This story contains male/male consensual relationships of a romantic and sexual nature. If it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please adhere to your laws.
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Part Four
Travis:
It never occurred to me that they were setting me up. I'm stupid, I guess, but I don't deal with people all that much to know that they do stuff like this.
I mean, you read about this kind of stuff in books and see it in movies but this is the real world. Who would do something like this? And what - did they know that I'm gay? Why would they take that kind of picture of me?! Why not threaten to beat me up or make my life a living hell? They had the power to do that. Why the gay thing? Did Ambrose know?
I was so right back in junior high to quit him. I never even thought that he would be the kind of person to do something like this. What if they show someone that picture...or pictures like he said? There was more than one.
If anybody saw them I would not just be the math reject but I'd be the gay math reject. Instead of disappearing into the background the way I liked to, people might actually start paying attention to me, whispering about me. Some of the jocks might decide to rag on me. All I wanted was not to be noticed.
Damn, why hadn't I been smart enough to take the picture off that table and bring it with me? So what if they had the originals and could make more...it would be one less photo in possible circulation.
God, Ambrose...fucking jerk.
I had to talk to Beenie.
I also had to do Josh's homework.
Ambrose:
I had a gig with the band that night and I was not completely with it. I spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom of the college bar we were playing in slicing the insides of my thighs with a razor that was so clean and sharp that I bled all over the place. I did a little x. Then, I spent three hours on stage with my guitar. I ran my fingers over each string. I pretended that it was Travis.
The guys wanted to do some parties afterwards, but it was a Wednesday night and I was coming home at one am because of the show... not that my mom would really care if I spent the entire night away from home. She didn't exactly take the time out to notice things like that. But I went home anyway...because I had school the next day and it would be a chance to see him.
I didn't sleep all night. By the time I got home my phone was ringing and I spent a few hours talking to some girls on the phone. Some girls I had given my number to at a club at some forgotten time a few months ago. They were obviously drunk and very giggly, but it kept my thoughts from wondering back to Travis too much.
When I got off of the phone with them, I stood in front of the full-lenth mirror in my bedroom and I stared at myself...into my bloodshot blue eyes. I took off my shirt and glared at the outline of my chest - a skinny chest for sure. I traced the hollows of my stomach, my hips with shaking hands. I needed to eat more, I knew that. It was just hard to get anything down most of the time.
My hair was messed up, dissheveled all over my head. I knew what people thought about my looks. That I was handsome, pretty, beautiful or whatever...but I didn't feel the same. Whatever I had wasn't enough to attract Travis...and so, it just wasn't enough.
Maybe he liked muscle boys...guys like Josh and Kevin. What if he lusted after Josh? The thought paralyzed me. But I pushed it aside.
More than likely he liked girls. And that was something I would never be. So, maybe I was destined to always be this...empty. I went over to my dresser and looked at the pictures, stacked in a neat little pile. The box next to them was the kind you got when you bought cheap jewelry at the mall. It had been white, but I had spent a half-hour daydreaming and coloring it black with a permanent marker. Inside of it were three clean, brand-new razors, a super-sharp pocket knife and two surgery scapels. I wanted to reach for it, but I knew...I knew I would go too deep. So, I grabbed a bottle of black nail polish that was sitting on top of my dresser instead.
*** Travis:
He sat next to me in French class today. At first, I thought it was to get Josh's homework, but when I handed it over, he just gave it to Josh and sat back down beside me.
Josh was happy. I watched him start to copy what I'd written over in his own handwriting. At least, he knew how to cheat properly.
I barely spoke our vocabulary words for the day. Instead, I mouthed them and listened to his voice.
"L'ete. L'hiver. Le Printemps. L'automne."
His nails were painted black and he was using them to scrape the frayed wood on the edge of the desk next to mine.
"Janvier. Fevrier. Mars. Avril. Mai. Juin. Juillet. Aout. Septembre. Octobre. Novembre. Decembre."
His blue eyes darted to the side in my direction. I looked away. Stared straight ahead. My heart was pounding inside of my chest. I hated him. For what he was doing to me.
I had to hate him.
"Le Matin. L'apres-midi. Le Soir. La Nuit. Hier. Aujourd'hui. Demain."
His voice is distinctive, deep but not so deep. Soft, but steely underneath. Edgy but quavery. Strong.
"Lundi. Mardi. Mercredi. Jeudi. Vendredi. Samedi. Dimanche."
I wouldn't just sit and take it. I would find a way to get him back.
*** Ambrose:
"You didn't copy all the answers, did you?" I asked Josh as we sat in the cafeteria.
"Nope," he said, his eyes twinkling like he was the smartest guy on the planet. I seriously didn't want him to have to repeat his senior year. And I was glad that he was happy.
But I was miserable inside. I could tell that Travis had had little, if any, sleep. He looked stressed. He looked hurt. And the fact of it was, I was the one hurting him.
I didn't think that hurting him would make me this crazy...that it would push me that much closer to the edge.
But I could feel myself slipping, like there was something itchy inside of me that couldn't be scratched. I couldn't prolong it. A couple more assignments and then I'd get him to fuck me. I would give him the only thing that I had of any value. My virginity. If I gave him that, it could never be taken away from me...that he was the first. I would always have that. I could be old and gray and remember that it was Travis that I had given myself to...and maybe he would remember, too. Maybe when he was sitting behind a desk, surrounded by equations, he would remember me...and I wouldn't just be that kid he'd been friends with when he was a boy...or the stoner/rocker freak. I would be more than that.
I needed that. I needed some part of him to be tangled up in me forever. *********************************************************** To be continued......
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