Confusion

The street was too curved. As I sped along, I could feel the centrifugal force pulling on the car. It was a lot of fun, sort of like a roller coaster. I was just starting to enjoy the ride when I saw the tree trunk in front of me. How did that get there? I didn't really have time to contemplate this as I heard crushing metal, and then nothing....

I was dead. I had to be. Darkness surrounded me. A very cold and empty darkness. My ears filled with a gentle whirring, masking whatever lay beyond where I was. A dull ache formed behind my eyes, pounding with the painful rhythm of my heart.

I had done it. I had killed myself, as surely as if I had pulled the trigger on that night that seemed so far away now. Maybe I should have back then. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

Poor Mike. What will he think when he finds out? Will he cry? Will he come to my funeral? I had looked upon his radiant golden hair and beautiful blue eyes for the last time. I would never hear that laugh again that always cheered me up. I'd never see the smile that warmed my heart. Never again.

"Holy shit," a voice spoke in awe, in disbelief. Had I spoken?

I felt something warm press against my neck gently but firmly. My pulse throbbed against the touch. I heard a deep sigh of relief very close to me.

My eyes fluttered open. I was kneeling down in front of myself, staring into my own eyes, deep pools of molten brown. The blood had fled from my face. The pale skin was stretched taut with worry and fear. Tears lingered upon my eyelashes. I was grieving. Grieving for myself perhaps, or maybe for those I left behind.

Reason and consciousness started pushing its way into my brain unrelentingly.

No, not me. Kyle.

"Erik." His hand nudged my shoulder. "Erik, please wake up."

I craned my neck to take in my surroundings. This little motion sent needle sharp pains racing up my spine. I grimaced but continued to try to see where I was.

I was leaning against the back tire of the car. I was sitting up, my legs stretched out in front of me. I was on grass, cool to touch beneath my fingers. The air was cold, so very cold against my skin. To my left, the door of the car hung open, the lights just above the floor mats flickering madly.

"Kyle?" My voice cracked. My throat was raw and dry. "Kyle, where am I? What happened?" I started panicking. This was all wrong. I was supposed to be at home. I was going to the movies.

I tried to lift myself off the ground, but Kyle gripped my shoulders and held me down. "No, don't get up. You were in an accident."

"An accident?" I remembered. I had been drinking. I tried to drive while drunk. The enormity of the situation was beginning to dawn on me. Any alcoholic effect that possessed me disappeared as if ice water had been injected into my veins. "Oh my God," I breathed.

"Just don't move. Do you hurt anywhere?" He was studying me intently, observing every part of my body.

"My neck hurts, but only when I move it."

"Shit. Shit shit shit." He got up and reached into the car, popping open the trunk. He brought back a woolen blanket that had been kept in the car in case someone had to pull over the highway and sleep during a long drive. He laid it over my legs and tucked my arms underneath.

"How long have I been here?"

"Only five to ten minutes. I followed you in the jeep when you left the house. I was worried. I hope you're not mad at me." He pushed my hair out of my eyes and felt my forehead for a fever. He had a history of trying to mother me. Maybe he was trying to make up for what I never had as a kid. I always knew he felt guilty about my treatment as a child.

"No, no I'm not mad. I'm glad you did. God knows how long I would have sat here." I glanced towards the front of the car, but could see no damage on the driver's side. That was a relief. "I guess I lucked out, huh?"

He laughed softly and sat down next to me. "Yeah, in some ways. But, I'm not so sure mom and dad are going to be in a happy mood when they see what you've done to their car. At least this happened out here." We looked around us. The street was on the outskirts of town and very deserted. Not a single car had passed us as we sat there.

"How bad is the car damaged?" From where I was sitting, it seemed like the car had hardly been touched.

"You clipped the tree on the passenger side. The headlight and part of the fender are pretty much bashed in. But, you hit the tree hard enough to deploy the airbags."

I rubbed my neck. "That's probably why my neck hurts. I wasn't wearing a seat belt. I hit the airbag."

"Pretty dangerous." He got up and started looking in the car again. He leaned over and grabbed something. He tossed a pack of cigarettes my way, followed by my lighter.

"Thanks." I slid one between my lips and lit it. I was incredibly thankful for it. The smoke calmed down my nerves and let me get my thoughts straight. "What are we going to do? Is the car drivable?"

Kyle walked around the front of the car and took a look. "I think so. Looks like it's mostly framework. I don't think the engine was damaged."

"What about fluids? Look underneath. Is anything leaking? I don't want to get behind the wheel and have the car catch fire."

He laid on the ground checking but didn't find anything. "You won't be driving anyway," he muttered under his breath.

"Why? We have two cars here and only two people. We can't leave it here."

He walked back over to me, looking a bit nervous. "I called one of your friends. He's on his way. He'll help us."

"Who?" I was hoping he didn't call my best friend, John. He'd flip out if he saw what I did. I had known him since junior high, and he kind of got a kick whenever I messed up. He always compared himself to me. I was in the honor classes. I had a scholarship to a good school. He was a mediocre student. Whenever I messed up, he was glad for the reminder that we were on the same level.

"Some guy named Mike. His number was in your wallet. I figured he was a friend of yours from school. He said he'd be here soon."

I couldn't believe my fucking ears. "You did what?" I could barely contain my surprise and anger.

"Well, I didn't know! I tried calling John when I first got here, but there was no answer. I don't know any of your other friends' numbers. So, I looked through your wallet. I knew you wouldn't want me to get mom and dad. They'd just get angry about everything." He was frightened, frightened of letting me down. That was the last thing Kyle wanted to do in this life.

I sighed and almost laughed, but it ended up being a choking cough. "Give me the cell phone." My parents always kept a cell phone in the jeep, though they never used it. Most likely it was there for emergencies. I certainly considered this to be one.

I punched in Mike's phone number quickly, hoping that, somehow, I'd catch him before he left his house. It rang and rang without an answer. After about ten rings, I shut the phone off. "Shit. How long ago did you call him?"

