Disclaimer - Everything here in is complete fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. All situations are a product of the authors mind, and is not intended for those who do not like gay fiction, nor is it intended for those under age or where such material is not legal. Other wise, have fun and enjoy.
Author's Note at the bottom.
Nothing Worth Having is Ever Easy
Chapter 3: Going Under
Now I will tell you what I've done for you 50 thousand tears I've cried Screaming Deceiving and Bleeding for you And you still won't hear me (I'm going under) Don't want your hand this time I'll save myself Maybe I'll wake up for once Not tormented daily defeated by you Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom I'm dying again
I'm going under Drowning in you I'm falling forever I've got to break through I'm going under
Blurring and Stirring the truth and the lies So I don't know what's real and what's not Always confusing the thoughts in my head So I can't trust myself anymore I'm dying again
I'm going under Drowning in you I'm falling forever I've got to break through
So go on and scream Scream at me I'm so far away I won't be broken again I've got to breathe I can't keep going under
"Going Under" ~ Evanescence
I was half way home, lost in another song by Evanescence, when a car past me, then pulled over, and none other than Bobby Ray got out, and started walking towards me.
I said, "Shit."
Bobby Ray was alone, which for an idiot like him was truly amazing. The fact that he was on my side of town, in my neighborhood, could mean only one thing. I had done something that pissed him off enough that he actually went LOOKING for me to give me hell about it. Thinking back on my little conversation with Mr. Byre, I had a sinking feeling I knew what was coming, and none of it was going to be good. I looked around and noticed that I was in an area where the houses were still in a stage of construction and there for vacant, and as luck would have it, there was no working on them here today. How convenient. Then I realized he did this on purpose and I was even more fucked then I thought.
"Well look who it is," Bobby Ray said, "it's my little buddy, Ross, the fag, I've been looking for you all over."
He stopped a few feet away, glaring at me as he cracked his knuckles.
"What?" he asked, "No smart ass comeback? What happened to that set of balls you grew back in class? Way I remember it, you said some pretty harsh things about me and in class."
"I don't want trouble, Bobby Ray," I said, inching back.
"Well that's just to bad aint it? The way I figure it, you owe me a serious apology, and neither of us is going anywhere until I get it from you."
His hand leaped out and I felt pain explode in me stomach. The world teetered as bent over in pain, he grabbed me by the collar and he started hitting me in my chest and stomach. Finally he let me go and I fell in a heap on the side of the road.
He seized me by the back of the throat and yank my head up.
"Now you remember this, faggot," he growled in my ear. "Your smart mouth is going to stay closed from now on, and if I get one awkward look or hear you've ratted me out, you will live to regret it. Understand?"
"Yeah," I gasped and he let me go.
I waited until I heard him drive off before trying to get up, but it hurt to move. My mid section hurt so much, and only after several minutes of working up my courage was I finally able to stand. I felt sick to my stomach, and my head was swimming, almost like after you get off a merry-go-round, only ten times worse and a hell of a lot more painful. Finally when I felt I was as ready as I ever would be, I started for home. holding my arms closed to my chest. I was so humiliated and at the same to so enraged that the two emotions only made the pain in my chest worse, and the growing sense of nausea come to a point where I couldn't control it anymore, and I lost everything left over from lunch. I tried so hard not to cry, but it was impossible to hold back the tears and I cried harder than I had back when Grandmother died five years before.
I cried because I was angry, because I was humiliated, and because I was in a lot of pain, but even more, I cried because I was alone, and that pain was deeper than any thing else.
I swore to myself that I would never cry again.
The damage wasn't all that bad when I looked at myself in the mirror. The side of my face was a little bruised from where I hit the side walk, and since most of Bobby Ray's hits had been in my stomach and chest they were easily hidden by my cloths. Thank god my parents couldn't see the wonderful black and blue marks because I would never have heard the end of it, and god forbid anyone found out. Not only would I be invisible, but I'd be the new punching bag for Bobby Ray and any other freak who got their rocks off pounding the hell out of some one smaller than them.
That night I had the weirdest dream. I was in my bed and naked with some one (who I couldn't guess) beneath me, their body undulating as I slowly moved my cock in and out of their body with long, deep strokes that made both of our bodies shiver. The feeling was so intense, so incredible that I lost myself in my climax, thrusting deep and crying out wordlessly. The person grabbed my ass, pulling me in even deeper.
