Disclaimer: Hey, my little cyberbuddies! Everybody still kickin'? Excellent. Now, before we get started, there's a few things we have to go over first. I know, I know. I think they're boring, too, but it's gotta be done. Okay, if you're under 18, you probably shouldn't be here because some person who's OVER 18 will most likely have a fit if they find out you're here. But that's denying people literature. My advice? If you're in this predicament and want to stay, don't get caught. Nice and simple. If the global location of where you are has some kind of trippy law forbidding ALL people to read this, follow the same advice for the above situation. If you somehow wandered in here by mistake and can feel your stomach lurching at the thought of two guys in love, I suggest you leave and maybe get yourself some counselling to help deal with that. Everybody else, read on!
Running Scared Chapter Five By Brennan Jobse
This was it. The moment of truth. If all went well, I'd be in shorts and kleats by the end of the day. If not, I wouldn't see them again for another eight months. No District Finals, no City Championships, no Regionals, no Provincials.
I was standing outside the Phys Ed office gathering up my courage to go and beg for my spot on the soccer team. Inside the room, sitting at a desk covered in papers, was Coach Haverland. A small woman with curly orange-red hair tied back in a ponytail,
I had always liked her. She was a great coach. Took us to Provincial Semi-Finals the year before when we were finally beaten down by Penticton by two goals. But she was also fair. And that was the proverbial monkey wrench in my machinery because I had ditched soccer (along with everything else for that matter) for a couple of weeks. And it wouldn't be fair to let me back on the team after I did that.
So there I stood, with Austin and Aaron by my side, faithfully getting more and more impatient by the second. I suppose they had good reason. We'd been standing outside that room for almost half an hour.
"Just go do it," Austin hissed at me for the fourth time since we had arrived.
"What if she says no?"
"It'll be the end of your world and you'll commit suicide. It could be like a pot-luck supper. Someone brings the casket, someone brings the clothes... I'll bring the rope, if you want," offered Aaron in exasperated sarcasm.
I shot him a glare. "You're not helping," I said shortly, and turned my gaze back to Coach Haverland. "Really, what if she says no?"
"Then you'll deal with it, but for fuck's sake, just go ask her." With that, he pushed me roughly into the Phys Ed office and into Coach Haverland's line of sight.
"Well, well, well. Ben Ghallager. Haven't seen much of you lately," Coach Haverland said, eyeing me up and down suspiciously from her place at the table.
I nodded and shuffled my feet nervously. "Yeah. Um, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh?" She pushed her papers away and leaned back in her chair.
"Yeah. Um, I know I haven't been at any practices or games in the last little while, but I was wondering if..." I trailed off here, unable to say the rest.
"If you could still play?" she finished for me. I nodded and she sighed. "Ben, come have a seat," she said and patted the chair next to her. My stomach sank to my feet as I walked over to the plastic chair. I was screwed. She was going to tell me no and that would be the end of my soccer for the rest of the year.
"Ben," she started gently, "you know what the rules for staying on the team are. Keep a 80% average and don't miss practice without a legitimate excuse. You've been up and gone for 2 weeks. Everybody else met the standards and I'm sure they had things they wanted to do rather than practice dribbling drills for forty-five minutes." Her tone was firm, but her eyes were sympathetic. She knew how much soccer meant to me.
I nodded silently, my eyes on the table so as not to give away how crushed I was. I knew the answer would probably be no, but the reality of no more soccer still sucked.
"However," she added, and I felt a flicker of hope come back. "I know you're a good kid, Ben. You've never given me any trouble before and you're the best defencemen I could have asked for. So as long as you give me your word that it won't happen again, you can come back."
My mouth dropped open and I gaped for a few seconds before I remembered how to talk. "I... I can play again? Really?"
Coach Haverland laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I might as well take you back. After all, we have that big game against Westington in a little over a month. I need someone on the field who can guard my guys."
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I jumped up out of my seat and hugged her tightly from behind, then pulled away, embarrassed at my display of gratitude.
Coach Haverland just laughed some more. "You're welcome, Ben," she said, through a wide smile. "Remember, practice today at four!"
I nodded and grinned again. "Thank you so much, Coach Haverland! Guys! I can play again!" I cried, flying out of the office to tell my cheering squad the good news.
"Ben, man! Where you been?" yelled Tommy Chung happily, as he dribbled the ball towards me after practice that day.
"Family stuff, Tom, you know how it is," I replied with a smile, and stuffed my kleats into my bag.
