Date: Tue, 22 Mar 2011 22:10:55 +0100 From: anyta sunday Subject: Shane and Trey_Chapter Nine Disclaimer: Story characters belong to the author, any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental. Content Advisory: Adult situations, language, sexual references Copyright, 2010, Anyta Sunday I hope you enjoy it. Please comment to: anytasunday@gmail.com This story will continue to be posted on Nifty. It is COMPLETED, however, and can be found also at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/shaneandtrey Also, St-st-stuffed (following Karl and Paul from this story is just completed and can be found at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/st-st-stuffed ) __________________________________________________________________________ Chapter Nine I climbed into the car and shut the door, not saying a word to Trey as we drove back to the dorms after work. This had become the accepted routine. But shit it was weird, neither of us mentioning the big frigging elephant in the room—ah, car. It was, hmmm, just bizarre. For the last two weeks he'd avoided me—doing a much better job of it than when it'd been me. I practically had the room to myself. Only on Tuesdays and Fridays did I see him. He still wanted to use the ride up home to visit his parents and to continue working. And with the kids he was wonderful. Attentive, caring, and a blast. He'd not lost one ounce of his hero status. Even Paul thought he was quite something. Which was beginning to grate me the wrong way. How could he be so fantastic with the kids and not spare an ounce of it for me? Detect the jealousy? Yeah, well, reasoning against it was a waste of time. As soon as we left Treewok elementary—actually as soon as we exited the gym doors—and headed back to `our reality', he shut himself away, like a frightened turtle in its shell. Or... some better comparison. The fact was, while we sat only a couple of feet apart in the car, I missed him. Missed talking to him and getting to know who the real Trey was. I pulled into the dorm parking lot, but all the spots had been taken and I had to roam the street until I found one underneath an oak and between a truck and SUV. It would be tight, but it'd fit. Placing my arm at the back of Trey's head rest, I twisted to look over my shoulder, maneuvering the car slowly. Something soft tickled my wrist a quick glance confirmed it was Trey's hair, poking through the gap in the headrest. A tingle swept through me and I botched up my first try getting in. The second time, I held my hand lower and managed it in one go. As I clambered out of the car, Trey checked out the park and gave an appreciative nod. "Nice yeah?" I said, wanting to take advantage of the window, small as it was. Trey stared at me as I rounded to the pavement. In the dusky evening, his usually sharp angles softened. For a moment our eyes connected and I wasn't sure whether I was flying or sinking. Or was it both? Something brushed my arm, and I glimpsed a fall leaf fluttering toward the gutter. When I lifted my gaze once more, Trey stood closer, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. But the way he looked at me was as if he were daydreaming, a sheen in his eyes. With a deep breath, I inhaled his scent, a mix of body wash and aftershave, and—was it a hint of roasted chestnut? I wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it smelt fiiiiine. Swinging my bag in front of me for, well, obvious reasons, I veered toward Trey's right, but he stopped me before I could pass. "Just a sec, man." He reached out and touched my hair. Where the heck did that come from? What was happening? And most of all: where was the freaking script? "Uhhh," I said, like an idiot. I wished I hadn't uttered a sound, because it snapped him out of his—well, whatever it was—and he dropped his hand. "It was a leaf," he grunted, showing it to me as if to prove nothing had been going on. I didn't buy it, but since I actually had no idea what really was going on, I shrugged. Once we got back to the dorm I expected Trey to disappear again, but today he huddled up in his pillows and flicked on a movie. As I prepared myself to go out—I was to meet Lucas for the first time tonight—I couldn't help but sneak peeks at him. I was so God damn curious what was going on in that head of his. How was he coping with the break up? Did he think about things the way I did, and also wish he hadn't? Did he feel ripped up and confused? Did he wish we weren't roomies