Date: Mon, 12 Jun 2006 14:14:16 -0700 From: Ryan Miller Subject: Bonding Energy: Opportunity Cost ch 8 This might be my last one for a while. I am going to camp over the summer and will not have the time for writing as much. But I will try. Disclaimer: This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much encouraged, so hit me up at bluedragon314@gmail.com Ch. 8 "I'm going to need more details. I want to help, but I can't if you don't tell me anything," said Peter as he laid on James couch, absentmindedly throwing a tennis ball into the air. I was sitting in the recliner trying my damnedest not to tell him everything I knew about William. I had asked him for help about relationships and didn't want him to know it was about a gay dancer / prostitute. It's kind of like asking your doctor to treat a sore joint and not telling him which one it is. I had gone to Peter because James wasn't in a talkative mood. He hadn't been since Tuesday, and it was Monday of the next week. After I confronted him in the kitchen, he shut down. He would still go to work and drop me off at school, but in his free time would just go up to his room and brood. Something I'd said really put him in a funk, and he had zero intentions of letting me know what it was. And then William started acting all weird (again). He was fine until that morning. The previous six days had been great. I found out he was capable of a great deal of happiness, and it made me so happy knowing he had a reason to smile. Smiles from William had been so rare and, the few I saw, I cherished. I don't think I had ever seen a more beautiful boy. The spirit in his green eyes was so playful and he would grin every time he looked over at me. And he was pretty smart. He knew a lot about Tokugawa Japan and proved to be a surprisingly good public speaker during our presentation. We both got A's and both did our fair share of the work. And he was so affectionate. He would lightly lean up against me in poli sci, especially when the lights went out for a movie, and rest his head on my shoulder. I nearly melted Sunday night when we watched Spirited Away at my house. James never bothered coming downstairs after we got there, so we made full use of the couch. I sat with William's head in my lap and gently ran my fingers through his shining, black hair. I made a comment about how he looked like Haku and his giggle nearly turned me into a puddle on the couch. He took hold of my hand as it rested at his side and said, "Thanks." I didn't know what for, and I didn't ask either. Instead, I laid down on the couch and held him to my chest, and he snuggled in closer. A fire in my heart was ignited and spread throughout the rest of my body as I held him, knowing that I was protecting him from the fiends in the dark that surrounded his life. I felt like a guardian angel as I held him tighter and we fell asleep. That morning, I was bereft when I woke up with cold, bare arms. I thought back to the previous night, hoping it wasn't just a dream. The case for Spirited Away was lying open on the coffee table and next to it was a note. I leaned forward and picked it up and it said, "Sorry I had to leave. I had to go to work. Thank you for a wonderful night. You're such an awesome guy." I must have read the last part a million times, hearing William's voice in my head say "You're such an awesome guy," over and over. When James came downstairs, I began to stuff the note in my pants pocket. But, it being a note of considerable magnitude as far a glee goes, I folded it carefully and hid it inside the Spirited Away case. The last thing I needed was to have James find a pseudo love note from another guy to me. I mean, William never made any declarations of love, but being told you're an awesome guy can mean so many wonderful things. I was very impatient to see my couch-mate that morning in creative writing, but he never showed up. In his place was the hoodie-sporting, angst-wielding William I had first met and held in contempt. He did his best to ignore me as he took a seat on the other side of the classroom. It was obvious he'd had a rough night at the club. After class, I ran out to the hall to see if I could console him, but he ignored me, even after I called out his name. I confronted him as he was walking out to the parking lot and asked him what the problem was. "You're the problem!" was his sharp response. "You get into my head and make me think and feel ways I was never supposed to. I'm a whore, or don't you remember? I'm not supposed to get a boyfriend or fall in love or any of that crap. As long as I do what I'm told, I'll be safe, safe from boys like you who just want to break my heart!" As he was rebuking me, I started to feel numb. It was like an out of body experience where I knew what was happening and could see it happening, but it didn't really feel like it was happening to me. It didn't really feel at all, which frightened me. "Just leave me alone, ok?" he said. "It'll be better for both of us." He walked off into the parking lot towards the football field. Nothing was out there, but I don't think he was as focused on where he was going as much as whom he was leaving. My mind couldn't accept what had just happened and I stood there trying to come to terms with what looked and felt just like a breakup. 