"Maybe twenty minutes ago. I told him which expressways to take. He should be here in another twenty minutes or so." Kyle wouldn't look at me. I think he felt I was disappointed in him for making a wrong decision. I wanted to say something to him, but I was too worried about how to deal with Mike. I don't think he would believe what I had just done. I worried about our budding relationship.

"Did you tell him what happened?"

"I told him you were in an accident."

"Shit." That had sealed it. Mike was most likely chartering a concord to get to me. I hated it when he had reason to worry. It made me feel guilty. "Well, he'll probably be here in five. He's probably going one hundred miles an hour."

Sure enough, a car pulled up several minutes later, it headlights flaring in my eyes for a brief second before arching away and shutting off. The bright light, no matter how short it was on my face, had blinded me. The headache that had begun to go away started again with renewed effort.

As my eyes readjusted themselves to the darkness, I saw a blurred figure approaching me at an alarming pace. I almost started to shrink against the side of the care, scared of what was coming at me so fast. As details became clearer, I saw that it was Mike. He was practically running at me, the worried expression I had expected leaping from his face.

"Jesus Christ," he practically shouted at me. "Erik, are you okay?" He had his hands all over me, touching me to see if I was really there. Immediately when I felt his hands, a certain ease filled my heart, and I felt that I had nothing to worry about. Now, I had to reassure him of the same thing.

I grabbed his hands and brought them down from my face, but didn't let go of them. "Mike, I'm fine. You don't have to worry. I just had a little accident. That's all. Sorry to sound the alarm."

He laughed, and not exactly in a humorous way. "A little accident? You call hitting a tree a little accident?" He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. When I gasped from the pain in my neck, he eased up on me.

"What the hell is that smell?" He looked into my eyes. I knew he had already ascertained what caused the accident. He looked over at Kyle who was glumly leaning against the car. "Liquor? Please tell me you're not that stupid."

I lowered my eyes, feeling like I had let him down. "I'm that stupid."

He grabbed my face and gazed into my eyes very seriously. I could feel the betrayal in that stare. "I don't understand you, Erik. I don't. Are you trying to kill yourself? I know you know better than this."

Taking myself by surprise, I leaped up, the pain much less than I thought it would be. I guess I wasn't as injured as I originally feared. I turned to Mike, the defensiveness I constantly live with rearing its ugly head. "I don't need this shit. No one appointed you as my guardian. I already have parents, thank you very much."

"Erik," Kyle began, but he shut up. He looked miserable.

"So, it means nothing to you that I came all this way? You don't care that I felt like I was being split into a million pieces when I thought you were hurt?" Mike shook his head. "What happened to you?" He turned to my little brother. "Why does he act this way?"

"It's nothing," Kyle replied without looking up.

"Don't ask him!" I yelled, suddenly offended.

"Why are you being so defensive?" Mike asked patiently. Why wasn't he getting pissed? I was itching for a fight, a fight with anyone, and he wasn't taking the bait. It only incensed me further.

"I'm not being defensive. You're asking questions that don't have answers. If you wanna psychoanalyze me, go right ahead. Just don't expect me to help you."

"Mike, don't antagonize him," Kyle piped up. "You'll only make things worse."

"Fuck off," I sneered at him. "First him, and now you. Isn't that great?"

I stuffed my cigarettes into my pocket and slammed the trunk of the car shut. "Maybe the two of you can get together and be my bodyguards. Wouldn't that be fun? Then I could never do anything bad ever again. Jesus fucking Christ. It's like living in prison."

Kyle turned to Mike. "He doesn't mean it. He's just being Erik."

"This is Erik?" Mike asked in genuine surprise. "This isn't the Erik I know. Not at all. Something's wrong. He doesn't act this way around me." He looked at me, pondering something. Shit, I knew what was going on. I could practically hear his brain at work. "What happened to him?"

I shot a scathing glance at my little brother that made his blood run cold.

"N--Nothing," Kyle stammered.

"Tell me, Kyle. He won't do anything to you," Mike said sternly while looking at me.

I gave Kyle another evil look. "Don't you open your fucking mouth. Our business is our business, no one else's."

"Tell me, Kyle," he admonished again.

Kyle clenched his fists, torn between me and Mike. I was playing on his loyalty to me while Mike tried to get him to help him understand me. I was incredibly insulted.

"He was beaten as a kid," he blurted out.

I bounded over to him, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the car. "What the hell did I just tell you? Don't you listen?"

Mike grabbed my arms and pulled me off him. Kyle looked like he just pissed in his pants. I had never brought my hand against my little brother. I had never physically threatened him in any way. I knew he was completely shocked and dumbfounded by my inexplicable behavior.

"Don't touch him, dude," Mike warned.

"Fuck off. He's my little brother, not yours. I'll deal with him any way I want to."

"The hell you will." Now I was starting to see fire in Mike's eyes. "Is that the deal? Your dad smacked you around a little bit as a kid, and now you think you can lash out whenever you want to?"

"Mike, don't. You don't know." Kyle's warning went unheeded though. Mike continued.

"That doesn't wash with me, dude. I know you're a little unsettled over some shit. Still, there's no excuse."

Kyle was ready to bolt. He knew that Mike was pushing all the wrong buttons. "Mike, cut it out. Seriously," he pleaded.

I felt something brimming inside of me. It came from the part of myself that I was always afraid to let out. Under Mike's furious assault, the walls built so precariously around myself were beginning to crack.

Mike shot an annoyed glance at Kyle. "Don't defend him. He doesn't deserve it." Then he looked at me angrily. "I'm really glad I got to see this side of you. It saves me from a lot of trouble in the future."

I sat there in silence, consumed in my own struggle for self control. I wasn't even aware of Mike anymore. All I heard were his words, stinging me, lashing my heart over and over again. I had to concentrate inside of myself, had to keep myself from falling.

