black background. I hear a few chuckles, which is fine, because it was mostly meant as a comic relief.

Rufus hands me the microphone. It's my cue. The microphone isn't connected; the class is small enough that even Rufus's soft natural voice will be loud enough to reach the back of the room. It's just there to give us confidence, and so we don't have to think about what to do with our hands.

Rufus switches to the second slide, a cinematic title screen with a large "THE ECLIPSE" text in a stylized font. Below, much smaller, there's "by Rufus Buckley and Tyler Webb." It causes a few more chuckles from the class, but everyone's watching with interest now. We better blow their minds with this.

I start the presentation with a photo of our temporary observatory on my roof. I do a little "making of" introduction, going about the technical challenges we faced and the gear we used to do the measurements.

"Why did you need microphones to watch the eclipse?" some girl asks.

"Good question," I smile. "It will be obvious very soon. Now enough with the intro. Let's get it rolling!"

I pass the mic to Rufus, who starts a new slide with an embedded YouTube video that we uploaded beforehand. Rufus opens it in full screen. It's footage from our main camera, which was set to a fixed aperture for sun filming. The video starts ten seconds before the eclipse, so the sun is still bright in the cloudless sky. On the left and right, animated charts show the air temperature, light intensity, sound pressure in dB, etc. There's a timestamp in the corner since we sped up the footage 4x to fit in our time limit. Rufus briefly explains it to the class. It's set to 00:00:00 and the timer starts as soon as the moon disk touches the sun.

As the eclipse reaches each stage, the charts adjust in real-time and Rufus explains the changes in the measurements. Meanwhile, I stand on the side and keep rolling down the blinds, matching the progress of the eclipse. There's not much sound from the speakers except an occasional bird or a car passing. We added a soft orchestral layer in the background to set the mood. Rufus sounds great above it all, and even though his voice breaks once or twice, he speaks clearly and confidently. In one of the pauses, he looks at me for approval and smiles when I show him thumbs up.

Finally, we reach a phase when the sun is just a bright sickle, almost entirely covered by the moon. Rufus stops speaking and stands aside as I keep lowering the blinds the last final inches.

The charts and the music fade out gently. There's complete silence when the sun disappears, leaving just a bright halo surrounding the pitch-black disk. The projection is the only light source in the otherwise completely dark room. It's barely enough to put some shine on the two dozen faces watching us. If some stupid motherfuckers speak, cough, or laugh now, I will kill them with my bare hands.

It doesn't happen, though. Amidst the silence, the howl of the wind emerges from the speakers as it picks up. The speakers are not premium stuff, but they do their job. I think back to the chill of that day and how I put my hand on Rufus's thigh when he complained about it. Wouldn't it be nice to grab his hand in front of everyone? Even if I wanted to, he's standing on the other side of the class. I can barely tell where he is.

Then, the moment I've been waiting for - the sounds of crickets and the night birds start. I added a little ambience for a better effect, and here, with the speaker's volume set to 7, it gives me genuine chills. I only hope that everyone can feel them too. For almost a minute, the class turns into a meditation chamber filled with serene sounds and lit by the total eclipse. None of the motherfuckers dares to make a sound, thank god.

When the sun reemerges from under the moon disk, I'm so relaxed and lost in thought that I almost forget to roll the blinds back up. I look at the faces as the lights come back. No one's talking, and no one's checking their phone. They're just staring at the projection on the wall with wide eyes.

"Thank you," Rufus says, and his voice awakes everyone from their hypnotic state. Rufus wants to summarize the presentation but is drowned out by applause.

***

Thanks for reading! Chapter 5 coming soon. Let me know your thoughts so far! - archhunter420@gmail.com

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