[Author's Note: This story is not about sex, so if you are looking for a quick jerk-off session, you should find another story to read. There will be sexual endeavors throughout the story, but none of those are in the first chapter. This story is entirely fictional, and therefore any similarities between real-life are purely coincidental. I will try to write as quickly as I can, but bear with me if something comes up and I cannot post regularly. This is the first story I've put on Nifty, so I would like to thank the Nifty staff for posting it. Any comments, suggestions or feedback is greatly appreciated and would help me shape and mold the story in chapters to come. Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. ^_^]
The Beauty of Solitude
CHAPTER 1
I stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom, blankly. The room is completely drenched in darkness with the exception of a single line of light pouring onto the carpet from beneath the door cast from the light of the hallway. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan is like a lullaby, threatening to send me into another dreamless sleep, sending a cool breeze upon my body that gives me somewhat of a peaceful refinement. Dark ceilings and walls give the impression that you are sitting in an endless void unless the illusion is destroyed by the cruel brightness of a light, one as annoying as the glow from beneath my door. I could be in deep thought and have it all destroyed by a single flick of a light switch or open flame. The smallest amount of light or sound can irritate me.
I can't remember how long it has been since I came into my room to seek the solitude: an hour, perhaps... maybe more, maybe less. I don't care. I turn onto my side, curling up into the fetal position as I toss the pillow onto the floor. Many things cross my mind, all of which I attempt to discard but to no avail. An intense longing that seems to stem itself in my heart, an aching feeling that something is missing is always the first thought in my head, one that I am getting quite tired of hearing. It angers me, sometimes, this reoccurring thought. No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to fill the empty feelings, nor can I get rid of them.
Desire is one of the most painful emotions a human can feel. I guess it can also be the most rewarding under the proper circumstances. I know what it is my heart desires, but filling that void is a completely different thing all in itself. Searching has come up empty, and it seems waiting is doing the same thing. My best friend is always reassuring me, telling me that everything will be all right in the end and the waiting will be worth it. The only problem with her advice is that I don't know how long my heart can take the wait. With each passing day it seems to crack and wither more and more, and it seems that I am the only person who seems to have these uncontrollable emotions.
I know being homosexual has to be one of the hardest things and also one of the biggest hurdles. I have known I was gay for while now, since I was 13 at least, and now at the ripe age of 17, the only thing that has changed is my physical appearance and mentality. I have grown up, matured, and learned a lot about life in a very short time. I don't consider myself attractive, but the few people I hold dear to me tell me that I am. Their opinions do not help; they are my friends and it seems like they will always say what makes me happy. They have no idea that it does the opposite for me. Who I really want to hear it from, however, are those I do not know, strangers walking in the streets. Does that make me vain?
A faint sigh escapes my lips as I turn to lie on my back once again and stare at the seemingly endless ceiling. Stretching, I lay my hands behind my head and try to sink further into the soft material that fills my mattress. My blanket is nowhere to be found, which only leaves the possibility that it is crumpled in a heap on the floor along with various pieces of dirty laundry. Lifting the dark cloth covering the crimson display of my digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to my bed, I watch the time flash in front of me: 8:06PM. I laugh softly to myself as I realize that I have been in my room since dinner, which was well over two hours ago. Carefully, I place the cloth back over the display, making the numbers disappear once again.
The light below my bedroom door goes out suddenly, taking the remaining light from my room. Darkness once again flows through the room, causing my lips to form a gentle smile. Finally. That light was beginning to irritate me.
A faint knock on the door takes away any chance of complete solitude, me silently cursing whoever it is on the other side for disturbing me once again.
"Shane?" a voice calls from outside the door. I recognize the sweet sounding voice immediately as my mothers. For some reason, her voice always reminded me of the soothing sound of the ocean. Of course, she could sound just as cruel as she could sweet, sometimes with the capability of sending an icy knife through your entire body simultaneously turning that ocean sound into a terrible hurricane.
"Yes?" I reply softly, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am.
