Legal stuff: You ain't old enough, don't read it. You ain't mature enough, still don't read it. You lookin' for a quick wank, look elsewhere. There WILL be sex in this story, and it WILL be graphic, but it'll come with time, so bear with me.
Given to Nifty for archive; if anyone else wants to post this somewhere, ask first thanks. Email is mymouthtrain@gmail.com.
Days Before You Came | 05
Nothing happened.
I tell you this because you look worried. I think I'm quoting the grandfather from The Princess Bride here, but seriously, nothing happened at all. At least I think.
I don't really remember how I got home, but even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Honestly, would you even want to know? Didn't think so. I do believe, however, that it was some time after midnight when I was dropped off. I remember looking up at my house, realizing that there were never this many lights on usually, and knowing instantly that I had fucked up. Oops.
I knew my mother's reaction before it came. "You could have been killed, you could have died. Oh, how irresponsible of you, Noah. Are you drunk?" Sip of gin and tonic. "Oh, how did you ever get these ideas in your head?" Spliff of marijuana inhaled (for medicinal purposes, my ass, you're completely healthy) and exhaled. "Whose influence has gotten over you? When did my son become so impressionable?" Gee, I wonder....
My father, as usual, had nothing of interest to say. I think once upon a time he would have asked if I'd gotten laid, but as he was now questioning my orientation even more than I was, he keeps those comments to himself. I suppose no father honestly wants to hear his son say, "Yes, Dad, and he was wonderful while he was driving his thick meat into my ass." Hah, okay, maybe there are a few, but I wouldn't exactly call them fathers, you know? Sick bastards.
Despite all my mother's drama, all I received as punishment for staying out so late on a weekday and coming home drunk was to have my computer privileges taken away from me. My mom unhooked my laptop from my bedroom desk and was about to confiscate it when I pointed out that I still needed it for school. And I did, too, I had two assignments due next week that were half-finished on it. Sighing, she reluctantly set it back down but called to have my wireless card disabled. She said I could study 'the old-fashioned' way, meaning the library. Fine, whatever, can I pass the fuck out now?
As I slept that night, I dreamt in blues. The colors made me sad and I knew I cried into my pillow in my sleep, evidenced by my tearstained face the next morning. I dreamt of blues and blacks and reds, and of Torin yanking my head back and looking fierce as he ground something out from between his teeth.
I looked up at him and said, "You don't have to be attracted to me for me to give you a blow job."
"That isn't even the point, Noah, you self-effacing bastard."
I woke up pretty soon after that. It felt like his words were echoing in my head, and after the night I'd just had, those words HURT. I could feel my head like it was composed of separate things, and if I moved they would slide apart and spill my brains onto the floor. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my forehead and hadn't so much beaten me as tried to see what was inside the pretty, white skull.
My mother refused to let me stay home that day. Or rather, her note very angrily refused, and claimed that she would come home at an indeterminate time that day to make sure I hadn't blown off school for more frivolous things, like making sure my head wasn't going to fall apart. Since I wasn't yet familiar with this city and my old town was two states away, I really had nowhere else to go, unless....
Unless....
It took me a few tries to figure out where they'd stuffed the new phone book. As I was searching the house, my brain was wracking itself trying to remember Reds' last name. I know I had heard the teacher address him that first day in class, and since this school had an odd knack for calling everyone by their last names, I know the old man had said it.
"Mr...." I said under my breath, as if saying it louder would complicate things as I rifled through the crap in the pantry cabinet. "Mr... Dennis? Mr. Dents? Mr.... Dammit, I know it started with D-E-N! What the fuck?" Frustrated, I threw a ten-pack of gum across the kitchen. As you can guess, that helped my sliding-apart head loads.
"Okay, think, man," I muttered as I made my way into the living room. "Corey Den-something. Corey Den-something." I found the phone book finally and began flipping through the D's. A name jumped out at me-- 'Denton.' That's it! I pumped a fist into the air. Corey Denton! Ha!
