Vengeance, ch. 2
by einhard
PLEASE NOTE: This story is fiction from beginning to end. The characters don't exist, and the things they do, never happened.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If ch. 1 left you worrying that this story would be full of violence and brutality, don't worry, because it won't. Parts of it deals with pretty grim subject matter, but it's essentially a story of love and hope. The real sex (the good sex) will come, although it's going to take a while.
Leo, December 21st, 2000:
So, this was it. A nice house still. His father, the old bastard, had always been houseproud, and had kept everything in immaculate condition. Not that it was big or luxurious, but it was well kept. The old neighborhood had even picked up quite a bit. Full of yuppies, probably, like so many former working-class neighborhoods in so many cities.
He remembered the last time he he'd seen his parents, more than fifteen years ago. He had never been in touch with them later. After he'd left the hospital, he'd wondered off on his own. As he finally broke down in tears on the street, a cop had approached him. He'd tried to get away, but the guy had grabbed hold of him, put him in the patrol car and coaxed the story of his troubles out of him. After a while, both of them were crying, the young, bereft man, and the much older cop. He had then been taken to the Salvation Army. He'd tried to object, but to no use.
There were still many things that he and the people from the S.A. disagreed about, many things about his life that they would frown on if they knew. But it didn't matter. When he'd needed it, they had given him all they had to offer. Food, shelter, clothing. And love. So what if they had doctrines he didn't like? They were good people. He remembered old Captain Winterson and her husband fondly, and wished they could be with him now. But they were gone. They didn't have many posessions, but they had left some of them to him. The big old lamp he had on the floor of his apartment in New York, the massive desk Mr Winterson had inherited from his own father. Those were the closest things he had to memories of a family now, or at least the most tangible memories.
The tears came back as he unlocked the door and entered the hallway. He'd regretted not seeing his mother again. She had died in 1991, and he'd only heard of it weeks later. He'd gone to visit the grave soon after, and then hadn't been in town until now. There was only him left now, with Rafe gone, his mother gone and, just recently, his father. The house and everything in it, was now his, Leo's.
He sat down in the living room, unable to think what to do next. Then the doorbell rang.
Leo walked out to answer it, wondering who it could be. He hoped it wasn't somebody come to see his dad. As he swung the door open, a tower of a young man stood before him. Despite his astonishment, he was able to see this was quite a hunk. In better circumstances, a little flirt would probably be called for at this stage.
"Leo?" asked the young giant, a bit timidly.
Leo nodded.
"I guess you don't remember me. I'm Radu. I used to live next door. I was Rafe's friend, you know?"
Of course! Little Radu. But surely, this couldn't be him?
"Yeah, I remember Radu, but he was just a little guy. You're--you're big!"
The young man smiled diffidently.
"Yeah, I know. But I was only ten at the time that Rafe, uhm, died. I've grown a lot since then."
"I'll say!" Leo answered, almost coyly. "How tall are you now, seven feet?" He couldn't help but wonder if something else had grown to equal proportions, too.
"Not quite, six-ten. But I was wondering, uhm, could I come in?"
"Oh, sure, sorry." Leo stepped back, and Radu, carefully bending his neck, walked inside.
"Please, come through to the living room, Radu."
They both sat down, looking at each other somewhat awkwardly.
"So, Radu, you don't live here anymore, huh?"
"No. No, I got my own place in another part of town. You could come see it sometime, it's quite nice."
"Yeah? I'd like that. What do you do, anyway, play basketball?" Leo gave a small giggle.
"Well, yeah. I'm not a big star, but I play for the team here in this city."
"What, at NBA level?"
"Yeah."
"Wow! That' s really an achievement, man. How old are you now, twenty-five?"
"That's right. I'm really pleased with my career. Actually, I gotta be back at the club in two hours. Big game tonight."
"Yeah, of course. So what are you doing here? I mean, in this neigborhood?"
"I was just visiting my mom, and as I left, I noticed the lights were on here. You back to settle the estate or something?"
"Mmh-hm. So you heard my dad was dead, then?"
"Yeah, I heard."
There was another awkward silence.
"Err, maybe I should be goin', man. You probably want to look the place over by yourself."
"No, no, Radu. Please stay if you want. We could look at it together." Leo had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach from the proximity of this huge young man. Not only huge, but cute, too.
"I don't know, Leo. What with the circumstances of Rafe's death and all... This is kinda embarrassing, you know?"
"Oh! Well, I can see that, but I never blamed you for any of that. I mean, you were just kids, it's natural you should do some exploring together. Lots of kids do, you know."
"I know, but the thing is, we didn't. We might have, if we'd had some more time together, but me and Rafe never did anything sexual."
"You didn't?" Leo was aghast at this revelation.
"No. I mean, I know Father Flanagan said we did, but that wasn't true."
"What?! The fuckin' bastard!!" Leo yelled. He got up and started to pace the floor quickly, muttering to himself. He composed himself after a while, and sat down again.
"So what did happen?"
"I never told anybody, but Rafe did actually leave a suicide note. For me. I didn't find it until the next day, and I never showed to anyone before. I got it with me now, if you wanna see."
"Yeah, I guess. Excuse me, I gotta take a little time to digest this before I look at it." Leo was on his feet, pacing the floor again.
"Of course. I'll wait a little, OK?"
Leo left the room, and walked up the stairs. He used the key the lawyer had given him, and entered Rafe's room. It was almost empty. A bed, with no bedclothes; a big closet, empty; a nightstand; a lamp in the ceiling and one on the wall, and that was it. Nothing to remind anyone that a this had been the place where young dreams and hopes, a young life, had once lived.