The door creaks open slowly and I see the silhouetted figure of my mother standing in the doorway. Even in the dark I can see the shine in her eyes, which I feel are looking at me questioningly. She takes a step in, almost as if she is gliding as she walks. I watch as her hand reaches for the light switch while I groan in protest. I hear the gentle click of the switch, but laugh softly to myself when light doesn't fill the room. Thank you ceiling fan!
"You just turned off the ceiling fan, mom," I say, hearing her click the switch off and on a few times. Then she stops, but I can't tell whether or not she left the switch in the on or off position. I won't be able to tell for a few minutes, when and if the fan stops turning.
"Oh," she utters, a hint of surprise in her voice. She takes another step towards me, a small one, making me wonder if she had even moved at all.
"Kristina called," she says, breaking the silence. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice as she said this, one that I didn't let slip by. I watched her raise her hand and brush the few loose strands of hair out of her face. "She wants you to call her when you get a free moment."
I nod silently, knowing my mother had seen the gesture despite us being in the dark. A few seconds pass, ones that seem to creep by as I patiently wait for her to turn around and leave the room, closing the door behind her. Instead, she stands there, eyes locked on my still body, eyes that I know are filled with concern for my isolation. I can feel the annoyance building up inside of me.
Without a word spoken, seemingly sensing my irritation, my mother slowly turns around and leaves my room. The soft creak of the door closing finally gives way for my relaxation. My eyes return to the ceiling, getting lost once more in the endlessness above me. Thoughts begin to invade my head all over again, the same thoughts that have plagued me many times before and will undoubtedly plague me for days, perhaps months, to come. I can feel my heart sink lower into my bed then the rest of my body, sending a wave of sadness through my veins.
A soft chuckle makes its way up my throat. Ironic, I think to myself. It's ironic that I love to be alone, but being alone causes these thoughts.
Reaching over to the nightstand once more, my hand wraps around the remote control for my compact disc player. The familiar music of Loreena McKennitt pours from the speaker on command, her earthly music changing the mood of the room instantly. The Celtic sounds dance in my ears, tranquil and satisfying. I begin to concentrate, focusing on the dark void above me, letting my body slip into meditation with the help of the soothing music that makes its way into my head in gentle waves. Everything around me becomes a blur of dark colors, melding into one another in absolute perfection as I enter the one place I can truly be at peace, the one place made solely for me. The melodic sound of Loreena's voice begins to disappear, being replaced with the gentle whisper of the sea as it splashes against the all too familiar beach stretching for kilometers around me.
I am about to take a step forward when I am pulled back into my bedroom sharply, loud thumping reverberating through the walls from the bedroom beside mine. The familiar sounds anger me, as I can never get a moments peace when I am home. My brother, Matt, has his music turned to an outrageous volume, which is normal, I guess. At 16, he has become high tempered and very demanding. I wouldn't be surprised if his addiction to narcotics is the cause. Now that we are in a larger city, I'm sure he will be able to find all the drugs he needs.
Clicking off my own music, I sit up, planting my feet firmly on the ground and head towards the door. I guess now is the perfect time to call Kristina back. I turn the cold, brass doorknob and pull open the door, doubling the volume of my brothers' music as I enter the hallway. He has no respect for anyone else in this house, mainly me, as this is now routine with him.
I follow the hallway until I come to the stairs at the end of the smooth, hardwood floor, making my way down them. A loud creak sounds with each step I take, telling me just how old this house really is. My fingers trace along the dark, hunter green walls as I move while my other hand gently follows the banister. I hear the sounds from the television coming from the living room, followed by the soft laugh of my mother. She and I have never really had a common interest in many television shows. Then again, I've never really had an interest in television at all, save the occasional music competition or drama.
After reaching the bottom of the stairs, I make my way into the kitchen and sit down at the table, taking the phone off of the countertop next to me. The kitchen is a lot different from our last one; this one has a lot more space. The floor is made out of marble, one so beautiful I could spend hours staring at it. Dark blues, greens and grays weave into each other to make up the smooth surface, its beauty only heightened by the same, hunter green walls that flow throughout the house. The countertops, made out of the same marble as the floor, shine underneath the crystal chandelier above my head. Taking my eyes away from the unusual cleanliness, I pick up the receiver and dial the memorized digits that I know will connect me with my best friend.
