Humor Me
Disclaimer: This is a story about a romantic relationship between two teenage males. If that kind of story offends you, then please do not read the following story. Also, if you are under the legal age to read stories of this type, then don't. Please do not reproduce this story without permission, since that is a copyright infringement.
Okay, here's Chapter 4 for all of you. I know the story's been going at a slow pace, but this is (to me) where things start to pick up a bit, plot-wise, so I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 5 is still in progress, and unfortunately, it's a slow one. Comments go to dreamer@shell.monmouth.com. Feedback is always very much appreciated.
-Chapter 4-
Good and Evil.
Cats and Dogs.
Yin and Yang.
In the whole of human history, the concept of dichotomy has been ever-present. Two opposing forces, vying for dominance, constantly seeking to conquer the other. Though, the truth of the matter is that one cannot exist without. Over the centuries, there have been any number of philosophers that have studied dichotomy in human society, and all had arrived at that same conclusion of coexistence.
When I was thirteen, I hit on my own conclusion: those philosophers were probably only children.
Those lucky sons of bitches.
My bare toes made little fists, clenching and unclenching in the carpet as I plodded down the hallway. None of those ancient and learned philosophers ever dealt with the dichotomy between an older brother and a younger one. That always puzzled me; I mean, didn't the story of Cain and Abel teach anyone anything? Older and younger brothers have been feuding since the dawn of time itself.
And, since I despise standing out, my older brother Shane and I were no exception.
Where I tried to make my room some satisfying mix of comfort and practicality, Shane's was, even while he was away at college, a small ocean of clutter and discarded interests: CDs out of their cases, a guitar in the corner he hadn't touched in at least a year, his old football equipment half out of his closet. Well, there was a sudden opening of a large space in my own closet. Maybe he'd like to use the extra room.
Shane was stretched out on his bed now, languidly, still in sweats and an old T-shirt he liked to sleep in. Hands laced behind his head, he look at me with that superior smile on his face. As I headed to the chair by his hardly-used desk, I started to feel an anger inside me like a ball of phlegm in my stomach. He knew I hated that look. I knew he was baiting me, and I was letting him.
It had always been like that; we had always been total opposites. Maybe it was being separated by three years, or some sort of instinctual rebellion on my part, down to the genetic level. By the hair and eye color, some people could say we were related. But that's where the similarities end. Where Shane was always good at sports, my mind developed instead. Where he was tall and built, I was slight, and five-foot-seven on a good day. Where Shane was popular everywhere he went, I got the crap kicked out of me. Where he was straight...
It was then that I realized that, regardless of my bravado last night, I didn't know what the hell was going on.
I turned Shane's desk chair around, sitting on it backwards with my arms crossed over the top of the backrest, resting my chin on my folded arms. For that first minute, neither of us said anything. We were content to just stare each other down in that alpha-male dominance contest done in this house countless times before.
I wanted to scream, and I didn't know why. In a lot of ways, the last day did and didn't make any sense. And the fact that it didn't make sense made even /less/ sense, since I was so...sure of the last two weeks. I closed my eyes again, feeling the lingering pressure of his arms around my chest. What if I was kidding myself? What if I was just so lonely that I just latched onto the first person, of any sex, who gave me any kind of positive attention. Oh, Mike...what am I doing?
Shane broke the silence first, at which I opened my eyes. "Well?"
I sank lower in my seat. There were few ways to win out of this, so I just readied myself for the eventual medicine. "It's more complicated than what it looks like."
"You were kissing a guy."
Maybe I imagined an accusatory tone in Shane's voice, or maybe he was being snarky. In either case, I went immediately on the defensive. "Which is a lot better than the livestock you used to bring to your room to neck with."
A smile crawled along my brother's face, and I felt a swirl of revulsion in my chest. I had this distinct feeling that my brother was some sort of cat, and I should have bigger ears and a penchant for cheese. I...just started hating. Hating Shane for playing with me like this. Hating dad for dying, and Mom for not making me tell her what's wrong. Hating Dani for breaking me out of my shell in the first place. Hating Mike for making me get caught. Hating him for caring to talk to me and not giving up. Hating him for making me laugh. Hating him for liking me at all.
And most of all, hating myself for being like this. For having these feelings. For liking him too, and still not knowing what it all means.
"Well, little brother, this explains why you wanted that tent so bad."
I started to go cold, from the inside out. This is so not what I needed to deal with right now. "Fuck you," I muttered, and rose. I was still feeling grungy from the lack of a morning shower, and Shane's little comments were not helping my mood. "I don't need this right now."
"Hold it," Shane said, before I could get halfway across the room. I began to wonder if all the crap on the floor of his room wasn't an accident, but a strategic placement to prevent such things as my getting away from happening. I reminded myself to think on that, later; see if my brother was smarter than he came across as being. "Sit down, Jonas," he said, sitting up on his bed, back against the wall.