Leo sat down on the bed, the dust rising around him. It looked like the room hadn't been disturbed in years. He put his head in his hands, and wept for his little brother.
He didn't know how long he'd been there, but suddenly he felt a presence. Looking up, he could see Radu in the door, his neck bent to keep from banging his head.
"Oh, Radu, how did you feel when Rafe killed himself?" Leo asked, tears streaming. He could see tears running down the younger man's face, as well.
Radu sat down next to him, not saying anything at first.
"I guess--I guess I felt guilty. Like it was my fault Father Flanagan told that story to Rafe's parents, to your parents, I mean. And then his dad told him he couldn't be with me anymore, and he was gonna go to military school and stuff..."
This was all news to Leo. His dad had wanted to send Rafe to military school? Little, tender, sensitive Rafe, the boy who loved beauty above all? He remembered how the kid used to love drawing, especially buildings, how he'd always been in awe of the church, his fondness for poetry, how he hated wrestling. And this was the boy his father had wanted to send into a world of bogus macho-men, senseless discipline and brutality? How come Rafe, of all people, had gotten such a raw deal? Why? It wasn't fair, for Christ's sakes!
Somehow, he found himself clinging fiercely to Radu, tears streaming from both of them once again.
"So, you and Rafe didn't do anything?"
"No. But, as I said, we might have. Later on. I sure wanted to, and I think he did, too."
"Small wonder", Leo muttered.
"What?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that."
"Did you say "Small wonder?""
"Yeah, I did", Leo admitted, blushing now. "I mean, in better circumstances, I might have tried hitting on you. You're quite a hunk, you know. And even back then, when you were just a small kid, you were really beautiful."
"Well, ermm, uh, thanks. I guess. You're not so bad yourself. For an old guy, I mean."
"Old? What do you mean, old? I'm only thirty-five!"
"Yeah, I know, but back then, you were so much bigger and so grown-up, it always seemed you were at least twenty years older than me."
Leo smiled through his tears.
"Well, young Mirkovic, you've certainly boosted my confidence. You know, in the gay life of the big cities, being over thirty isn't excactly an asset."
"Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't know, but I see and hear the way guys talk. But I think I'd better go now. Did you wanna read the note Rafe left?"
"Oh, yeah! Sure. You got it?"
"I carry it with me. Always." Radu reached inside his overcoat and retrieved his wallet, taking out a folded sheet of paper.
"You know, me and Rafe sometimes communicated via dart gun. We both had a gun that shot these darts with a suction cup at the end. He attached it to that. Folded it tightly round the dart. But I guess the cup didn't attach to the wall or the window, because I found it on the ground the next morning. Here, keep it."
"But it's adressed to you, man. I can't keep it."
"Well, then, borrow it. Oh, and here's my card. Just give me a call anytime you wanna talk."
"Thanks, Radu. I will."
The two men walked down the stairs, and in the open doorway, Radu bent down and gave Leo a quick peck on the cheek before he ran out into the December sleet. Leo, caught by surprise, held his cheek like it stung, watching the big, yet graceful figure running from him. He felt a slight stirring in his groin and, with a blush nobody saw, closed the door and went to sit down in the living room again.
He unfolded the note, which wasn't very long. One sheet of paper, with "Radu" neatly written on top. Rafe had used his calligraphy equipment, the good paper and the best pen. He'd been really good at that. If he'd lived in earlier centuries, he might have been a fine illuminator.
As Leo began reading, he at once got the eerie impression he was in a movie or something. Like when a character in a movie reads a letter, and there's a voice-over, with the letter-writer reading his own words. He could hear little Rafael's voice sadly speaking the words:
"Dear Radu,
Things got really shitty today. Father Flanagan told Dad that you and I had been fooling around, even though we hadn't. Then Dad beat me up, and told me I couldn't be in the choir or on the wrestling team anymore. I don't mind that, but he also told me I'm grounded for the rest of the school year, and that I can't see you ever again. Plus, he's sending me to military school next year. Oh, Radu, all this is the worst that could happen.
I want you to know I really admire what you tried to do today. It's a pity it turned out so horribly.
I cried a lot earlier, because I didn't know what to do, but now I've decided. I'm sorry for hurting you, Mom and Leo, but I can't see any other way out, and my life is so bad right now, I really don't want it anymore.
I guess maybe you know, but Father Flanagan made me have sex with him these past two months, and I hate it so. But he said if I didn't do it, he'd hurt you, and I couldn't let that happen. Who's gonna look out for you now? I hope your mom will keep you away from him.
Anyway, I'm going to do it now. Will you pray for me, please, Radu?
Love,
Rafe"
Leo was completely overcome with emotion. This was so exactly Rafe's style; short, crisp and elegant. How he'd loved reading the kid's letters, wondering what kind of artist he'd be when he grew up: An author, a painter or an architect. Maybe all. And here was the naked despair, forced on him by the vicious, lying, evil hypocrite who called himself a priest.
Leo felt rage descending on him. Somebody should have paid for Rafe's life long ago. He rose to his feet and, almost in a trance, screamed at the top of his voice:
"I WANT VENGEANCE!"
He was falling. He'd been falling for a long time, and it didn't seem like stopping anytime soon. Yet he wasn't afraid, or even cold. The air seemed still, and he had no sense of the speed of his fall.
With a jerk, his fall stopped. He was amazed to see he was still in his parent's living room. His living room, now. Everything seemed just like it had been before he started reading Rafe's note. Except for the man sitting across from him on the sofa.
"Hello, Leonardo", the man said quietly. "My name is Leonardo, too. I'm an angel."
This story is copyrighted by me, einhard, February 2001.
Any comments? You can mail me at: einhard@excite.com