This is a story of friendship, commitment, love and trust. It is not a sex story. However, this story deals with love between male teenagers. If you are offended by stories involving love between two teenage boys, please do not read this story. There may be some sex scenes in this story; however, sex is not the main theme. If you are under age 18 or 21 or it is illegal to read this story where you live, don't read it. Reproducing this story for distribution without the owner's permission is a violation of that copyright.
Author's Message: Again another long chapter. Some people have asked what happened to Claude and Michael. Well, Michael, Dawson's father was killed a week before they were to meet. Claude never met Dawson either as Dawson didn't see any reason in going to Michael's funeral as he never knew Michael.
Please write and let me know if you like this story.
I was through customs and immigration pretty quickly but by three-thirty in the afternoon I hadn't found a place to stay. I was tired, hungry and lost. I came to a square and saw a cafe. I walked in and sat down at a table. It wasn't very crowded, which meant I get my food faster.
The waiter, a young looking guy with red hair, asked me for an order.
"Don't suppose you speak English, do you?"
"Non..." he replied and my morale sank even lower. I guess the look of frustration on my part must have done something, he then continued with a slight smirk on his face, "Well, at least not with an American accent. You are an American, right?"
"Oh, thank God! I'm absolutely starving! What do you suggest and yes I am an American."
"Steak and fries or as they say over here `un beouf steak avec pomme frit'," he said with a smile.
"Un beouf steak avec pomme frit," I echoed, "Merci!"
"My, my a polite American at that! Most of your countrymen that come in here are rather brash!"
"You're British, aren't you?" He nodded, "I am Dawson Phillips, artist."
He reached out his hand and I shook it as he introduced himself, "Ian Roberts, writer. So how old are you?"
"Seventeen," I lied, "And you?"
"Blimy! You look about thirteen! I was about to ask you where your parents were."
"What genre do you write, I'm an avid reader, and I'd love to read your work."
"Tell you what you do a portrait of me and I'll let you read one of my stories."
"Oh, dude you got a deal!" I said excitedly. Then a little more somber tone I asked, "Ian, do you know of anywhere I could stay that's not too expensive - actually that's cheap?"
"No sorry, I don't but I'll check with my mates over there they might know."
"Thanks." I watched as he approached a table with two other guys. They looked at me and I waved they didn't wave back and that worried me for a bit because I had visions of sleeping in an ally.
I opened my art pad and started to draw as I waited for my food. When I draw I tend to phase out except for my subjected and me. In this case the subject was Ian. He was quit a handsome guy with his red hair and pale blue eyes and somewhat freckled face with thin lips and a pleasant smile. My guess was he was about 6'1" and 160 pounds. I was just finishing off the sketch when I noticed I was the center of attention. Standing behind me on either side were the two guys that Ian had been talking with.
"My God, you are good!" I looked up to see a blonde hair, blue-eyed boy standing to my right. He had a German accent. He had deep blue eyes that one positively could get lost in. His oval face was blemish free with a slight rosieness to his cheeks and a tiny scar at the bottom of his chin.
"Thank you," I said softly. I don't know why but I was slightly embarrassed. I think I blushed.
"Ian hurry up with that food!" said the other blond boy - he looked to be about 18 or 19. Judging from his hands, dress, and manor I wonder if he might also be an artist.
"Oh, excuse me, I'm Alexis Rhineheart call me Alex."
"Dawson Phillips. I'm pleased to meet you."
"Ya, say that in a week," laughed the other boy, "Hi, Sven Petersen."
"Are you an artist or sculptor?"
"Only in his mind," laughed Alex, "No. In reality he's an excellent sculptor, but LAZY!"
"I would like to see your work sometime," I said.
"So, would the rest of us!" laughed Alex.
"Fuck you, Alex, oh sorry Alexis!" laughed Sven then pursed his lips at Alex.
Alex glared at him.
While I ate they discussed my sketch. Alex and Sven sat down at the table and ordered something in French from Ian. Ian arrived back in a few moments with three glasses of red wine.
"Ian there's your portrait. Now you owe me a story, I believe that was the deal."