"Fine," I said, and went back to the chair. "Okay, first off," I started, 'the tent is so I don't get rained on if I want to sleep somewhere else for a night if I don't want to deal with people. And I didn't want to deal with them yesterday. I'm not running a whorehouse from our backyard, regardless of what you may think."
Shane's eyebrows lifted. "If you were, I think I'd have been impressed with you."
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against my arms, back on the chair. I felt the pressure of a new headache start behind my eyes. "You are such an ass."
"And you're gay."
"I guess."
Silence. "You...guess, Jo?"
I felt my whole body tighten. I would not cry. Not now. I didn't say anything. A thousand words formed in my head, pushing against the sides of my skull as I struggled to make any sense and order from it.
"Jo? You in there?"
I snapped my head up. "I don't know, okay?"
Shane was sitting on the edge of the bed now, and not as expressionless as before. Did I see concern? "What don't you know?"
"Any of it."
Blink. "What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath. "I know I like him. Michael. But...what if I'm not really gay at all? I mean, you saw me kiss him, and I liked that." I felt my body twitch. I had /really/ liked that. What the hell is going on? "But what if it turns out that the kissing is all I like? What if, Shane, it's just some curiosity I wanted to get out of my system?"
My brother's eyes narrows, as his gaze filled with heat. "He didn't fuck with you, did he?"
I shook my head quickly. "No, no. Anything we did was only what I wanted. Kissing, a lot of holding. It felt...good. I like the way that it felt."
"How long has this been going on?"
I looked at my watch. "about...eleven hours."
"You serious?"
"What did you mean by the question?"
"How long have you two been going out?"
"Like I said, eleven hours.
"Holy shit."
"But," I said, raising a finger. "I've been feeling this way for a couple of weeks.
She stopped, looking back at me. "What way?"
It took a few moments to find the words. I kept having this feeling like I could, or should, talk for hours. There was that feeling that maybe, just maybe, if I kept talking, I could suddenly hit the right answer, the right thing to say and I could live my life in peace. Sort of like how a monkey at a typewriter will eventually hammer out Macbeth.
"I've been infatuated with him," I explained. "Like...when everything he does is so fascinating. It's when every time you're with someone, you learn something new, and it's never enough. It's like he was always in my life, like...he belongs there, and hi8m being there is some missing piece that's just been found." I started to feel the smile on my face. "I watch him, when he thinks I'm not looking, and wonder what he's thinking."
There, I got it off my chest. I spoke my inner feelings, and bared my soul.
So, naturally, Shane fell back on his bed, laughing his ass off. Prick.
Seeing the disappointing look on my face, my older brother calmed down, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. "I never thought I'd live to see it."
"See what?"
He just shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? You have it /so/ bad for him."
I nodded. "Well, I know that. I just don't have a real frame of reference, since I've never had a crush before. I like him, yeah. But maybe it's just him, and not guys in general." I shrugged, chuckling. "Maybe I'm just a Mike-a-sexual."
"One day, Jonas," Shane replied. "You're going to tell me how someone so smart can be so fucking clueless. You're gay. Deal with it." He smirked. "I never thought I'd see the day Mr. Forty-going-on-Seventeen got his emotions whipped by someone else." As he got back up, he chuckled. "Been there, too. Feel cool, doesn't it?"
Somehow, I wasn't completely sure. "Kinda, yeah. I'd been holding that down for a few weeks. I didn't know how he felt, so I was trying to push him away. That's why I put up the tent last night, since I just wanted to avoid him. And everyone else."
Shane's expression softened. "So then Bannon came here last night, wanting to talk to you?"
I nodded. "He didn't know why I was avoiding him, so he dropped by here."
"And he didn't know you were gay."
"No clue. And he didn't know about how I felt, either. I was the one who said something first, then it went on from there."
He sighed, and the look on his face went unreadable. "I see."
I just glared at him. "What the fuck did I do wrong now?"
"Nothing, nothing," he answered. " I was curious. With how you feel right now, I was wondering if he had...you know, converted you."
My turn to laugh. "No, Shane, no conversion. This was.../is/ all me."
"And this has been what's on your mind?"
"Yeah?"
"You tell Mom?"
I shook my head. "No, this just happened last night, and-"
Shane glared at me, now. "Why the fuck haven't you said anything," he said, close to shouting. "She's worried sick over you, and you shut her out, too." He sat back up, like rising from the dead. "She loves you, Jo. But she is /scared/ for you, because you won't tell her anything. Something upsets you, and instead of talking to her, you just go out in the backyard." He stood, and put his hands on my shoulders. "I know you're scared, but so is Mom, and she loves you, no matter what. And I'm not here much, what with school and all. She's afraid for you, and she's probably been feeling very lonely lately. This place is becoming an empty house, Jo."