"Yeah? Everything okay?" he asked now that he was closer. It wasn't like Tommy was being nosy or anything. I had gone to school with Tommy since we were nine years old and we were good friends. Maybe not as good as some of my other friends, but good friends nonetheless.
"Yeah, things are back to normal now," I told him as the team started to walk home.
"Excellent. We missed you something awful, man. I mean, your boy here," he said, draping his arm over Aaron's shoulders, "he's a great forward, but he can't defend worth shit."
"Look who's talkin', Chung. As I recall, my defending slaughtered yours in that scrimmage game on Tuesday. Or were you too busy checking out Kristen Haver to notice?" Aaron retorted with a smile. Tommy was notorious for being somewhat of a player.
"What kind of a shallow, inconsiderate cretin do you think I am? To sacrifice the hard work of my fellow practicing teammates to ask out some girl??" He scoffed lightly.
Aaron, however, was not fooled. "What'd she say?"
Tommy grinned. "Oh, she said yes. We're going out this weekend."
The parade of people had broken off into smaller groups, but Tommy's loud voice carried over our small area and a ripple of laughter went through us. I laughed with the rest of them. It felt good to be back in the swing of things.
"Tell me again why you agreed to do this?" I asked Austin as the sweat poured off my face.
It was Saturday afternoon and while it wasn't terribly hot (only about 10 C), the snow we usually had around this time was gone, due to some weird heat wave the Vancouver area was going through. Soon, though, the rains would start and we wouldn't have more than two sunny days in a row for at least two months. It was my favorite time of year. Rain always made me feel... sedated. Being at home was easiest when there was a thunderstorm going on outside.
Austin and I were washing Michael's car. A nice, shiny, new red Convertible. Michael's pride and joy. Austin told me he had saved all his four years in high school for that car. And he was VERY particular about it. Which was why I had no idea why we were washing it. I mean, I wasn't exactly what you'd call a car guy. If it moved, great. If not, walk. Who cared what it looked like as long as it ran?
"I didn't AGREE to it, per se," he said, taking a quick swipe at the side panels on the other side of the car with his rag. "It was forced upon me."
"How?"
"Michael and my parents are going to some party tonight so they went shopping and for hair cuts, which means I get to wash the car because I'm the only one who's not going out tonight." He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Wanna come over?"
I shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a smile. "Not really. Laundry to take care of, math to do. Important stuff, you understand, of course."
Austin made a face and threw his rag at me. I tried to dodge it, but it hit me in the shoulder. I soaked it in the bucket by my feet and threw it back. Whap! It hit him in the forehead and he looked stunned. But only for a second. Then he got this look in his eyes like the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas. Before I could even think of running, he had lifted his own bucket of water, darted around to my side of the car, and dumped the whole thing over my head.
I gasped as the icy water hit and stood there in shock, staring at Austin, who was laughing like crazy. I blinked and saw the hose lying by my feet. Payback's a bitch, ain't it? Austin was still in peals of laughter, but he managed to get his eyes open long enough to catch me looking at the hose and took off in a stumbling run, all the while cackling madly.
I, needless to say, was considerably more focused. After all, the bastard had just soaked me from head to toe. I wanted vengeance! In no time at all, I had tackled him to the ground and carried him back to the car, kicking and laughing and screaming, and turned the hose on him.
"No, Ben! Stop! It's too cold! Aaahh!!" he yelped.
We wrestled with the hose for a while, both of us getting even more wet from the splashback. Somehow, a kink got in the hose and caused the water to slow to a trickle. We let the hose fall to the ground and I got a good look at him.
He was soaked. Flat out sopping wet. There wasn't a dry spot on him. It reminded me of how he looked on our first night and I felt myself getting hard in my now drenched shorts. Like that night, his clothes clung to him like a second skin, and I was once again struck by how unbelievably gorgeous this boy was. I ran my eyes up and down his body and noticed that he was getting a little stiff, as well. Water dripped off his hair and down his face, and he was breathing hard from our scuffle.
My eyes met his and he stepped close to me. Despite myself, I felt a twinge of fear. We were in his driveway, out in the open, and it was Saturday. There was no way we could do anything out here; we'd be seen for sure. He put his hands up close to my ear the way you do when you're a little kid telling someone a secret.
"Let's go upstairs," he whispered and licked the ridge of my ear. I closed my eyes and sighed. He took his hands away and I followed him into his house. No sooner had he kicked off his sandals when I shoved him against the wall of his living room and kissed him fiercely. He responded eagerly, probing his tongue deep into my mouth. I moaned and sucked on it, relishing in its flavor and texture.
