As always, I would like to extend my grateful thanks to my friends Mike and Dave for continuing to allow me to bounce ideas off them and providing many helpful suggestions. I would also like to thank all the readers who have written with comments. I really appreciate having heard from all of you. Please keep the comments coming.
Thanks also to the Nifty Archive for hosting this and all the other stories. They do take donations to defray operating expenses, so please help them out as much as you can.
This story contains graphic depictions of sex between consenting teen males and an occasional adult, so if you're some sort of puritan or prude, you ought not to be at this site to begin with, and you certainly shouldn't read any farther into this text. Likewise, if you aren't old enough to read this filth according to the laws, local ordinances, etc. wherever you happen to be - Shoo, go away.
I hope you're enjoying this story. This story is set in a world where there are no such things as STDs or deity-of-your-choice forbid HIV or AIDS, so you won't be reading very much about condoms except in this paragraph. This should not in any way be construed as advocating unsafe sex. Quite the contrary - protect yourself as much as you can, no one else is going to do it for you.
Do not modify or redistribute this text, or show it to any religious zealots or anyone else who will be horribly offended by it without my express written consent.
For a complete list of my other stories (including Nifty Archive links), just e-mail and I will be happy to accommodate.
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And for you youngsters who we all know are studiously heeding the various warnings and not reading this story, I hope you'll pay close attention to what is happening to our hero. What's being described here has happened to lots of people, some of whom I've known. There's a lot of truth in this story. So please, let this be a lesson to you. Stay away from drugs.
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Emo Boi Finds Love
Chapter Twenty Three
Abby told Tyler about her grandson, Jayson. She told him about the trouble he'd gotten into when he was younger -- mostly from acting out because he had been afraid to tell anyone who he really was -- that he was gay. His entry into adolescence had been a very troubling time for his family. Things had come to a head when Jayson and his father had got into a very heated argument, and in his anger, Jayson had screamed out "Well I'm gay too! So what do you think of me now?" This was not the best thought-out rebuttal Jayson could have made to whatever statement his father had. It sent his father over the edge that he had been dangerously near already.
Tyler had no difficulty imagining the scene from Abby's words. It was as if he had been there himself.
Jayson had intended to storm out of the room after making that statement, but his father caught his arm and pulled him back, spinning him around so they were again face to face, and much closer together than they had been during the beginning of the argument. "What did you say?" his father demanded. He didn't believe his son could have said such a thing, even to try to be hurtful in the heat of an argument -- after all, the boy knew his father's feelings about `those god-damn faggots.'
"You heard me," Jayson stated coolly and quietly. "I said I'm gay, I like other boys -- I like them... sexually."
It was then that his father slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand. "You are not!" his father yelled back. "No son of mine is going to be a dick-sucking pervert!"
"It's too late for that!" Jayson retorted sharply as he jerked away from his father's grip.
Jayson's father's face was bright red with anger. There was no way his son was going to talk to him like this -- and he certainly wasn't having some sort of depraved pervert living in his house, possibly corrupting or even molesting his other children. This was not something Mitchell Carmichael was willing to debate. He followed as his son stormed off toward his room. "You come back here, boy! This discussion is far from over!" Mitchell was furious, and both the tone and volume of his voice reflected it.
Jayson looked over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs toward the supposed sanctuary of his bedroom. His father was gaining on him. Jayson quickened his pace, beginning to run up the stairs. His father tried to match his increase in speed, but Jayson's slighter build gave him an advantage in speed over his father. Jayson managed to reach his bedroom and shut and locked the door just seconds before his father's bulk pushed into it.
Jayson heard the thud as his father's body slammed into the bedroom door. Then he heard the doorknob rattle as his father tried to follow him into his room. "You open this door!" his father shouted as he pounded on the door with his fist. Jayson was scared now -- his brain had finally processed the exchange between him and his father at the last point in the ongoing dispute. He realized now he should not have admitted his homosexuality to his father -- especially in the way he had done. Jayson had moved away from the bedroom door and was about to enter the bathroom when his father broke through.
