Disclaimer: This story (not at the moment, but eventually will) contains sexual content of a homosexual nature between consenting males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you are under legal age in your respective area, offended by the kind of relationships depicted in this story, or otherwise do not wish to view material of a honest and sexual nature ; I advise you to stop reading immediately; otherwise, enjoy. And put the box of tissues down--it won't be that kind of story.

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. Many characters and situations were inspired by real people, including myself. I would gladly appreciate any feedback. (In fact, I live off it; it's what make good stories great) This includes constructive criticisms. All flames will be ignored/deleted. Please send to solarmiraclexv2005@yahoo.com

Sidelines: by SolarMiracleXv

Act 1 --Shock! A New Season! Turning of a New Leaf--

Shane's Blog:

Timestamp: 19:26 pm

Date: 14 October 2005

Current Song: (SeraMyu) Asami Yuhka, Takagi Nao/Harsh! Saint Cry!

Current Mood: Anxious, Borderline Panic Attack

Okay, I'm kinda new to this type of thing...I mean, I've kept journals before, but this is different. Putting your whole life out there, for everyone to see. It's got such a...rawness to it, I guess. I suppose before we get any further, we should get the basics out of the way. My name is Shane Davies. I'm 21, 5'7"/125lbs. I have sandy hair, and green eyes. I'm an artist, but I like to write as well (obviously since I seem putting up this blog).

Lately, I've been constantly getting that feeling. You know the one. You're out and about, and get that nagging feeling that you forgot to do something important, like turn the iron off, change your underwear, or water the plants before you left. Unfortunately, I don't get that feeling over being a walk-away chef or a negligent gardener; I mostly get that feeling about my life these days. I turned 21 last month... and I feel like I'm going nowhere. I'm not in school. I'm stuck in a dead-end job at this dive restaurant, and I dunno...I know that I've got to do something about it, but what?

I feel like the whole world is moving around me, and I'm just...stuck. Time for me is running out. I don't mean this in a `I have 6 months left to live' kind of way, more as a `I don't want to turn into a shiftless loser' way. Either way, I know I've gotta do something...or I'll end up as some of my friends are now--25, and still living with their parents, and I cannot stress enough how that can't happen.

Shane's fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment as he takes a look out of his bedroom window. The harsh light of day is beginning to subside, and the sky is fading into its usual patchwork quilt of amber hues. Through the speakers of his laptop, there's a soft, almost inaudible tone as his media player switches tracks, to a new song he hadn't heard before, more than likely because he had way too many mp3s to begin with. Curiously, he moves the mouse over the embedded taskbar and green ghosted letters that pop up show that it's a Fukada Kyoko single. Shrugging, deciding he likes the tune; he figures he's wasted enough time being distracted and moves his fingers back into place, about to start again.

Unfortunately, he doesn't get more than a few sentences out before he's distracted again, this time, by a knock at the door. His room is pretty spacious, having the whole 3rd floor to himself (as he should, now that his mother is insisting on him paying rent after the passing of his 21st birthday), it's almost like a small apartment; having it's own mini-kitchen, and full bathroom--he rarely needs to go down into the main portion of the house, even coming with a private stairwell in the backside of the house. Which ordinarily keeps him safe from prying eyes. Most of the time.

"Yes?" A female voice, that of his sixteen year old sister Ashley, wafts in from behind the closed door.

"What are you doing?" Shane rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore her..."Well? I know you're in there, so why don't you just--"

"Leave me alone!" He starts typing again.

"Ew, no need to cop such an attitude." A short pause... "Are you writing another one of your stories?" Shane flinches, irked that his sister doesn't know when to quit.

"No, Ash, I'm not!"

"Liar. Can I read some of it?"

"Wh--No, you can't! This is personal!" Shane gets up from his chair, striding to the door, slamming it closed when Ashley tries to open it.

"God, go away! You're such a pain!" Ashley isn't deterred by this however, and manages to push the door open anyway, stepping over her fallen (as well as annoyed) brother to enter the room. She immediately wrinkles her nose at his music.

"Geez," she mutters, crossing her arms and flicking a stray strand of blonde hair from her face, "why are you always listening to this Chinese garbage? It's not like you even know what they're saying..."

