The characters are fictional, as are the events. This story depicts acts of love and sex between consenting males. If stories of this nature offend you or if you are under the age of 18 or it is illegal to read stories of this nature, then please leave now.
This story is dedicated to: Alana, for being herself always inspiring me when I feel like an empty shell. This story is also dedicated to my friends Nelson Kok, Hiroyuki and Zhibin, you guys have no idea how much of an inspiration you are to me.
By Ryan - bubblegum_boy_18@hotmail.com
When you've been loved, when you know it holds such bliss. Then the lover that you kissed will comfort you when there's no hope in sight. So the words you could no say I'll sing them for you. And the love we would have made. I'll make it for two, for every single memory has become a part of me. You will always be...my love.
(George Michael - Jesus to a Child.)
Petals in the wind
One: Open Door
The room was dark and silent with the exception of the conversations and light that emanated from the television that was sitting on top of a chest of drawers. The room was also occasionally illuminated by the combination of streetlights and cars that passed by the window. Curtains danced in submission of the wind as the boy shivered on the small bed adjacent to the window. He simply sat with his eyes closed, focusing his attention on the surrounding silence. His attention was an effort in vain; he was hoping for something. He was hoping for a sign.... Perhaps a sign he was still alive, a sign someone was there, waiting outside his bedroom door, a sign someone cared. No one. The only presence was that of a drunken couple, arguing about their antics the previous hour ago, outside his bedroom window. Cars passed by, the lights of the neighbouring houses dimmed then eventually they were extinguished and all broadcasts on the television had ceased. The room throbbed with static pulsing from the television screen and still the boy sat, staring, waiting for something to happen. Outside the bedroom there was a creak, just loud enough for him to hear. Heart pounding, he almost jumped out of his skin. Filled with anxiety, apprehension and hope, he nervously crept to the door. Carefully he coaxed the door gently. To his disappointment all that was there was a dark empty hallway, just like his dark empty room. No one was ever there. No matter how many doors, no matter how many times he would open, no one would be there. He could not cover his scars; he could not purge this loneliness that he felt, and most of all he could not be himself. He felt helpless; he could do nothing. Weak and tired he crawled to bed. His eyes and body failing him, he slept.
Earlier...
SEED.
The boy hesitated as he approached the door of the cafe. As he entered, he was enveloped in a cloud of smoke and debating bohemian students. The cafe itself was one of those noir style jazz cafe's. Pastel colours, dim lights, soft music and leather seating. He scanned the ground floor looking over the many students, laughing, gesturing their hands in the air in resistance. No luck. The boy slowly made his way up the stairs. The upper floor of the cafe was empty for the exception of a man, who sat smoking in one of the dimly lit corners. The man was in is late twenties or perhaps earlier thirties, fresh faced but with the bone structure of an older man. The man was roughly about six feet tall with jade green eyes and mousy brown hair. He was a broadly built man. You could tell he definitely took care of his body, if not now, he at least did in his youth. Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he noticed the boy and quickly stubbed it out before placing out his hand to gesture a handshake. The boy nervously put out his hand and they shook hands.
"You must be Christian?" The man said as he blew a final puff of smoke into the air.
He gestured for him to sit across from him. Christian blushed and slid along the sticky caramel of the leather surface.
"Cute!" He laughed as he blew out a final puff of smoke.
Extremely embarrassed, Christian resorted to looking at the floor to hide the colour of his face. This was his first proper date with a guy. He played scenario after scenario of what he believed would be the outcome of his rendezvous. The man could sense the boy's discomfort and anxiety so he decided to use a subtle approach to break the ice.
"What are you drinking?" He asked.
"Double vodka and orange," he replied with a smile
He nodded and signalled the waiter, who was hovering on the periphery, cleaning tables. He made his order, Adam's "Vodka and orange," and "a whisky and water," for himself. Adam took note and pondered on Ben's selection of drink. He thought that perhaps Ben might have also been nervous. This put Adam at ease; at least they were in the same boat.
"Ben...." He paused for a moment focusing his eyes on the man's before continuing. "Ben, my name isn't Christian. My name is Adam. I just use Christian as a chat name."
He felt shame his practical deception. He sat contemplating Ben's reply. Would he be disappointed? Would he feel angry or would he simply feel nothing?
"Well..." He paused. "Its okay, lets just start again," he said dismissing Adam's dishonesty.
After the minor discomfort of the conversation eased they began to talk more openly. They talked briefly about childhood experiences and ambitions shortly, not long before the waiter returned with their drinks. They were anxious for the waiter to leave quickly, so they could resume their conversations. Ben especially was anxious to be alone with him. His heart pounded for the boy each conversation; each word seemed to accelerate his heartbeat. Although on an adrenalin high the world around him slowed down. As they began to drink the waiter disappeared down the stairs leaving them alone in the softly lighten corner.
They glanced into each other's eyes, not long before Adam once again blushed. He shone Ben a smile. Ben nodded as he raised his glass.
"What to?"
"To this wonderful evening!" He exclaimed.
"I'll second that!" He raised his glass to Ben's
"CHEERS!"
Again they glanced at each other, they moved closer to one another. Ben slowly raised his hand to Adams cheek, stroking it attentively. Adam's heart was pounding in his chest, he had longed so long for someone's touch. He longed for someone's lips against his. He could feel Ben's breath, warm against the skin of his neck, warm, sensual, sending ripples up and down his spine. Fingers scanning his torso, moist lips against his mouth, the slow dance of tongues. No waiters, no cafe, no world, no periphery only the centre, only the moment, only them.
"Would you like to go somewhere else?" Asked Ben.
If you have any comments my email address is: bubblegum_boy_18@hotmail.com