We stumbled up the stairs, lips locked, hands clutching at each other's wet shirts. How we made it to his room with our eyes closed, I'll never know. He pushed my back up against his door and started grinding into me slowly. I could feel his cock rub against mine and I moaned loudly. I fumbled for the door knob and turned it, almost losing my balance when the door opened.
I spun around, never allowing more than a centimeter of space between our lips, and pushed Austin down on the bed face up. He kissed me hungrily and ran his hands over my chest, tweeking my nipples playfully as he did. His hands found their way under my shirt and he pulled it off. I let my guard slip and he flipped me over on my back. He shucked his own shirt and kissed me again, lowering himself onto my chest.
His lips travelled from mine up my jawline and to my ear where he nibbled and sucked on it gently. I moaned into his neck and let my hands run up and down his back and into the hem of his wet shorts. My fingers kneaded his ass cheeks and he let out a soft moan near my ear.
"Mmmm... Ben, that feels so fucking good..." he whispered, grinding his hard cock against mine.
I pulled his head from my ear and kissed him hard, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. I loved the way Austin tasted. It was as erotic as any other part of him and it drove me fucking wild.
He kissed me again and moved slowly down to my chest to suck on my nipples. Always the tease, he flicked his tongue lightly over each one a few times before actually going to work on them. When he broad-tongued me, my whole body stiffened and I balled up the sheets in my fists.
"Oh, fuck, Austin..." I moaned through clenched teeth.
Austin made his way down my chest, planting little kisses as he went, until he hit the waistband of my shorts. I was so hard by now, I was sure that if he touched me, I would shoot in his face. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled off my shorts and boxers. He stuck out his tongue and licked up the side of my shaft, sending a tremor through my whole body. My hands wandered down to his head and started playing with his hair.
I was in heaven. Total and complete paradise, like I was floating. But it was nothing in comparison to what I felt when Austin took all of my 7 inches in his mouth. Sensations I had never before felt in my life coursed through my veins like electricity.
He bobbed up and down on my dick and it was almost more than I could stand. My breathing was loud even in my ears. My eyes were closed and I could see every color in existence swirling around in kaleidoscopic madness on the backs of my lids.
"Austin," I murmured. He either ignored me or didn't hear me because he didn't stop what he was doing for a second. "Austin," I said a little more clearly.
He looked up with a mix of surprise and hurt in his bright blue eyes. I guess he was worried he wasn't doing a good job. What a silly boy. "What? What's wrong?"
"C'mere." I grabbed him by the hips and swiveled him around so his crotch was in front of my face. Without wasting a moment, I pulled off his shorts and freed his cock. It was swollen and oozing pre-cum like a leaky faucet. I smiled to myself and flicked my tongue over the head, emitting a moan from Austin, who was down by my crotch, propping himself up with his arms.
"I never would've figured you for a 69 guy," he said once he had regained a little control. He sounded amused.
I grinned and responded by taking his hard dick deep into my throat. He sucked in a deep breath and collapsed onto me. He took me back into his mouth immediately. The colors behind my eyes came back with a vengeance. I moaned around his dick, tracing my fingers lightly up the back of his thighs and up to his ass. When I accidently brushed against his hole, his whole body shuddered and shook with pleasure.
He began sucking me in earnest now, giving it everything he had and more. I had to consciously remind myself to be VERY careful with my teeth. As the suction increased, the colors swirled faster and faster until all I could see was the blur of a spinning spectrum. I never wanted it to end.
It was more than I could handle, though. And evidently, more than Austin could handle as well. His hips were pumping against my face in a desperate plea for release. It was almost a surprise for me to realize that mine were as well. I felt Austin's cock expand in my mouth and I pulled him closer to my mouth, digging my fingernails into his ass. Shot after powerful shot of hot cum flew down my throat, and I felt the vibrations from Austin's moans travel up my dick and into the length of my spinal column, making every square inch of my body tingle. I could feel my orgasm rushing up at me from my toes like a tidal wave. Barely holding back a scream, I thrust my hips at Austin's face one more time and blew my load with such a fury, I thought I was going to pass out.
Austin let my now sensitive cock slip from his lips and turned himself around so he could kiss me. His lips met mine and I could taste myself on his tongue. He pulled back and this time it was me whose eyes stayed closed, playing everything over in my head, trying to burn it into my memory. When I finally opened them, the first thing I saw were his eyes; those twin pools of bright blue that caught the light just right so it looked like they were glowing.
