You've probably read this before but I have to put it in anyway. The author retains all rights. Copying or reproductions in part or whole is not allowed without the authors consent. This story is fictional and contains no explicit sexual content.
Okay, that said, this is my second story I'm posting on Nifty. I love to hear from people so email me your thoughts at the address provided above. Or you can leave a comment on my blog (where I will update and post each chapter before I submit it on nifty, you'll also find other stories I've written posted there) so drop by at;
http://gayshortstories.blogspot.com/
Chapter One: A Chance Encounter
Sometimes in his dreams, he dreams of a superhero who takes him high above the clouds where no one can touch him. He cannot see the face of his superhero, but he knows it is familiar. In his dream they drift higher above the clouds and into the darkness of space, he knows that his superhero would never let him fall, wrapped in strong arms he is secure and protected.
Floating through nothing he can feel the love that emanates from his superhero, and his own love radiates back in return. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists but the two of them. He can feel the steady beat of his superhero's heart and he knows that as strong as his superhero is, underneath lay a heart as fragile as his own and just as vulnerable to damage. So he silently vows to protect it as his superhero protects him. When the morning light wakens him from his slumber, he reaches his hand out to the pillow beside him, but his hand brushes only air. His superhero is not with him. He never was. The dream seems so real that he can still feel those strong arms around him, feel the unconditional love meant for only him. His heart aches with so much longing for a love that is more real in his dreams than he has ever felt in his life.
Chance had that same dream again. Taking a deep breath, he sighed heavily. Lately it seemed more and more like the best part of his life was spent asleep. He was really beginning to get sick of having the same dream all the time. Not that he had them often, this was probably the fourth or fifth time, yet the intensity of those feelings left a residue in his waking moments that served as a reminder of his lonely existence. He never liked to think about his love life - or the lack of it, but something always managed to shine a spotlight on the part of his life where a never-been-filled gaping hole resided. Chance was twenty-six years old. Some would say he was still in the prime of his life, while others would say he was nearing the end of it. To date, he had never been in a serious relationship before. He liked to tell people that he was bisexual, yet even broadening his options had yet to increase the likelihood of meeting that someone special. If truth be told, he really preferred men; women were more of a headache than they were worth. His friends tell him his standards are too high, that he should just get out there, meet people and see how it goes. If another truth be told, he really didn't want to. He'd tried too many times in the past and those relationships never went anywhere. His standards probably were too high. His concept of the ideal relationship, whether it be with a guy or girl, was something out of corny chick flick, and so he felt it was ultimately unachievable.
Pushing his miserable thoughts aside, he jumped out of bed before he could depress himself any further. After a quick shower he trimmed his facial hair with an electric trimmer - he hated to shave when he didn't have to. Newly formed stubble was always itchy and bothersome. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, into brown eyes that blended into the darkness of his irises. He looked like an adolescent scarcely out of high school. At least he did when he shaved. His facial hair added a few more years to what he would look unshaven, which was also part of the reason he didn't shave much. For as long as he could remember, he had always looked younger than he actually was, some people had been shocked beyond belief upon discovering his real age. Opening a jar of styling cream he scooped up a generous amount into his fingers and worked it through his damp short black hair rapidly, pulling bits in different directions to give it a messy look. After washing his hands he quickly dressed himself in navy blue jeans and his favourite dark green army shirt.
In the kitchen his roommate was already eating breakfast. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading as Chance entered.
"Good morning Master Day," Jon said. For some reason Jon would often address his friends by preceding their surnames with 'Master'. It used to irritate Chance when he first began doing it, though he never let Jon see how annoying it was. Now he was pretty much used to it, along with all the other nicknames Jon liked to give him.
"Jonny," Chance said. He knew his friend hated being called that and at times he would use it as a cue for an ensuing dialogue. He continued, feigning disbelief, "Where's the bacon and eggs?"
"Well my friend," Jon played along, "You haven't started cooking it yet, so I suggest you get right on it."
"Ah, but mate, you know that you make the best bacon and eggs," He countered.
"Nah, they're never as good as yours," Jon quipped. Checkmate. His friend always had to get the last word in. Even if Chance managed to craft a good come back, Jon never accepted defeat, regardless of whether he made sense or not.
Chance poured himself some cereal and a glass of juice for breakfast. He sat down at the table and began eating.
From behind the newspaper, Jon asked, "No bacon and eggs then?"