"Ok, Mike, shut the hell up. You don't have the slightest clue what you're doing." Kyle was defending me. I think he sensed in me the turmoil. The storm was coming.

Mike shook his head. "No, I know what I'm doing. I guess I'm seeing something I never knew about before. I can't believe I was so blind."

With a thunderous roar that seemed incapable of coming from human vocal chords, I lunged at Mike, pushing him to the ground. I stood over him, a demon possessed. I was no longer in control.

"Is that what you think I am? Some crackpot that can't deal with anything? Fuck you. You don't know what it's like." My heart was palpitating, my breath coming in shaking heaves. "You don't know what it's like to get beaten by a fireplace poker when you're eight years old, to be struck so violently that you lose feeling in your arms and legs.

"How would you feel, crying yourself to sleep every night, while other kid's parents were tucking them in and telling them bedtime stories? How would you feel if you thought no one cared enough about you to end it?

"I suffered for years with that shit. I had my soul ripped out of me before I had a chance to love or to breathe. You don't know how hard it is for me to live, to live with myself and to live with the world that let this happen to an eight year old kid. You don't know.

"But, I'm alive. And I'll be damned if anyone's going to sit in judgment of me and how I choose to survive. Weaker people would have ended it before now, and I was tempted."

Tears were streaming down my face, falling upon Mike's white shirt as I stood over him. "I almost killed myself that night I stood out in the rain and called you. I had the gun in my hand. It was right there. I could have done it. It would have been so easy.

"But I didn't do it. You know why I didn't do it? Because I love you. And I love my little brother. I can't do that to you or him.

"No matter what I do, I know I will destroy everything I love. I don't know how to do anything else. That's all I know. That is all I learned as I lay in my bed, choking over tears that would never come because I had drained my heart of them. You don't know how hard it is for me to love. I'm afraid of myself. I'm afraid of loving. I'm afraid of being hurt again."

My legs gave way beneath me. I kneeled on the ground sobbing like an infant. I had finally lost it.

Kyle stood against the car, his mouth agape. He tried to keep himself from shaking uncontrollably but failed. He sat next to me and put his shivering arm around my shoulders. He was always so protective. I knew, though, in the end, he couldn't protect me from myself. It was up to me to save me.

Mike lay on the ground in stunned silence, daring not to believe that I had all that bottled up within me. I think, in that moment, he finally understood. I was still that eight year old boy deep inside. I didn't know how to trust. I didn't know how to understand what I felt. He realized the deep confusion that had held my mind for years. The confusion of who I was, who I had been, and who I would be.

My crying subsided after a few minutes as we sat there quietly. None of us had moved. I don't think we were a part of the world anymore. We were suspended in our own universe beneath the infinite expanse of the stars. Neither of us said a word for a long, long time.

"Why didn't you tell me about all that?" Mike asked, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist as we sat against the car. Kyle had driven off to see if he could find a service station where we could bring the damaged vehicle

I sighed, still feeling funny inside. The weight that always smothered me was gone. I literally felt fifty pounds lighter. It was strange not being guarded. I was so used to the feeling that not having it was a foreign experience to me. "I dunno. Everyone has problems. I hate weighing you down with things. I hate weighing anyone down. I don't think it's fair. I just end up feeling guilty."

"Well, I'm glad you told me." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Now I know why you were acting strange sometimes." He sighed and hugged me tightly. "I'm sorry I was so hard on you. I didn't realize that things were that bad."

I tilted my head as far as I could and kissed him on the lips gently. "It's okay. I shouldn't overreact so much. I should have been honest with you earlier. It's my fault."

He laughed, the sound musical in my ears. "What, instead of blaming each other, we're gonna fight over which one of us gets to blame ourselves more? I don't think so. But I really am glad I know. It makes me feel closer to you."

I knew what he was saying. Because I had let someone fully inside of me, I became connected to him even more. It was a bond that I don't think I had ever felt before in my life. It went beyond intimacy. The thought that I would have Mike in my life forever kept making my heart leap with a contentment I had never known. "I love you, Mike."

"I love you too, Erik." He rested his chin on top of my head.

I started giggling to myself quietly as I looked at his shoes.

"What?"

I kept laughing. "Why are you in a tux? I just realized that you were wearing one."

"Oh, this. I was at a party with my parents. It was every bit as fun as you could imagine it to be," he groaned.

"Eeew. One of those, huh?"

He started playing with my hands. "Yeah, one of those. I got into a fight."

I sat up straight and turned around. "A fight? What kind of fight?" Now that I looked at his face more closely, I could see a spot on his jaw that was slightly flushed.

"Some guy gave me shit about being gay."

"Fuckin people," I complained, tracing my fingers over the spot had been it.

"Well, it's okay. I don't think he started shit with me because I was gay. I think it was because he was jealous that his girlfriend has a thing for me." He grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, is that so? I joked, before kissing him. "How can I compete with that?"

"Very easily," he replied, kissing me back.

I heard a car approaching and stood up. I took a few steps away from Mike and lit another cigarette. He did the same. We looked each other and laughed. Though we could both see that it was Kyle approaching, we did much feel like explaining ourselves to him. I highly suspected he had a rough idea what was going on between us though.

He pulled up in the jeep, shut the car off, and jumped out. "There's a gas station about two miles away. They're open twenty four hours, and they have a garage. The guy said we could park the car there if we put a deposit down."

I looked at Mike, though it was unnecessary. He was already reaching for his wallet. "Where do you get that kind of money, anyway?"

He shrugged. "My parents of course. Must help relieve guilt, though I don't think they'll be worrying about that much more."

That was a cryptic statement for him to make, but I wasn't entirely sure if it was good or bad. I'd probe him later. "Ok, we'll get the Neon to the station and leave it there. I'll worry about what to do with it in the morning after I've slept a little bit."

"What about mom and dad?" Kyle asked a bit apprehensively. Taking the car without asking was one thing, but taking it someplace over night without asking was a completely different area.