anymore? Nervously, I stripped to my boxers. I'd finally taken to dressing in the room, although this was the first time doing it with Trey around. It'd been quite handy having him absent. But whatever, right? Just get dressed. I slipped on a pair of jeans, my back to Trey. As I did up the buttons, I glanced at him out the corner of my eye, expecting he'd have his eyes glued to the screen. My breath caught. One hundred percent, he was checking me out. And? I wanted to ask. Was I a seven? Eight? Nine? I grabbed my t-shirt and pulled it on, and then moved to a small mirror on the back of our door, as I made sure my hair looked okay. "Do you have a date tonight?" Trey asked, with—wait, was that an edge of panic in his tone? I was about to say `No, I'm just hanging with Syd and his boyfriend tonight', but wasn't this a great opportunity to clarify our boundaries? I mean, hell, I wanted to have him bad, and I was pretty sure he'd be into it too, but we both knew it wasn't going to happen. We loved June too much. This way I'd be stating nothing was going to happen. And hey, maybe accepting that we could continue on as friends or something. No more weird silences and such. "Uh, yeah. I met him in my linguistics class." He moved his gaze back to the screen. "What's his name?" "Uhh," his head snapped back to me, one brow raised as if he'd caught me out in the lie. Not yet, you haven't. "Ulrich." "Uhhlrich, eh?" "Well, it was some German pronunciation. It sounded a bit like that. I'll ask him about it tonight." "Okay. Also ask him what `du bist ein furchtbarer Lügner' means." "You speak German?" "My father is half German. I can speak it alright." I continued staring at him, my mouth partially opened. The lamest responses came to mind, like `Oh, so you must get your slobbiness from your mother's side.' Thank God the words didn't actually come out. "Can't you just tell me what it means then?" "Hmm...maybe. Later." A large smile puffing his cheeks overwhelmed me, and I patted my clothes in distraction. Did I have everything? "Looking good, by the way," he added, "Go knock him off his feet. Have fun!" Why the hell was he beaming? Was he actually glad I had a date? "Ah, thanks," I suppose, "I will." Frowning, I grabbed my keys, put on my shoes and left. *** We took my car out to meet Lucas at Syd's request. He seemed nervous and jumpy the whole ride there and I couldn't help but grin. I thought I had a pretty good idea why he didn't want to take his own car. "Okay, it's just up there. Maybe grab that parking spot," he said, jerking a finger toward his side. Our chosen place to meet Lucas was a gay-friendly café called The Buymebar. Having never been there before, I followed in after Syd. My first impression of the place was—ah—dingy. None of the furniture inside matched, lamps of varying shapes and sizes stood at each table and small rather ugly sculptures worked as centerpieces. It was an interesting collection, and with a strong seventies feel to it. Once we wound our way past a foosball table and bookshelves filled with board games to a narrow hall lined with private booths, the place was kinda growing on me. Unlike other cafes I'd been in, there was something real about this one. It wasn't pretentious, or try-hard, and it appealed to me. "He said he'd be in..." Syd mumbled as he glanced at the numbers on the doors. "...ah-ha this is it, seventeen." As Syd knocked, I stared at a painted picture of a guitar under the number. I wondered why each door had a picture on it. Maybe for the waiters? Or— The door swung open, and who only could be Lucas—black hair, grey eyes, button nose, caramel skin—flashed a brilliant smile at Syd. He acknowledged me with a quick glance before leaning over and whispering to Syd, loud enough that I heard, "You don't have to knock, darlin'." Then he dragged Syd into the room and I—feeling a little like a third wheel, trundled in after. Now the guitar on the door made sense. The private booth, actually it was more a room than a booth, had a whole heap of used guitars hanging up on the walls. "And you must be Shane," Lucas said, moving my attention away from a ukulele to him. "I've heard a lot about you." "Same here," I said, slipping onto the bench. Syd and Lucas sat on the opposite side. "So what is with this place anyway?" Lucas leaned back and locked his hands behind his head as if he were home. "A few friends of mine run it. The concept is simple. Anything inside the café you can buy. So if you fancy this table, or the