My head slumped downward. "I know," I said. "But, I'm not sure I can do anything for Mom. I...can't be Dad."
"She doesn't want you to be Dad. She wants you to be her son."
"And when I tell her she's not having grandkids?"
Shane smiled. "Hey, I still like girls."
"I know, but Mom probably wants grandkids that are born /in/ wedlock."
"You wound me."
I shrugged. "You have your hobbies, I have mine."
"Jealous."
"Pretty much. I liked the idea of having kids. Maybe I can just donate sperm or something."
Shane ruffled my hair. "Yeah, so then the town has a sudden flock of munchkin fairies, I'll know the reason."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, feeling down with that reminder of how less of a person I was. "Mom still home?"
"Nope. Left about an hour ago. She left a note on the table for you, so look when you're not too busy giving Bannon the tongue."
"Speaking of," I said, getting up. "Need a shower before I start blending into your room for real."
"Neat freak bitch."
I turned around, back to a familiar ritual. "Two-dimensional steroid queen."
"This from the kid who rides the short bus."
I bristled. "Better than riding those brain-dead cows you seem to like to date."
And just like that, Shane started to laugh again. "You're still way too easy to piss off. S'why I still do it."
I nodded back. "I know. At least it seems I'm still roughly the same person. Thanks, man."
Shane stepped over a pile of dirty clothes to pull me into a hug. It had been a while, with using being all mature teenagers and all. Of course, the thought of my older brother acting like a grown-up frightened me. I didn't understand why, though. Didn't want him to finally grow up?
He'd grow up, be responsible, and settle down. He'd be an adult. And I'd lose...him. I'd lose the boy I had grown up with. Sometimes playmate, sometimes substitute father, often adversary. Always There. The knowledge that I would lose that one day made my eyes start to sting.
He didn't ask me anything, but I hugged him back, answering questions I figured he was thinking of. "I know," I whispered. "I'll try." I held there for a bit. I always thought it was my brother who never let go. For the first time, I realized it was myself. I didn't say anything as we released each other, and I turned to leave.
"Just be careful, Jonas. Or is it Joanie, now?"
Without even thinking, I snapped my elbow back into his stomach. Hearing a startled, satisfying 'oof,' I sauntered out. "I am no one's woman, old man," I drawled, chuckling. "Best you remember that."
I had rifled though my room for a change of clothes. Easily done. Twenty-five minutes and one very hot, very soothing shower later, I was headed back upstairs, the carpet tickling the soles of my bare feet.
I had stopped by the dining room before going back upstairs, finding the note from Mom that I had missed seeing this morning. There were no admonishments for shutting her out, just a quick note saying she had to go into work, would be back in the middle of the afternoon, and that Shane and I would have to fend for ourselves for lunch. Since we were both used to making out own lunches anyway, this was not much of a problem.
What was bugging me, among other things, as I headed up the stairs, is that Shane had been right. You got to a point where after a lifetime of being told to be strong and be brave, you find yourself not opening up to anyone. Mom didn't know half of what went on in my life, and I figured she was just satisfied with the three-point-eight Grade Point Average. And somewhere, I knew I was wrong about that, and Shane was right. And that was the truly scary part, since I think that's a phrase out of the Book of Revelations. Never mind, I told myself. I'll just explain it to her the easy way tonight, after she gets home. 'Mom, look at it this way: it's one less wedding we have to pay for.'
I chuckled inside at the small, lame little joke as I crested the top of the stairs, with the clean clothes feeling oh-so-good against my skin. The shirt was a favorite of mine: a black, short-sleeved Tee with a neckline that came about half an inch below the base of my own neck. Said shirt I tucked into tan cargo pants, unbelted, with the clasp holding them on hanging below my navel.
I admitted it to myself that I was overdoing the clothes. But, just this once, maybe I wanted to have a little fun and raise a few eyebrows. Two, in particular.
My bedroom door was mostly closed, a single shaft of light peeking out into the hallway. With the time I spent talking to Shane, and the extra time I gave myself in the shower, I knew without a doubt that Mike had beaten me back to my room. The bare skin on my lower arms prickled in anticipation. There was a part of me that, that strongly, couldn't wait to see him again. I looked forward to watching him smile, hearing him talk, feeling his fingers draw down the side of my face.
My teeth started to grind. What the hell was wrong with me? Here I am trying to be mature and express myself, and merely thinking about this boy made me want to roll around at his feet like a puppy. This was /so/ not like me.
I sighed, again, and looked through the small opening in the door before I entered. Part of that was curiosity, the other part making sure he wasn't right before the door, because I felt like kicking it in out of frustration. I couldn't keep my thoughts in order when I was around him, and I hated that loss of control that at the same time filled me with life.