"Tell them that I called and said I was spending the night at John's. And try to not look like you're lying. I know you think you're pretty sneaky, but it's really obvious if they get a good look at your face."

"Ok. Where are you gonna be?" I think he already knew the answer.

"I'm going to Mike's. He wants his dad to take a look at my neck. It still hurts kinda." I rubbed my neck for emphasis.

He exhaled heavily. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Thanks for not tellin mom and dad," I said gratefully. "They would have flipped."

"Don't sweat it." He smiled. "Just make sure you pull this off without a hitch. My ass in on the line now too for helping you out."

I got the directions to the gas station before watching him leave. After dropping the Neon off, I got into Mike's car, and we started making our way to his house.

"You're going to have some explaining to do with him," Mike said while keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"Who?"

"Kyle. I think he knows our little secret."

"Oh," I replied, wondering how to handle the situation. "I think he'd have to be blind and deaf to not know. I'm not sure if he understands, but I'll answer the questions he'll prolly end up asking me. I don't worry about his reaction so much. He tends to take things in stride. It's his nerves though. He gets worried about everything."

"Well, what are you going to say to him?" Mike rested his right hand on mine as we drove up the ramp onto the expressway.

I squeezed his hand while looking out the window. The lights of factories and plants dotted the darkened landscape. It was kind of ugly when I thought about it, an unnatural orange illumination. "I'll tell him that it's how I feel, and I accept it. I wouldn't change what we have for anything in the world. I didn't make the decision to be gay, but I'm not going to resent myself because I am. Like I said, he'll understand. He always understands me."

Mike nodded silently. "You're lucky, ya know? Sometimes I wish I had a little brother. Or a sister. Or anyone. Being an only child can get lonely sometimes."

I laughed to myself. "Don't get any ideas. You've only met Kyle. He's the good one. My older brother is a bastard. He just like my dad."

"Is your mind still on your dad?" he asked sympathetically.

"No, it's not. Honestly, I don't think about him much. I don't think about the person so much as the action. I hate him, sure, but he's not in my thoughts a lot. I guess I'm self-centered," I admitted. "I think more about how stuff affects me, instead of the people that actually do it."

"I don't think it's self-centered in this case. I'd be messed up about it too." He stopped talking, thinking about something. I continued to stare out the window. "No, not messed up. You're not a screwed up guy. It's just this one thing. You only need to deal with this one thing."

I sighed. "I know. I'll deal with it when I need to."

"You can't put it off forever, you know."

I nodded. "No, I can't. Someday. Hopefully you'll be there with me." I squeezed his hand again. "What about you? How are things with your parents since you've been home?"

He smiled this big, goofy grin. It was infectious. "Actually, better than I thought. Much better. I thought it'd be the same old shit, but I think my dad's coming out of his shell. I think things are going to get better between us."

"Good," I said, kissing his cheek. "I'm really happy for you. Maybe some of that pressure will ease up some." I was smiling like at idiot. I was happy, because he seemed happy. That's how I knew I was in love. Anything that made him happy immediately transferred to me.

We sat through the rest of the car ride in silence, just enjoying being there with each other. I continued to watch the cityscape continue to pass us by. The bright lights of Chicago were awe-inspiring as we approached them from the Dan Ryan expressway. These towering monoliths of light hung over us, the Sears Tower being the pinnacle of man made mountains. It made you realize how small you were and vulnerable. No matter how many times I saw it, it always evoked the same reaction from me.

As we pulled up to his house, I found myself a little nervous. I had never met his parents before. They were just this idea in my mind. I was hoping that I'd make a good first impression. I had bought a small bottle of mouthwash and a comb at the gas station and spent a couple of minutes in the bathroom making myself presentable and getting rid of the liquor on my breath.

We walked up to the house and found the door unlocked and security systems shut off. Mike walked in before me. I could see that a lamp was on just beyond him. He stopped short, and I nearly ran into him. I stepped to the side to see what had caught him by surprise.

I really wish I hadn't. Sitting on a sofa in the large "unused" living room were Mike's parents. His dad's expression wasn't very alarming though. He seemed pretty matter of fact and grateful that his son was home, however late. I could detect a faint hint of surprise though when he looked at me.

His mom was tight-lipped though, and looked pretty displeased with us.

Mike took a deep breath and said the one thing I cemented my feet to the floor.

"Mom, dad, this is Erik, my boyfriend."

Author's note:

Well, I bet you kind of know what makes each character tick by now. So, I've decided to switch over from first person to more of a regular narrative. Hope you like it.

Part 11

The two young men braced against the lamp light washing over their faces. The first boy, with his golden hair falling over his ocean colored eyes, halted his advance into the house. The second stood behind him, his hands hidden deep within the pockets of his worn jeans. His eyes were dark in contrast, veiled in the tilted shadows of his companion.

Never more had their differences been more apparent. The taller, fair youth stood proud and straight, formally dressed in the dark fabric of a tuxedo. His posture betrayed slight uneasiness, however. He leaned back on his heels, protectively shielding the young man behind him.

Erik was dressed carelessly in blue jeans and frayed white t-shirt. His coffee colored hair was thrown back over his ears without thought. He slouched behind Mike, peering over his shoulder at the scene before them. The light glinted off his brown eyes, reflecting everything with perfect clarity. No hint of emotion or reaction could be extracted from the solid stare.

"Your boyfriend?" a middle-aged man asked in a weary voice. He ran a nervous hand through his graying hair and looked at the petite woman sitting beside him on the couch. Her hands were folded in her lap, an aura of cold reservation surrounding her frame. Her face was adorned in small wrinkles that were otherwise invisible if it were not for the slanted light of the lamp. Her reddened lips were pursed tightly only accenting the lines etched around her mouth.

"Yes, my boyfriend," Mike stated, the severe quiet of the room beginning to affect him. A shudder passed through his body.