I lifted my hand up to caress his cheek. Despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon, the whole thing had an ethereal feel to it, like everything was slowed down. Austin took my hand from his cheek and kissed my fingertips, smiled, and lay down beside me, his head on my chest.
We were quiet for a long time. Words were unnecessary. So we just lie there in comfortable silence, letting our breathing slow and our heartbeats return to normal.
I was thinking about something Aaron had told me. He'd had to do this project on ideas that weren't found in mainstream society for his Philosophy class and was researching a place called Shangri-La. It was an Eastern thing, this one guy's idea of heaven. Supposedly, it was a city at the highest point of the Himalayan Mountains where everything was perfect. I was about a thousand times higher than that place. In my own Shangri-La. It was better than perfect. It was peaceful.
After a while, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and I began to doze off.
"Ben?"
I kept my eyes closed. "Hmm."
"What are all these bruises from?"
Well, let me tell you, that was enough to wake me up pretty damn quick. My eyes snapped open and I saw that Austin was playing his fingertips gingerly over my stomach. Angry purple bruises were all that was left my most recent pummeling from my dad. I remembered that night vividly... I had forgotten to lock the garage door after putting away the vacuum and had gotten kneed in the gut a few times before I finally threw up and was left to my own devices.
"Maybe you'll remember next time, faggot!"
The words rang in my ears even now. I wondered why my dad hated me so much. Sometimes late at night, I would creep up to the attic where all my mom's old books were. Every book she ever owned was in our attic, including photo albums. There was this one picture of the three of us at Niagara Falls. I was five and my dad had me up on his shoulders, with his arm around my mom's waist and we were all smiling, like there was nothing in the world that could possible hurt us. Once upon a time, I would think to myself, my dad didn't hate me.
"Ben?" Austin's voice brought me back to the here and now with a start.
"What?" Maybe if I pretended I didn't hear the question, he'd forget it. Not bloody likely.
"Where'd all these bruises come from?" he asked again.
"I fell down the stairs," I said, deciding to use a reliable excuse. "Right into some boxes that were at the bottom. Hurt like a bitch." I laughed nervously, praying that Austin didn't pick up on it, and tried to keep my tone normal.
I hated lying to him, especially about this, but my home life was something I had to keep to myself. No matter how much people liked me now, no one would hang around me if they found out what my life was really like. Not Austin, not Aaron, nobody. And I didn't expect them to. It was complicated. Why should they be burdened with my problems?
After what seemed like ages, he smiled and shook his head. "Klutz," he muttered, and kissed the purple marks gently. A wave of relief washed over me and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding in. "Get dressed," Austin said, sitting up and pulling me with him. "We've still got to wax Michael's car."
We finished the car and when Austin's family came home, Michael told us what a bang-up job we'd done.
"Excellent, chaps, really smashing," he commented in a thick British accent as he walked round the car. "No scratches, no missed spots..." He glanced up at Austin with a smile. "I think Ben's a keeper, little brother. If he wasn't already yours, I'd snatch him up myself." With that, he gave me a wink, and, satisfied with his car, went into the house.
Austin saw the look on my face and shrugged helplessly. I took a breath and reminded myself that Michael was just being Michael. Oh, yeah. This whole 'Funny Brother Syndrome' would take a little getting used to.
I went home after that and did what little homework I had that weekend. Some stupid English questions on the difference between a subject and a predicate. Yawn.
But they had taken longer than I had anticipated and I was late in getting supper ready for my dad. He came home from work at 5:00, and pitched a snit about having to wait for dinner. My dad always worked Saturdays. Said it was because he didn't like to be around me any longer than was necessary. I used to be amazed at how casually he could tell me things like that. Now, however, I was usually just glad he wasn't walloping me while he said it.
Thankfully, dinner wasn't as late as I thought it would be and we managed to have a fairly civilized meal for a change. We didn't talk to each other; that was out of the question. But we did make it through dinner without coming to blows, so it was a relatively quiet night.
When my dad was finished eating, he got up from his seat and went to the cabinet to get himself a glass and a bottle of brandy. He came back for ice as I was cleaning up and smacked me across the back of the head so unexpectedly that I nearly dropped the plates I was carrying.
"Get these dishes done," he said to me, and then retired to his office without another word.
I rubbed the back of my head and scowled to myself. I was going to do them anyway, what'd he have to smack me for? But I knew the answer to that. Because he felt like it. Besides, I reasoned, a non-committal smack on the head was better than a full out fist fight.
