Chapter Thirteen: Power
The last few weeks had been really good for me. It seemed as though I spent most of my time either talking to Travis or counting down the days until his arrival. After our fight we both seemed to be working a little harder at keeping in touch and actually talking about stuff other than the weather and homework.
Even things at school had gotten back to normal, mostly. The more time that passed, the less it felt as though my lunchroom temper tantrum even mattered. I mean, sure, I heard people call me names and stuff, but it was weird. They never did it to my face. And after a while it just seemed so stupid. Like, don't these people have anything better to do? I guess part of the reason I felt that way was because I still had my friends. At least, the those who were important to me: Rob, Neil, Sam and of course, Sara.
As for Rob, there were still times when I saw that look of disappointment in his eyes and, I'll admit, times when I really wouldn't have minded having his body on top of mine. But somehow we managed to stay friends without doing something we shouldn't. He even told me he really wanted to get together with Travis when he came to town. The idea of the two of them in the same room freaked me out actually, but I told him we'd figure out something.
Travis called me on the Sunday before he was supposed to come to Chicago.
"Hey babe," he said as soon as I picked up the phone. I leaned back on my bed to get comfortable.
"Hey! Whazzup?"
"Not much. Just getting excited about Friday!"
"Me too." It felt great to hear his voice again. It always did. "What do you want to do first when you get here?"
"You mean besides taking your clothes off and making out?"
We both laughed. "Yeah," I said. "I was kinda thinking like things to see and do! Ya know . . . Sears Tower? Lake Michigan? That kind of stuff?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want to show me. I'm there to see you Andy. Not the city."
Could he say anything more perfect?
"Thanks," I said softly. "I can't wait to see you. I miss you so much."
"Yeah." He was quiet for a long time. Then out of nowhere he asked me what I was wearing.
"What?" it seemed like such a stupid question.
"You heard me," he said softly. "What are you wearing?"
"I dunno. Jeans, t-shirt," I said confused. "Why?"
"I was just, ya know, trying to picture you. What you were doing, what you were wearing. What it would be like to be with you right now."
As he spoke I began to wonder if maybe he had something in mind.
"Oh, I'm just lying here on my bed. Thinking about you." I waited a moment and then whispered to him. "So what are you wearing?" I closed my eyes as I listened.
"Shorts and my favorite t-shirt." I smiled at his response. I thought about my old shirt touching his chest, his stomach, his back.
"Mmmm," I sighed into the phone. "What . . . what would you do if you were here now?"
"God Andy," his voice was low. "I just . . . I just wanna be with you. I wanna kiss you so bad right now. And then-"
"Then what?" My hand slid under my t-shirt and I started rubbing it across my chest slowly. "Tell me."
"Then I'd touch you. Your beautiful chest, your sexy face. I'd take your shirt off so I could remember how perfect you are."
My hand slid down and squeezed my cock as it grew listening to Travis' voice.
"I'm so hard right now," he whispered. "Are you?"
"Yeah." I was holding my breath. It felt, I don't know, wrong or something to be talking like this on the phone. But it was Travis. I was so turned on by what he was saying I didn't care.
"Are you touching it now, Andy? You got your hand around that big cock?"
"Uh-huh," I groaned as I pulled down my zipper. I was nervous and excited all at once. I couldn't believe Travis was saying these things, but I was loving every moment.
"I wish you were here babe. I wish this was your hand on my cock instead of my own." We were both breathing heavily into the phone.
"I'm gonna take it out now Travis," I said.
"Oh yeah. Take it out for me Andy. I miss it so much, I want in my mouth so bad right now."
I started seriously stroking my cock. My mind drifted back to the cruise and the feel of Travis swallowing my dick. I could picture his face, his lips wrapped around my cock as his head moved up and down. I groaned into the phone.
"Is yours out?"
"Yeah," he said. "It's so hard Andy. It misses you."
I laughed nervously. "I miss it to. I want to kiss it. To suck it again."
