Unspoken bonds

By k o

Published on Dec 25, 2024

Gay

Unspoken bonds, Chapter 4: The hollow day

Everyone is over 18 years of age

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Category: College, Authoritarian

Please feel free to contact me: nite_25@hotmail.com. Tell me what you think.


The next morning, Ruben woke to an empty house. His father had already left for work, a fact that brought a strange sense of relief. He wasn't ready to face him yet.

He rummaged through his old wardrobe, knowing he hadn't packed any clothes for this trip. The options were limited--worn-out relics from his teenage years, outdated and faded. Out of stubborn defiance, he chose the most tattered pieces he could find: a threadbare t-shirt with holes in the body, and a pair of swim trunks, frayed at the edges and way too tight around his thighs. The shirt hung loosely on his frame, its neckline stretched far and uneven. He didn't care. The more worn, the better--it felt like the perfect protest against the polished perfection of the house.

He swam laps in the vast backyard pool, the water cool against his skin but failing to invigorate him. Later, he sprawled out on the plush couch in the media room, his wet trunks sticking to his skin outlining his dick, playing games on the enormous flat-screen TV. The games were mindless distractions.

That evening, Ruben decided to escape the house. He ordered a pizza from a local joint and ate it in the corner booth. He stared out the window, watching the town's quiet rhythm unfold.

After finishing his pizza, Ruben wandered into a bar he used to frequent. The dim lighting and loud chatter felt like a welcome escape from the suffocating stillness of his father's house. He nursed a drink, leaning casually against the bar. His hair was messy, sticking to his forehead, and his flushed face glowed faintly under the warm light. For the first time all day, he looked almost at ease, the noise and chaos providing a temporary reprieve from his thoughts.

Familiar faces began to trickle in, each one greeting him with polite smiles and surface-level pleasantries.

"Did you hear about Marcus? Cindy's pregnant, and he's working at the garage across the street now."

"Remember Sarah? She moved to the city--big-shot lawyer now."

The gossip felt hollow, like echoes from a life that no longer belonged to him. Ruben smiled and nodded, offering half-hearted responses, his fingers occasionally drumming against his glass.

At some point, he excused himself to the bathroom, the noise of the bar fading into the background as he pushed open the heavy door. The lights flickered faintly, casting an unflattering glow over the small space. The walls were lined with grimy tiles, and posters for concerts and events from months ago, were taped haphazardly near the mirrors.

As Ruben approached one of the urinals, the door creaked open, and a voice called out behind him. "Ruben?"

He turned his head slightly to see Michael, an old classmate. Impeccably dressed in a crisp shirt and tailored slacks, Michael's polished appearance stood in stark contrast to Ruben's worn and rumpled outfit.

"Wow, it's been a while," Michael said with an easy grin as he took the spot next to Ruben. "How've you been?"

"Good, I guess," Ruben replied, his tone noncommittal as he focused on the cracked tiles in front of him.

Michael, undeterred, launched into a monologue about his life--his career trajectory, recent engagement, and meticulously planned goals. "You've got to have a vision, Ruben," he said, his tone bordering on patronizing. "That's how you make things happen."

Ruben nodded, forcing a weak smile, but the words weighed heavily on him. Michael's confidence, his polished certainty--it all felt suffocating, as though the perfect life Michael described left no room for mistakes or doubts.

Michael finished up and washed his hands briskly, flashing another smile before heading out. "Good catching up, Ruben. Don't be a stranger." The door swung shut behind him, leaving Ruben alone in the dimly lit space.

He exhaled shakily and stepped into one of the stalls, locking the door behind him. The sound of his breathing echoed in the small, claustrophobic space. He sat on the closed toilet lid, his elbows resting on his knees as he tried to calm again the tightness in his chest.

The perfect life Michael had described loomed over him like a weight, amplifying his own uncertainty. He felt his breath quicken, shallow and uneven, as if the air itself were closing in. Ruben tugged at the buttons of his shirt, loosening them to let more air reach his chest. The fabric gaped open, revealing his tensed muscles as he pressed a hand to his sternum.

But the air he drew in smelled of the stale bathroom--a mix of cleaning chemicals, urine and lingering dampness. It didn't help; if anything, it made the tightness worse. He ran a hand through his messy hair, closing his eyes and willing himself to focus, to steady his breathing. His fingers touched his nipples, slowly he made circular movements. The effect slowly calmed him down but made him horny while he inhaled the urine dampened air.

Minutes passed before the worst of the tension eased. He leaned back against the cold wall of the stall, his cock hard in his pants, replacing panic and emptiness with hornyness.

Next: Chapter 5


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