Shane rolls his eyes, brushing himself off as he gets to his feet, "For the umpteenth time, it's Japanese music--"

"--whatever, same dif--"

"--and it's called the internet, dumbass. I can look up any song and get the lyrics, both original and translated." He closes the laptop, shutting off the music, and hiding his work before she can get her nosy little...eyes on it.

"Besides, if you continually have a problem with my music selection, then why do you keep coming in here?"

She gives him a look at the last remark, clearly since she has no response. Shane gives her the best shit-eating grin money can buy and motions towards the door.

"Well okay! Thanks for stopping by!"

"I just wanted to--

"No. Now leave."

"But--" Ash decides to change her mind after a withering stare, muttering something under her breath as she exits. The nosy sister crisis (somewhat calmly) averted, he turns his attention back to his laptop, opening it back up; the word processor popping back up with a `ping'. His fingers hover over the keyboard for only a moment before he's furiously typing again.

Especially with some of the people I know...I don't want to become like them. Like Santiago, this middle aged guy I work with at night sometimes... he's always one of the last to leave, always asking us `cool kids' where all the "bangin'" parties are this weekend. <shudder> Please, I would give my ass and hat to never EVER become that guy--

Interrupted again, but this time by the chirping of his cell. Shane flips it open, grinning. "Hey what's up, you silly bitch?" He laughs at the giggle on the other end, of his best friend in the world, Alex. He'd met her when he was a second year in high school and she was a third year; over their same interests in anime and j-music in general, and the two had been nearly inseparable since, Hell, when Shane first realized he was gay, she was the first person he'd told.

"Hey. How'd you know it was me?" after both of their laughter had subsided.

"Well, you usually call about this time to bitch and moan about something your mom did or said today that set you off into another one of your rage blackouts. That, and having caller ID helps a little bit. Just tell me you didn't actually try and stab her with a barbeque fork this time." He can hear the sounds of traffic passing in the background and assumes she's in the car driving.

Ash pokes her head into the room. "Mom and I are going to the movies, and then to dinner, you want anything? We don't know when we'll be back though, so--" Shane turns to face her and shakes his head silently, still listening to his friend talk.


"Nah, no cutlery was involved today, just ample use of the diaphragm. <sigh> I just get so tired of the bullshit, y'know?" Shane shrugs on a jacket, taking the back way out of the house and walks outside, enjoying the rapidly cooling air brought on by the fall weather that is coming on stronger these days. He decides to go to his and Alex's usual meeting spot in the nearby park, about 6 blocks from his house.

"Why don't you just move out then? You have a good job this time, and God knows you've fucked nearly every guy in this town; surely you can either afford a place of your own; know someone whose place you crash at?"

"Well Shane, I just want to thank you for trying to pinch me on the ass to try and get myself in gear, but a small word of advice: calling me a giant slut is not the way to my heart." Shane swivels around in his chair, away from the laptop; any hope of getting writing done now has pretty much been squashed.

"Hehe. You know I didn't mean it like that, but...how long are you planning to live there? I know your parents are loaded, but you can't sponge off them forever."

"And why the hell not?"

"You're 24 years old now, Alex...don't you think you should try using some of that money to, you know...carve out your own living? You're always griping about how they never give you your own privacy and space, but don't you think it's time to stop complaining and start off on your own?" Entering the park grounds, Shane finds a nearby swing set and sits down on one of them, the free hand curling around the metal chain as he lazily twists back and forth.

"Blah blah blah. You know I'll get around to it. Sooo," Alex chirps in a singsong tone. "I was thinking about me, you, and a certain someone going out for the evening. It is Friday, after all. We're young, free, and legal in America! Let's get trashed!"

"Sure thing, babe. Where do you wanna hit tonight?" Shane hears murmuring in the background. "Oh, who's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's just Jess." This piece of news causes Shane to sit up straight with blinding speed. Jesse, or Jess, as those close to him have dubbed him...Shane's on again, off again boyfriend. (currently off) A head taller than Shane, short cropped hair and grayish-green eyes. He's definitely a hot one... but more often than not, proved to be undiluted trouble on two legs, The pattern seems almost routine now--Get together, couple months of complacency, big fight over one of Jess', and then Jess falls off the face of the world for a month or so, only to resurface, begging for another chance. Why Shane keeps giving them to Jess, boggles the mind. Could it be love? ...Meh, could have just been the hot body, but who really knows?