My elation was quick to dissipate, however, once I realized just how many damn Denton's there were in that book. A page and a half. Christ.
I knew I couldn't call them all, not with it already being seven in the morning. I had to think quickly, and I began chewing my lower lip thoroughly as I did so. Everyone knows that helps, right?
Right.
I remembered Opal once mentioning what street Reds lived on; it was Ambrosia. Hoping and praying there wasn't more than one Denton on Ambrosia, and also praying there wasn't more than one Ambrosia, I scanned the directory. I came across,
Denton, Amelia 5255 Ambrosia Ct. 555-555-2751 Denton, Lawrence 5253 Ambrosia Ct. 555-555-8110
Fuck, two? And they're right next to each other? Is that even allowed? I swore gently and decided, fuck it, I'm calling them both.
The first house, Amelia's, answered on the third ring. "Hello?" The voice sounded somewhat female and sleepy.
"Um, yeah, sorry to wake you," I said as quick and polite as I could muster with a throbbing headache, "but does Corey Denton live there?"
"Yes, he does."
Sweet! I held up the phone in victory for a nanosecond before pressing it back to my ear. "Could I speak with him, please?"
A pause, then, suspicious, "Who may I ask is calling?"
"Uh, my name's Noah Garrow. I know him from school?" Yes, I asked that in the form of a question. Don't ask; I don't know.
Instead of a reply, I heard some faint shuffling around and then an ear-splitting, "Reds! You got a Noah Garrow on the phone!" It then sounded as if she had chucked the phone, and I didn't hear anything for a good few minutes until the pieces of my head reknit themselves and Reds came on the line with a breathy, "Hello?"
"Reds, hey, it's me."
"Yeah, I know. How'd you get this number?" He didn't sound pissed, just inquisitive. Even at butt o'clock in the morning.
"Phone book," I said sagely, and I could hear him laugh. "Look, man, I don't know if you'd even be into this, but I can't go to school today, I feel like ass, and not even good ass. However, my lovely mother won't let me stay home. So, I was wondering," I drew circles into the coffee table with one finger as I spoke, hunched almost double on the couch in the living room, "if you would maybe wanna play hooky with me and let me stay at your's?" I ended on a lilting, pleading note.
"Uh...." I could hear Reds moving somewhere, and then a door clicking shut. "I don't know, man."
"Oh, okay," I replied, adopting an unaffected tone, "but if you did do this for me, I'd forget all about you and Opal breaking and entering into my house the other day." I examined my fingernails as I talked. Ooh, shiny.
I heard him make a sound like someone punched him. "That's bitchy, man," he whined after a moment.
I smiled, though he couldn't see it, so I let my smile bleed into my voice. "I know," I said cheerily, "isn't it?"
Reds sighed. "Look, my mother won't be leaving until about nine-thirty. She won't really care if I stay home, but my grandparents live next door and they will. So if you're going to use my house as a hide-out, then you gotta come here. I can't come get you. Not in my car, at least."
"Fine, you live where?"
He gave me directions, which were surprisingly brief. "You live just around the corner?"
"Yeah."
I was surprised. "Okay," I said slowly, then grinned. "See you at nine-thirty." I hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
After taking about half a bottle of paracetemol, I arrived probably about twenty minutes later than I had planned, but that certainly was not from lack of trying. When Reds had said he lived around the corner, I thought he had meant just around the corner. Not around the corner and down two blocks and off in a little cul-de-sac that I passed twice. I was about to ring the doorbell when I saw Reds appear out of nowhere in my peripheral. I jumped; I couldn't help it. I'm a skittish bastard.
"Fuck!" I yelled, but in a way that made it still sound like a whisper. Reds was peeking around the side of his house, the one not facing a yellow two-story that could only be his grandparents' house. He motioned me to follow him and disappeared.