The doorframe splintered apart as Mitchell Carmichael crashed through. His anger was very evident in his face, and when Jayson turned and saw it, he was scared. He'd never seen his father quite like this before.
Abby let out a sigh and paused for a moment from recounting the story as she had heard it from both her son and her grandson. She had combined the two in her own mind to come up with a version that was more likely closer to the truth. The versions she had heard from them certainly didn't match. She knew well that people would slant a story into their own favor, even without necessarily meaning to. She'd discovered long ago that it was just basic human nature.
Tyler took her pause as a chance to ask "His dad really broke the door down?"
Abby nodded. She had seen the door. Tyler noticed that she had a sad look on her face, and put his hand over hers as a comforting gesture.
Abby looked over at Tyler and smiled. She thought it was sweet that he would do something like that. Tyler returned her smile.
"So his dad didn't, like, um, beat him up or anything did he?" Tyler asked.
"No honey. Thankfully he didn't do anything quite as bad as that -- but that was the night his father threw him out of the house."
Tyler was thinking about the fight he'd had with his father the night he'd run away from home roughly three years before. He was glad he'd finally made up with his parents and found himself hoping that Abby's family would be able to reconcile their differences as well. "I had some trouble with my parents, and ran away from home," he told her. "It really made me feel a lot better when I made up with them, so I hope your family will all make up too."
"Thank you honey, so do I," she said with a sad smile, as if she didn't think it was possible, regardless how much she wished it were.
* * *
Tyler and his parents arrived back at their house. They helped him unload his things from the car. When all of the bags containing his belongings were back in his room, Tyler unpacked and started putting them away. Once he was done, he trotted down the stairs to join his parents in the family room where they were watching television. His father was seated in his usual place on a small sofa reading the newspaper, his mother in a chair to his left.
Tyler flopped down into a chair identical to his mother's. He tried to focus his attention on the news, but somehow, even given the familiar setting he was happy to be in again, things seemed strained and uncomfortable. Tyler supposed this was normal considering the length of time they had been separated and the circumstances of his leaving.
Finally his mother tried breaking the icy chill that seemed to fill the room. "Tyler, what would you like to have for dinner?"
The meal with his parents that evening was very subdued. Barely a word was spoken other than "Please pass the salt," or other very banal chat between them. When they finished dinner, Tyler cleared the dishes away and started cleaning up the kitchen. This wasn't anything he'd ever done before, and his mother noticed, appreciatively thanking him. His father made no obvious note of it.
After he finished cleaning the dinner dishes and cookware for his mother and setting them in the drainer to dry, Tyler went up to his room. On a whim he checked his window -- it was still bolted shut. Tyler just shook his head. He wasn't planning on sneaking out, especially not after just coming home -- he wasn't going to do anything to mess that up. Still, it was a reminder to him of the loss of trust he'd inspired in his father. He knew it would take a while to earn that back. He just hoped it wouldn't take too long.
Tyler stripped off his clothes and went to start the water running in the bath. For some reason he just wanted to lie in the tub and soak tonight. Once the water was steaming hot, he pushed the plug in and let the bath start to fill. He had a thought what would make this even better... Moments later he was returning from his parent's room when he realized he was walking around the house naked. This was something he'd not had to think about while he was living with Drake -- in fact there he had been encouraged to wear as little as possible, if anything around the house. Drake had preferred it that way.
Tyler shuddered when he thought about that as he pushed his bedroom door closed behind him. It was quite likely his parents did not share that view -- and definitely not the lascivious reason Drake liked it. He returned to the bathroom and squeezed some of his mother's bubble making goo into the running water that was filling the tub. Once the water level was about three quarters full he stopped the spigot and sank into the water. It felt soothing and relaxing to him.
Tyler heard a knocking on his bedroom door and his father's voice calling his name.