Erik placed his hand on his lover's shoulder soothingly, speaking more words of comfort with the gesture than he ever could with his voice. He stepped forward, wincing when the light illuminated his paling features. He cleared his throat softly before speaking. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. And Mrs. Adams. It's nice to meet you."

Mrs. Adams nodded politely, though the expression on her face left no room to doubt what her true thoughts on the subject were. Mr. Adams remained unmoving, no reaction evident on his face.

Mike exhaled heavily, reaching out to take Erik's hand. His resolve was suddenly weak under his mother's disapproving gaze. When he felt the warm flesh of his companion's hand, he squeezed it tightly, his knuckles white under the pressure of his grip.

The four of them remained silent, their eyes shifting from one to the other, taking in the enormity of the moment. Erik felt the heat of their scrutiny flow around him and envelop him. He displaced the weight of his slight frame from one foot to the other, the only outward sign of his discomfort. He held onto Mike's hand as if it were his last link to reality in this surreal setting.

Mr. Adams rocked in his seat and rose as he moved forward. He took his wife's hand in his, beckoning her too to stand. He moved forward, evincing a strong reaction from the two boys. Each took a short step backwards as the man approached them.

"Good to meet you, Erik." Mr. Adams extended his hand. The apprehensive youth let go of Mike's hand and shook the father's firmly. The ease and familiarity of the gesture seemed to lift the weight of the awkward situation from their hearts. The older man smiled revealing perfect, white teeth.

Mike laughed, a natural reaction to his extreme relief. "Dad, let's go into the kitchen. I want you to examine Erik's neck. He was in a car accident earlier today, and he said it's bothering him."

Mr. Adams' instincts as a physician took over, the knowledge that Erik was his son's significant other already moving to the back of his mind. "Let me take a look at it."

Erik was led into the kitchen and sat in a chair. Mr. Adams turned the fixture over the table on, flooding the room with light.

Mike watched his mother silently make her way towards the staircase which hugged the outer wall of the house. She had been displeased by the newest revelation of her son's life and had retreated to the quiet of her own room. He resigned himself to speak with her later.

As he walked into the kitchen, he found his father already examining Erik.

Erik closed his eyes as he felt the warm, gentle hands of the man massage his neck. He stiffened initially, but the tension of the day's events were quickly retreating under the touch. The muscles of his neck and shoulders relaxed, causing him to slump against the back of the chair. His whole body became limp with fatigue.

As often does happen when his body was at complete physical ease, he felt a stirring in his crotch. It wasn't strange to him though, and he felt that it was a completely innocent reaction. It had often happened to him whenever he felt another human against his skin. Massages and trips to get his hair cut had evoked similar feelings in him physically.

"Does this hurt?" the doctor asked his patient, slowly tilting the young man's head to the side.

Erik felt sharp pains trail across his neck. "Yeah, a little, Mr. Adams. Only when I try to turn my head too much. It's like waking up with a stiff neck."

"Paul," the man replied while moving the head around in a different direction. "You can call me Paul. I don't mind. You're old enough to be an adult."

Mike watched his father work on Erik, forgetting that minutes earlier he had been terrified of his parents' reaction to his boyfriend. He folded his arms across his developed chest and leaned against the wall, fascinated with the manner that his father attended the one he loved. There was no resentment or judgment in the man as he worked. He was simply one human being caring for another. He smiled.

"I think you just strained the muscles in your neck," Paul announced. "What happened? Someone hit you from behind?"

"Yeah," Erik answered, feeling guilty that he lied so effortlessly to a man that had shown him no ill feelings. "I was at a stoplight. The guy was going at least 15 miles an hour."

"That'll do it," the doctor confirmed. He walked over to the oak cabinets above the marble counters and retrieved a small plastic bottle of aspirin. He twisted the child proof cap off and removed the cotton. Producing two small, white pills, he handed them to Erik. "Take these for the pain. All you need is some rest. Don't do anything physically strenuous during the next few days." He shot a humorous glance at his son that Erik did not see.

Mike tried to hide his smile from his father. He was surprised that the man who had been clearly disappointed with his son's sexual preference was actually joking with him about sex with another male. He felt the change in his father's demeanor and was heartened by it. Perhaps things wouldn't be as difficult as he thought they would. He was beginning to realize that his mother would be the last obstacle he would face in his desire to be with Erik unconditionally.

"Well, boys, I'm going to bed. It's been a long night. Michael, we'll talk in the morning."

"Good night, dad." Father and son embraced. The man leaned towards his son. "Are you happy?" he inquired while whispering.

"Yeah, dad, I am," he replied joyfully.

Paul sighed and kissed his son on the top of his head. "Then I'm okay with it."

Mike watched his father leave with amazement. He couldn't believe how different the man was. Had he had some kind of revelation? A change of mind? He didn't understand it completely, but he wasn't about to complain.

Erik looked at Mike and raised his left eyebrow, contorting his face into an expression of amused shock. "I'm almost afraid to ask," he said, his voice light in his own ears.

Mike smiled and kneeled down next to the other boy and rested his hands on his knees. "I'll tell ya, that was probably the last reaction I expected from my dad. I can't believe it. He approves of you, of us." His face glowed with an intensity that years in the sun couldn't accomplish.

Erik's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Yeah, from what you told me, I thought your parents were some kind of Pat Robertson clones. After you told them I was your boyfriend, I thought for sure they'd crucify us."

Mike took Erik's hands in his own. "Isn't this cool? We don't have to sneak around. You can come over here. If my dad doesn't mind, it won't matter what my mom thinks. My dad will take care of her. It might take her awhile to get used to you, but, my dad will make her accept it. He knows how to get her to change her mind about stuff."

Erik slid to the tiled floor and kneeled next to Mike. His dark eyes fastened themselves to the azure ones in front of him. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against his lover's, letting the warmth of that simple touch wash over his body. He felt fingers gliding up and down his back as their mouths opened, letting their tongues lap over one another's sensuously. The both groaned at the other's touch. It had been too long for two males in their sexual prime.

