A Tale of Three By J.C. Vascardi
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Legal Disclaimer: This story is fictional, as are the characters featured herein, which are solely the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. If you are under the age of eighteen, offended by male/male material, or if such material cannot be legally viewed where you live, then you should be leaving now. Otherwise, please enjoy the story.
Character Profiles: http://jayson.worldofslash.com/a-tale-of-three/profiles/index.htm Yahoo Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/storiesbyjayson Writing Journal: http://jaycolin.livejournal.com
This story is ©2004-2010, 2011 by J.C. Vascardi. This story is the sole property of its author and may not be copied, in whole or in part, posted on any other website, or included in any form of book or media, without the explicit written permission of the author.
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Chapter Six, Part One Jesse's Perspective Wednesday, January 5, 2005
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It wasn't originally our intent to do so, but it is what happened nonetheless. Jason, whose nickname is Tom, and I spent the night in the guest bedroom at Aunt Karen's house. Of course, being only the second day back to school after winter break, neither Tom nor I had any papers to correct, so it wasn't a very big deal that we spent the night. At the time, Tom taught sixth grade English and I taught seventh grade English at one of the local junior high schools. Eventually, we both took early retirement after we published more novels, but at the time the teaching jobs served their purpose, which was to provide us with the income necessary to pay the bills, since with only one newly published novel to our names, we certainly didn't make anywhere near enough money to live off of.
For as long as I can remember, Tom and I have always dreamed of being best-selling authors. Growing up, some of our friends used to laugh at the goal, thinking that it wasn't a very glamorous job, but they all stopped laughing when Tom and I allowed them to read a few short stories we wrote in high school. After that, they all thought it would be a crime if we did anything else, so none of them were the slightest bit surprised when Tom and I entered college as double English and Creative Writing majors. They all were a little surprised that we enrolled at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington campus, considering that we were born and raised in Minneapolis, Minnesota, but we both felt that it was time for a change.
As I woke up that morning, I couldn't help but smile when I realized that Tom was spooning me. I suppose some people would find the idea of being spooned by their brother to be repulsive, but Tom and I have always been very close. That's partly because we were born about a year apart, but it's also because we shared a bedroom at our parents' house for nineteen years before we left for college. It was nineteen years because I took a year off after graduating from high school so that we could start college at the same time. Some of our friends, who aren't as close with their brothers as Tom and I are with each other, have often asked us how we could stand sharing a room for so many years. Well, I won't lie and say that there weren't times when we would have arguments and wish that we had our own rooms, but it was impossible for us to have our own rooms because our parents' house only had three bedrooms. If Mom and Dad hadn't had our younger brothers, Nathan and Jonathan, or Nat and Jon as we often call them, then we could have had our own rooms. Alas, it wasn't meant to be.
Before meeting Nat and Jon for the first time, one of our friends had suggested that Nat move into one room with me and Tom into the other with Jon after Tom and I had one of our arguments. They realized though, after meeting Nat and Jon, just how impossible that would have been, considering that they're conjoined twins. Nat and Jon are joined at the hip and share a leg. They could have been separated at birth, but our parents made the rather unpopular decision of not having them separated, choosing instead to leave that rather big decision up to them.
Nat and Jon are now twenty-one years old, and their final decision on the matter was that they came into the world joined together and they're going to leave it joined together. Despite the obvious lack of privacy, Nat and Jon have always enjoyed being joined, and they wish that society as a whole would be more accepting of their decision. Unfortunately, most people are pretty close-minded on the subject and think of Nat and Jon as being good for nothing other than a circus freak show. As sad as it is, it would seem that very few people are big enough to see past Nat and Jon's physical connection and get to know them for the individuals that they are. If they did take the time to get to know them, they'd realize just how well-adjusted, friendly, and compassionate they are.
"Hey sleepyhead, it's time to get up," I said as I shook Tom's arm a little.
Tom moaned his response, "Oh, Fox, do I have to?"
"Yes, Tom, you have to."
"Why?"
"Well, one reason is because we both have to work today," I replied as I turned my head so that I could see Tom's face. "The more pressing reason is because I'm a little grossed out feeling my brother's morning hard-on pressed against my ass."