And what I saw in there made everything, inside and outside of my body, come to a dead stop.
Like everyone else who has ever stepped into my room, Mike was lying on my waterbed. I ceased, a while back, to get upset over it, since people are drawn to the unfamiliar. But him, lying there, made me freeze. He was cleaned up, though still in the same shirt and corduroys from last night. His eyes on the ceiling, he clutched Mac, my teddy, under both of his arms, folded across his chest, like holding a prized treasure. His hair, mousy brown at the roots, still fading to dark brown at his bangs, was clean and dried, and still sporting the 'wet' look. At that moment, he was puffing out his breath upward along his face, trying to get a stray bang of hair out of his eyes.
I turned away from the doorway, feeling a band of metal constrict around the inside of my chest. Oh, God, the Cute! I think I just went blind!
I mean, it's easy to wonder what people do when you're not looking, but it is an entirely other matter to actually see it. And a sight like /that/ could melt stone. God knows, it just worked on me.
In some ways, especially concerning Mike, I still was not sure of what I wanted, in the sense of the long-term. But, in the here-and-now, I knew what I wanted. What I wanted was to not enter that room, despite the fact that it was my own. That image...I'll draw it later. I could draw that, draw him, forever, but I did not want to go in there. It would be like pressing your finger into a large soap bubble; a moment's contact before it breaks, dissolving into itself, and you're left with empty air. It would just drop, and break, just as my heart was doing at that moment.
If I wasn't gay, or even the last bit bisexual, then I had some serious issues I was going to have to contend with in the very near future. Maybe a little vengeful shoulder-crying on a good number of the students at Weathering would cheer me up a bit.
I looked back into the room, wondering if I could again see Michael in that same, almost mystical still-life, and burn the image on my memory to carry with me to my grave, and the countless re-livings of my lifetime that I knew I was destined for. I had no illusions of my own perfection. The last two weeks meant another ten run-throughs of my lifeline, at least.
But, recapturing the image again was not to be, as Mike was already looking towards the doorway, just as I had my hands clenched around the doorjamb, peeking in like a small child about to tell their parents there's a monster under the bed. In that moment, hazel eyes met his blue-gray ones, and I was lost. So very, happily lost. His eyes lit up, like Frankenstein's monster awakening for the first time, along with his smile, like it was the first one he ever sported.
"There you are," he said, lifting himself off of my waterbed, swaying as the mattress surged under his shifting weight. "Missed you."
I loosened my grip on the doorjamb, the fingers of my left hand still touching it as I pushed the door the rest of the way open with my right hand. I was scared shitless that I was going to fall forward into my room, senseless. I wanted to scream, inside. He had to be talking to someone else, didn't he? No one...and I mean no one ever looks at me like that. I mean, my family looked at me with affection, but that was familial, of course. This was...something else. It was like his look said 'You're here, now everything is okay.' He said he missed me, and for fuck's sake, he actually meant it.
And, him saying that meant a lot to me, right there. I...wanted to hear him say things like that to me. I wanted to be around him as a person, even if he wasn't gay. Even if he wasn't my boyfriend.
But he is. And we are 'going out,' I guess.
"Hey," I said, stepping into the room. "I wasn't gone all that long."
"I know," he replied. "But it was a little lonely in here." He stood up from the bed, taking a few steps towards me. It was then that the surprise hit his face, and I could hear his breath catch. "Uh...nice clothes, there. You look...uh..."
I tilted my head to the side, giving him my most innocent smile. "Dressed to impress?"
"More like dressed to kill, Jonas," he said, recovering himself. He put his arms forward, taking my wrists in his hands. "You did this for me?"
"Well," I admitted. "I figured I could take small steps to being more expressive with people, and clothing is said to make a statement...." I trailed off, and sighed. "Okay, yeah, it was for you." I let my head sink down, knowing I had overstepped some line, broken some unwritten rule. Ah, well. He'll have to deal with it.
Mike let go of one of my wrists, pressing his index finger against the underside of my chin and tilting my face back upward. "I like it," he whispered. "I like that you would think of doing stuff like that for me." His face loomed closer, his eyelids fluttering.
As he approached me for a kiss, I wondered. He did like the clothes. He did like me. But...is this what I wanted? Was I gay? Did I want him as a boyfriend? Could I give it all away, and lose that touch of his: those hands around my chest, his lips against mine, the feel of our skins touching, and the warmth jumping between us? Was it worth it, being attracted to him? Was it worth the risk? Is it what I wanted?
Yes. God forgive me, but the answer was 'yes.'
I closed the final inches of distance between our lips, bringing us together again. Mike's hands moved up my sides, squeezing my upper arms as we kissed, his fingers pressing gently into my flesh. It felt so right, that kiss. There was meaning behind it, from both of us. Each of us, in that contact, said things we didn't know enough to vocalize. I wanted to say so many things at that point. How it felt good to kiss him like that, and how...safe it felt. I liked that feeling.