This time seems to feel a bit differently from the others...Shane hasn't seen Jess for the better part of the year since their breakup in April, and completely destroyed his apartment in a bitter rage shortly thereafter, not letting anyone else in whilst redecorating, not even Alex. He tore down all remembrances of him and Jess's past over the years, all the drawings and paintings he'd done, keepsakes from outings, and all the other useless shit that seems to be so important to hold onto when one is in a relationship--trying to rid it of any recollection to the days of his former `other half'.

"Excuse me?! I thought we weren't talking to him!" Alex lets out a deep sigh.

"Gomen nasai, demo...I thought it was your `on' month. If I'd known otherwise, I wouldn't have invited him! Anyway, he wants to see your room--since you redecorated, he hasn't seen it, oh, and you...to talk."

Yeah, about that...since their recent breakup, in which Shane declared it so over,

"I'm not talking to him."

"Is it clean?"


"Your apartment, is it clean?"

"Yeah, it's clean."

"If I came in there wearing white gloves, what would I find?"

"That you could...pull a rabbit out of your hat?"

"<frustrated groan> But you guys probably aren't on speaking terms yet, so--oh, never mind, I'll just figure it out when I get there." Shane immediately stands.

"When you get where?"

"I'll call you back, Shane."

"When you get where, Alex?"

"I'm turning onto your street now."

"Alex, no! That is my personal space, I don't want him in it!"

"I'll just let myself in. I know you keep your key on top of a porch light, or under a rock, or some ridiculous thing like that."

"Alex, I beg of you, make an extremely dangerous U-turn right now and go back to wherever you guys came from!"

"I'm here. I'll talk to you later, Shane." Shane hears the beep of Alex ending the call.

"Al...Alex!! Goddamnit!" Shane gets up and takes off back towards his house, hoping to prevent a major blowout. Several minutes later, he blows through the door of the apartment, catching a guilty looking Alex trying to rearrange his furniture, and a uncaring Jess lying back on his bed, legs crossed, arms behind his head, and eyes closed

"You! Stop right there and step away from the chair with your hands raised! And you--" Shane slaps Jess' feet off the bed with a resounding thwacking noise, "--no shoes on my bed!" He stalks back over to Alex, actually having to pry her fingers off the leather, aqua blue and white lopsided bean bag chair.

"What is wrong with you?"

"This...thing cannot stay!"

"Yes it can."

"It's hideous! It looks like you bought it at the Salvation Army! You probably bought it at the Salvation Army--"

"It has ears and feelings; it can hear you and its feelings are deeply hurt."



"Couldn't we at least...hide it in the closet or something?"

"Well, I had to try something; I brought flowers to celebrate your apartment's grand reopening, and I couldn't find anything even resembling a decent vase. All I could find was a ceramic Sailormercury head. I thought you were going to use this chance to start over; break away from your sadistically eclectic choice of furnishings, and look what you go and do!"

"My god, what is so horrible about the way my apartment's decorated?" Alex puts her hands on her hips.

"Um, just look at it."

"I am. I like it" Shameless grin.

"What, this junk store collection of hobo furniture?!" There's a snicker from the bed, which is easily quelled by a hard glare from Shane, who just rolls his eyes. He does so, mainly because he knows this conversation is going absolutely nowhere. So, he decides to switch targets, pointing to the guy on the bed.

"You, me, outside, now." He motions to the door, his face showing no room argument.

Jess cracks open one grayish-green eye that looks Shane up and down.

"If you think I'm gonna follow you on command like some stray dog, you've got another thing--" Jess winces as he gets hit in the face with a random, flying, sharp-edged object. "--coming." Shane turns to face Jess as they step out into the now cold, night air. He crosses his arms, rubbing his forearms to keep warm.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing here?"

Questions, comments? solarmiraclexv2005@yahoo.com

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