Tom's face deepened a few shades of red before he stopped spooning me and rolled onto his back, his hard-on causing quite the obvious tent in the bed sheets. After a moment, I rolled onto my back as well, and much to Tom's pleasure, I also had a morning hard-on which was tenting the sheets.
"Hmm, are you sure it was grossing you out?" Tom asked. "Because it looks to me like you may have been enjoying it."
"Oh shut up," I replied as I playfully swatted Tom's arm.
"Shall I get out some lubricant?"
Taking a moment to look at the clock on the bedside table, I noted that it read 4 a.m., at which point I replied, "No. As much as I'd love to jack off right now, we should get going."
Leaning forward to look past me at the clock, Tom nodded and said, "We have plenty of time, Fox. I already asked Erik last night, and he said we're welcome to borrow some of his clothes so we don't have to go home to change. He'll be over here in an hour and a half to help Aunt Karen make breakfast, so we're fine."
"Well, in that case," I replied with a smile, "I'm going back to sleep."
"Oh, come on! You're no fun."
"Tommy, shut up and go to sleep."
"Oh, no you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"Fine. Be that way, Matty."
For as long as I can remember, Tom and I have always called each other Tommy and Matty when we really wanted to bug one another. I don't like being called Matty and Tom doesn't like being called Tommy. It probably stems from the fact that we had a grandaunt on our dad's side who always used to call us those names. She was a very stuck-up old witch who cared more about her material possessions then anything or anybody else. I think she called us those names simply because she knew that we didn't like it and wanted to do everything she could to make our lives miserable. One time, when I was six and Tom was five, we were at her house for Thanksgiving dinner. Our dad asked us to help clear the table of the dirty dishes so that they could be washed. Well, our grandaunt was afraid that we'd break her precious dishes, so she told us in the meanest way she possibly could that she didn't want us to handle her dishes.
Tom then made the mistake of talking back and said that it was okay because we always helped clear the dishes at our grandmother's house. Our grandaunt's response to that was that she didn't care what we did at our grandmother's house because our grandmother's dishes were dime store shit compared to hers. Her tone was so overbearing and loud that both Tom and I couldn't help but cry. Had we been older when she said it, we probably would have stood up to her, but at five and six, we were just too scared of her. She died about two years after that, and Tom and I both insisted on going to her funeral because, as bad as it might sound, we both wanted to make sure that she was dead.
"Well, truth be told, I am still kind of tired," Tom said as I reached over and reset the alarm to go off at 5:15 a.m.
"Good, then go to sleep."
"Can I spoon you again?"
"You didn't ask permission last time, why ask now?"
"Because I was asleep last time."
"Oh fine, if it means we can sleep," I replied as I grabbed a throw pillow from the floor and put it behind my ass. "There, go ahead."
"Why the pillow?"
"While I don't mind your arms around me," I replied, "I draw the line at feeling your hard penis pressed against my ass."
"It's not like you haven't felt it before, straight boy, what's the problem?" Tom asked. Both of us are straight, but, as I've mentioned we've always been close and we've 'helped each other out' a few times over the years. Mostly just masturbating together, usually keeping our hands to ourselves, but we have done each other a few times. Curiosity had also led to some oral play, especially after Nat and Jon told us they were gay, but it's never gone beyond that and we were both very comfortable with the fact that we were straight.
Turning my head, I saw the grin on Tom's face, which told me he was only kidding and being the classic annoying little brother.
"Oh, shut up and go to sleep," I replied, matching Tom's grin and lightly kicking him in the shin.
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Chapter Six, Part Two Ryan's Perspective Wednesday, January 5, 2005
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I'd be lying if I said that I got very much sleep that night, but considering who was in the bed on the other side of the room, that isn't really surprising. I kept waking up, like, every half hour to check on Sean, wanting to make sure that he was still there and alive. As the eldest brother, I probably feel more responsible for my younger brothers than they feel for each other. Of course, that's because I was five years old when Jake was born, seven when Sean was born, and nine when Kyle was born, so I often helped my parents take care of them. In some ways, I feel almost like a step-father to my brothers, so I can't help but think that now that our father is dead and our mother is catatonic that I'm responsible for making sure that they lead happy and healthy lives.