"Not here," Mike breathed desperately, though every fiber of his body was urging him onward. "Even if my dad approves, I don't exactly want to see the look on his face if he walks in on us."

Erik laughed and pulled himself up, placing his hands along the waist of Mike's pants and holding onto them. He kissed his partner again with greater force. "Well, we better get upstairs then. My will power has this strange tendency to collapse whenever I touch you."

The two of them dragged themselves up the stairs, stumbling along the way as their limbs became entangled. Though they tried to mute themselves, the audible sounds of kissing and all the passion that accompanied it made its way up the stairs with them.

Once they were safely within Mike's room, they attacked each other with renewed vigor. Mike shed his vest while Erik worked at the snaps of the suspenders, pulling the interfering straps off his partner's shoulders. He pulled the white shirt from the pants and slid his hands beneath. He sighed when he felt the warm flesh of Mike's chest under his fingers.

Mike tugged at the buttons of his shirt, finally throwing the article to the floor....

Mike descended the stairs groggily, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He shook a hand through his mussed hair and nearly reached the bottom of the stairs before he heard voices. In the bluish half light of early morning, he sat on the lower steps, resting his head on the polished banister. His ears picked up the distinct voices of his parents in the kitchen.

He imagined them sitting there, his dad sipping at a cup of coffee while his mother breakfasted on a croissant. The spoke in hushed whispers, yet in the quite of the house, they may have well been yelling.

"Paul, you know how I feel about this. It's one thing to have a gay son. It's another thing to have him sleeping with his boyfriend in our own home." His mother seemed to have difficulty with the word "boyfriend" as she stumbled over it.

There was a crinkling sound. His father must have been reading the paper. "Mary, we can't keep judging him. You may be able to live with that look on his face, but I can't. It took a lot for him to come to us with it. He didn't have to tell us. We reacted poorly. I still haven't forgiven myself for saying what I did."

A cup clanked against the surface of the table. "Well, he's nearly grown up now. He's our son, but we couldn't treat him like a child forever. He has to learn that the real world isn't going to be as kind to him as we have been."

Mike rolled his eyes. If only she knew what he had gone through because of his sexuality.

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it. He was honest with us. I think it's only fair of us not to judge him. He could be picking up dirty men on the streets trying to figure things out for himself. Instead, he came to us and asked for our approval and help." His father's voice was edgy and curt with his mother.

"Speaking of his choice of partners," his mother began, pushing her chair out slightly. She must have been leaning over. Her voice had lowered even more, but Mike could still hear her clear enough to understand. "Did you see that boy, Erik? He seems scruffy."

His father sighed. "I wasn't paying attention to what he was wearing, Mary. I was more worried about that look in his eyes."

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" she asked innocently, though Mike suspected that her feigned ignorance was detected by his father.

"I don't know. It was in his eyes. It reminds me of when I was an intern working in the emergency room. We used to get kids in there that needed treatment for burns and broken bones. I'm not talking about accidents either. You know what I mean. Cigarette burns and things of that nature. They always had the same eyes though." His father paused, remembering. "It's like you can't see what they're thinking, like they're not even there with you. Erik has those eyes."

"What do you think it means?" His mother was suddenly interested. Of course, Mike knew that she was only concerned because she could find fault with his boyfriend. While normally a caring woman, his mother tended to become indifferent to others when she sensed a threat to her family.

"I'm not sure. It just scared me. He was so stiff when he came through the door. He was guarded. You could tell by the way he carried himself. When he let me check his neck, he tensed up at first, but then relaxed. It's like he needed to be convinced that I wasn't going to hurt him."

"You miss nothing, Paul," his mother praised. Mike raised his eyebrows. His mother was right. His father had definitely noticed something different about Erik. He wondered how he did that.

"I want to know what happened to that boy. I know Michael knows. Did you see how he stood in front of him when they came through the door? It was like he was protecting him."

"You know our Michael has always been that way, bringing in hurt animals all those times when he was a child. I'm not surprised that he behaves that way in his relationships." His mother's voice had softened somewhat at the memory of her son's childhood.

"I still want to know," his father said with conviction. "I'll have to speak with Michael later. If he's in trouble, I want to know."

"I'm not in trouble, dad."

Both adults were startled as they watched their only child enter the kitchen dressed in sweat pants and a t shirt.

"Michael," his mother asked alarmed, "how long have you been awake?"

"Long enough," Mike snickered before taking a seat in front of the window. "If you have a problem with Erik, you should come to me with it. I don't want you saying one thing to my face and another thing when I'm not in the room."

"Don't use that tone with me," his mother scolded.

"Where is Erik?" his father asked, rising to fill another cup of coffee.

"He's upstairs. He's still asleep. He had a long day yesterday."

His father returned to the table and sat down. He poured cream into his cup from a decanter and began stirring with a spoon, the metallic drone shrill in the morning quiet. "Mike, I was wondering something about Erik."

"He was beaten," Mike said to the point, much to his parents' surprise. Neither had guessed that their son had heard their entire conversation. "He was beaten real bad." Mike kept his piercing blue eyes fixed on the table in front of him. "His dad used a fireplace poker to beat him as a kid. He was only eight years old."

"That's horrible!" his mother gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth.

Mike nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I never had any idea. He doesn't let people get real close to him. He never talked about it with me."

"I don't think he would. Childhood trauma is very difficult to share with others. Overcoming it is worse."

"I know, dad," Mike said sadly. "It tears him up inside. I think he's forgiven his dad for doing it to him. But, I don't think he can forgive himself for letting it happen. It's like he blames himself for it."

"What does he do, son?" his father asked, looking at his wife who had sympathy overflowing from her eyes. Her son had made Erik human to her. The true horror was too much for ever her tempered manner to endure.