We ended up entering his house through a cellar door, and the cellar turned out to be Reds' room. It was really just a glorified half-finished basement, but whatever, it was way more private than what I had to call a room. His bed was pushed against one side, a twin that looked like a cot, light blue blankets half falling off of it, matching blue sheets underneath. One half of the walls were brick, the other half unpainted drywall. In the center was a giant TV, at least a 36-inch or more, and several bean bags and video game consoles lay about. One entire bookshelf was stocked to overflowing with game titles. This guy really liked his entertainment.
A stereo sat at the foot of his bed, and it was this Reds flicked on as he sat at the edge of his bed. Instantly Placebo's Sleeping With Ghosts album started playing, and I didn't miss the pointed, amused look Reds sent my way. If my head wasn't throbbing as much as it was, I would have pounded him into his floor. I did, however, make a show of putting my hand on my belt buckle, and looking at him with the best bedroom eyes I could muster right then. "You sure it's safe to be around me when Placebo's playing?"
Reds wasn't fazed. He just nodded at a half-open door toward the back and said with a smirk, "You need some time to yourself, there's a bathroom back that way. No way are you spooging on my blankets."
"Ah well," I shrugged, flopping onto one of the bean bags, "I'm not really in the mood anyway. Not after last night." I rubbed my temple and waited. I'd given Reds the perfect opportunity; I knew he'd been wanting to know what happened since I showed up.
"So... how did that go?" He asked it casually, but I could hear the eagerness in his voice.
I didn't look up at him, but I knew his gaze was heavy on me. I picked at the sole to my shoe and shrugged. "Ended up going to that Manda chick's house and getting wasted. You know her?"
"Yeah," Reds said, but it sounded hollow to my ears. "Yeah, I know her, and her boyfriend. They're friends," said with a waspish tint, "of Torin St. James." Terribly, terribly casual.
"He was there, too," I said to my heel as I inspected it.
"Oh?" Forced, strained. "What did you guys get up to?"
I snorted at the choice of words. "Not a goddamn thing," I said, shaking my head. I caught Reds' gaze, and winked. He flushed, and turned away. I don't think he got my meaning.
It was quiet for awhile, we just sat and drank a couple colas Reds had gone upstairs to get us. The TV was on some random cartoon, and we were both staring at it blankly. It was hard to get the concept when the volume was muted. Finally, I looked over at Reds, who was slumped on his bed, and gave him a half-smile when he caught my gaze. "Thanks for hanging out with me. I couldn't have done school today. Too much shit."
Reds stretched and yawned, and it was only then that I realized he was wearing what I guessed was his idea of pajamas. A pair of solid-blue drawstring pants that billowed as he walked, and a white tank top that showed off his freckled arms. His feet were bare, and every time I saw his toes I wanted to kiss them, and give them a tongue-bath. The tops of his feet were free of freckles and showed off just how perfectly white and translucent his skin actually was. If society judged beauty by feet, Reds would be Adonis' equal.
"Not a problem, man," he said back through a second yawn, then burrowed back into his covers. "Anything for a justified day off."
That got a raised eyebrow from me. "This is justified?"
Reds grinned. "Nursing a sick and hungover friend back to health? Oh yeah."
That made me laugh. "So we're friends?" I asked with a grin.
"Well, aren't we?" It was Reds' turn to hike an eyebrow.
I shrugged. "Yeah. Why not? Yes," I said emphatically.
I thought that would get another grin from him, but instead his expression turned serious. He pointed his bottle of cola toward me and said, "Then, as a friend, I give you a word of advice. Don't hang out with the Froufs again."
"What Froufs? Manda and Josh?"
He nodded, face solemn, but I sat up, confused. "But I thought you said Torin wasn't a Frouf. Why would he hang with any of them, then?"
Reds' mouth downturned, and he looked away for a second. "Honestly, I don't know. Manda and Josh are the only ones he's ever civil to.... well, actually, it's just Josh. They, I don't know, started hanging out a few weeks ago and now they're always together. Torin won't talk to anyone else, though. I don't get it."
I took in what Reds was saying, bottle to my lips in thought. "Maybe they're together?"
Reds gave me a sharp look. "Who?"