I realize that they're all grown up now, and for the most part they all have made very good decisions for their lives. The exception to that of course would be Sean, who has made nothing but bad decisions about his life since he turned sixteen and started taking drugs. You may be wondering what drug or drugs Sean was taking, but to be honest, at the time I didn't know what he was taking by that point. I do know that when he first started taking drugs, it was the prescription pain reducer hydrocodone. Our maternal grandfather lived with us at the time and was taking hydrocodone for a back injury. Shortly after turning sixteen, Sean injured his knee in baseball practice and started sneaking hydrocodone pills from our grandfather's medicine cabinet. Our grandfather soon realized that something was wrong because his prescription was running out faster than it should have.
Then one day, when mom was putting laundry away in Sean's dresser, she found a sock containing a small pill box that held three of grandfather's hydrocodone pills. Mom and dad knew that Sean had injured his knee, but the doctor had told him that the injury was not bad enough to prescribe a narcotic pain reducer and he was told to just take aspirin if the pain got to be too much for him to handle. Obviously, he didn't listen to the doctor and instead began taking grandfather's prescription. Sean was then grounded for a month and dad installed a padlock on the medicine cabinet in grandfather's bathroom. Unfortunately, by that point, Sean had already secured another source of hydrocodone and continued to take it behind everyone's back.
Shortly after he turned seventeen, Sean also started to drink as he fell in with the wrong crowd in school. I call it the wrong crowd now, but back then none of us knew that it was the wrong crowd because they were the popular kids who came from semi-wealthy families. Mom and Dad incorrectly assumed that they would be a positive influence on Sean. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth because it was after he started hanging out with the popular kids that his behavior grew even worse. I'm not saying that every student at Sean's school who was popular was into taking drugs and drinking, but at least a third of them were. By then, Sean was staying out well past curfew most nights and when he would sneak back into the house at two or three in the morning, it was always pretty obvious that he was either drunk, stoned or both.
I suppose some people would be quick to blame my parents for the situation, saying that they had it in their power as Sean's parents to stop his activities. However, truth be told, they didn't. Something that has to be taken into consideration is the fact that my parents had never intended to have children to begin with. That isn't to say that we weren't wanted or unloved, but they were both older than most people are when they start families. Dad was forty-three and Mom was thirty-four when I was born, so by the time Sean was seventeen years old, our mom and dad were fifty-eight and sixty-seven respectively.
Other than their ages, both of our parents had other health concerns which made them unable to discipline Sean. Shortly after Kyle was born, Dad was in a car accident which left him paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. Mom had been struck very hard by the polio virus as a child, so while she was able to regain the ability to walk, she had to wear braces on her legs and use crutches. So, neither of them were really able to stand up to a seventeen year-old who was in top physical condition, having always been very athletic. Sean could very easily have tipped Dad's wheelchair over with him in it or knocked Mom off her feet. So in a sense, I think they both were afraid that could happen and that Sean, whose mind and judgment were clouded by the drugs, would not only have no problem whatsoever in doing it but would also feel no remorse nor any feeling that he should help them up from the floor.
As for why Jake or myself never did anything to help with Sean's problems, it's because our parents decided not to tell us about them. I had graduated from college by that point and was living and working in New York City while Jake was at college in Wilmington. Our parents didn't want to burden us I guess, figuring that they'd been enough of a burden already. So, they decided not to tell us and forbid Kyle to tell us because they knew that if we had known, I would have said to hell with my job, Jake would have said to hell with college, and we'd both be on the next flights back to Jacksonville. It wasn't until Sean ran away from home and stayed gone for over six months that our parents finally told us what had been happening. We were both quite angry that our parents hadn't informed us of Sean's problems, but we didn't go back to Jacksonville immediately because, with Sean nowhere to be found, there wouldn't have been much we could have done anyway.