Mike shrugged dejectedly. "He hurts himself. Or at least he tried to. He does stupid things. It's like he doesn't think he deserves to be happy. The first word that comes to mind is atonement."

"Is he a threat to other people?" his mother inquired, fear creeping through her soul. What had she let her son get into?

"No, Mary, that's the last thing kids like this want to do," his father explained. "If anything, they try very hard to make sure other people aren't hurt. They're self-destructive. Sometimes to the extreme. But, I doubt Erik has it in him to harm anyone. He probably wants to make sure what happens to him never happens to another person."

"Exactly," Mike agreed. "He's never tried to do anything to hurt me."

"What do you mean tried? Has he hurt you, Michael?" His mother was tense, wondering what else this story had in store for her son.

Mike folded his hands in front of him. "Not intentionally. I mean, not physically. He just tries to shut people out a lot. He tried to hide his feelings. I know he feels guilty a lot, but he can't help himself. He hates the fact that I always try to watch out from him. He feels guilty. He thinks that he's a burden. It just hurts that I can't get through to him totally."

"What about his parents?" Mike's father set his empty cup on the saucer and paid the strictest attention to what his son was saying.

"I don't think his parents care about him. Me and him had a long talk last night. He finally let me in a little bit. His father is habitually abusive while his mother stands by and lets it happen. I don't know if his mom is afraid of his dad, or if she's just indifferent. A couple of times, like when he got injured once, his mom made sure he was okay. But, I guess that doesn't matter much after letting him go through what he did." Mike rested his chin on his folded arms.

Mike's parents stared at each other in disbelief, their hearts bleeding for the boy that slept in their son's bedroom. "Can you help him? Please?" Both parents looked at their son. He was staring up at them, his eyes watery with tears.

His father clenched and unclenched his fist, ready to hit the table but drawing back. "I hate this. What kind of son of a bitch would do this to their own kid?" He turned to Mike. "Mike, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to hurt you. I'm human. I make mistakes. But, that's no excuse. Never again, okay? I promise, me and your mother will never again hurt you." He looked at his son, tears nearly coming to his own eyes.

His mother took his hands in her own. "You're father's right. What happened to this boy is terrible. Parents shouldn't treat their children like that. Even though we've never struck you, maybe we haven't been as supportive as we should have been."

Mike smiled weakly, a thousand emotions flying through his heart. His chest constricted with pride. He was grateful that his parents were still the same people underneath the hard exterior that had been forced upon them by their profession.

"Are his parents still this way?" his father asked seriously.

"I think so," Mike choked, still caught up. "He was okay until he came home. I think that whenever he's around them, everything gets all stirred up in him again. He was fine until he had contact with his parents."

"We'll have to stop that then," his mother stated.

Mike looked up at his parents. They were looking at each other, sentences passing between them unspoken. Their years together granted them a certain empathy with one another. His father nodded in agreement of something that Mike hadn't heard.

"What?" Mike asked, wondering what could have possible passed between the two.

"Mike," his father told him gently, "we want you to talk to Erik today. See how long it would take him to move in with us."

"W--What?" Mike was stunned, his eyes wide with surprise.

"We can't let him live with those people. If he needs to be away from them in order to heal, then that's the least we can do, son," his mother explained.

"There's a condition, though," his father added.

"Sure, anything!" Mike said enthusiastically, barely believing the turn of events.

"We want him to enter therapy."

Mike's mood, euphoric at first, fell heavily. "I don't think he'd agree to that. He can barely talk to me, and I'm one of the only people in the world he trusts."

"I'll talk to him then. I want to help him. If you love him, son, then it's the least we can do."

Father, mother, and son sat at the table, sharing feelings that hadn't been felt for years. As the sun rose above the rooftops of the country club, its golden light filling the kitchen, the three of them sat there, discussing on how to rescue the eight year old boy dwelling within the body of a young man...

The palace walls were crafted of white marble, silver and gold streaks running along the edges in magnificent patterns. The temple arches and fluted columns were etched in emerald crystal, soaring high above the courtyard laid in topaz. Central to the quadrant was a fountain, sculpted angelic figures of white marble poised high beneath the gentle glow of the golden sky. The clear water tumbled into the basin, it's soft roaring sound lulling the air surrounding into calm.

Erik walked towards the fountain and sat down, unsure of exactly where he was at. He looked down at himself and found himself still dressed in the shoddy jeans and t shirt that he wore the previous day. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the fountain, dipping it in the cool water and ladling it onto his neck. "I'm dreaming. I have to be."

"Of course you are." From the golden sky landed a tall being, his large, feathery wings of snowy white folding across his back. His skin was metallic, its golden sheen glimmering in the light of the heavens. His hair was long, spilling over his shoulders in undulating crests of light. His eyes laughed within his face, those amber orbs exuding joy and happiness in their gaze. His robes were kingly, the blue silken material clinging close to his pale skin. He moved with angelic grace towards the young man near the fountain, the deep lines carved in his face depressing with a frown.

"Ok, this is fucked up right here," Erik breathed desperately. "Am I -- am I dead?" he asked fearfully. He began to notice that the being before him held a strong resemblance to Mike.

"No," it replied. "But you will be if you keep it up. I can't watch you die. I'm leaving you."

Erik shot up out of bed, throwing the heavy quilt from his body. Beads of sweat formed on his face, falling down his chin. His chest heaved with his erratic breathing. His body trembling, he rose from the bed and pulled his jeans on. After fully dressing, he opened Mike's door and peered out into the hallway.

The house was quiet and seemingly empty. He glanced back into Mike's room before shutting the door behind him. The dream still beat in his mind, indelibly impressing itself on his conscious. Did it mean that Mike would leave him?

He walked down the stairs slowly, peeking at each corner to see if anyone was home. He found it odd that no one woke him up if he was being left in the house alone. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he heard the sound of a cabinet closing. Feeling better that he wasn't alone, he walked towards the kitchen.