"Come on in," Tyler called back, remembering that he had not locked his door when he had returned with the bubble bath -- something he had routinely done before he had run away from home.
"Where are you?" he heard his father ask after his bedroom door opened.
"In here, in the bath," Tyler answered, unashamed.
Mark Johnston tentatively poked his head through the door and saw Tyler lounging in the bubble bath. He couldn't help but chuckle. He would have thought the modesty of a teen boy would have kept him from inviting his father into the room when he was having -- of all things -- a bubble bath. "This is certainly a surprise," he stated matter-of-factly.
Tyler grinned up at him. "I don't know what it was, somehow I just felt like soaking, and then I remembered mom kept this bubbly stuff so I thought I'd try it."
Mark smiled. It was almost as is his son were a little boy again. This was a refreshing change from the argumentative, rebellious teenager he recalled from several months before. "Son," he started, before hesitating, almost as if he didn't know where he wanted to go with his statement. "Well, I just suppose I wanted you to know that I noticed that you cleaned up after dinner, and I appreciate it."
Tyler smiled up at his father, who was now sitting on the edge of the tub. "I just thought it was the least I could do, I mean, after everything I put you and mom through... I guess it just seemed like..." Tyler let that thought trail off, but he could tell from the look in his father's eyes that the man understood what he wanted to say.
His father smiled at him and ruffled his hair -- which normally he knew his son didn't like. Still, the boy smiled up at him. Perhaps something really had happened to change things while his son had been away -- and something had, but Mark wasn't going to pry into that at the moment. "I do want you to know that I see a change in you, son, and I like it," his father told him. He just hoped the changes would stick.
- - -
When Drake returned home and saw the key Tyler had left on the counter, he had a pretty good idea what had happened. He didn't even bother to read the note beneath it just then. He ran up the stairs to Tyler's room and saw that all his things were gone. His suspicions were confirmed. The boy had flown the coop. He smashed his fist into the wall, creating a large hole. Luckily for him, he missed any of the studs; else he probably would have broken his hand.
`That ungrateful little bastard...' Drake thought. `After all I did for that little fucker and he's gone and run away on me.' Half an hour and three shots of tequila later, Drake was in the living room still stewing and getting madder by the second about Tyler's having left.
When he returned to the kitchen for more tequila, Drake finally read the note Tyler had left for him with the key to the apartment:
Drake, I really appreciate everything, you letting me stay here and all. But after the other night, things just won't ever be the same. I just don't think I can stay here anymore.
Tyler had thought about closing they note with something like `maybe we'll run into each other some time,' but he couldn't honestly do that. He really hoped that he would never see Drake again.
Drake wadded up the note and threw it at the trash can. It was fairly close, but missed. Drake didn't bother to retrieve it and deposit it properly in the can. He poured a large dose of tequila into his glass and staggered his way back into the living room. He slogged down better than half what he had poured into the glass after he'd sat back down, leaving a little better than two ounces of the gold liquid still in the glass. Drake could be a mean drunk when consuming various types of liquor, but when he drank tequila is was guaranteed.
An hour and four more over sized glasses of tequila later, Drake's anger over Tyler's leaving was passing the boiling point. He'd noticed the balled up note lying on the floor next to the trash can, picked it up, spread it out on the counter and read it again. This had only served to increase his ire. Drake didn't understand what Tyler had meant about `after the other night' as he didn't recall the rape in the context it had really occurred. He remembered the sex, but the way it recalled it was not at all in the manner in which it had actually happened.
The next thing Drake knew, he was at The Cavern. He didn't even remember driving there, but this was the one place he thought he would probably find Tyler. Very few of the boys who frequented the bar looking for drinks, drugs or hooking up with men to sell their services were there this evening. Drake spotted two boys that he seemed to remember having been friendly with Tyler on the dance floor and flirting about the bar. `Maybe they'll know where he's gone,' Drake thought.