Alex and Sven laughed but Ian looked very disgruntled.
Sven pushed one glass over to me, "My compliments."
"Thank you," I said picking up the drink and taking a sip. It wasn't too bad maybe a little bitter but tasted quite nice. It was the first time I had ever had a glass of wine. I really liked these guys so far.
"When you finish I'll take you to where I'm staying to see if they have a room. They are pretty cheap, small but cheap," said Alex.
"Sounds good to me," I replied.
"Hey Alex, it's your cousin!" called Ian. Alex left and I continued to eat my food. Then Alex returned and Sven went to talk on the phone. Alex was looking at me in a weird way.
"Hey, Dawson, a friend of ours is having a party tonight would you like to go...lots of free food, booze and women!" said Sven.
As tired as I was I figured I should go just so they didn't think I was being rude.
Alex and I left the café and walked across the square. I noticed the name Place de la Contrescarpe. It seemed familiar. Then we walked the down a street called Rue Moufftard and pass a bistro called Cinq Billiards.
"Oh, now I remember!" I said aloud.
"This place it was in a book by Ernest Hemingway."
"Oh, yeah, I think someone told me that once. I never could get into reading his books."
"Do you read a lot?" I asked as we walked down the street.
"Yes, pretty much. You?" he asked.
"Yes, pretty much. How long have you been in Paris?"
"Too long. A little over a year."
"You don't like Paris?"
"I like Paris, but I need a break from it. Here we are."
Alex talked with the concierge and found that there was a room across from his so we went to see it. It was small, just enough room for a bed, wardrobe and a table and chair. There was also a sink and mirror. There was one bright spark - I had a window, which overlooked a small courtyard. We went down to the concierge office and I paid for the week in advance with a promise to pay for the month after I had been to the bank.
"Thanks for the help Alex. Are you going to the party tonight?"
"Me? No. I have to work tomorrow. I'm not much of a party go-er."
"Oh." I was a little disappointed because I wanted to get to know him better, "Well, I'm going to unpack and take a nap."
"Okay. I'll see you later then."
"Yes - definitely later."
I went back to my room and unpacked laid down on my bed and fell asleep.
Then next thing I knew was Sven was shaking me. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty or else I'm going to kiss you," chuckled Sven.
"You dare!" I said sleepily and smiled at him as he leaped back. I think he was thinking I was a heavy sleeper.
There was another person with him.
"Hi," I said sleepily as I stretched, "I'm Dawson. Who are you?"
"I'm Dieter Rosenberg. I'm from the Netherlands."
I reached up to shake his hand as I got up. He misunderstood what I was doing and gave me a hard yank and the next thing I knew I was laying on top of him as he fell back and pulled me with him.
"Are you okay?"
"My god Dieter, you are anxious to meet him," laughed Sven.
Dieter blushed. I was still laying on top of him, I smiled because I thought it was rather funny and said in a giggle, "Well, yeah! I'm very pleased to make you acquaintance." Dieter started laughing too. He had a beautiful laugh.
"The feeling is mutual. Now could we get up?" He giggled. I helped him up. I noticed how he was dressed. He looked sharp. I guess I was sort of starring at him.
"I was noticing how you are dressed," I said and sighed, "Uh, maybe I shouldn't go. I didn't really bring anything nice to wear. I sort of left home in a hurry, all I could think of was painting, and I don't wear nice things painting."
"Hey, we're artists, we can be eccentric," said Sven.
"Oh, un-huh, that's why your dressed in slacks and a Pierre Cardin dress shirt. Nah, I don't like creating a bad impression."
"But you won't! You look fine! Henri wouldn't mind, he's really cool," voiced Dieter. I looked at him - he was dressed like a GQ model probably Armani.
"Sorry, no, I'm like way tired anyway. Maybe next time," I said sadly but forced a smile. Dieter looked really disappointed. He looked like he was almost going to cry as he turned away from me. "It really doesn't matter, Henri Dupree won't care. It really isn't an important thing. It's not like you're me I have to dress like this."
"Dieter's right, you should come," said Sven, "Dieter's one of his models and it's expected of him."