"Morning, Erik," Paul greeted, seating himself at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Erik," a small Asian woman followed, still clearing a few used dishes from the table and placing them in the sink.

Erik gave a small wave to the two of them. "Good morning." He felt uncomfortable in the presence of two strangers. "Is, um, Mike around?" he asked uncertainly.

"Michael is at the store with his mother. Please, sit down." Paul gestured towards the chair opposite him. "How's your neck this morning?"

Erik rubbed his neck and stretched it out. "It's feeling better, thanks. I think the aspirin helped."

"Do you want something for breakfast? Kim could make something for you." Paul was reading patient case histories that he had set out in front of him. He halted his work to stare at the boy before him.

"Uh, no thanks." Erik flinched under the man's intense gaze. He hesitantly took a seat in front of Paul, folding his arms across his chest almost as a measure of protection.

"You can smoke in here if you want. We don't mind." Paul went back to reading the papers on the table, deciding to patiently wait for the young man to become comfortable.

Kim walked over set a plate with croissants and a glass of milk in front of Erik. "Eat," she told him firmly. "You'll be thin like Michael if you don't eat."

He nodded his thanks and took small bites from the pastry while sipping his milk. He became acutely aware that he was being watched. By focusing his eyes upon the textures and patterns of the table, he was able to catch the splashes of blue that were Paul's eyes in his peripheral vision. He reached out, more with his own senses than with physical means to penetrate the cloud of suspicion that he felt hovering over him.

No, it wasn't quite suspicion. Pity. He felt it wearing against him, though he didn't dare look up to confront the man that was making only a passing effort at pretending to study the documents before him. His gut wrenched as he lowered his glass to the table, the thud clear and thunderous in the tense silence.

"Why are you staring at me?" Erik asked quietly, his voice weak and child-like.

Paul shifted the papers into a great pile and set them off to the side. The question left him no reason to maintain his pretense. He gazed at the young man before him, noting the muscles beneath the smooth, tanned skin were worn down, twitching only slightly in an attempt to maintain the stony facade.

"I didn't realize I was," the man said quietly, trying to penetrate the shock of brown hair that had fallen over the youth's eyes. "I was just thinking of something."

"Oh," was Erik's only response, the adolescent not wishing to pursue any line of conversation with the man further. He shifted in his chair as the small hairs upon his neck tingled under the man's scrutiny. "Do you know what time Mike will back?" he asked, continuing to stare.

"Shortly," Paul replied dryly, folding his hands in front of him. He stared at his entwined fingers, the source of his deft touch as a surgeon, as his mind toiled over the approach he would use regarding this boy, someone his son loved more than life itself.

Erik stood, stumbling as he pushed the chair in. "Could I use your phone, please?" Suddenly, the spacious rooms of the house, seemingly made more so by the cream colored paint, were closing in on him. He felt trapped, cornered by something he didn't quite understand. The feeling originated from inside of him though, and he had learned to recognize and heed the warning that he barely acknowledged consciously.

"What for?" Paul kept his eyes on him, unaffected by his new resolve to escape. He detected the lost and confused look in his eyes. It was the same expression that had disturbed him the night before, only now it was more focused, more desperate in circumstance.

"I'm going to call a cab and get a ride home. I have stuff I'm supposed to do this morning." He looked around the kitchen wild-eyed, hoping that the phone might leap out at him.

"You mean about your car?"

Erik snapped his head around, gaping at Paul in guarded fear. His heart began a terrible rhythm, spreading the panic to every corner of his limbs. "You--you know about that?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Michael told me last night. It's been taken care of. You don't have to worry about it." He neglected to inform him that he had also spoken to his parents and told them of their son's whereabouts. He wanted to be careful not to reveal that he had spoken to the man that had put Erik in his tortured state to begin with. He failed to mention that he felt the desire to reach through the phone and throttle the man that was as cold and as empty as stone, so inhuman were his actions.

"Um, I'll pay you back," Erik offered, reaching into his back pocket and retrieving his wallet. He opened it, flipping through the bills, despairing when he realized that he barely had enough to pay for cab fare, let alone auto repair. He knew he hadn't near enough money, though it didn't stop him from looking in futile hope.

Paul waved away the fistful of bills that the boy offered. "It's okay. Like I said, it's taken care of. You don't owe me anything."

Erik placed the crumpled money on the table anyway. "Thanks for the offer, but I can't take it. I don't have a lot of money on me now, but I can go to the bank tomorrow and dig up the rest." He sensed the net tightening. As his mind burrowed through every possible solution, he came to realize more and more that he was being encircled by circumstance. What did this man want with him? Why was he being cornered?

"I have to get home though," he stated emphatically, resuming his search for the phone.

"How are you going to pay for the cab?" Paul queried, gesturing to the money on the table.

"I have some money at home," he explained. "I can pay him when I get there." Yes, he knew there was something underneath the questioning gaze of the mean. There was intent behind the eyes that reminded him so much of Mike. But, what was it? How could he escape?

Paul rose. "Erik, sit down for a minute. I want to talk to you."

Erik felt his chest constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Escape. "No, that's okay, Mr. Adams. I really have to get going. I'll just call a cab from a pay phone or something." He started edging his way out of the kitchen. "Thanks for taking care of the car though. I'll get the money to you this week." He had made it into the hallway, all while Paul watched him, dumbfounded. "And thanks for putting up with me for the night. Tell Mike I'll call him later."

"Erik, wait." Paul started walking towards him.

Erik made a full fledged sprint for the front door, practically ripping it off its hinges. A high pitched shriek filled the air as the alarm system fired off, the young man not knowing how to disable it and not really caring. Momentarily halted by the surprise of the alarm, he continued out the door, only to slam head on into Mike, packages flying everywhere. His breath rushed from his lungs as he felt his rear end strike the pavement.

Mike bent over him. "Erik, what the hell are you doing?"

Erik looked around him in a panic. He was surrounded. There was no escape.

tbc