rug, or that—heck that's a horrible lamp," he shuddered slightly, "but if you like it, offer a price and you can take it." Hmmm. Not bad. Actually, it was a cool idea. "Does that go for the foosball table out there, too?" Syd chuckled. "Hey, I got my eyes on that one. Now what do we want to drink?" After we ordered and I was halfway through my iced coffee in a cup that, yes, I could also buy, the conversation turned from studies and favorites, to languages. "Syd said you can speak French and Spanish?" "Languages fascinate me," Lucas said, "I'm thinking of doing a beginners course to Mandarin next semester." The German phrase Trey had said earlier rolled in my mind. I wondered if he—"Do you know any German by chance?" "Um, yup, a bit anyway." I almost laughed at Syd's expression. `In awe' didn't seem to cut it. It rather reminded me of a love struck Mickey Mouse. I could almost see hearts swirling around his head. Focusing back on Lucas, I asked, "What does `du bist ein fuctbar-something-or-rather Lugner' mean?" "Furchtbarer Lügner?" "Yeah, that's the one." He chuckled. "It means `you're a terrible liar." It took me a second to process it and then—that, that minx!—or whatever the male equivalent was. No wonder Trey'd seemed so cheery just before I left. He'd seen right through me. I internally scowled, but actually the fact he knew I wasn't on a date sent a delicious shiver right down my middle. Still in a daydream, I didn't notice the topic of conversation had now turned to music. I brought myself back to the present, noting the excitement in Lucas's tone as he described how he fell in love with The Smiths. I was right there with him, the group ranking in my top ten as well. "And Syd told me you are in a band?" "I sing. And play a little guitar." "You sing beautifully," Syd said, gazing at his mouth. Lucas noticed and before Syd could say anything, he was kissing him. It was sweet. I liked the way Lucas moved with urgency, as if Syd were the only thing that mattered—damn, I wanted that for myself. My mind flew to Trey. What would it be like to kiss him? To fuck him? To love him? I sighed quietly and looked away as Syd and Lucas pulled apart, both heavily breathing. "Sorry Shane," Lucas said, grabbing Syd's hand and placing it on his inner thigh. Hmmm, either he didn't know I could clearly see, or he didn't care. "I just couldn't hold back on that one." Or that one, it seemed. But there was something relieving about the action. Maybe because Syd had confessed to loving the guy, and—well, now I knew it went both ways. I was so happy for Syd, and selfishly sad for me. "So tell me more about this band you're in. Do you write your own stuff, or do covers?" "We do both, but mainly our own stuff." He cocked his head to the side and looked at me. Then said, "Actually the band formed from my HIV support group." I could tell he was analyzing my reaction to that. The funny thing was I'd completely forgotten Lucas was positive until he'd mentioned it. Seriously, the guy was awesome and—I could see why my friend had fallen for him. They seemed right together. Shit! How could I have even considered that Syd should move on, choose another guy? Although I was blushing at my earlier prejudice, I met his eye. "Sweet," I said, and swallowed. My embarrassment made me nervous, and I had to wipe my palms on my jeans. Thank God Syd interrupted the moment—I had no idea what to say next. I'd kind of bubbled up, cheeks and tongue swelling so that even if I did have something to say it would have come out gibberish. "Lucas, Shane also plays a bit of guitar." A calm smile melted onto his face. "You do? Play us something?" He unhooked a guitar and handed it to me. "It's partly the reason I like this booth the best. You can play whenever it takes your fancy." "Well, I actually play for myself. I—" Syd snorted. "You so do not. Well, not only." Huh? "Come on, whenever I go to your room you grab your `blue baby' and play." I was pretty sure I was red again. "Yeah, but that was..." because it was just you, I was going to say. But actually thinking on it, it didn't matter who was in the room. I did it all the time. As if it were some type of safety blanket or something. What a loser. "Right then." I fiddled getting it in tune. "Is there something in particular you'd like to hear?" "Have you come up with lyrics for that melody you made up? You know the la-de-da-de-dum-dum one?" Syd said—hummed?