Holding the phone against my ear, I patiently wait for an answer.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice.
"Yes... hello." I say, clearing my throat. "Is Kristina there?"
I can almost here her mother's thoughts as my voice becomes known to her, just as I can hear the smile that crosses her lips.
"Yes, she's upstairs in her room. One moment - I'll go get her."
"All right," I reply, hearing her set the phone down.
Kristina's mother and I always got along. We would make idle conversation whenever I was in their home visiting, and our conversations were always very intellectual. The occasion time I call, we speak for a few moments when Kristina is occupied with something and can't come to the phone right away, and even then our conversations mean something. She's a petite woman, very gentle and very caring. Plus, she has a wicked sense of humor, never failing to make me laugh at the perfect times. Sometimes, I would find myself getting jealous of Kristina for having such a wonderful mother. Although I suppose she was more of a friend than a mother, which is something many people never get the opportunity to experience.
My thoughts are cut short by the sound of Kristina's voice on the other end: "Hey!"
Her cheerful voice always brings a smile to my face, no matter how bad of a mood I'm in. Tonight is no different.
"Hello, beautiful." My usual greeting.
"Hey," she says again, followed by a short, wonderful laugh, one I've come to miss dearly in the past two weeks. A smile breaks across my face, one I know she hears. There is a brief moment of silence as we both close our eyes and feel each other closely, as if we're in the same room. We embrace. I can see every aspect of her body from her long, wavy brown hair that so beautifully brushed against my skin almost daily to the glorious sparkle that emanates from her hazel eyes. The gentle glow that she seems to bring into every room she enters and the feeling of security as she nears you. I picture each and every tiny aspect that makes up her being; my Silver Angel. I feel a tear burning my eye, desperate to free itself and run down my cheek. Kristina smiles, its radiance flowing through the phone and surrounding me, opening my eyes and bringing me back into reality.
"You called earlier?" I manage to blurt out after a few moments, forcibly.
"Yeah, I did," she replies. "I haven't heard from you in a week and thought I would call to see how you are doing. Obviously not very good considering your mother told me you were alone in your room with the lights off."
I pause.
"Eh... I'm fine. Nothing to worry about," I lie.
"Don't give me that," she says. I can almost taste the anger in her voice. "I know something's wrong when you sit in your room for hours on end doing nothing."
I should know better than to try and lie to her, especially when it comes to my feelings and emotions. She has always been very empathetic, knowing when I was upset or under-the-weather. Within moments of being hit by the sting of depression, the phone was ringing with her on the other end.
"It's nothing big," I tell her, deciding to come out with the truth. "I just miss home, that's all. I've been here for two weeks and I haven't met anyone. I have spent the bulk of my days lying in my room listening to music. And, you and I both know that I can't do that when my brothers are home. I never realized not having anyone to talk to felt so bad."
"Have you gone out at all?"
"Yeah... I've been downtown a few times and even to the mall."
Her laugh is right on cue; she knows I'm not the type of person to spend my time at the mall for any reason other than shopping, and even that occurs very rarely.
"When does school start?" she asks after her laughter dies away.
"Monday..." I utter hesitantly, knowing it's going to be my first day in a new school, something I've thought about many times in the past two weeks. Oddly enough, the thought of stepping foot into a new school, a much larger one at that, is quite intimidating.
"Well, what are you worrying about? You're bound to find someone at the school to establish a friendship with."
She was always the one who never really worried about anything, following the simple philosophy of `living one day at a time'. Whenever something negative came her way, she took it with stride and overcame it. Always gentle and caring, something she must have inherited from her mother, especially when it came to those who were close to her. She was the first person you could go to when something was troubling you and had the gift of fixing it just by embracing you.
"I don't know. I'm unsure of going to a new school where I don't know anyone."
"It's going to be fine; just don't think about it. Just pretend like you're walking through the doors of St. Mary's again."
