Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction; I don't know any of the celebrities mentioned in this chapter or future chapters nor know anything about their sexual orientation. This is simply a fan fic from someone who is a huge fan. This story contains gay images and feelings, if you are not of legal age for your state/region please don't read this. For all others please enjoy and feed back is welcome.
Watching him effortlessly on the drums, I marveled at his talent and grace, and silently thought to myself about how things changed in so short a time. That wasn't to say I was back to normal by any means, but I was getting there, and I already felt better now that I had in quite awhile. I definitely felt much better than I had a week ago, when right now, the things happening, those would've seemed an impossibility. I shut my eyes as I had a flashback and began to whimper, not even noticing he'd stopped playing until his arms were around me and he was rocking me gently. It had been a week since he had found me, found me and saved me, saved my life. Not that I was dying, but you could hardly count it as living either.
I pushed my long hair from my eyes and smiled at him, still amazed at where I was. I didn't see myself as handsome, not even particularly good looking. I had long brown hair and blue eyes, I wore glasses, and I didn't exactly exude style. I wore t-shirts and jeans most of the time, and sneakers. I really didn't care what I looked like or if anyone thought I had no style. I wore what I was comfortable in and was no about to change because others thought I should. I was just under average height and not thin, but not fat either. I was somewhere in the middle, which was an apt description for all of me. I was non-descript, somewhere in the middle, nothing special in looks, or in anything else. He knew I was thinking about my past and he just held me. He could tell me to think of other things, but he knew in order to come to terms with my past, I couldn't just forget about it and move on to other things.
I grew up in Houston, Texas. I had 2 wonderful parents, wonderful siblings, and while there wasn't a whole lot of money, I didn't go without either. I remember playing all day, alternating between swimming, to cool off after running around and being hot and drenched in sweat, and playing ball or just running around. I didn't have many friends, but there were a few. And I loved baseball from before I could really understand it. There were pictures of me at about 2 years old with a baseball cap two big for me covering part of my face, a Houston Astros t-shirt on, shorts and sneakers, and holding a baseball in a glove also too big for me. When I was old enough, I played it for awhile, and was fairly good at it, though I never felt I was anything that special. I just was, and that was it. And who was I? Who am I?? Well, my name is Jett McKenzie Allenson. I am about to turn 24 and I know he has something big planned for my birthday, even though I said no. I love him though and I will always be grateful to him, so I will allow him to have his way. In order to fully appreciate him, one has to know more about me, and what led up to meeting him.
As I grew up, I did well in school and continued to play baseball. I never had many friends, because I was fairly shy and introverted, and found it difficult to make them. I had issues with depression as I grew up and I developed many odd behaviors and obsessions, which I later learned was caused by obsessive-compulsive disorder. I struggled with those for years, though medicine goes far towards helping me remain stable and normal -- or as normal as is possible. I graduated from high school without any distinction, but with a good GPA nevertheless. I was urged to go to college, but I chose to put if off, at least for a time and work and try and actually decide what I wanted to do. It seemed pointless to go to college just to go. And I was very unsure of what I wanted to do with my life, or where to go once I had finished high school. I got a job in fast food and though it was hard with odd hours, some part of me actually enjoyed what I was doing, and the smaller staff made it easier to make friends there and feel part of a team. I learned everything and pushed for advancement, which I did achieve. I wasn't fully comfortable with it, as it wasn't easy to be in charge of others, but I did the best I could, and I felt I was a good manager. Not the best manager, not even close, but a good one. Life wasn't necessarily great, but it wasn't bad. And I had money, a good family, and no big problems.
As far as my love life, well I didn't have one. I didn't meet people often because I didn't really go out a lot. Partly because I didn't really have a lot of money, but the main reason is I was uncomfortable about doing so, and never really knew good places to go anyway. And when I did, I kept to myself and didn't really interact with anyone else anyway. I got online a lot, however, and chatted with several people. I could look at pictures all day too and spot the guys I'd want to date in a heartbeat. Yes, I'm gay, and I have never felt ashamed of it or been afraid to tell anyone. Well, I was worried what my family would say when I came out, but they were very accepting and extremely supportive of me. They wanted me to be happy and saw it as a part of me and who I was.
So I was fairly happy, had a job and family, a few friends, and things seemed like they were going to be ok. And then, well things began to happen. I don't know for sure where it started or what started it, I just know that things began to happen and as much as I tried to maintain my footing, it wasn't going to happen, and I basically fell flat on my face.
I remember going to my parents one afternoon, a rainy day, but not anything that would foreshadow anything. I was talking, enjoying myself, when my dad turned to me.
"So, when are you going to start college Jett?" he asked me, "Follow in my footsteps like you know you want to Jett. You need to this."
I scowled at him and shook my head, "I've told you dad. I don't want to do this. Not right now. I'm okay at my job and I really don't know what I want to do, so it would just be a waste of time. Alright? Get off my back, please."
"Don't you talk to me like that," my dad snapped, "I'm only trying to look out for you. I don't want you to ... well I just don't want to see you make a big mistake."
I shook my head, "I told you my decision. And I am not about to change it. So just deal with it, ok?"
"Jett, I am only going to say this once," my mom suddenly snapped, "You walk out the door without promising to go to college, you can do without our help for anything. You're messing up your future, ruining your life, and that's fine. But we're not going to help you do that. Don't say I didn't warn you young man."
I shook my head and sighed, "I thought you might be on my side mother, but apparently you'd rather see me unhappy and wasting my time just so I can be in college, then to wait until a time I am ready to go to college and I know why I am going, and actually make it worth it. I told you I'm not going to college, not now, and that's my final word on the matter."
"Fine," my mother snapped, "You can go now. I'm too upset right now for you to be here. Goodbye."