I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard a moaning sound from the other side of the room. I quickly got out of bed, walked over to Sean's bed, and sat down on the edge of it. Sean was moaning in his sleep and, by the look on his face, I could only assume that he was having a bad dream or something. My parental instinct immediately kicked in and I gently placed a hand on Sean's forehead as I began to ever so gently rub his head, something which our mother always did whenever one of us had a nightmare as children. After a moment, Sean jumped a bit and then woke up, pushing my hand away.
"You looked like you were having a bad dream," I said as Sean sat up in bed and glared at me. I must admit that seeing Sean's eyes bearing into me was very scary. Looking into them, they were cold, dark, and completely devoid of any trace of the Sean that I grew up with and loved. I could only hope that it wasn't too late to get him help, because I didn't want Sean to go through the rest of his life with that look in his eyes, which were probably colder than death itself.
"So what if I was? It's not like you care."
"That's not true. I do care."
"Oh please, you could care less about me."
"Sean, don't say that. It's not true."
"Oh really? You're the one who left and then Jake left, leaving me all alone to take care of Kyle and the cripples."
"Sean Douglas Bradley, I don't ever want to hear you refer to our parents as cripples again!" I said in my sternest voice.
"Why the hell not?! That's what they fucking were!" Sean yelled in response. Sean's yelling must have drawn their attention, because shortly thereafter Chris came into the room, followed by Jake. "Well, well, if it isn't Jake, my other abandoner," Sean said before looking at Chris and asking, "Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Chris."
"Oh, Chris, that's right. You're Jake's fuck toy."
"Sean!"
"What? That's what he is Jake," Sean sneered. "Why you ever left Jessica for him, I'll never know. She was always hot, well, except for the months after you knocked the little whore up with your bastard."
"No, that is not what he is," replied Jake angrily. "Chris is the man I love, and I am not going to stand here and listen to you calling him my fuck toy! And don't you fucking dare talk about Jess and my son that way, Sean!"
"Oh, shut up you fucking faggot!" yelled Sean. "You both can go to hell for all I care. I'm out of here."
Before anyone could react, Sean kicked me hard in the side and I fell to the floor. He then jumped out of bed and, seemingly not caring that he was in only his underwear, made a dash for the door. Jake and Chris quickly moved in front of it, blocking his escape.
"Get out of my way!" Sean yelled.
"Not a chance, Sean," Jake replied. "You're not going anywhere."
"Oh, the hell I'm not," Sean yelled at the top of his lungs as he hauled out and punched Jake in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain.
My side still ached where Sean had kicked me, but I managed to get up. Knowing that Sean had been the star of his high school wrestling team before he started on drugs and dropped out of school, I knew that I would not be able to just grab him and hold him for very long, especially considering the pain that was still coursing through my side. So, while it may seem strange, I did the only thing that I could think of and grabbed the oversized UNC-Wilmington sweatshirt that I'd been wearing the previous day. Sean was just about to punch Chris in the mouth with his right fist when I came up behind him and, in a pretty deft movement on my part, managed to get his right arm into one of the sleeves of the sweatshirt. I quickly pulled it over both Sean's and my head and then stepped back, pulling Sean along with me and saving Chris from getting punched.
Jake, who had by now managed to recover enough from Sean punching him, lunged forward and grabbed Sean's left arm and forced it into the other sleeve of the sweatshirt, pulling it down around both Sean's and my torsos. Sean was, of course, fighting it the entire time as I maneuvered my own arms into the sleeves, trying to gain some control over Sean so that he couldn't punch anyone. I quickly wrapped my arms around Sean's chest, pinning his arms underneath mine, and held on for dear life, hoping that he'd calm down. Of course, that isn't what happened. With me holding Sean's upper body so tightly against my own, he had little trouble lifting his legs from the floor and kicking Jake away from him so hard that Jake stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.
Chris just stood back and watched as Sean kicked the air around him wildly, knowing that if he got anywhere near him, he'd end up on the floor as well. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Chris looked like he wasn't sure what to do until Jake, who was still lying on the floor, looked over at him and said, "Go answer it, quick!"