"So, why are you dressed like you just walked out of a photo shoot? Are you one of his models?"
"Well, I met this girl - woman - oh! She is beautiful, she's one of the models and I was hoping to meet her this evening. Hey you might meet someone nice too."
"I already have," I thought. "Okay, I'll go, but first," I lifted my arm and smelled my arm pit the rolled my eyes, "I have to clean up a bit." I pulled off my t-shirt and dropped my pants leaving me in boxers only. "If you guys want I can meet you at the café." I caught a glimpse of Dieter checking me out but I didn't say anything because guys do that whether they are straight or not.
"Oh, okay see you shortly," said Sven as he opened the door and pulled Dieter along with him.
I washed up and got dressed up as best that I could. I had a pair of white jeans, a royal blue long sleeve silk shirt that my grandfather had given to me - he had gone to China on business and had it made for me. Have you ever seen an Errol Flynn movie where he's worn a white pirates shirt you know billowy sleeves, large collar, no buttons shirt. Well my shirt looks like that except its royal blue and silk.
I looked in the mirror. I looked pretty good but not my best. I grabbed my art pad and dashed out of the room to the café.
I saw the three standing and talking near a wooden bench; they hadn't seen me, so I decided to make a grand entry. I ran and jumped up upon the bench withdrew my No 2B pencil from my pocket and said, "On guard! Defend thy selves! For I, Dawson, am here to rescue the princess from your dungeons. For your sakes, I pray that not one hair from her lovely head has been harmed!" All three just stared at me.
I jumped off the bench and stood in front of Ian. "Well, rather dramatic entrance, Dawson. You are so American," he said in a distasteful tone.
"Sorry," I said dejectedly. They were all supremely dressed and I just didn't fit in. I turn and walked away. I felt really stupid when Ian made his remark. It was a stupid thing to do and now I was embarrassed.
"Don't worry about it," said Sven kindly, "Ian can be an ass sometimes."
I nodded my head. They were all dressed way better than me. I looked out of place. I acted out of place. I didn't fit in and that was obvious to me as they were all several paces ahead of me. Why did Dieter want me to go anyway? And Sven too. They practically ignored me since I made my stupid dramatic entrance. The distance between us continued to grow and they didn't care. They were all speaking French anyway. I came to a stop and they kept on. I guess Dieter thinks my clothes are stupid.
Half a block separated us now and not one of them noticed or if they did not one of them cared. I turned and walked back. As I passed Cinq Billiards I looked in the window and saw Alex sitting alone at a table. He saw me and I forced a smile and kept on going.
"Dawson!" I heard Alex call. I stopped and turned around. "Aren't you going with Dieter?"
"No." I turned and start back on my way to the hotel.
The next I knew Alex's hand was on my shoulder. I stopped. I could feel my emotions building up inside of me. "What!" I said curtly not turning around.
"Come have a drink with me," he offered.
I let out a sigh took a deep breath and said, "Okay."
"What would you like?" He asked as I sat down at his table.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You're buying; you choose," I said still a bit gruffly.
He ordered me a drink, a hot wine. It was pretty good. I looked at him and smiled.
We chatted about things for a while.
"You have a great smile," he said, "So, why didn't you go to the party."
"I changed my mind. I don't have the right clothes. They look like they walked out of GQ and I - I look like I walked out of the slums."
"I'm surprised Dieter didn't offer to loan you some of his clothes. He has more clothes than anyone I know."
"Well he doesn't know me, so why should he do that. It's not like were even friends and I don't think he likes me anyway. Beside I'm pretty small for my age."
"Why do you say that - that he doesn't like you?"
"Because he totally ignored me, sort of like I was excess baggage he had to take to the party. I'm just not in his class clothes-wise or looks-wise. Hey I know an Armani when I see it. They were just being polite inviting me but none of them really wanted me to tag along. They didn't even notice when I wasn't following them or they didn't care."
"That's weird! I have no idea why they treated you like that because..."
I could feel my emotions building and I knew any minute I'd be angry or crying or both. So I interrupted Alex.