'Was it just another emotional outburst? Did he just have a really terrible night? Will I ever get to hold him again? Did last night mean nothing at all? Am I no longer an awesome guy?' My body shook as I held back the rush of emotions surging out of my shattered heart. I wanted to cry out at the top of my lungs and tell the whole world that I just had my heart ripped out--again--but I remembered that heartbreak can heal and that I just needed to focus on the healing and not the pain. The sooner I healed, the sooner I wouldn't feel so betrayed. I could barely make it home on the bus without bawling my eyes out. I commanded my tears to turn off since they would only make the pain real, palpable. The pain was useless because it wouldn't help me get over William. I walked inside our house and congratulated myself for making it that far without letting the pain grow. I saw the Spirited Away case in the living room and decided I would go switch it for a movie that would help me ignore what had just happened, even thought I couldn't stop thinking about the breakup. But as I opened the case to put the DVD away, William's none fell to the floor and I lost it. I fell to my knees, buried my face in the couch cushions and screamed my broken little heart out. I was so tired from fighting my emotions all that afternoon that there was nothing I could do to stop them. My body heaved with every sob as my inhibitions loosed their stranglehold on my feelings. I felt so betrayed that he had led me on only to stomp all over my heart like that. I wanted to lash out at him, but couldn't let myself feel that way because I wanted to protect him. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be able to hold him like I had the night before. I held on to the DVD case tightly like I had held William, but it was no comfort. As I sobbed, I wanted to know what I had done wrong. I wanted to know how I had pushed him away. I was so very convinced that he was the boy for me. I mean, if I could have handpicked a boyfriend, it would have been William. The way he needed someone to care and the way I needed someone to care for made us a perfect match. "WHY!?" was all I could scream as I cried into the couch. It was usually about that time that James would walk in and save the day, put his arms around me and fulfill his big-brotherly duties as a comforter. But he was at work, and I was alone with my tears. Then the phone on the end table rang. I almost didn't answer, but knew I needed company where I could find it. I wiped my face with my sleeve and picked up the receiver. "Hello?" I asked. "Hey, it's Peter. Can I come over?" he asked. "Sure," I said, with a big sniffle. "Are you ok?" he asked. "You don't sound like yourself. I was about to brush him off and insist it was allergies or something lame like that, but thought that I needed to be with someone since I was sans-James and was likely to keep crying until someone got there. I told him that I had just had my heart broken and he insisted he would be there in 10 minutes. Eight and a half minutes later, a sweaty Peter arrived on his bike and walked to the door. He told me I looked terrible as he stepped inside and followed me to the living room. I plopped down in my recliner, relieved that I had someone to talk to, but was paralyzed when I realized I would have to tell him it was William who had torn my heart asunder. When he asked what had happened, I told him all about a beautiful boy who had gotten really close to me only to realize I was getting too close and decided to tear apart our relationship. He kept asking for details, and I kept refusing him. "It's pretty obvious William is the other guy," he said, catching the tennis ball and throwing it up again. "You're not exactly good at hiding your feelings." I thought about arguing, but just said, "Yeah, it's William." "And what would make Willy tweak out like that?" "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you." "Well, I don't know. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before." "No girl's ever come up to you out of the blue and decided to call off a relationship?" "Actually, I have more of a problem with girls trying to start relationships than ending them." "I'm just so confused. I...I hate him for hurting me. I want to run up to him and tell him what a selfish ass he is for breaking my heart. He let me show him all that affection and had no real intention of giving any of it back! He led me on, knowing it would end!" I tried hard not to cry again, but no amount of cringing could hold back the tears. "Dude, you're making a huge deal out of this." "It is a huge deal! I finally find a boy I like who likes me back and then he just leaves me for no good reason at all. And I'm trying to let him go, but I can't. A huge part of me wants to be close to him again." "Why do you want to be close to someone who would hurt you like that?" "You don't just call off a relationship because someone hurts you." "But why run after someone who is running away?" "I don't think it's me he's running away from." Peter lost his concentration and let the ball fall and hit him in the face. "Wait, are you talking about a threesome? I don't want any details if you are." "It's not a threesome, you idiot." "Then who else is he running from?" "Whoever it is, you have to fight them," said James, standing by the foot of the stairs. He had recently come home and was still in his blue business suit. "Remember that love is a battlefield. You have to fight whatever stands in your way, if it's another guy--or even yourself--you have to fight them." "What the hell are you talking about, James?" I asked. "When you love someone, whoever hates that person is going to try and stop you from loving them," he responded. "Whatever part of you hates William right now, you have to fight it." And with that, he went upstairs to his room. Peter looked over at me with the same puzzlement I was feeling. "Is that something he usually does?" he asked. "Yeah, but he usually makes more sense," I said, leaning back in my recliner. "I don't know what his problem is. He's been in a major funk for a while." "Well, he does kind of make sense, if you think about it." "You can't be serious." "I mean, I'm pretty sure you won't have to put on any war paint and declare, 'You can take my life, but you'll never take my William!' But if something, or someone, is hurting him, you should help him get rid of it, or them." "Life hurts him. His family, his lack of friends, his job, especially