His arms slid around me, enfolding me in a hug as we let go of our lip-lock. I pushed the side of my head against his chest. Did he ever feel like this? Did he ever wonder about his sexuality, and what it meant, and if it was all for real? I started to shiver, even though it wasn't cold in my house. I wasn't sure whether to yell, or cry, or both.
I felt his arms tighten around me again, as he started to sway back and forth. "Jonas? You all right?"
I nodded, stiffly. "I think so. But I want to talk. Later. Need to get a lot of things out."
"Of course," Mike said, kissing me on the top of the forehead again. "What...did you want to do today?"
I pulled myself away, drawing back til Mike's hands were just on my shoulders, his fingers tracing the seams of the shirt as they went up my arms. "What I want to do right now is talk to my Mom, come out, and explain all of this. I haven't been telling her much, lately. But she's working until tonight, and I really can't call her at work about this one."
"Good man," Mike said, reaching up to ruffle my hair a little. "Trust me. You'll feel better for it." He gave it a moment's thought before coming up with something. "Want to hit the mall, in the meantime? Get your mind off your stuff?"
I rolled my eyes, doing a 'Valley-girl' voice. "Oh, like, did you just say the Mall? I, like, love the mall! Ohmigod! That would be soooo cool!"
Mike just shook his head at me. "Smartass."
I calmed down. "True, but it sounds okay. Need to get around a little, today. You know, socialize, or something like that."
"True. And you still need to talk to Dani, sometime. She's still worried."
I winced. "Point," I said, conceding. "Though...well, maybe I can tell her later? I'll call now, and just tell her I'm feeling better, since I'm supposed to tell her Monday anyway why I've been so fucked up this week. And...well...wanted to spend some time with you."
Mike thought about this, then nodded. "Okay. But we're stopping at my place first. Need some clean clothes."
"If you need clothes at all."
That got a cuff on the back of my head. "Smartass."
"Ow. Okay, I get it." There were still some things I needed to get used to. Well, when you're sixteen, you have all the time in the world, right?
But...there was one other thing. As Mike and I headed downstairs, ready to go out, I glanced to the side, just as Mike went before me. Shane was there, again, standing in his doorway, with a concerned look on his face. I smiled at him, and he did smile back, but as I went down the steps, I wondered what he was concerned about. Mike's an okay guy, as far as I knew.
Then, before I went out the door, it hit me.
When Shane and I talked, my brother kept referring to him as 'Bannon.'
And not once did I mention to him what Mike's last name was.
As Mike was getting changed in his bathroom, I used his phone to give Dani a call. In retaliation, I saw on his bed, resting against his pillows. I fought off falling asleep, out of sheer mental exhaustion as I dialed her phone.
"Hello?"
"Dani, it's me."
"Jonas!" she yelled, then lowered her voice to a dull roar. "Jonas, where have you been? Jesus Christ, I was worried sick."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I know. I'm at Mike's."
"You're there. Okay. What the hell happened yesterday? I kept hearing it from other people, and they made it sound like you two got into a fight."
"Nope. No fight. Just a lot of miscommunication and misunderstanding."
"So you two are friends again?"
I wanted to say something. I really did. But, some things were better said in person. "We...are, yeah. We're talking things out." I decided right there to change my mind. "We're headed down to the mall, soon as Mike gets changed. Want to meet us there?"
"Sorry, hon. Grandma's birthday. We're leaving in twenty."
"Ouch."
"It's not so bad," she said, chuckling. "Nana's great. But, you're going to have to wait until later to talk."
I sighed. Patience was not really a strong point with me. "Okay. Monday, then?"
"Sure thing. I'll be there with bells on."
"I'd rather you have clothes on, instead."
"Stop being a pig, Jonas."
"Oink oink, baby. You know you like it."
"Ha ha, funny, boy. But listen, my family's leaving like now, so I have to go."
"No prob, Dani. See you Monday?"
"Hell yeah. Love you, Jo."
"Love you, Dani."
As she hung up the phone, there was a chuckle from the doorway. "Well," Mike said. "Good to see I'm not getting any special treatment. You talk to everyone like that, huh?"
Guilt. It does a body good. "It's more complicated than that," I said. "When I first went to weathering, I didn't talk to anyone for about a month. Dani kept coming to me, trying to break down my defenses. She likes the jokes, or she's just saying that. She says it's a good sign, that I can act my age, instead of about fifty years older." I lifted my head and smiled at Mike. "Looks good," I said, checking out his change of clothes.
Gone were the corduroys, replaced by a pair of baggy blue jeans, with a white T-shirt tucked into them. Over the top was a sky-blue button down shirt, unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. All he was missing was his skateboard, but since we were going to take the bus, it wasn't all that necessary.