"Look, I don't really care. It's no big deal and I have to go. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and that doesn't make for a great conversation from me. Thanks for the drink." I got up and started to walk out. I stopped half way to the door. I realized Alex was just trying to be a friend. I shouldn't take my upset out on him. I turn and walked back to his table. He smiled and I force a smile. "Alex, I'm sorry I really do appreciate you trying to be my friend, but I guess I'm just tired and being a real bitch. Someday, when you have the time, I would like to repay your kindness by doing a pen & ink drawing of you."
"Dawson, you don't have to do that for me."
"I know, but that's what friendship is all about isn't...giving more than you get. Thank you for making me feel a bit happier. Good night, sir and pleasant dreams." I turned and walked out. Grandpa was right - I did feel happier than before I sat down with Alex. I feel like he does care and we will be friends.
Anyway, it was better than crying myself to sleep, which would have happened had he not talked to me.
I glanced behind to see if Dawson was there because he hadn't said a word and he was gone. I really felt like shit! I had totally ignored him because I didn't want the others thinking I was gay especially after the remark Sven made in Dawson's room.
I've met and seen some really awesome looking guys, but Dawson is different. I don't even know if he's gay or straight and for the first time it really doesn't matter because in those few moments in his room I knew I wanted him as a friend.
"Dawson's gone," I said unemotionally.
"Yeah, I know. He stopped following us a ways back," said Ian smugly.
"You should have said something," said Sven.
"Because twit Brit we invited him," said a perturbed Sven.
"Correction you invited him, not me! Personally, I don't care for him and I'm glad he's gone. He's probably gay."
"So, so what if he's gay! Or Straight! Or Bi!" said Sven angrily.
"Oh! Fancy him, do you?"
"You know what Ian? Fuck you! And Fuck the damn party!" said Sven as he turn and left.
"Sven, I was joking!" called Ian. Sven just gave him the finger and continued walking.
"Well, I'm going home."
"Oh don't tell me you fancy him too?"
I shook my head in pretended disbelief saying, "Ian, you are pathetic. Good night."
"What? What did I do?"
"Dawson has a fantastic talent! He sketched a drawing of you in minutes! I was hoping to introduce him to Henri Dupree...if your ability to write was one tenth of his ability to draw you'd have written something worthwhile by now."
I walked off leaving Ian standing there.
On the Metro I thought about what happen. I thought about Dawson. He was such a hottie. He has the most beautiful and perfect lips and those white jeans he had on almost gave me a hardon and that blue silk shirt! My god! It was hand made of the finest quality silk I bet. Everyone at the party would have been clamoring to get to know him and he would be my guest. Seeing him sleeping, I swear I could have kissed him. His voice is so soft, not harsh not sissy-ish, just soft and sweet.
I just think about him and my heart beats faster and, and...Oh, my God! I love him. In those few moments in his room I fell head-over-heels in love with him! I love you, Dawson...I have to call Alex. I have to tell him that I love Dawson.
Suddenly I wanted to get home fast so that I could call Alex, tell him of my newfound love, and thank him for finding him for me! I ran from the metro station to my apartment grabbed the phone and call the café. To my great disappointment he wasn't there. I'll try Cinq Billiards.
"Alex! Alex I love you! I love everybody! But most of all I love Dawson!"
"Wow! I'm so happy you are happy Dieter. You have such an awesome way of expressing yourself. YOU are just so fantastic! Wow, you must be so fucking pleased with yourself! You know what Dieter you are so full of your fucking self just like those `gays' at work that you just hate! You want to know why I move out from YOUR FABULOUS A PART MENT in to MY dump of a hotel room? Cuz I was so tired of hearing you talk and think about only yourself never considering the other person, which in my opinion makes you even worse than those so-called fags at work who are so full of themselves!"
I was shock! I mean I was so happy and I just want to tell someone and he's like really angry with me.
"Alex, what did I do to make you so angry with me. Please tell me - I'm so sorry! Whatever I did I really sorry!"
"AAAAAYYYYY! I can't believe you sometimes! Dieter, go fuck yourself because nobody else will ever want to! Good bye!" He hung up on me! I called back.