As I washed the dishes (we didn't have a dishwasher; my dad said people nowadays were too soft, having machines do even the simplest of tasks) I looked out the window at the sky, which had grown dark yet again, and threatened to dump buckets of water everywhere. The radio behind me was playing quietly, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was thinking about Austin.
I knew he was disappointed because I couldn't come over that night. I really had wanted to, but I couldn't risk asking my dad and getting beaten for it. Not now. Not so soon after Austin had noticed my bruises from the last time we'd gotten into a fight. I knew it was best, in the long run. But it didn't change the fact that Austin was home, alone and bored. He couldn't even call me because his dad wanted him to keep the line open for an important call. Something about new stock.
I sighed as I finished the dishes and went to resign myself to an evening of miscellaneous chores when I heard the radio announcer.
"Next up, we've got a tune going to Ben from Your Secret Admirer. It's Incubus, with I Miss You, on STAR 93.3, Vancouver's hottest radio station."
"To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn't think could be real. To know that you feel the same as I do Is a three-fold utopian dream.
You do something to me that I can't explain So would I be out of line If I said I miss you?
I see your picture, I smell your skin on The empty pillow next to mine. You have only been gone ten days, But already, I'm wasting away.
I know I'll see you again, whether far or soon. But I need you to know that I care And I miss you."
The end notes of the song died away and I switched the radio off. I stood in the kitchen for a while, not really thinking anything, just standing. The thought of Austin calling those irritatingly happy radio people and sending out a song to a guy from Your Secret Admirer jumped into my head and a small smile formed on my lips. I could just imagine the DJ's face.
A year before my mom died, she took me to the park one day and there was this little old man sitting on a bench. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and little hat and was running his fingers over some blue numbers on his arm looking like he was about to cry. My mom and I sat on the bench across from him and I asked her what was wrong with the man.
"That man is a Jew, honey," she told me. "A long time ago, Jewish people were treated very badly because they acted different from other people. People hurt them a lot and took everything they owned just because they weren't like everybody else. But," she said, "if you are nice to people and help them along their way when they get tired, the world is a much happier place, Ben." Then she smiled and pointed behind me. "Look, there's Aaron. Why don't you two go play in the sandbox?"
I nodded and went to join Aaron. When it was time to go, the man on the bench still hadn't moved and still looked like he wanted to cry. I felt so bad for him, I went over to him, climbed up on the bench, wrapped my little arms around him, and gave him a big hug. I don't even think he noticed I was there until he felt me squeezing him.
"Don't be sad, mister," I said to him. "The world will be happy again."
He looked at me in surprise for a few seconds. My mom came rushing over and took my hand, apologizing to the man for me bothering him. "No bother, my dear," he said to my mom, holding up a hand. "No bother at all." Then he looked at me and smiled big. "Thank you, son. I think you're right." With that, he got up off the bench and walked off, whistling a tune I didn't know.
That was the first time I had ever really been proud of anything in my life. I was so happy that I had made that man smile. And I didn't even do anything, really. I just gave him a hug. It didn't occur to me until much later that compassion might be all that was necessary in some cases. As 1960's as it sounded, if everyone could just show a little love, the world would indeed be happy again. For everyone.
Not feeling so beaten down now, I started in on my chores with renewed energy. When I finally decided to leave the rest for tomorrow, I changed into some sweats and crawled into bed, and for the first time in a long time, I welcomed what tomorrow would bring.
Brennan's Ramblings: Hey, peeps! How's every little thing? Boy, another long one. Yeah, well, enjoy it, because it might be the last one for a little while. Calm down! I'm just going camping for a few days. I leave on the 22, though, so who knows? I might be able to squeeze in another by Thursday, but I'm not making any promises. Super mondo thank yous to all my friends, particularly Mark for his incredible support during a hectic few weeks. And for being so damn funny. You're the coolest, man!! And a million thanks to Stone, my brother in the weird. And if you guys are, you know, just kinda kickin around with nothing better to do, my email address is bjobse414@hotmail.com if you feel like dropping me a line.
The Recs: Alright, let's see... a rec... Today's recommendation is a series. Three stories, actually. The first is called Bleeding Hearts, which is right here at our very own Nifty. The last date it was updated was August 2, 2000. The second, Reap the Whirlwind, is in the College Section of Nifty, last posted on January 27, 2001. And the third, All Lost Things, isn't finished yet, so it should be somewhere near the top of the College Section. Or if you want, you can read them at the author's website: http://bleedinghearts.nav.to They're written by a guy named Josh Aterovis, who, as it turns out, has got a publishing contract for Bleeding Hearts. Anyway, they're great books. Check them out. Enjoy, mon amies!