"You don't deserve any mate," He said matter-of-factly, "You're not worth the effort."
"After everything I've done for you, that's how you treat me," Jon said in a serious voice underlined with a hint of joviality, "By telling me I'm not worth it."
"Stop talking shit dude," Chance said grinning, "I don't see a ring on my finger, so go use your charms on someone stupid enough to fall for it."
He imagined his friend walking around with shit dribbling out of his mouth and grinned widely. The headline on the front page of the newspaper Jon was reading suddenly caught Chance's attention and he began to read it. There were fears that an impending terrorist attack was due for Sydney according to intelligence sources. Such attacks had been predicted ever since the London train bombings, yet so far nothing has happened, which was a good thing, but the fear of an attack was hardly going to stop him from venturing into the city.
Feigning indignation Jon continued the verbal battle, he said, "My friend, you know I don't talk shit."
Chance didn't respond. He was semi-engrossed in the newspaper article and his cereal. Jon lowered the newspaper to look at him.
"What are you doing?" Jon asked.
"Hey, I was reading that!" Chance exclaimed, "Hold it back up again!"
"Hold it yourself you lazy bastard!" Jon said incredulously and threw the paper at him. He laughed as he caught the newspaper. A few pages fell to the ground and he scooped them up.
"What time are you heading to work today?" His friend asked as he took his dishes to the sink to wash.
The clock above the kitchen stove showed the time to be a bit after nine. He said, "I dunno, probably around three o'clock."
"You're lucky you get to go to work whenever you want," Jon said.
Chance worked as a radio presenter. He produced an hourly show five nights a week for one of Sydney's most popular talkback radio stations, KPS FM. His program 'Dr. Day's Late Night Sessions' aired nightly on weekdays and dealt with psychological issues. People would mainly ring up to talk about their problems and he would try to help them out as best he could. Of course it did help having a degree in Psychology to lend credibility to his advice. Being a radio presenter would have to be the best job Chance had ever had because it combined two of his favourite interests - media and psychology.
"It's not exactly like that dude," Chance said, "You know I only get paid for the time I'm on air."
"Yeah, and the average Joe would make in a week what you do in one night," Jon said, he finished washing his dishes and put them on the dish rack to dry. "If I got paid that much, I'd only work an hour a day too."
"Come on man, there's a lot of research and preparation that goes into each show and I don't get paid for that time, so it works out pretty fair," Chance said defensively, "Besides, you should know dude, you do a lot of hours too that you don't get paid for as a private investigator."
"I know, I was only messin' with ya," Jon said grinning at Chance while he dried his hands with a tea towel.
"Like I said," Chance reiterated, "You're full of shit."
"No Master Day, I am definitely not full of that. Later Doc," Jon grabbed his car keys and headed out before Chance could reply.
When he finished breakfast and cleaned after himself, he spent the rest of the morning doing the laundry so that his clothes would have the rest of the day to dry. Living independently wasn't easy. There were always chores that needed to be done. Carpets to vacuum. Floors to sweep. Toilets to clean. Thankfully Jon was mostly tidy and they did their best to share the cleaning duties.
The phone rang shortly after midday. Chance was in the middle of watching a mediocre episode of Dr. Phil and was badly imitating the man's Texan accent to entertain himself.
"Hello?" Chance said imitating Dr. Phil.
"Chance," a female spoke, "Is that you?"
He instantly recognised his sister's voice, he said, "Janelle? How are you?"
"I'm fine," Janelle said, "What about you?"
"Yeah, good as always," Chance said, "Everything's going well here in Sydney. Can't complain."
"That's good," Janelle commented.
A moment of silence hung between them. Finally, Chance asked, "How's mum doing?"
His sister sighed and took a moments thought before responding. Then slowly, she said, "Well, it's hard to tell. She hasn't gotten any worse, but there are times when she forgets some really simple things. A few times she's forgotten where she puts things and once she cleaned the floors after I'd already done it, even though she saw me do it."
"I did notice she was a bit forgetful when I last lived with her, but it was nothing serious," he said. He knew his sister could worry too much at times.
"I know, but when I told her I'd already cleaned the floors she said she thought I did it a few days before even though she saw me do it that morning," Janelle explained.
Chance squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a few seconds. They both worried that their mother's mind would fall apart someday. Forgetfulness was a common thing in everyone. They didn't like to think that something terrible could or would happen to their mother, but she was in her senior years and it could indicate any number of illnesses that affected the elderly.