I was crying, "Alex, please..."
"Shut the fuck up! And listen to me and think, Dieter. Think about someone other that yourself! Think about the way you treated Dawson this evening. You with all your Armani suits didn't even offer to loan Dawson one so that he wouldn't have to feel out of place - out of your class..."
"But I loved his shirt..."
"SHUT UP! Listen to me! And THINK! If you so much as interrupt me once more I will hang up and leave! Understood?"
"Did you compliment him on his shirt? Did you happen to say Wow, Dawson you look so damn good! Did you?"
"No." I answered. I wanted to, but I didn't say a word. I didn't say anything to him the whole time.
"Right! And what kind words or for that matter what would words kind or not did you guys say to him as you all walked along?"
"I didn't. We didn't."
"I bet you all spoke French too. You blew it, Dieter. I saw him pass Cinq Billiards and I almost didn't recognize him he looked so fucking sad. We talked for a short while. Personally I think he's too good for you. He is so different from anybody I have ever met."
"The tears almost spilt out of his eyes because he thinks you don't even like him because and I quote he totally ignored me, sort of like I was excess baggage he had to take to the party, unquote. He also said he's not in his class clothes-wise, looks-wise. You were just being polite inviting him but none of you really wanted him to tag along. Then he said and I quote they didn't even notice when I wasn't following them or they didn't care end of quote."
"Dieter, he really wanted to be your friend and you fucked up! So don't call me and tell me how much you love him and how in love you are because you're NOT! You don't love him because if you really loved him you would have at least been there as a friend. And you weren't. And one last thing, no actually forget it! I don't wish to talk to you any more tonight so don't call back. Good night cuz."
I hung up the phone. Alex was right, I was only thinking about myself. I didn't have the courage to let him know that I liked him because I was worried about what Sven and Ian would think about me - I was afraid they'd think I was gay.
"I swear Dawson, I will never let this happen again. Just give me another chance to be your friend."
After Sven left Ian showed up. He started out being pissed off with Dawson.
"Why don't you like him?"
"Because he's a cocky little American poofta!"
"Yes, he thinks he's so cool at drawing!"
"Well, he is!"
"Yeah, well he sure brags about it too!"
"Really? Where was I? Because I don't remember hearing him brag at all! I think he's a very nice person, very honest, very caring and sensitive and he is a fantastic artist!"
"Oh! I know that! I can't help that you and Sven think the sunshines out of his lordships little arse. Well, I for one, DON'T."
"Are you sure you're not a tad bit jealous? You owe him a story, you know?"
"Fuck you and fuck him! I don't owe him anything! Are you sure you're not gay? Well, you can have your little faggot American!"
Ian can be so mean some times. I don't know why I love him but I do. I got up to leave.
"Alex, please I'm sorry."
"You know I put up with all your shit and you know what? I'm tired of it. I'm tired of your homophobic comments about people you don't know. I'm tired of your narrow mindedness but most of all I'm tired and I need to go home to bed. You owe him a story. Bye and good night."
I couldn't believe what Ian had said to me. I was so angry. It didn't matter to me what Dawson's sexuality was. All I knew was he seemed like a decent person and he was a talented artist. We'd all but ignored him...why I don't know. I was just listening to Ian, I saw him look back occasionally, and I assumed he was keeping an eye on Dawson. I feel really bad about this.
I saw Alex in Cinq Billiards and went in to see him.
"What are you doing here?" asked Alex.
"Looking for Dawson."
"He was here, but he left. You guys are real assholes. He did well to hold back his upset. I thought you liked him. What changed your mind?"
"Nothing! Ian was taking to me and I saw him looking back so I didn't realize we'd left him behind. Ian could have said something."
"Yeah, I guess he could have, but I think Dawson felt out of place with the way you were all dressed. He doesn't think any of you like him."
"That's not true. I like him. I want to be his friend. He reminds me of an old friend I once had."
"Ya, he died six months before I left home..." It was still hard for me to think much about Johan. I don't even know why Dawson reminds me of Johan, they have nothing in common except they have a similar way of smiling. "Alex, I'll see you later."