I later found out from Jake that he knew who was at the door because he'd gotten off the phone with Kyle a few minutes before coming into Sean's room. Sure enough, moments later, Chris came back into the room, followed by Kyle, Jordan, and Matthew. They all took in the sight for a moment before Kyle looked at his boyfriends and they nodded in acknowledgement to some unspoken request. Kyle then turned to face me and motioned with his hand that I should start backing up toward the bed, so I did. Once I was almost to the bed, Jordan and Matthew lunged forward and tackled Sean and me, pushing us down onto my bed. They then both grabbed one of Sean's legs and stopped him from thrashing them wildly in the air.
By this time Jake had gotten back onto his feet and, quickly grabbing the sweatpants that matched the sweatshirt I was now sharing with Sean, he pulled them over both Sean's and my legs, thus making sure that Sean could no longer kick anyone. Once the sweatpants were halfway up, Kyle and Chris lifted Sean and my midsection from the bed ever so slightly so that Jake could pull the sweats up the rest of the way. After a while, Sean, who had either exhausted himself by this point or realized that further resistance was at this point futile, stopped fighting. I relaxed my grip around Sean's chest and sat up, forcing Sean into a sitting position with me.
Jake smiled and replied, "As I said earlier Sean, you're not going anywhere."
"Well, Jake, that's not entirely true," I replied. "He is going somewhere. He's going to go and get the help he needs."
"He can get the help he needs right here," Kyle replied. "I guessed that Sean would put up a fight, so I talked to Jay and Drew Matthews. They offered to foot the bill to have all of the necessary equipment to detoxify Sean brought here to the house. So then I called Dr. Canfield and she's going to make all of the arrangements for the equipment to be brought over."
"You're not doing a fucking thing to me!" screamed Sean, though with a lot less force then his previous outbursts.
Due to my close proximity to him, I could feel Sean's heart beating pretty fast, so I knew that he'd exhausted himself trying to fight us.
"That's where you're wrong, Sean," Jake replied. "We're going to help you get over your problems whether you want our help or not."
"I don't have any problems," replied Sean venomously. "It's all of you jackasses who have the problem."
"Sean, you're not thinking clearly," Kyle calmly replied. "The drugs and alcohol are clouding your judgment. At any rate, I don't care if we have to go to court and have you declared incompetent, we are going to get you the help that you need and you have no say in the matter."
"The hell I don't!" yelled Sean.
I could see the anger in Kyle's face, and I wasn't really surprised when he slapped Sean across the face and then yelled at him, "Sean, I don't care what you say or think because it's not you talking or thinking, it's the drugs and the alcohol! Before you left home, I watched you get worse and worse and I watched Mom and Dad worrying their minds out over you. I watched as Mom would come into this room in the morning afraid that she would find you dead, and I also watched as she planned your funeral right down to the pallbearers! I refuse to attend my twenty-three year-old brother's funeral, Sean! If I have anything to say about it, I am not going to attend your funeral for at least another sixty years! So whether you want help or you don't, whether you're willing to admit you have a problem or not, we're going to get you treatment and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it!"
I could tell by the looks on everyone's face, even Sean's, that they were surprised when Kyle swore, because he only swears when he gets very, very angry, and it takes a whole hell of a lot to get him that angry. Shortly after his outburst, tears began to stream from Kyle's eyes and, leaning in close to Sean's face, he said, "I love you Sean."
Kyle then ran from the room, crying his eyes out, and Jordan and Matthew ran after him to comfort him, leaving Jake, Chris, and I with Sean who, for the first time since he woke up that morning, was completely silent. Looking into Sean's eyes again, I noticed that they didn't look quite as dead as they had when he woke up that morning. I could see the slightest hint of the kind and gentle Sean that I had grown up with and loved, as if perhaps Kyle's outburst and subsequent tears had somehow managed to break past the drugs and alcohol and appeal to the real Sean.
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Chapter Six, Part Three Aaron's Perspective Thursday, January 6, 2005
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I spent the night at Nick's house that night to make sure that he was truly okay. He told me that he was, but knowing him as long as I have, I got the impression that he was just saying that to try and make me feel better. That's classic Nick, always wanting to put the feelings of others ahead of his own. I've told him more times than I can count that I want him to be completely honest with me and not worry about sparing my feelings or trying to make me feel better, but sometimes he doesn't listen. He does, however, know me well enough to know that it is pointless and futile to argue with me once I've made up my mind to do something, so he didn't fight me when I told him I'd be spending the night.