Travis panted into the phone as I was rubbing my cock.
"I'm close," I said.
"Me too." I heard him breathing louder as my strokes grew faster. He let out a tiny little cry and I knew he was cumming. The sound of him pushed me over the edge. The cum shot out of my cock onto my navy shirt. Two long ropes stretching from the head of my dick up past my belly button. I opened my eyes and watched as more cum poured out of the end of my cock, drooling down onto my hand.
"Oh my God," I said. "That was so awesome." I was smiling and exhausted as I looked down at the mess on my shirt and listened to Travis catching his breath.
"Shit!" he said starting to laugh. "I hit my neck!"
I laughed. "Dude! No way!"
"Yeah, it's everywhere," Travis was still giggling as he spoke. "It's your fault I made this mess."
"Whatever dude, I just wish I could help you clean up."
"You'll get your chance," he said. "Wait til Friday."
"I know. But I want it now." I was whining. We both grew quiet. "Did you . . . did you plan on doing this tonight?"
"Kinda," he said sheepishly. "Did you like it?"
"Oh yeah! We shoulda done this a long time ago." We both laughed.
Eventually we said good night and hung up. I looked down at the dark, wet streak on my t-shirt and heard Travis' voice again in my head. In no time I was hard again. I pulled off my t-shirt and jacked off quickly, dumping another load onto the already wet cotton before going to sleep smiling and exhausted.
At school on Monday I was a total flake all day. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't think about anything other than Travis' arrival on Friday or what we had done the night before. I must have looked like a complete fool wandering from one class to the next with a big goofy smile on my face.
After school I stopped by Mr. Walbaum's room to help Neil staple some packets of information for the teachers about the safe space program. I told him a little of what Travis and I had done the night before (nothing x-rated mind you, but Neil had no problem figuring out what I was talking about) and he seemed even more excited than I was. By the time I headed to my locker the school was practically empty. I couldn't wait to get home and IM Travis.
I headed out to the parking lot. I wasn't paying any attention at all as I walked around the corner of the building and ran right into Steve Morgan and a couple of other football players.
"Hey you shit," said one of them. "Watch where the fuck your going!"
I stopped and looked up at them.
"Well look who it is!" Steve's face lit up with recognition and a mean smile once he saw me. "If it isn't the newest faggot in this school. You running off to meet up with your boyfriend, queer?"
I froze unsure of what to say or do. "Just going home." I said quietly. "Excuse me." I started walking again.
"Don't you think you need to apologize?" Steve stood directly in front of me blocking my way. The other guys laughed.
"Sorry," I said quietly, trying again to walk around them. I was totally freaked out now. The three of them had sort of surrounded me, with Steve right in my face and his idiot friends on either side of me.
"Where do you think you're goin, fucker?" Steve said. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I knew I had to get away but I wasn't sure how. If I ran I thought they might chase me down and besides I'd feel like a total wuss. I decided to just try and keep going. Just walk past them and not say anything. Then I figured they'd leave me alone. I kept going.
"Who said you could go anywhere faggot?" said Steve. He put his hand on my shoulder and I could feel him pressing down into me harder and harder.
"Leave me alone," I said louder. Steve had both hands on my shoulders now. The other guys were on either side of me. I tried to squeeze out from under his grip, but he was too strong and there was no place for me to go. I was staring straight at Steve, his ugly pimply face just inches from my own. I glared at him and he smirked at me as if this were all just one big joke.
In a fit of panic I swept my right arm up and shoved his hand off my shoulder. I hit it harder than I expected to and Steve's hand went flying right into his friend's face next to me.
"Fucking homo," the friend said as he put his hand to his nose, a little trickle of blood starting to drip on his lip. Steve's smirk disappeared and was replaced by pure rage. I was trying to run away from them now but couldn't. The third friend had grabbed my left arm, holding me in place.