"Torin and Josh," I said like it should have been obvious. "Torin IS gay." Reds drew in a breath, drawing my gaze to him. "Tell me you already knew that and I didn't just out the guy." He shook his head, apparently speechless, eyes wide. "Shit," I swore, slamming my drink down on the rug-covered concrete.
"How'd you find out he's gay?" Reds asked.
"First of all, you can't say anything to anyone. You said we were friends," he nodded at this, "so I'm trusting you AS A FRIEND not to tell anyone what I've just told you or am about to tell you."
"You have my word."
Reds looked as serious as I felt, so I decided to take a leap and trust him. "Well, last night, at the party Torin took me into a back room." I watched Reds' reaction, but it was neutral, like the information either didn't faze him or he didn't get it. "He took me back and laid me down on a bed and leaned over me like he was gonna kiss me."
Finally, realization dawned. Reds' eyes got wide, sitting huge and sapphire blue in his face. "Did he?"
I imagined Reds' breath coming out faster as I let the silence stretch, and leaned back in my flexible seat until I was nearly stretched to the floor, my hands over my bare abdomen, my shirt riding up past my navel. After a moment of suspense, I shrugged and let the cat out of the proverbial bag. "No." I could see the relief flooding off of him.
"I knew you were gay," he said after a moment.
"Shut up," I snapped back.
He held up his hands. "Just saying."
"He did tell me he was gay, though," I admitted.
"Yeah?"
I shifted in my seat, sitting forward and hunching over myself. I nodded. "You promised," I reminded.
"I know. I'm not going to tell anyone." He sounded a little irritated. "Jesus, Noah, trust someone once in a while."
That did it. I stood up and went over to where Reds was sitting on his bed. I leaned down until we were nose-to-fucking-nose. "You have no idea how much trust I just put in you. It takes a lot for me to confide in someone, and considering I've only known you a handful of days, you should be fucking jumping up and down for joy because I do trust you. So back off and don't make me regret what I just did."
He swallowed, but I got no other reaction from him. He just stared at me, expression blank, until I straightened back up. "I got it," he said in a whisper.
"Good."
After that, the conversation died and we ended up playing video games the rest of the morning. Or rather, Reds showed me game after game like some excited kid as I watched, bored. Man, was he into his games. He also smoked cigarette after cigarette as he played, thoroughly earning his nickname in my eyes. The kid was going to die of lung cancer at age thirty, I could already see it.
Reds slapped together some sandwiches for lunch, and we ate upstairs. The rest of the house was quaint, a typical ranch-style that looked outside-and-in like any other house, if a little messier than most. There was a stack of old newspapers in the corner of the hallway, which I thought was odd, until I found out that Reds' mother had two parakeets that she was training to talk. So far, Reds admitted he had been the only one successful at teaching them anything, and now all they could say was, "Suck shit, teacher." Yeah, okay. I admit, I did laugh when he told me his mom was an elementary school teacher. Such a loving son.
That afternoon we got drunk, and I sucked his cock, and then he fucked me like the school girl I am.
...
If you think that actually happened, you haven't been paying attention. Actually, that afternoon I invited Reds to my place, and once we knew school was out we invited Opal over as well. The three of us basically sat around eating corn chips and talking, and like any conversation involving three people who'd had little to no sexual experience, the conversation turned to, you guessed it, sex.
"So, are you waiting for marriage?" That was Opal, and the question was directed toward Reds.
"No." He turned the color of his hair. "Just for someone who actually wants to fuck me to come along."
I laughed. "You can't tell me no one's wanted to get into your pants ever."
Reds shook his head, forehead creased. "No, why would they?"
"Why?" Now it was my turn to be astonished. "Well, why wouldn't they?" I tipped my soda back and finished it off, burping. "You're hot."
"Fuck off," Reds said caustically. "I am not, quit playing me."
"I'm not," I said honestly. "Shit, man, if you'd just open up around people, you could have anyone you wanted."
"The people in this room included?"
Opal and I turned and looked at each other, very carefully.
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- --|to be continued. Updates will be weekly from now on.|-- - -