Nick's room is the one that the two of us shared while my mom was married to his uncle. Even though they're divorced now and I live with my mom next door, the room hasn't been changed, so there's still two beds set up in the room. I had intended to sleep in the other bed, but after a while Nick confessed that he wasn't doing as well as he'd been letting on. He was trying hard to put the negative thoughts of his past out of his mind, but he was failing. In an effort to provide whatever comfort I could, I crawled into his bed with him, wrapped my arms around him tightly, and began to hum softly in his ear.
The next morning, I awoke when Nick's uncle started shaking me and said, "Come on you two, it's time to get up."
"What time is it?" I asked groggily.
"Almost 6:30," replied Nick's uncle. "I've been calling and calling, but you guys were fast asleep."
"Oh man," I replied as I shot up into a sitting position, pulling Nick along with me since my arms were still wrapped around him.
"What's going on?" Nick asked sleepily.
"Come on, Nick, it's time to get up," I replied. "We overslept, and if we don't hurry we're going to be late for school."
"I've gotta get going," Nick's Uncle Erik replied. "I'm due in court in an hour. Karen is driving me down to the courthouse so that you can take my car to school, since you've missed your bus at this point. The keys are on the hook by the backdoor."
"Thanks Uncle Erik," Nick replied as the two of us got out of bed and started to quickly get dressed.
Lucky for the both of us we had gym class first period, so we weren't that concerned about not having time to shower that morning as we could do it after class. Nick and I both ended up wearing khaki pants, white t-shirts, and matching blue silk shirts that we left unbuttoned. Running out of Nick's room and down the stairs, we stopped to get our shoes on before heading into the kitchen. Nick grabbed our jackets and backpacks while I grabbed the car keys from the hook by the door. After making sure the house was locked, Nick and I headed outside to his Uncle Erik's 1997 sapphire blue Jaguar XK8 convertible. The car had originally belonged to Nick's dad, but when he died, Erik inherited it from him.
"It's so cool that your uncle is letting us take his car," I said as I got behind the wheel and fastened my seatbelt.
"Yeah, I can't wait to pull up in this car," Nick replied as he tossed our backpacks into the backseat. "We'll be the most popular kids in school."
"Yeah, that's true," I replied as Nick got in and I started the car.
About twenty minutes later, we arrived at school and, as expected, many of the other students gathered in front of the building waiting for the start of the day bell to ring were drawn to the car. As I parked the car in the small student and visitor lot across the street from the school, a group of four people, three boys and a girl, walked over.
"Hey Nick, Aaron," said our friend, Brian Foster. "Nice wheels."
"Thanks," replied Nick as he got out of the car. "It's my uncle's car. We overslept and missed the bus, so he got Aaron's mom to drive him to work so we could take his car."
"What kind of car does your mom drive again, AZ?" asked Brian's step-brother, Antonio Foster.
"A Buick LeSabre," I replied.
"And they let you drive the Jag?" asked our friend Jayden Travis, obviously shocked.
"Well, you've met Nick's uncle," I replied. "You know just as well as us how cool he is. He knew that, if given the choice, we'd prefer to show up in his Jag than in my mom's car. Plus, my mom is dropping Nick's uncle off at the courthouse today on her way to work and she's always been afraid to drive the Jag."
"Well, I can certainly understand why she'd be afraid," replied Antonio's girlfriend Caroline, or Carly as she prefers to be called. Nick grabbed his and my backpacks from the backseat of the car before I pressed the button to raise the roof. "I'd be terrified to drive this thing."
"Well, my uncle taught Aaron and I how to drive in this car," Nick replied, "so we're both used to it now."
Just as I was getting out of the car, the start of school bell rang. Looking across the street to the building, I could see the large crowd of students beginning to file inside. Locking the car and turning on the alarm system, I took my backpack from Nick and then headed across the street with my friends for another day of school.
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To be continued.