He smiled at me. I didn't have time to figure out why he was smiling, I left to find Dawson.
I must have pounded on Dawson's door for five minutes before a very sleepy looking Dawson opened it.
"Did I wake you?"
Dawson looked at me for a few moments then he laughed, "No, I just look this way all the time. Here's your sign!"
"Never mind," he giggled, "So was the party that boring?" he asked as a faint smile appeared on his fast.
"Without you. Yes," I said. He smiled. He has a killer smile. He giggled.
"So, why are you here, seriously?" he asked.
"To apologize. I'm sorry." He just looked at me for a moment and I could swear his eyes got really watery, "You remind me of a friend I once had."
"Yeah? Well, Sit down and tell me about him" he said as he lay down on his bed.
"Well, he was like my very best friend. He was gay, but I wasn't. I wish I had been..." I said. I couldn't help feeling all the sadness. I had never for some reason gotten over Johan's death and the tears that gushed from my eyes proved it.
Dawson got up, took me by the hand, and led me over to his bed. He lay back down and patted the area next to him. I lay down and he cuddled up next to me holding me as I cried. "I'm sorry, Dawson, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ignored you. It's just that there's something about you that is so much like Johan and I keep trying not to look at you, I keep trying to ignore you. Oh God I wish I had done something! I loved him so much! But I wasn't gay! I couldn't love him the way he would have wanted me to!"
"Did you ever ask him how he want you to love him?" he asked.
"No. I deserted him. Dawson, I didn't know how to handle it! It was my fault! He was my best friend! And I deserted him. Oh, God, Dawson, I wish I had been gay. I would have understood how he felt, what he was thinking...Dawson...he killed himself! I didn't talk to him for a week and when I finally got up the courage to tell him it didn't matter that he was gay, that he was still my best friend and would be forever I was too late! I killed him."
"Did he leave a note saying that?" Dawson asked quietly.
"But nothing, Sven...what you did was wrong, very wrong. But you don't know why he did what he did and only he knows why he took his own life. It could have been because of you or something else and that you will never know. We all make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes hurt others, those we dearly love, and sometimes those mistakes hurt you too. My grandpa helped me to realize that...many times. But Grandpa says we can't waller around in our sorrows and self-pity otherwise we're making an even bigger mistake because then we are ignoring the present. Learn from your mistakes, Dawson, he'd say. If there was one thing I learned from my g-dad it was the value of a true friend. I know what it is like to have no friends. And that hurts so bad..."
I could almost feel the pain Dawson must had experienced.
"Sven, you are a good person, let the mistakes go, let the bad go...learn from your mistakes. This one you made, is an easy one to correct. Just treasure those you love and occasionally, no...not occasionally always let them know you treasure them as they are and never turn your back on them and NEVER stop communicating to them...that's the most and I mean it's the most important thing."
"I think from my perspective that you've gone along way towards learning from your earlier mistake...because you came to apologize to me for ignoring me. You communicated to me and that helped me because I thought you didn't like me and now I know that that is not true, and right now I'm really thankful to you because I know that you care and that you want to be my friend."
"Tell me about Johan. Tell me about the good times you had together."
I talked solidly for two hours, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. I talked about the good and the bad and Dawson listened. I felt so close to him. There was one burning question I had.
"Can I ask you a question, a personal question?"
"Dawson, are you gay?"
"Does it matter? I mean if it matters if I'm gay or it matters if I'm straight then it really doesn't matter because then we don't have a real friendship. It's friendship that matters to me because I don't care if you are gay or straight or both or none. All that ever matters is are you my friend and that can our friendship grow beyond forever."
"It's funny Dawson, for the first time in my life I don't really think it matters. I don't care if you are gay or straight or bi or whatever, I just love being your friend."
"I love it too, Sven."
"I do have one more question and you have to answer it truthfully, promise?"
"Are you really 17?"
"No. I'm fifteen," he said, but he was looking me in the eyes.
I fell asleep after about fifteen minutes with Dawson still holding me in his arms. I think I could fall in love with him...I think I have...
Aw! Don't you just want to hug him - Sam.