He said, "If you're really worried then I suppose you could take her for a check-up. Ask the doctor to book her in for neural scans, but try and be casual about it, you don't want to alarm mum, if you do she may try and resist the check-up."
"I will then, thanks for the advice," Janelle said. Then she asked, "You know why I called you though?"
"Um," Chance tried to think of possible reasons but they were mostly negative and so he didn't voice them. He decided against guessing and replied, "Nope, I give up, what's the reason for the call?"
"It's just like you not to remember," his sister said in disapproval. "Tomorrow will be a year since ... you know."
It didn't take long for Chance to recall the significance of tomorrow's date. Tomorrow would be the first anniversary of his father's death.
Chance said, "Oh yeah, were we supposed to do something for it?"
"Well, we were going to visit the cemetery," Janelle said, "But you don't have to come down, I just wanted to remind you, that's all."
"Oh ok, thanks then," he said, "I would fly down to Adelaide but it isn't that easy with my job."
"I know," Janelle said, "We didn't expect you to come down. Just try and call more often, the kids ask about you, you know, they're always asking if you're coming back down to visit. And mum would be happy to hear from you too, I'd put her on now but she's having a nap at the moment."
"I'll do my best then," Chance said.
"Alright, I'll talk to you later then." They said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone.
Sitting himself back down on the sofa, Chance stared off into space as he recalled those events a year ago. The memories were crystal clear as if they had happened only recently.
The ceremony was almost over and Chance was beginning to feel tired. It felt as if time had gone into slow motion and would never return to normal speed again. People were lining up to give their last respects or say their last words before the coffin was lowered into the ground and buried. His mother was crying again. She looked terrible with her red-rimmed eyes, yet that was to be expected.
Janelle walked up to him, her eyes were also red from crying. She said, "They'll lower the casket soon, don't you want to say any last words?"
"I hardly think he would be able to respond," Chance said. Janelle narrowed her eyebrows. He quickly went on to keep her from chastising him like he knew she would, "Besides, I'm not the sentimental type."
"That time a few years ago, when you said you wouldn't cry at his funeral, I didn't think you meant that," Janelle said, "Why were you so hard on him? You know all he wanted was to be able to talk to you."
"I don't see why he didn't," Chance said indifferently, "Nothing was stopping him."
"He thought you were punishing him," Janelle said, her voice was becoming unsteady as if she was about to cry, "Because of the mistakes he made. I know that these last few years he's thought about you a lot, but you never even acknowledged his existence. You could have at least tried to talk to him, I can't believe you ignored him for almost thirteen years, even when you lived under the same roof you ignored him."
Chance glanced at his watch absently without noting the time. "Look, like I said, nothing was stopping him from talking to me, but I just felt like there was nothing for me to say to him. I mean, what did you expect after the kind of childhood we had? That I come home from university and we start exchanging that days events?"
He was beginning to feel irritated by the conversation, but he managed not to let it show.
His sister said, "At least everybody else here shed a tear, how can you be so heartless?"
"That would require that I actually felt something Janelle," Chance said to her as if stating the obvious.
"As much as you hated him, he was still our father and -,"
Chance cut her off, "I never hated him, there were times when I was younger that I did hate him, but I never loved him either, most of the time I felt nothing for him."
"How can you say that?" his sister asked shocked. "Especially now, at this place and time."
"I never loved him in life, don't expect me to love him in death," Chance said callously.
Janelle stared at him like he was a complete stranger. Her lips pressed tightly together as if refraining herself from making a remark. She left then, leaving him standing by himself again. There wasn't much more she could do to convince him to show a bit of emotion.
There was no point in brooding about the past now. He knew his life had not always been perfect, few people ever lived perfect lives, if that was ever possible. He was getting his own life back on track now, to where he wanted to be, to where he was happy to be. The flashback was about to bring his mood down again so he decided to go to work early. At least there were people to talk to at the radio station. And there was always the opportunity to bump into some celebrities. Chance loved bumping into famous people, especially the cute ones. The celebrities he came across were always thrilled to see him rather than the other way around, apparently he was more well known and popular than he thought, but he always chalked it down to the brilliant production team he worked with. Without them his show wouldn't have the snazzy appeal he loved about it, and judging by the reaction he received from people when they found out who he was, it seemed he had fans out there who loved the show as much as he did. Although people saw him as a celebrity, he never felt like one. He was always embarrassed when people asked for his autograph, not that it happened often, thankfully he was only well known for his radio show, his advice and to a lesser extent his voice when people recognised it on the odd occasion. Which meant keeping his identity private wasn't a hard task at all. He also only volunteered his name when he absolutely had to.