Then I looked down and found it was Clay beneath me. His perfect abdomen was covered in cum, he was sweaty and panting, and looking so sexy that the pleasure was intensified a hundred full! His eyes were staring at me with this expression, like he was begging me for something. Begging me not to stop, never stop-
I woke up on my stomach with my sheets were soaked and my dick supersensitive making a every movement sending thrills through my body that made me shudder, and I felt tears brimming in my eyes. It felt so good it actually hurt!
When I could finally move with out my body convulsing, I cleaned myself up, stripped the bed and wrapped myself in my comforter. I could do the sheets tomorrow. The dream wouldn't leave my mind though, and I kept seeing it over and over again, the ghostly touch of Clay's body on mine kept coming back to me again and again. The pleasure of it all was so intense that I had tears in my eyes again, and I buried my face in my sheets willing it to go away.
It wasn't right to think of him like that, not just because I hated him so much, but because I had never seen him like that. I guess I should clear up the whole sexual preference thing. See, I don't know what I am, mainly cause I never thought about it too much. I know it sounds stupid, but in all honesty, in my fantasies, my dream lover is this faceless person who has no body, and its all just lips and hands, nothing like that dream. That was the first time my dream lover had taken form, and it felt so good, so real and so right.
My mind was in a whirlwind of confusion that I tossed and turned the rest of the night.
The next day at school was fuckin weird. People actually looked at me, which in itself was a true first because normally no one ever did. What I mean by that is people actually looked me in the eye. Like I said, WEIRD. Oh, and lets not forget what happened when I saw Clay that morning in Ceramics. I avoided him at all costs, opting to work on the potter's wheel instead of at the worktables, with my back to him so I wouldn't have to look at him. But that damn dream came back so bad that I had a raging hard on that would not go away the moment I saw him, and I prayed no one would notice, ESPECIALLY him. I thanked god my pants weren't so baggy that they would have tented (I saw a kid who had that happen, and it was funny shit!).
Now like I said, the day was weird, and when my first period teacher read a new bulletin that morning about treating our peers with respect and all that jazz, blah, blah, blah -- I had heard it all before, and doubted that anything would come of it, I was still shocked. Mr. Byre had been on the level, and come through.
Ok, but the real weirdness was when I noticed that not one person was rude to me, I even had a girl say excuse me when she bumped in to me! What freaked me out was that NO ONE did that. My presence was either ignored or I got yelled out. Oh no, this girl was actually polite and smiled at me.
Then the weirdest part of the whole day (at least until that point) came at lunch. When I don't hang out in Mr. T's Class, I have this bench I've used since freshman year, in a secluded place between two trees that is the perfect place for me to hide. No one ever uses it for whatever reason and so I've never had to worry about someone being there.
Today, when Mandy Perkins walked by with her friends Shayleen Baker and Claire Nott, they actually said hello to me. It wasn't just "Hi!", it was "Hey Ash!" and the girl smiled! It wasn't a fake one either, it was an honest to god, genuine smile. That was what killed me, cause I swear I didn't understand.
"Uh . . . hi," I stammered, still not believing it.
All three of them smiled at me as they went on their way, and I just shook my head and whispered under my breath. "Loony girls,"
Now let me say this, all day I had not seen Bobby Ray and I was actually hoping that he wouldn't show up for school. But I had no such luck. I walked into the classroom just as the bell rang and to my surprise, Bobby Ray sitting in the back of the class, in my seat, glaring at Mr. T who was standing beside Clay and Mandy. When Mr. T noticed me, he grinned and waved me over.
"Ah, good, Ash." He said. "You're going to sit here for the remainder of the year, while Bobby Ray can sit in the corner."
"Why?" I asked, and Mandy answered.
"Because Bobby Ray is a jerk who can't keep his mouth shut, and we asked Mr. T to switch your seats."
I could feel my face blushing deeply as she spoke and she waved me over to take Bobby Ray's old seat.
"Ok Ash," Mr. T said to me, "you're going to work with Mandy and Clay. Since Mandy's already started drawing Clay, you can start there, but you may need to catch up, so Clay has agreed to stay after school so you can." I felt my stomach drop to my knees and I glanced at Clay, who was sitting posed like yesterday while Mandy sat drawing him. "Now get to it!"
