Date: Wed, 31 Oct 2001 19:14:36 -0500 From: Elsewhere Subject: Humor Me (Part 2/?, High School, m/m) Humor Me Disclaimer: This is a story about a romantic relationship between two teenage males. If that kind of story offends you, then please do not read the following story. Also, if you are under the legal age to read stories of this type, then don't. Please do not reproduce this story without permission, since that is a copyright infringement. Ok, I'm here again. First, I want to thank all of you that replied to me about my first chapter. Stuff like that does a heart good, I have to admit. Chapter 4 is coming along, but slowly, as I'm starting to finally realize where I'm going with this. It may look a little...simple in this chapter, but I can say that there's more to it than what I have written so far, and I really do hope you enjoy it. Once again, comments go to dreamer@shell.monmouth.com. -Chapter 2- "What's with you?" At that, I looked up from the last minute Chem equations I was working out, pressing my back against my closed locker door. That question had been preceded by a pair of feet in women's boots, seen out of the corner of my eye as I worked, which had stood there and tapped impatiently in my direction as Dani spoke up. "Nothing's with me," I said off-handedly, trying to be casual. There was a conversation brewing here, since I could see that look in Dani's eyes. She was not going to let this go very easily, and this was one talk I wanted to avoid. Trust me, Danielle, you don't want to be a part of this nightmare. "The hell it isn't," she said, kneeling down next to me. "Talk to me, Jonas," she whispered, looking around to see if anyone else was listening. This struck me as odd, since normally when she wanted me to open up to her she'd get loud, attracting all sorts of attention from passers-by. "You've been frosted over all week. What's wrong?" I felt what was left of my breakfast start to force its way back up my throat. I pulled my knees up close, resting my arms across them as I winced from the pain. There was that little part of me: that small, lonely part of me that still kept a childhood teddy bear, that wanted to yell out at that moment. It hurts, I wanted to yell. It hurts so much, now. In my mind's eye, it had been three agonizingly long weeks. Three weeks that I have felt the closest to anyone I've ever met, and the furthest apart from them at the same time. After two weeks, I was starting to feel like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I had come to care for someone very deeply in those first two weeks, and I took comfort in being able to reach out to him. Being around him was a constant source of wonder, our talks in person or over the phone lasting well into the night. Mike. Michael... I had made the decision after last weekend. Dani, Mike, and I had ended up at Mike's on a Saturday night, and indulged in an all-night movie marathon. We had gone through one of those angsty teen dramas, each of us pointing out which troubled teen in the film reminded us of someone at Weathering. One Kung-Fu movie from the 70s, just to make fun of the dress code, and others I can't remember. Eventually, the sugar rush from the sodas and chips wore off, and we ended up crashing on the couch in Mike's basement as a unit: Mike leaning against the armrest, myself leaning against Mike, Dani leaning on me. I had woken up first, before the sun had risen much at all. Dani's head was against my side, cutting of the circulation to my legs. The only sound I could hear was Mike's heartbeat, as I was curled up against his side. His heartbeat was steady, slow and in rhythm with his breathing as he still slept. I felt the rush of heat in my own body well up, as if meeting Mike's warmth, and I curled up more, snuggling closer to the mousy-haired boy. So warm, his and my own body heat mixed, and it more than made up for the lack of a blanket. I felt fresh tears sting my eyes. If I were any closer to him physically, we'd be having sex, but inside it felt like were a universe apart. I blinked away the tears and let my eyes drift along the edges of his form. Beauty is where you find it, and he was sleeping right next to me. I could watch him all day, and sometimes I had. They were such beautiful times, those we spent together. The sun rose a little higher, illuminating his face. My breath caught, despite myself. He was adorable when he was sleeping; his expression quiet but looking like it burst back into life at an eye blink. But, that wasn't what made my throat hitch. Mike was crying. He was fast asleep, but tears glimmered on his cheek, still fresh. I felt my heart swell, pressing against my rib cage, threatening to cut off my breathing as blood