I raised a single eyebrow. "Dressed to kill?"
"Just to impress."
"Well, it worked."
"I never said it was for you," he said with a smirk. Taking my hand, he pulled me off the bed. "Kidding."
"I know," I replied. I glanced to the ground before looking to him again. "You ready?"
"As always," he replied, as he slipped an arm over my shoulders and led me out of the room.
"Close your eyes."
With all of the ambient noise from the concourse outside filling into every store in the mall, I didn't realize Mike was behind me until he had just spoken. The sounds of yelling kids, rustling shopping bags, and the various squeaks of foot traffic blended together, seeping into the undercurrent of the human consciousness, like wading through an ethereal ocean. You know it's there, and you can feel its presence in your mind as opposed to feeling it physically.
This was how Mike has snuck up on me; I just flat out didn't hear him.
We had been walking the mall for hours, awash in a sea of humans in motion, window-shopping, and video games. Mike and I had kept the conversation calm, talking about school for the most part. I had been itching for Advanced Comp Sci next year, while he told me he had fallen in love with the Audio Lab. The only embarrassing part was when he said he wanted to make a tape of me singing. I made a promise to myself to show him the personal sketches of him I had stashed in my room. I wondered if he'd be flattered by the pictures, or if he would think I was stalking him.
It had been mid-afternoon when I was looking over a floor display of short-sleeved Ts in Old Navy when Mike had come back. He had led me there after we spent an hour alternately whaling on each other on the newest coin-op fighter. "Wait here," he had told me, drawing a finger across my shoulder. "I'll be back in five minutes."
So, I let him go. I liked having the time to myself. Hell, I had been having fun all day. We had done this before; going to the mall to pick up a new CD I wanted, or some new sneakers Mike needed to get. Today felt very similar to those other trips: just two guys hanging out.
Similar...but not quite. There was a subtle difference to the whole tone of the day: a hand on a shoulder would linger longer than normal, the smile in his eyes staying on me for just a second more. I didn't object to the contact. I felt like were keeping a funny secret, only between us. Like we were operating on a different level than the people around us.
I looked up, catching the reflection of the right side of my face in the mirror above the display. Mike's visage loomed over my shoulder, a faint redness on his cheeks, and the shyest smile I had ever seen on his face. "Whyyyy," I asked, still reluctant to really let my guard down.
"Trust me," he said, coming closer to whisper in my ear. "If anything else, Jonas, trust me."
My insides sank again. Damn, I suck at this boyfriend stuff. "Okay."
"Good. Now close your eyes."
And so I did. I stayed there in nothingness for a few seconds, the fear and anticipation causing my back muscles to bunch together. In a way, I could feel Mike's presence. I had seen him behind me in the mirror, so my mind registered that fact, and opened my senses to keep me aware of said fact.
I shivered, as the cool metal fell against my upper chest, part of which was exposed by the low-neckline shirt I was wearing. One by one, pieces of metal touched that skin, circling around to the back of my neck. I felt the chain, because that's what it was, slide up my throat to encircle my neck as my ears caught the metallic click of a clasp being closed. Parts of the chain carried a chill, the clasp warm where Mike had been apparently clenching it in his hands. Once the catch was in place, the chain dropped a fraction, settling comfortably around my neck.
"Okay," Mike said, slightly breathless. "Open them."
As I opened my eyes, I turned slowly towards the mirror in front of me. I caught a glimpse of Mike's face as I moved, and he wore a shy, almost pleading expression. Whatever it was, he put a lot of importance on it.
I brought a finger up to trace the path of the silver links around my neck. Most of the links were silver. But where the chain dipped at the nape of my neck, the links were painted, each link another color in the rainbow. Pride colors.
And he had gotten this for me. He had gone out, and picked this out with his own hands with me in mine. That look on his face was still there, as if every one of his hopes and dreams rested on my reaction.
I did like it. Not because Mike had thought of me, or that he had given me something. In some ways, I needed something like this; a physical reminder. The fact that things like this existed, and were sold publicly, said that while acceptance in society was not total, the whole thing wasn't a sin. The gift was a message: Don't be scared, Jonas. It'll be all right.
"I love it," I answered, finally, and turned around. Mike's face was alight, as if the answer meant the world to him. "It's great. But...I didn't get you anything."
"Don't worry about it," he said, voice cracking a little, like he was close to tears. "Wait til another time," he added, leading me out of the store and across the way to Smitty's, a local chain of family-type restaurants. Smitty's were all the same: bar on one side, tables on the other. Slightly pricey, but not all that fancy. "If you force yourself to buy something, instead of waiting until something catches your eye and makes you think of me, it won't feel the same."
I gave him a skeptical look. "You sure on that?"