Neither Jesse nor Trevor knew that Tyler had actually even left the man's residence -- but neither of them would have been surprised. They did notice Drake watching them as they danced and moved about the bar. With the amount he'd had to drink, he wasn't even close to being subtle. He was also very horny this evening. There was another man at the bar who was studying the boys carefully. Despite his drunkenness, Drake even picked up on this.
Jesse and Trevor both seemed reluctant to associate too closely with the man, but he was fairly insistent. Finally they allowed him to buy them each a drink. The other man's attention was focused entirely on the two boys, so he didn't notice Drake closely watching his interaction with them. Drake wanted to separate the boys from this guy so he could talk to them -- he wanted to find out where Tyler had gone. It never occurred to him that the boy may have returned to his parents' home.
As Drake sat, staring at the three, he noticed that the other man had pulled a small vial from his pocket, and when the boys weren't watching, slipped a couple drops of liquid into each of their drinks. `He's drugging them,' Drake thought. Even though this wasn't something he was above doing himself, seeing someone else doing it angered him.
When he got up, Drake moved quickly. One of the boys was about to take a sip from the spiked drink. Drake reached him just before the rim of the glass touched his lips. Drake meant to slap the drink out of his hand, but his equilibrium was off because of the amount of tequila in his system. It was obvious to anyone watching that he was swinging his open hand at the boy, but at the last second, he stumbled and crashed into him, sending them both to the floor, Drake on top, Jesse underneath him.
Drake was dazed from the fall, and before he could get up, two bouncers were lifting him. They got him upright, each holding one of his arms tightly. Fighting was strictly forbidden in The Cavern, and this outburst would not be tolerated. "He's drugged them!" Drake managed to sputter out before the bouncers started to drag him toward the door.
When they heard that, they stopped. "What did you say?" one asked, even though he had understood Drake's slurred speech perfectly.
"He put something in their drinks," Drake repeated. "There's a bottle in his right pocket, just check it -- you'll see."
One of the bouncers released Drake's arm and advanced on the other man, who was doing his best to look the part of an innocent victim. "The man is obviously crazy drunk," he said as the bouncer stepped up to him. "I mean, look, he tried to attack this young man, and he can barely even talk!" He had a pronounced New York accent as he spoke.
"I think you should empty your pockets onto the bar," the bouncer said, speaking very calmly and evenly. He knew someone had been preying on some of the club's younger clientele, and it was quite possible this drunk had found out the culprit. The staff at The Cavern knew it was in their interests to find whoever was responsible and turn him over to the police -- the less attention paid to them by the authorities, the better.
"I'll do no such thing!" the man replied. This wasn't the expected response, and a slap to the side of his head emphasized the point.
"You'll do it or I'll do it for you!" he was told.
The New Yorker made a move to break for the door, but was stopped by Trevor putting his foot out, tripping him and sending him sprawling on the floor. Neither he or Jesse trusted this guy, they knew he had a reputation for being violent with some of the other young hustlers, and had only agreed to let him buy the drinks because they were together and figured there was safety in numbers. He had apparently meant to even the odds, or more likely tip them in his favor.
The bouncer picked him up roughly and pushed him into the bar, bending him over it and knocking the breath out of him as he did. A moment later a small brown bottle was pulled from his pocket and set gingerly on the bar next to him. "So what's this then?" the security man asked.
"None of your business!" the man spat back. "And you can't do this to me, I have rights!"
The bouncer grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the bar. "You have the right to shut the fuck up, as your police down in the states are so fond of saying. We'll just let our police sort this all out."
Two uniformed officers of the Thunder Bay police arrived a few minutes later, and after taking brief statements from the staff at the bar, Jesse and Trevor, they took both Drake and the American into custody. All the other patrons had vanished when the trouble started and mention of police involvement was brought up. Drake went quietly, but the American protested loudly -- everything from his rights being violated to the handcuffs being too tight. His complaints fell on deaf ears, and he was led to the waiting police car and taken off to a Canadian jail.
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