was forced into the vessels near my ears and temples. It was like that portrait I had drawn weeks ago, when I had first met him. I wanted to hold him, rock him and let him tell me what was wrong. I ached to comfort him, to make him smile and laugh all the time. Without thinking, I reached towards his cheek, wiping a tear off with a gentle brush of my thumb. I brought the tip of my thumb to my own lips, drawing the remnants of his tears across my tongue. I would wipe them all away, if I could. That close, I could feel him shudder, as if he sensed my contact. And all at once, I felt myself get really sick inside. I wanted to help him, but I must have hurt him instead. I felt myself wishing to vanish right there. Or die. It didn't matter to me anymore. "Nothing," I said to Dani, in the present and still sitting against my locker. "Just feel like being alone." I hadn't told Dani anything, lately. I had a crush on my newest friend, and it was a boy, and it was my cross to bear. I had decided after last weekend that the only way I could not hurt Mike was to not be in his life. It hurt the hell out of me, yeah. But I'd heal. I wouldn't heal myself if I ended up hurting him. One day, he'd understand, and probably thank me for sparing him that pain of learning I was so deeply attracted to him. I had been banishing myself all this week, spurning plans offered by both Dani and Mike, claiming too much homework or just a need to be by myself. "Jonas," Dani said. "Talk to me. Talk to /us./ I've been worried about you all week, and Mike's nearly beside himself. We want to be with you this weekend." "And I'm not interested, Dani," I said, getting exasperated quickly. I did want to be with them, but I'd only hurt people in the end. Best I make a clean break now, to save them the grief. Dani shook her head. "We're afraid for you. You're bottling something up and it's hurting you. We haven't talked to you all week, and we want to help you, whatever it is. This isn't like you." "Then maybe," I retorted, snapping my book closed as I got up to gather my things, "you really don't know me. I said I don't want to be around people, so drop it." As I turned and stalked away, I felt my chest constrict again. Damn, everything hurts. I wasn't sure which was worse: the fact that I was walking away from the two best friends I've ever had, or that discovering I was gay and attracted to one of them essentially made me like the other students here, with all of their hip and in-style problems. It took everything I had not to turn right around, rush back to Dani, and explain everything. But, it would burden them both and probably break up the friendship we had in a way that would hurt all of us. This way, it's only me that hurts, and maybe I'll stop crying myself to sleep every night. I'd stop longing to feel Mike's body against mine, those blue-gray eyes of his staring at me with need. Those dreams had made me feel beautiful, but that's all they were. Dreams. It wasn't even that I was gay. I wasn't really bothered by that. I mean, you like what you like, right? You don't have all that much of a choice in the matter. But I betrayed Mike. He was my friend because he thought I was cool, and I was his friend because I was uncontrollably drawn to everything about him; his looks, his personality. God, it hurt just thinking about it. I was back in First Period Comp, trying to focus on my screen saver at my monitor, when I heard a familiar rustle of clothes and chair to my left, touched by a faint whiff of cigarettes. "Earth to Jonas," Mike said, nudging me with his shoulder. "Come in, Jonas." I turned my head to look at him. I could look forever, to my eternal damnation. "Hey," I said, trying a smile. He leaned close to me, speaking conspiratorially. "Listen, I don't know what you said, but Dani's real upset." "I know," I said. "Tell her I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at her like that." Mike nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I didn't think you were pissed at her. Is it me you're mad at?" I nearly jumped. "No," I said, quickly, even as I felt myself squirm under his touch. "I'm, not mad at you." Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. I wanted to tell him so badly, but the thought of him hating me was enough to drive me nearly mindless. I closed my eyes because I didn't want to cry again. "I can't talk about it now," I said. "It's complicated." He arm was around my shoulders, now. "Shh, Jonas," he said. To the other students, it just seemed like we were having some normal conversation, but his words were private, and just for me. "It'll be okay. Is it something at home?" You're missing a syllable off that last word, Michael. "Nah," I whispered back. "It's personal." He gave me a serious look. "Whatever it is, I'm worried. I've never seen you look so strung out, man." He looked around for Ms. Samuels before talking to me again. "You want to ditch, grab a smoke with me somewhere, so you can talk to me about this?" I smiled, again despite myself, because I did like that idea. "Nah. I...just need to be alone for a while, Mike. And stop being such a bad influence." I added a smile to that last part. "Quiet, peasant," he said, smirking in his Mike-the-King voice. "Influence, nothing. The yes or no of anything is in your hands, at the end. Besides, it's no fun being the King and the Man if I can't corrupt the commoners." I just shook my head. I don't think I could ever stop being his friend. I didn't /want/ to. "Hey, it's fun on our end too," I replied. "Mike. Just...give me a few more days? I need to decompress, then I'll talk. All right?" He smiled, and I felt my throat close up. "Cool," he said. "When you need to talk, I'm here for you, okay?" I sighed in return. "I know, man." I smiled back, trying to fight the blush in my cheeks. "Thanks." Mike looked a little sad, then, and seemed about to say something else when Ms. Samuels came into the room to start the lesson. During class, I started giving it some thought. I mean, maybe getting things out in the open could get me to work through it. The fires inside me could cool down, and we could just go back to normal. I missed Mike, this week. Him and Dani both. They wouldn't care if I told them I had a third eye. They're my friends, no matter what. I had worked this out through my day, managing to stammer an apology to Dani at lunch when I saw her, asking for a few days to get my head screwed back on straight. No pun intended. "Okay," Dani had said. "But, come Monday, you talk to us. Promise?" "I promise." By Study Hall, my last period of the day, I was feeling a lot better. Come Monday, I'd explain it, and we could go on with our lives. I missed catching movies with Dani, or hanging out at the park with Mike. Besides, maybe Mike will be okay with it, that I think he's handsome. Not that his ego needs any more stroking, but it would make him smile. I chuckled, flipping a page in whatever random book I had pulled off the library wall. I was way too preoccupied to read, or really pay attention to anything else. That's why I didn't notice Wil until he spoke my name. "Jonas?" I lifted my eyes from the book to find a familiar face. Wil was one of those people I know, mostly because he was the accompanist for the Chorus at school, but didn't know very well out of school. I didn't think anyone knew much about him. Not that he shunned company, just that he was a quiet person. I could appreciate that and respected his space. He wasn't that much taller than I was, his body on the fit side, with dark hair and brown almond-shaped eyes. His skin was a bronze color that screamed Pacific Islander. Maybe Filipino, or somewhere else. I had never thought to ask. I closed the book in my hands, putting it back on the shelf. "Wil," I said, smiling. "What's up?" "This is your Study period, right," he asked. "I wanted to borrow you for a few minutes, for the Audio Lab." I wondered what this was about. But, when it came to music or any type of audio production, students knew to talk to Wil. I looped my backpack in my right hand as I stood. "Sure. What do you need?" "I've got a friend from my production class who wants to re-mix a song, but they want a male voice for the vocals. Most of the guys I know who can sing are classically trained, which isn't what I want to see for this song. You can sing, and make it still sound like a rock song." As Wil paused for breath, he handed me a folded sheet with the lyrics. As I saw which one it was, I started to laugh, since I do so appreciate irony. "You know the song, Jonas?" "Oh, hell yeah," I said. "I'll do it." "Okay," he answered. "Lab's this way." In the basement of the school, the Audio Lab was divided into two rooms. The outer room was the audio mixing booth, while the inner room was for the performers being recorded, and was heavily insulated for such things to prevent distraction from outside. Wil frowned as he let me in, motioning me towards the inner room. "Hmm," he said, looking around. "Must have stepped out." He shook his head. "Talk later. Jonas, you know how to do this, right?" "Sure," I said, heading to the inner room, bee lining to the headphones on the podium in the center of it. "I know this one by heart, Wil," I added, speaking into the microphone hanging from the ceiling. "Am I clear?' "Perfect," Wil replied, making some final adjustments. "Go for more feeling, as opposed to doing high opera, and that baritone of yours