—and I raised a brow. "Well, it went something like that." "Yeah, actually I have." Although I'd never sung it aloud to anyone before (At least that I was aware of. Ha-ha). Then again, there was a first time for everything, right? "Okay, so this one's untitled. Bear with me, some of the lines are a work-in-progress." I strummed the guitar a little, warming into it, then after an encouraging look from the two lovers opposite me, I began to sing. I'll see you be a man, boy A promise I made to you That's why when you were struggling Not a thing did I do You were once drowning In fear of the dark So I sent you out at midnight To the local park Or the day you were crying When your teddy disappeared I threw it in the rubbish I didn't want you weird I'll see you be a man, boy A promise I made to you That's why when you were struggling Not a thing did I do At night when you were crying I got out of bed I could have come to you But I shut the door instead And when it was really bad, Or when you were in pain, I put in my headphones I didn't feel any shame I'll see you be a man, boy A promise I made to you That's why when you were struggling Not a thing did I do The day your mother left me I didn't understand You see I've only ever loved you Just wanted you a man Even from a distance, boy I'll try to make it true I'll see you be a man, boy I promise that's what I'll do As I sung the chorus the last time, I noticed Syd had tears in his eyes. Lucas, now even closer to him, traced his finger over Syd's upper thigh. I came to a halt. A prickly feeling gnawed inside me. I remembered the date we went on, how he'd shuddered at the mention of his dad. How could I have been so thoughtless? So stupid? Why did I sing that song? Syd squeezed the top of Lucas hand, stilling his movement. "Would you go order us some more drinks?" Lucas kissed his cheek. "Sure, darlin'. When the door had shut behind him, I blurted, "Shit, Syd. I'm sorry. Bad choice of song." He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. The song, um...resonated. It was good, it's just that—that," he took a deep breath, "when I came out to my dad, he got really mad. He couldn't think straight, he was so upset and he—he"—Syd swallowed again and looked at his thigh—"we were standing in the kitchen—I can't even remember why I'd thought to tell them in that moment. It just sort of overcame me. Mom was boiling pasta at the time and--" I lurched off the bench and came round to his side. Fuck, I knew what he was going to say, just the thought made me want to throw up. Into the crook of my neck he finished, "he chucked the water on me." He held me tightly for a moment then pulled back. "I've had years to get over it, but—you know—it's still an ouchy-pouchy memory." Mad that he could even try to joke about it, I gripped his shoulders shaking him. "Don't you do that! Fuck, that's absolutely horrible. I'm so sorry. What a fucking jerk. What a fucking—" "Hey, calm down," Syd said. "I'm alright now." I looked at him. He couldn't even meet my gaze, I knew he wasn't okay. "Some scars take longer to heal," I said, slowly, "I don't know if I'd ever get over something like that." "Well I haven't forgiven him, if that's what you're asking. Although, a better person would have." What? "What the hell does that mean?" I heard my voice rising, and struggled to keep it calm. "A better person would have?" "It's not the whole story. There's more to it. I—" He went quiet. "Look, I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" "I'm not letting this go," I said. "But I won't say anything more now, except that I'm real sorry about the song. And I wished you'd brought up your dad earlier. I'm your friend, yeah?" Syd landed his green eyes on me. I could see sadness and a flicker of anger there. "That goes both ways, Shane. You want me to open up and tell you painful things about me and my past. I expect the same of you. Were you ever going to tell me you're in love with your roommate?" I moved away from him, shocked. "What? How did you..." "Look," Syd slumped back, resting his shoulders against the wall, "I don't want to talk about that right now either. I just need you to know that we are friends, that you mean so much to me, but I need you to share too." How did we end up here? "I..." Of course everything he said was right. True. It was easy for me to claim we were friends, but I'd yet to really show him. Why had I kept putting it off? I did trust him. I—"You're right," I said in a small voice. As I slid off his bench, he grabbed my hand and kissed it. "Soon. Okay?" "Okay."