his job." "What does he do?" "Uh, he's a dancer at this gay club downtown and he hates being treated like a piece of meat." "What? Really? Well, that explains a lot. But if he hates working there, why doesn't he just quit?" "His boss won't let him. He treats the dancers like property." "I bet his boss did it." "Did what?" "Made William dump you. Guys who are that controlling get really jealous. My cousin, Ronnie, is the same way. He used to treat his girlfriends like that, even after he stopped dating them. He didn't stop until one of the other boyfriends beat the daylights out of him. He had to eat through a straw for weeks." "So, I'm just supposed to beat up William's boss?" "Not literally. You can just give him a tongue lashing--a piece of your mind." "I'm sure a genial chat will solve all of William's problems." "Remember what James said, 'You have to fight whatever is in your way.' And, if this boss is in your way, you have to fight him. If anything, it'll show Willy how much you care." ***** It sounded like the two of them had seen Braveheart a few too many times, but that's not why I was on a bus headed for downtown. Peter was right about showing William how much I care. Something--or someone--had convinced him otherwise and I needed to prove that I wasn't out to hurt him; that I really did care. And if it was Mr. Stone's fault, I was going to give him one hell of a sharp piece of my mind. I'd dressed up like Aaron and Brian had told me to, with hair gel and a wife-beater and everything. And my hands still smelled like the gel that had been sitting under the sink ever since James had bought it in bulk, even though the stickiness was gone. I hated having sticky hands. And I hadn't thought about what I was going to say to Mr. Stone, assuming I would get to talk to him. I was not at all intent on changing his mind or turning him into a better person. He didn't sound like the kind of guy who would embrace a "come to Jesus" moment. But I was going to use what Brian and Aaron had told me about assertion: go with the flow. I just hoped the flow wouldn't land me in the bottom of a river or something. As I stepped off the bus, the cold night air bit at my bare arms and I kicked myself for not bringing a jacket. It was about midnight and I could hear chatter from the direction of the club. I held my arms close to my chest to retain what little warmth I could and started walking down the street. When I turned the corner to face Club Chico, I was surprised to see a line stretching around the block, and my favorite bouncer standing proudly in front of the door. I guess midnight was the right time to go clubbing. Some people in line looked like me (kind of) and were dressed to party and impress. But some businessmen and older guys, trying hard not to stand out, dotted the line and my lunch started swimming laps in my stomach as I thought about why they were really there. I hated standing in lines, and I still didn't have an "official" ID, so I walked around the block to the back alley, where I'd first met the real William. Tom was there again, leaning against the wall and taking a drag on his cigarette. When I walked up to him, he looked at me cockeyed and said, "Hey, you were here a couple of weeks ago. You're Will's friend, right?" "Kind of, that's why I'm here," I replied. "Well, he's on duty until 2:00, so you can't see him right now," he said. "I'm not here for William," I said. "I'm here to talk to Edmund Stone." Tom started coughing, but it wasn't because of the smoke. "Honey, you need to talk to Eddie like you need a hole in your head," he said. "I'm not here for a job," I told him. "I need to talk to him about the way he's treating William." Tom stood with his hand propping up his elbow as his cigarette smoldered. He looked me up and down and said, "You're as dangerous as he thought you were. Here, follow me," He turned around and entered his code on the keypad and the lock clicked open. He held the door open and asked, "Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" "Not really," I said, stepping in. "That's ok," he said closing the door. "I didn't, either." ***** The hand of a thuggish Brit with a tacky, blond ponytail gripped my shoulder as I rode up an elevator, on my way to meet Mr. Stone. My body tingled with fear and it felt like my knees would give any moment. I didn't want to meet this guy, this despicable human being. But curiosity is what really drove me, in a Heart of Darkness sort of way. I had always heard of abusive, controlling pimps but now I was about to see one, one that had come between me and William. The elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal a dark, wide office with a wall of windows on the far side overlooking the floor of the club. Outside the windows, colorful, flashing lights shone from the ceiling onto the club floor and the pounding rave music was muffled by the black walls of the office. And in front of the windows, surveying the patrons, stood a tall man with broad shoulders and black, slicked back hair. "Mr. Stone," said the thug. "this bloke says 'e needs to 'ave a word with you." "Thank you, Robert," said the hollow voice of Mr. Stone, keeping his watch over the club. "Jerome, please seat our guest." Robert pushed me out into the office and closed the elevator doors. A pretty, young redhead in tight black pants and nothing else stepped out of a dark corner by a small window facing the outside. He walked up to a long, black desk in the middle of the room and pulled out one of the two plush leather chairs in front of it for me. "Thank you," I said. "No thanks required," said Stone, still staring through the glass. "It's his job." Jerome stepped back to his corner and stood with his hands held tightly at his side. "Please sit down, Mr. Wilson," said Stone. "It would appear we have much to discuss." "How did you know my name?" I asked as I sat down Stone turned