I shake my head at the thought of my old high school, one I wasn't very fond of. Being openly gay, you aren't exactly treated very well by the faculty of a school based on Catholicism. Actually, nothing involving the Catholic religion treats gay people very well. But, despite all the negative thoughts towards me, I did have some wonderful memories at the school, most of which took place on the stage with my friends.
"It's not that easy..." I murmur. "Our school has uniforms, and this one doesn't... I won't be able to pretend I'm walking into our school..."
"Sure you can. It just takes a little effort. Promise me one thing, though... if you're going to close your eyes, don't trip and fall when you're walking into the school. That would be really embarrassing."
I can't help but laugh at this, feeling the flow of laugher's medicine through my veins. Kristina laughs, too, the ring of our laughs together is soothing to my ears, something else I've grown to miss since we've been apart.
"I don't think that's going to happen..." I mutter, still chuckling, remembering the many times I had experienced a clumsy moment at my previous school. You wouldn't exactly call me graceful during one of them.
"Who knows... anything can happen," she says matter-of-factly with a few stray chuckles, obviously remembering the same experiences.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I agree.
I let out a long sigh as I finish my much-needed laugh session, followed by one from Kristina's lips. Her sigh alone tells me what I needed to hear, and although she may not say it through words it rings clearly in my mind: `I miss you'. Hearing that is enough to almost bring me to tears as I can feel their bitter sting in my eyes already.
"It's going to be fine," she repeats, and oddly enough it is very reassuring. "You're going to meet some wonderful people, I'm sure of it."
There is a long pause as I try to believe what she is saying before I say anything further. I can hear her soft breathing through the telephone line, soft and unlabored. Her mother mutters something in the background, but I can't make it out.
"Do you think I'll fit in?" I ask out of the blue, unsure of the answer.
"I told you to stop worrying about it," Kristina says sternly, getting rather annoyed with my questions. "Everything will be fine. I promise."
I nod, keeping silent for another few moments while her words sink in. I really shouldn't be worrying because I have been through this before when I was in elementary school. I must have switched schools over a dozen times between my first and eighth grades, each time having to make new friends and build new relationships. Sometimes I would succeed while other times I wouldn't and I would be alone. Of course, there are many differences between then and now, the major one being that I am now in High School and I was only in elementary school then. It is more difficult to build a friendship with High School students then it is to build ones with kids in elementary schools.
"I must sound like a baby," I mutter.
"Nah, you don't. Everyone worries when it comes to new experiences."
"Yeah, everyone worries except you!" I exclaim, releasing a soft chuckle. Kristina laughs, too.
"You've got that right!" she says, still laughing.
"Hurry up," I hear a voice from behind me, interrupting my laughing. I turn around to see my brother Matt standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a baseball cap with the words `Pimpin' written across the front containing his shaggy brown hair as it sticks stupidly out from the sides. He is wearing outrageously baggy pants and a tight t-shirt that has a marijuana leaf on the front of it. His slender frame looks ridiculous in his choice of clothing. "I need the phone."
I roll my eyes and turn back to the table, increasingly annoyed with my lack of privacy, albeit on the phone or even in my room. Matt continues to stand in the doorway, obviously in a hurry to use the telephone to call up one of the friends he has already made from skateboarding around the city the last two weeks. It's quite humorous that potheads always know where to find people of their own kind.
"Kristina," I say reluctantly, "I have to go."
"I heard," she returns. I can sense the anger in her voice. "Do you ever get more than ten minutes on the phone at a time?" she asks.
"Not generally. Someone always wants to use the phone whenever I'm on it, even when they could have used it before I did."
"Yeah, I don't think I could handle that. You should get your own phone line," Kristina suggests.
"I'm thinking about it. Anyway, I really should go," I say with a soft sigh. "I will call you on Monday to tell you how school went."
"All right," she murmurs, "I should be home Monday evening; I don't work until Tuesday."
"Okay, I will call you then. Love you."
"Love you too."
I wait until I hear her end go dead before I hang up the phone and get up. Matt rushes past me, nearly knocking me over as he steals my chair and picks up the receiver. Shaking my head, I make my way out of the kitchen as he dials the number. With one last look into the living room, I turn and make my way up the stairs and back into my room where I close the door and fall back onto my bed.