"Goddamit," Steve said. In an instant he removed his arm from my shoulder and punched me in the face. I was so surprised I didn't know what had happened until, a split second later the pain of his blow overwhelmed all of my senses. It was unlike anything I had felt before. As if my whole face had been run over by a car. He punched me again, this time in the stomach. I doubled over in agony, my arm still being held by the other guy. I was coughing and gasping for air. I could taste blood in my mouth from the first punch and could barely breathe after the second. Again he hit me and I felt my legs go out from under me. I couldn't breath, I couldn't see. I fell to the ground and instantly felt another blow to my stomach as one of them kicked me. Hard.
I don't know when they stopped or why. I don't remember what they said as they left. What I do remember is lying on the ground, every inch of my body screaming in pain. My cheek was lay on the concrete and I remember how rough it was against my skin. I didn't move. I couldn't move. I just lay there, spitting little streams of blood from my mouth, trying to suck in air even though every breath was pure agony. I wasn't crying or screaming anymore. I just groaned in pain.
It was Mr. Walbaum who found me. I remember him kneeling down beside me saying "Andy, it's okay. I've called an ambulance. Just stay still. It's okay." I tried moving my head to look at him, but I couldn't do it. He held my hand and kept talking to me. Within moments Mr. Simpson the principal was also there. I could hear his voice but mostly just saw his pants and shoes. From time to time I heard the two of them talking to one another, but I didn't pay any attention. I just wanted to go home. To go to bed. To not hurt anymore.
I lay there on the ground, groaning and spitting for what seemed like forever until the paramedics finally showed up. They kept telling me to relax which didn't help much. They slid a board under me and strapped my head to it so I wouldn't move. Then they lifted me onto the gurney. Mr. Walbaum stayed next to me the whole time, his hand still holding mine, his voice still reassuring.
They put me in the ambulance and we sat there for quite a while. They tried asking me questions like what day it was and who the president is but I was having a hard time speaking because my mouth felt like a big pile of Jell-o. Eventually we left the school and I remember being totally disappointed that they didn't turn the siren on. Stupid, I know. One of the paramedics explained they didn't want to go really fast to make sure they didn't jostle me around or anything.
We got to the hospital and I was wheeled into a curtained area in the emergency room. A nurse came in and took my temperature and talked to the paramedics. It all seemed like gibberish to me-something about possible fractures and contusions and stuff I didn't understand. Finally the nurse actually came over to me and explained she was going to start getting me cleaned up a little bit so the doctor could examine me. She also said she was going to help me put on a hospital gown and that they'd have to cut my clothes off because they were worried I might have some broken bones and didn't want me moving around to get undressed. I didn't pay much attention to what she was saying until I saw her take the scissors and start cutting my shirt. I looked down and realized it was Travis' old shirt I was wearing.
I couldn't help myself as I started crying these huge blubbery sobs, each one more painful than the last. Wave after wave the tears came until my face was covered with snot and tears and blood. Mr. Walbaum grabbed my hand but it didn't matter. I kept picturing Steve Morgan's ugly, angry face the moment before he punched me. I kept looking down at Travis' shirt, ruined and soiled. With every gasp of air the pain was more and more unbearable.
"It's okay honey," the nurse kept saying as she slid the scissors up from my waist to my neck. She patted my arm gently, but it was no use. "The doctor will be here soon. Just relax, we're going to take good care of you." She peeled the shirt away from my chest leaving it draped under me. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be anywhere than where I was, feeling anything other how I was feeling.
Eventually the doctor came in after I had settled down a bit. He seemed pretty nice I guess and spent a lot of time gently moving me and touching me wanting to know which parts of me hurt and which didn't. I groaned in response to his questions, unable to say much of anything.
"Well Andy," he said. "We're going to need to take some x-rays. Right now I'm guessing you might have a couple of broken bones but until we take some pictures I won't know for certain. I'm going to give you some medicine for the pain, the nurse will take you to x-ray and then we'll have you stay overnight here in the hospital, okay. buddy?"
I grunted at him.