I got a new sheet of paper and tried my damnedest not to blush as I started to draw Clay, but god it was so hard! He was wearing one of those white undershirts that cling to a guy's body and outlined every curve, and I got hard all over again. If it weren't for the drawing table everyone would have seen I was giving the one armed salute and I would have been embarrassed all over again.
The period wore on and I thought I saw Clay glance at me once or twice, but I brushed it off as my over active imagination. Besides, I hated him. I hated him because of his perfection, and I hated him because he was so beautiful, and I hated him even more because he had been in my dream, in my bed, and under me! It was ridiculous where my thoughts were going and the way I was feeling, so when we were told to clean up I was so happy that I practically bolted for the door, but before I could get out, Mr. T called out:
"Don't forget Ash! Be here after class to finish up!"
I nodded, although I was praying for a comet to hit the earth so I wouldn't have to be in the same room as Clay. If I could just have an aneurysm and die I wouldn't have to go through with this. But I had no such luck.
The remainder of the day flew by so fast, and before I knew it I was walking into Mr. T's classroom. Clay was sitting in his usual seat, and I caught my breath when I saw him. My erection came back so fast I made for my seat before he could notice.
"Glad to see you, Ash," Mr. T said from his desk and I nodded in reply.
I glanced up at Clay and blushed, quickly looking away when I saw he was watching me.
"Do you need me to move or anything?" he asked and I just shook my head.
The silence between us was deafening and uncomfortable -- at least for me, and about half an hour passed with out either of us saying a word. Then Mr. T excused himself to go the office for a few minutes and were left alone. In spite of how hard I tried, I could feel myself starting to blush, as I felt he was watching me, and when I looked up, I found he was!
Finally he said, "Can I ask you a question?"
I met his eyes and found I couldn't look away. "What?" I choked out.
"Why are you so tense? You don't think I'm going to be like Bobby Ray do you?"
Well that was a stupid question.
"Yeah," I mumbled, and looked back down at my drawing.
"I'm not like him, Ash, none of us are."
"Could have fooled me," I said, trying to contain my anger that I felt welling up inside of me, and focusing on the drawing.
"Why do you say that?" he asked and I looked back up at him.
"After the way you and your peons have treated me the last couple of years, what else am I supposed to think?"
He looked startled by that, and I went back to my drawing thinking that was the end of it.
Boy was I wrong.
"Did I ever call you names?" he asked.
I sighed in frustration, and put my pencil down. "No, but you laughed at what ever Bobby Ray said about me when you were around."
Clay's face went from confusion to anger.
"Bobby Ray is prick," he said vehemently, "and the captain of the football team. Before, I've always been intimidated by him, but after what happened yesterday, I hit my limit with him and so did a lot of the other guys. I'm not proud of laughing at you, and I know I was wrong." His face changed, and he suddenly looked vulnerable and totally sincere. "I know I never saw you as a person before yesterday, but after seeing how you reacted to him . . . I don't know, I feel like you made me see myself and Bobby Ray in a whole knew light. I'm sorry."
"Hugh?" Did he just apologize to me? What the fuck is going on here?
"I said I'm sorry. Sorry for laughing at you, for not stopping Bobby Ray. Sometimes peer-pressure is a real pain in the ass and makes you do things you wouldn't have done at any other time."
I was floored. I couldn't believe he was saying this to me, and any other time I would have thought he was lying to me straight to my face, but no -- I could see it in his eyes. He was sincere.
"Ok," I stammered and he smiled, that big perfect smile of his and stood up.
There was a huge bulge in his jeans and either he was as hard as I was, or the boy was packing! He walked up to me and extended his hand.
"Friends?" he asked.
I started down at his outstretched hand, not knowing what to do or say. The duel parts of my mind were warring with each other, both trying to win me over, and I blocked them out. I still knew that I hated him, but then again, maybe I never saw him for anything more than the right hand man of someone who (now that I saw things from his point of view) was the real center of my hate. In all truth, Bobby Ray was the one who had been teasing me all this time, not Clay, but why did I hate him so? An interesting question that would have to wait until later to be pondered on.
I made my choice.
"Friends."
And that was how my friendship with Clay began.
Author's Note:
Copyright 2005