Chance caught the train to work just like most other days, even though he owned a car. He preferred public transport because traffic was always hectic during the day in the city regardless of peak times. Granted he could always catch a taxi and charge it to the KPS FM credit account he and a few other presenters had the privilege of using, but he hated to abuse that privilege, and besides, it was a bother having to keep a record and receipt for every time he used it.
Stepping through the automatic doors of Radio Station KPS always felt like he was coming home rather than going to work. Not that he had automatic glass doors at home, though it was a really good idea, he imagined living in a house with such doors instead of normal ones for a moment before he shook his head and discarded the fancy. He really did need to stop daydreaming. Perhaps the reason why the station felt like home was because he spent most of his time here. His office was quite spacious and the sofa was unbelievably comfortable to sleep on for a sofa. He even kept some spare clothes in the bottom filing cabinet drawer in case he did end up sleeping here - plus it was good to have them close to hand in case he spilt garlic sauce on himself and then somehow ended up bumping into a really cute celebrity. Like he once did.
Everyone at the station was either nice or a real character. They always said hello and goodbye, and most were interesting to talk to, he was never short on the latest news and gossip as long as he worked there. The Station Manager was also a great guy. He was always listening to the station on his iPod with one earbud, presumably to keep tabs on what his station was broadcasting.
Afterwards, when Chance had wrapped up his radio show and was about to leave for the train station, he was stopped by his personal secretary, Jessica, who took care of his administrative matters, organised his schedules and answered incoming calls for his show. She was quite a beauty and had an air of sexuality about her that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. She always wore revealing clothes and tonight was no exception. She flicked her hair and played with her necklace in an attempt to draw his attention towards her voluptuous breasts as she asked him if he wanted to grab a drink with her. Her breasts were nice. And big. And round. And ready to poke his eyes out from the way she kept arching them out towards him. He could not understand how she refused to believe he was gay, well bisexual but he told her he was gay for the sake of getting her off his back. He was simply not interested in her. In fact he couldn't really remember the last time he was interested in a female. Maybe he was losing interest in them altogether. Jessica looked at him coyly as she waited for a response, if she was any more insistent he would have to put her up for sexual harassment. Thank the heavens she actually managed to stay professional - while being flirty. He politely refused her invitation so she offered to walk halfway to the train station with him instead where she had her car parked.
They talked idly as they walked along the street together. Sydney had an active nightlife so there were still people walking along the sidewalks. Jessica laughed at a few of the things he said and kept looking sidelong at him with bedroom eyes that just screamed 'ravish me'. Uh, no thanks, Chance thought to himself, she was definitely not his type. Chance chuckled to himself at the thought and Jessica laughed with him.
They reached a set of traffic lights and the pedestrian crossing lights had suddenly turned green. Absently and without checking for stray motorists who didn't always obey traffic signals, he stepped onto the street while still laughing, and watching Jessica giggle at him laughing, and wondering if there was nothing he said she wouldn't laugh at. It was only at the moment he took a step onto the street when the sound of an approaching motorbike registered in his head. In the same instant he swung his head around just in time to see the motorbike turning left through the pedestrian crossing. Chance barely halted his next step, but in trying to avoid a collision with the biker he put too much force in reversing his direction and instead he was heading for a collision with Jessica's enormous breasts. All he could think about was how he could get his head stuck inside that valley of a cleavage and never get it out. Strangely a vision of Jessica walking around with his body protruding from her cleavage came to mind which promptly caused him to pivot and force himself in another direction. Unfortunately it was towards the traffic light pole. The impact was painful to say the least and the fall to the pavement hurt almost as much. He was lying on his back and he could hear shouting, at first it was loud enough to hurt his ears but then it gradually seemed more distant. Stars swam across his field of vision and the city lights became blinding as he tried to steady his vision. He could see Jessica, well two, no three of her, which did not bode well for how many breasts she was sprouting at that moment. Then a dark round object filled his view, his vision cleared a moment for him to see it was a motorbike helmet. The person wearing it lifted the visor and Chance stared into the most mesmerising blue eyes he had ever seen on any man.
Chance smiled unaware and said out loud, "Mmm, blue."
Then his vision blurred again and the stars began to swim faster. Then he blacked out.