"I'll come see you when the x-rays are complete and you're in your room. Just hang in there."
I grunted again.
The pain medicine they gave me worked instantly and made me really sleepy. Soon they wheeled me down some halls and took me into the x-ray room. The woman there seemed to take a hundred different pictures. From time to time the skimpy little hospital gown would ride up and she kept trying to make sure that I retained my modesty by making sure my dick and balls never saw the light of day which I guess was considerate of her. But I could honestly have cared less what she saw. I was so tired. All I wanted to do was to be left alone to sleep.
Finally, they wheeled me to a room and my parents were both there waiting for me. My mom was crying as she came over to hug me gently. Dad came over to the other side of my bed.
"Hey champ," he was trying to smile as he took my hand. "How ya doing?"
"Tired" I mumbled while I was sniffling, happy to see them both. My voice sounded weird, like my whole mouth was stuffed with cotton. "Where's Ruthie?"
"She's over at the Jacobsen's" my Mom said referring to our next door neighbors. She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sure she'll want to see you soon."
They tried asking me a lot of questions about what the doctor had said and how I was feeling (although nothing at all about how this happened). But I don't think I was much help to them. I was tired and couldn't speak very well through my swollen lips. A short time later the doctor came in the room and introduced himself to my parents.
"All right Andy, how are you feeling?" he asked as he reviewed some paperwork.
"Fine," I mumbled. "Tired."
"Well, you've had a quite a day. I can understand why you're tired. So I'll try to keep this quick and then I'd recommend you turn in and get some rest. As you know we took x-rays of pretty much every bone in your body. And I am happy to report that you are a very lucky young man. We found no fractures. It does appear that you've got a bruised rib which is why it hurts to breathe. Everything else is superficial. You bit your tongue pretty hard at some point which is why there was some blood and why it's been hard to speak. Your eye is swollen shut but we don't detect and serious injury there. It should go down in a few days and we may need to do some more tests on that but generally these things clear up on their own. You'll have one heckuva shiner for a while.
"The bad news, my young friend, is that modern medicine can't do a whole lot for you. Your rib will heal on it's own over time and the rest of your injuries should also pretty much fix themselves. We'll give you some pain medicine but the real prescription for healing all of this is six to eight weeks of rest. No strenuous activity of any kind.
"We will keep you here overnight as a precaution, but then tomorrow you'll go home. You'll be able to go back to school whenever you feel up to it. Perhaps by the end of the week. Any questions?"
If I had listened a little more carefully to what he said, I suppose I might have had some more questions. But I was so tired and out of it, I couldn't think of anything. In fact, I started dozing off as he and my parents continued talking.
Mom came over to me after the doctor left and took my hand. She asked me if I wanted them to stay the night and I said no. I just wanted everyone to leave so I could sleep. She kissed my forehead and told me they'd be back first thing in the morning. She smiled down at me and I stared back at her blankly.
The night in the hospital was kind of rough. Actually, it was awful. I kept waking up either because of pain or because a nurse was trying to take my temperature. And invariably as I'd drift back to sleep, the days events would be replayed in my head, Steve Morgan's brutal face right in front of me.
The next day was pretty much a blur. I felt terrible. Every muscle in my body was aching, every bruise tender. Mom and Dad showed up at my hospital room bright and early. The doctor came by and gave me a whole bunch of instructions and some prescriptions before he said I could go home. I stared at him and nodded but I wasn't paying any attention. I wanted to be left alone. Dad helped me get dressed and just like in the TV shows they took me to the hospital entrance in a wheelchair.
For most of the day at home, I just slept. It was hard to get comfortable no matter what position I was in, but still I didn't want to talk, didn't want to see anyone. Some time in the afternoon I got up to use the bathroom and spent a few minutes staring at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible. My left eye was surrounded by this huge circle of puffy, black bruise. My lips were dry and swollen. Slowly I pulled up my shirt and looked down at my stomach. There were ugly brown bruises everywhere with a huge red splotch covering most of my right side. I took my hand and gently pressed some of the bruises discovering just how sore and painful each one was. I wobbled back into my bed.