around and I saw his sinister face. Not all was sinister, for he was actually quite handsome and probably late in his 30s. But his eyes looked like a predator's, like a tiger plotting his next kill. And he smirked like he knew something dangerous that you didn't, and he had no intention of telling you what it was. "You match Will's pleasant description," he said, sitting down is his tall chair behind the desk. "Whores gossip, you know. The word around the dressing room has been that Will has found a caring, compassionate and not the least bit unattractive young man who seeks to steal his heart. What they didn't know is what you intend to do to his heart." "I intend to keep it from creeps like you," I said, feeling more and more enraged. It had been Stone who tried to tear William away from me. "A creep, am I?" he said. "However do you mean?" "You abuse him," I said. "You treat him like property and make his feel worthless. He hates working for you." "Now, why must you lie?" he said. "All my boys love me. If they didn't, they would work elsewhere. And sometimes they meet selfish boys like you who want to tell them that being a whore is wrong and disgraceful. You are the one who treats him like he's worthless and less than a person just because he gets to fuck for a living." This guy was making me sick. Everything he said was slimy and caustic and I could barely stand to be in the same room with him. "I'm not selfish," I refuted. "I want to help him. He's had a terrible life and it's all because of people like you who don't give a damn. It's bad enough that his family is in shambles and then he has to come to work and have sex he doesn't even want." Stone laughed a deep, vile laugh. He pushed his chair back and Jerome, needing no other signal, walked over, ducked under the desk and my mouth hung open in utter disbelief as I heard Stone's pants get unzipped. Stone got comfortable in his chair and said, "Let me explain something to you about sex, Mr. Wilson. It's a drug. It makes you think, feel and act ways you never would otherwise. And most people can become addicted quite easily. But unlike the other drugs I sell, it's the only natural one. It takes the emotions you are already feeling and brings them to the surface. It doesn't make you feel good like heroine or cocaine, it lets you feel good. "Will is a very happy boy, but is not always able to feel that way. But here at the club, he is able to escape the world that makes him unhappy and release all the good feelings that have been hiding inside him. No matter how bad he feels, a quick cock-suck makes him right a rain. And you want to take all that away from him like a selfish little boy." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, or what was happening two feet in front of me. My mind had left my body like it had earlier that day, but this time I was glad to escape. With every sinister glance Stone gave me, with every slurp that gave me images I wanted to gouge out of my mind, I felt sicker and sicker. "You look a little green, Kyle," said Stone with a broad grin. "Feeling sick, or just realizing how much you were hurting Will?" "You're a monster," was all I could say without throwing up. Stone slammed his fist on the desk and his body went rigid. "I make boys feel accepted! I give them a place where they belong, where they are safe! I show them love that the world refuses to show them!" He took a deep breath and leaned his head back in the chair as he sighed. He pushed his chair back and Jerome got out from under the desk and went back to his corner. As he leaned forward and smoothed his hair back, Stone asked me, "Would a monster do those things, Mr. Wilson?" That was all that I could take. I got out of my chair and stumbled to the elevator, trying to keep myself together. The elevator took forever to come up as I mashed the button. Stone just laughed and said, "The truth can be hard to stomach." "You wouldn't know truth if it bit your dick off, you slimy bastard," I said as I stepped into the elevator and mashed the button for the first floor. I leaned my face against the cool wall of the elevator, trying to stave off the dizzying nausea that made me sweat. I had just witnessed the most vulgar thing I could think of, and what made it worse was see the kinds of things like that he did to William. The elevator reached the bottom floor and I stumbled as fast as I could back through the hall past rows of dressing booths and dancers towards the back door. Tom saw me coming and asked "Hey, how'd it go?" But I ran past him and pushed open the door in time to puke on the floor on the alley. "Don't worry. That's typical. You'll get over it by the morning," said Tom as he shut the door behind me and I heaved even more of my dinner onto the empty street. I had vomit up my nose, which usually really bugged me, but I could care less since I was still in shock at the gruesome behavior William had to deal with. I knew it was bad, but never could I have realized how horrible it really was. I felt a wad of paper hit my back and fall on the ground next to my feet. I looked up and see a window close on the brick wall of the alley. I reached down and picked up the note and, in rushed, sloppy handwriting, it said, "Thanks for standing up for William. He needs it more than the rest of us. Don't let go of him." I never wanted to let go of him. From the afternoon at his house when I held him while he cried, I never wanted to let go of him. And, after meeting Edmund Stone, I wanted to hold him more gently and firmly than I ever had, and no amount of slimy deception was going to stop me. ***** If you want to read more of the story sooner, I have started posting it at www.awesomedude.com as well and new chapters usually make it there before they get to Nifty. There is also a forum at AD for feedback, so e-mail me at bluedragon314@gmail.com or join the forum and tell me what you think.