"Positive," he said, as we waited in line to be seated. "I wasn't planning on buying you anything today, but I saw that and thought it would look great on you." He traced the chain with his finger. "And it does. Tres hip."
I smiled, nudging him with my elbow. "I didn't know collars were in this year."
Mike's face dropped like a lead kite. "It's not a collar."
"Looks like one," I said. "Woof woof."
All of a sudden, I was spun around until I was facing Mike, with his hands on my shoulders. His eyes shimmered, as if were about to burst into tears, his expression almost...desperate.
"Jonas," he said, leaning in so that only the two of us could hear him. "I care about you. I care about you so much it scares me. But you are not a pet. Not anyone's pet, and especially not mine. You're an equal. Whatever happens, never, /ever/ forget that."
I met his eyes with mine, and nodded. "Okay," I said, feeling way small. "It was just a joke." Luckily, no one was behind us, so we had no audience.
Mike put his arm around me and squeezed. "I know. Just get a little too sensitive, sometimes." The line moved forward, and he let me go. "Okay. I need to hit the MAC, so I can eat lunch. If you get a table, I'll find you."
"All right," I agreed. "Not just using this as an excuse to ditch me, right?" Another joke on my part. You'd think I'd have learned by now.
"Not even," he said. "I won't fuck with you like that. Five minutes. Promise."
Since I was only kidding, I agreed. As Mike was off getting cash, the line finally moved as more people were seated. We must have gotten there just at the end of the lunch rush, because I was the only one on line. I leaned against the doorjamb into the place, patient.
"Jonas?"
The voice of the eatery's host got my attention. I turned my head, and my eyes met a young man. Young, but still older than I was. He was a slender, clean five-foot-ten, dressed in the black-and-white checkered shirt and black dress pants that all Smitty's employees wore. His head was topped by a preppy-style cut of white-blond hair, with a clean-shaven face. The only other adornment that stood out from the pale skin was the blue steel ring going through his pierced right eyebrow.
"Yeah," I said, peering closer. "You...look familiar," I admitted. Because, well, he did. "One of my brother's friends, I know that much. Drawing a blank on the name, though."
"Jace."
"Ah. Now I got it. Sorry about that. Haven't seen any of Shane's friends in a while."
He smiled at me, his eyes a dark green, like wet leaves. "S'allright," he said. "How's he doing?"
"He's okay. Wait, he's home from school this weekend. Might be able to catch him."
Jace nodded. "Cool." Slowly, his smile widened, as if sharing a private joke with me. "Nice chain."
My face flushed. "Thanks," I said, getting more self-conscious by the second. "It was a gift."
"Hey-yo." Mike caught back up to me from getting cash, and tapped me on the shoulder. "No seats yet," he asked me, eyes flickering over to Jace, who was standing there with menus in hand.
And stopped.
There was a moment where the area immediately around me became dead quiet. I mean, I could hear other customers and employees in the place, but both Mike and Jace were very, very still, looking at each other. This went on for about five seconds, but it was ringing in my ears for what felt like three days. Quiet's nice, but this was an eerie type of quiet, like so much was being said in blank looks that words weren't needed.
"Two," Mike said, very subdued, to Jace, holding up a pair of fingers in the 'peace' sign.
Jace nodded, almost robotically. No, it wasn't mechanical. Jace had just gone all business-like. "Smoking or non?"
"Smoking."
"This way," Jace said, leading us. As he put the menus on our table, he looked at me. "Tell your brother I said hi, okay?"
I was starting to feel way creeped out by this. "Uhh...okay."
About forty minutes later, after the fastest meal I had ever seen Michael eat, the two of us were headed to the bus stop by the highway, which would take us back across town and closer to our houses.
I had tried, during lunch, to bring up what just happened, and what the hell all of that was about. I...was missing something, like I was deliberately being kept in the dark. That's not a good feeling for anyone, and it was a personal hatred of mine. But, after Mike specifically changed the subject the third time in a row, I dropped it, and we ate in relative silence.
Mike had broken the ice first. "You have a brother?"
I walked with him, to his right. My hands were jammed into my pockets, and I wasn't looking at him directly. "Yeah."
"What's his name?"
"Shane."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike miss a step. "Never knew," he admitted. "You never mentioned him before."
I shrugged. "He's at college," I said. "He's home on some weekends. That's why I was late this morning."
"Late?"
"Getting back from the shower. Shane saw you and I kissing outside the bathroom door, so we talked for a while you were in there."
Mike just stared. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry."
I shrugged again, keeping pace. "He didn't seem really bugged by it. He just asked me a lot of questions. I..."
Mike stopped, since we were at the bus stop. "What?"
I sat down on one of the benches, leaning back to wait. "I...he was thinking that you, well, converted me or something."
That did it. Mike just started laughing. "Converted? Did he actually /say/ that?"