Throughout the rest of the day Mom kept coming in and checking on me. I always told her the same thing. I was fine. Just tired. She gave me pills for the pain and tried to get me to eat, but I wasn't hungry at all. She wanted me to come downstairs and rest in the living room, reminding me that the doctor said sitting in the recliner might be comfortable. But I didn't want to go downstairs. I didn't want to see anyone and sure didn't want anyone to see me. It pissed me off that she wouldn't leave me alone.
That evening Dad knocked on my door and came in, telling me I had a visitor. I started to tell him I didn't want to see anyone but as I spoke he opened the door wider and I could see Rob behind him.
"Hey tough guy," he said gently as he walked in the room. "How ya feeling'?"
"Like shit" I mumbled.
"Wow," Rob's face got more serious. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments. "I just. . . . I was worried when I didn't hear from you. What did the doctors say?"
"Bruised rib."
"So, um, what happened?"
I turned my head away from him. I wasn't sure I could tell the story.
"It was Steve Morgan. He . . . it was stupid. I ran into him or something in the parking lot. I just wasn't watching what I was doing. I shoved his arm off and it hit one of his stupid friends. Then they . . . beat me up."
"God," Rob walked over to my bed. He put his hand on mine. "I'm sorry Andy. This is horrible."
"Thanks. I'm glad you came."
"Yeah, well I suppose I should have called or something before coming over. I just . . . well I needed to see you. Make sure you were okay. Lemme know if you need anything this week. Homework or . . . well just anything, all right?"
"Yeah. I will. I promise," I said trying to smile at him.
Rob headed out of the room and I decided to call Travis. I didn't know where to begin, but he was the only person I actually wanted to talk to.
"Hey babe!" I don't think I would ever get tired of hearing that.
"Hey," I said quietly.
"What's up? I missed you online yesterday."
"Yeah, that's why I was calling. Something . . . . something happened yesterday Travis." I was tearing up as I spoke to him.
"What? What's wrong? Why are you talking so funny?"
"I . . . . I got beat up," I said.
"What? What are you talking about Andy?"
"At school. After . . . after school yesterday I ran into some stupid football players and they . . . they beat me up."
"Oh my God! I don't believe it. Are you okay.? What . . . what did they do to you?" There was panic in Travis' voice.
"Black eye. Bruised rib. That's why I haven't been online. I . . . I was at the hospital last night."
"You were in the hospital?! Oh shit, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I mean . . . oh my God. I wish I could be there for you."
"I don't know if you'd say that if you could see me," I said.
"You know that doesn't matter to me, Andy. I'd hold you no matter what because I love you. So . . . what started it? I mean, why did they do it?"
"I told you I like bumped them or something. I guess I wasn't really paying attention or something and they got all pissed off. They held me and I tried to get away but they wouldn't let me."
Travis was quiet for a while. "Do you think, do you think it's cause you came out?"
"No," I whined. "I mean, they did call me a faggot and stuff, but . . . ." Travis' question confused me. It hadn't occurred to me before that maybe they did what they did because I was gay. I thought it was just because they were idiots.
"I'm sorry Andy. Don't worry about it. It was a stupid question."
We were silent for a long time. All I could hear were the sounds of his breathing which made me feel better. Protected. Loved. Just the presence of Travis on the other end of the line seemed to give me some sort of strength, some hope that I might just get through all this.
"It hurts," I said quietly.
"Your rib?"
"No, how much I love you. My heart hurts because I can't even begin to tell you what I'm feeling. I love you."
"I love you too, Andy"
SPRING BREAK CRUISE February 2005
Thanks for your ongoing encouragement and emails. I really love hearing from readers so I hope you'll let me know what you think of the story. There are several more chapters in the works so if you're enjoying it, there's plenty more to come!
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