I left, noticing my father didn't say a word to me, and didn't look at me. I hated to fight with them and I was surprised by it. I knew it was a petty thing, and I didn't blame anyone, not even them, for it. But I was stubborn and I didn't call them, not wanting to admit to anything. That, and I was scared that there would be more fighting, and I didn't want that. I'd hated fighting them and was already shaky mentally, and another fight might have pushed me over the edge. As it turned out, I was pushed over the edge anyway.
It had been a busy night, no a busy week, at work, and I was tired and frustrated. I usually have no problem maintaining my cool and not letting things get to me, but my boss had been even pushier that week and his behavior was unprofessional. First he cut one of our best employee's hours because she had called in. It was one night and the first time in over a year that she had actually done so. Despite that, he cut her hours, and though it wasn't a lot, it was still noticeable. Then one of our other managers nearly got suspended after coming down with the stomach flu and missing work, and she and I had to sit down with him and discuss it with him. She had doctor's notes and it was clear she was unable to work, and we all knew it. She'd broken no rules, so suspension would've been against the rules. He knew it and we called him on, so he backed down. Then he came to me that week and asked me to fire another employee, one of our best, but one who had been late a few times. I didn't do so, though I sat the employee down and discussed it with him. As the work week ended, I thought the situation had blown over and despite my frustration and fatigue, was in a fairly good mood. Then my boss showed up shortly before close on Sunday night and took me aside.
"Jett, you were told to fire Andrew," he said, "Why is he still here? He has been late and we can't allow that. Now go and fire him. I want him fired right now and you will do it."
I folded my arms, "First, he's been on time all week long, and I did discuss the issue with him. Secondly, I understand being on time is good, but do you realize if we get rid of him, we lose probably our best employee. And we aren't going to find anyone close to his level to replace him anytime soon."
"I don't care. You were told to fire him and you're going to do so," my boss snarled at me, "I am sick of you questioning me. This is your job and you will do it."
I snarled and lost my cool, "NO! I WON'T DO IT!! IT WOULD BE WRONG AND UNPROFESSIONAL AT THIS POINT!!"
"Fine," he said softly, "Fine. You won't fire him, then you can go. You're fired Jett. Get out of my face and out of my store."
I shook my head, "No. I quit sir. And I hope you lose this store and your job for the way you do business." I left the store and never went back, except to pick up my last paychecks. Within a week, my rent went up and my bills seemed to go up as well. I lost my internet, then cable, and soon my apartment as well. I lived in my car for awhile and drove it around until it ran out of gas.
Shortly after, I wound up in the hospital, after falling very ill. I had no clue what was wrong with me but I felt terrible so I dragged myself to an ER and was admitted, hooked up to IVs and machines, and slowly got better. I had diabetes and was given an insulin regimen to follow and coached on giving myself shots and what I should eat, and things of that nature.
I had been stubborn, so I didn't tell anyone, and the bills piled up. I couldn't pay anything and couldn't afford to eat, so I had to find food where I could get it, try and find a place to stay, food to eat, to keep myself alive and at least somewhat healthy. One afternoon I was approached by a man named Carl. He offered to let me stay with him and he'd help take care of me and make sure I had food and medicine. I had no other option, as I saw it, so I agreed to it and went home with him.
That night was wonderful as I got a bath and some food and a soft bed to lie in. Carl let me watch television and read or get on his computer for a little bit. I felt so much better and I began to fall for Carl. He also was a fairly decent lovemaker and so that made me happy as well and I was beginning to feel a bit better about things. I decided I would go and look for a job and get some of my own money.
"Carl," I approached him, "I'm going to look for a job tomorrow. I will have some of my own money. And I think ... OWWW! OOFF!" I gasped as Carl landed a punch to my stomach and grabbed my hair.
He snarled at me, "You will stay in this house and go nowhere. If you want to work, then you can work. You can start by getting me something to eat. I think I want steak and baked potato with some fresh green beans as well. Oh, a salad as well, Jett." He punched me again. "Well? Go on and do it. Don't waste my time." He slugged me across the face and I hit the floor hard. I teared up and slowly went to the kitchen and began to cook for him. I began to make enough for two when he walked in and slammed my head against one of the cabinets. "I didn't say cook for you. You can eat later and what I say you will eat."
I nodded and got slammed into the cabinet again.
"You say `yes master'," he snapped at me, and slugged me again.
"Yes master," I whimpered to him, and made his food. He wasn't satisfied and after another beating, trashed it, and had me make it again. Luckily this time he was satisfied and ate it. I later got food, enough to allow me to take insulin and get rid of a bit of hunger, but nothing like I should've gotten.
He got worse and worse, leaving bruises, cuts, and various other kinds of injuries and wounds all over my body. He'd give me insulin and no food and let my sugar fall as punishment and just before I passed out would either give me sugar, sugary food, or sometimes a shot of glucagon, the medicine to raise my sugar back up.
I lost weight, my clothes became dirty and were in shambles, my hair was long, my facial hair matted and disgusting. I could barely move some days, barely even felt like moving. I had to get out, but he kept a close eye on me, and made sure when he did leave me alone, I was either restrained, locked in a closet, or too hurt to move.
I was miserable, scared of my shadow, afraid to do anything, depressed and mentally unable to cope. I managed to drag myself to the computer one day and went to my email. It was practically all junk but there was an ad for upcoming events. There weren't many, but one caught my eye. I could go there and sneak in, get lost in the crowd. It would work, I knew it would. I'd have to figure out a way to sneak out, but I thought that might not be too hard if I could get him drunk. Then I'd go to the concert, get lost in the crowd, and escape this hell I was in.
I didn't know a thing about the Hansons but if I was going to escape and change my life and things in my life, and then I had to take my chances when I could. My mind was made up and I put together a plan.