I smiled, the tension finally breaking. "Yes. He did."
"Christ, Jonas, you're gay! This isn't a religion. You don't convert people."
"I know this."
"That kind of thinking is just fucking ridiculous."
I softened, and leaned forward to pat his hand. "Mike, chill. You're preaching to the-" I stopped myself, as I realized I had picked the worst possible metaphor for the situation. "Choir. You're preaching to the choir." I paused, then put on a smirk. "Reverend Mike."
I hadn't know him as I had some of my other friends, but I knew that impish look in Mike's eyes. That meant his brain was going a mile a minute. Whenever he was making jokes when he was like this, it always ended up with the people around him, especially me and Dani, hurting ourselves from laughing.
"Oh, I can see that," Mike began, then raised his arms to the sky. When he spoke again, it was with an affected Bible-Belt-Televangelist-before-they-admit-they-slept-with-their-secretaries accent. "Do you believe-uh," he cried, as I thanked God no one else was around, "in the power-uh of Gay-uh?"
Now, when Mike goes into Manic Mode like this, the witnesses have one of two options: laugh until they vomit, or play along. Let me tell you, audience participation kicks ever so much ass.
I crossed my wrists over my heart, in mock-rapture. "I believe!"
"Do you believe in the everlasting glory of homosexuals?" And somehow, /somehow/ Mike said the word 'homosexuals' with eight syllables. And I wondered how anyone could not be drawn to him.
"I believe!"
Mike turned his back to me, as if in his mind he saw the massive set and choir televangelists had. He calmed down, but it was an obvious dramatic moment. He wasn't done. He still had the accent as he turned around, and started his preaching. "And as it says in the book of Genesis, Chapter Pi, verse Sixty-Nine: 'And the Lord said, go forth and be gay! Find that one that thou liketh, and maketh him liketh thou!' It has been many a year, my faithful fairy flock, since I first tasted the sweet kiss of another man. Come forth, oh ye parishioners, and share your story of when you first felt the power of Gay!"
It was over the top. It always was, with him, and that's why I enjoyed being around him so much. Never a dull moment. I raised my hand.
He pointed me out. "You!" he called. "With the blond hair and the cute little ass! Tell us your story!"
As he took my hand to pull me off the bench, I mock-swooned. "Oh, my life before was a terrible one," I said.
"Terrible," he replied, in counterpoint.
"I was alone!"
"Alone!"
"I was lost!"
"Oh, he was so lost, my brethren!"
"And I was scared!"
"He was a frightened little chicken shit wuss, oh yes!"
I had the good sense to give him a glare. "And then," I went on, keeping in character, "Reverend Mike found me."
"Oh, he did!"
"He came to me!"
"Yay-yus!"
"He took me out of the woods, and shaved off all my hair."
"What hair," he asked, smiling, back to his normal voice.
"What?"
"Jonas," Mike said, "you have no body hair. I have ten-year-old cousins with more hair on their chests."
I puffed out my admittedly hairless chest. "At least I can claim solidarity," I said. In some way, his words hurt. Like I didn't feel enough of a man. "I don't have just three hairs on my chest fighting for dominance," I spat, then did a Scottish accent. "There can be only one!" I shouted, and made appropriate electric razor noises.
He clapped me on the shoulder. "Why do you always go on the defensive?"
"Why do you avoid the subject?"
Mike blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Today, at Smitty's," I said. "You know Jace, don't you?"
Mike nodded, not really meeting my eyes. He didn't look comfortable at all, and in my false self-righteousness, I didn't care.
"What...was that?"
"It's in the past, Jonas."
"Then tell me, Mike. Please."
"You don't want to know." In the distance, I could hear the sound of an engine coming closer.
I felt my face grow hot. "Don't you fucking tell me what I do and don't want. Ever."
He turned away from me, just as the bus was slowing down. "Jonas," he said, voice tight. "Please."
"Please what?" I said, completely blind. "Please just stand there and be in awe of my studliness, Jonas? Be the butt of my jokes like a good little peasant, Jonas?" I sighed, trying to cool down and failing. "Why don't you trust me?"
Mike turned around, stricken. "I do trust you, Jonas, more than I've trusted anyone in years." He reached out to me. "You don't understand."
"Of course I don't," I said, backing away. "You hide behind all your jokes, and I never feel like you're being real with me. I never feel like you're being straight up with me," I added, and undid the clasp around my neck. Holding the chain out between us. "And until you can be...this isn't what I want. That much I do know." I dropped the chain at his feet, turned, and boarded the bus.
And, just as the bus was pulling away, I looked back. I saw Mike, seated on the bench, his hands over his eyes, the chain clenched in one of them. I could see his shoulders shaking, and I felt my heart break all over again.
Jonas, you're an idiot.
Worse.
Jonas, you're a monster.
-End Chapter 4-