should fit the bill." He smiled, his fingers over a large button. "Ready?" As I gave him the thumbs-up, he flipped the switch. This turned on the recorder, and the music in the headphones I was wearing. MY eyes slid shut on their own as the hypnotic opening beat of the song rang in my ears. I knew the song. I had thought of it enough times in the last few weeks to imprint it on my memory. Wil wanted feeling, he said. And I want to give it to him as I started singing, calling images of Michael into my head. <> In my mind's eye, I watched him laugh once more, then turn to smile at me. Only for me. And I never felt so real before. <> His fingers touch my cheek, feather-light as I turn my head to kiss them. It's all in my head, I remind myself, as my fingers tighten on the edges of the podium. <> When I can finally breathe, I can smell him. That mix of whatever shampoo he uses, that green soap, and cigarettes. It's the right blend that marks these smells as /Him./ The Him who is safe, and handsome, and smart, and sweet, and pulls me out of my shell when he's near. <> Inside my head, I feel his body press against mine as I put my arms around him. I can hear him sniffle, and I can be there to comfort him. I can feel myself rock back and forth as he lets it all out. <> He turns again, as his lips push against mine. Searching, hungry, in need. I die just then, for him alone. Michael... I hear the music fade, as I start registering reality again. The light hurts my eyes when I open them, once the 'audio-on' light is extinguished. I feel a little blurry. "Second take, Wil?" There's silence on the other end for about five seconds. "Jonas," Wil says, voice registering chock. "A second take? Are you fucking crazy?" "Only half of that," I said, glum. "Was I that bad?" "Bad," Wil shouted, as my eyes began to focus through the window separating the rooms. "You idiot. That was incredible. I've never seen that much emotion put into that song. Holy shit, you /meant/ that!" "Maybe," I said, as I saw Wil near-to-jumping out of his chair. "I've been having-" I said, then everything stopped. Wil's friend from class had come back, and he was staring at me through the glass as if he was about to pop a vein in his forehead and die on the spot. His jaw hung open, the tracks of tears on his cheeks, coming from those incredible, unreal blue-gray eyes. Michael... All at once, that feeling of dread had come back. He knows. He has to. Oh, God, it was supposed to be okay. I mumbled something, squinting against the wetness in my own eyes as I snatched my backpack from the floor, and bolted out of the basement. I was already up the stairs and heading towards the buses waiting outside when I heard him behind me. "Jonas!" I wheeled around, skidding to a stop. "Mike...please. Don't. I didn't mean it." Mike stopped, that look of utter shock still stamped on his face. "Didn't mean what? Jonas, that was...I thought." I shook my head, and felt my voice crack. "I didn't! God, Mike, I'm sorry. I didn't want this." I heard him come closer. "Want what? What do you mean?" "It doesn't matter!" I shouted, heading towards the door. "Just...forget me, Mike. Forget I was ever here!" I bolted again, finding my bus in short order and climbing aboard. I was the last one to arrive, so it sped off once I was there. Behind me, I could hear him shouting my name. "Jonas! Come back! Jonas!" As soon as I got home, that's when I knew it was all going to end. My answering machine was blinking rapidly, and the first few messages were an indication of what I should expect. First was Mike: Beeep. Jonas? Jonas, it's me? If you're there, pick up. Please? I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. Call me. Then, Dani: Beeep. Jonas? What in Hell happened at school today? Mike called, and he's freaking out over you? God, honey, pick up. Please? I couldn't deal with it any more, so I decided to do my normal getaway routine, especially when I want to get away from the phone. I took my backpacked, and stuffed it with the comic books I had picked up over the last few weeks, my Walkman, some tapes, and Mac, zipping it quickly. In my closet, I retrieved the tent. The tent was something I asked for last year, for my birthday. Not that I camp all that much, but I used it as a hideout in the backyard, especially when I was starting to overheat from Weathering life. It was one of those vinyl-domed deals, for a family to sleep in at once. That meant you could fit five of me in there, so there was a lot of open space to play with. When not in use, it folded up neatly into a package, carry-bag included. The throw blanket off my bed, woven cloth in a Native-American style, was in my other hand as I trudged down the stairs. Mom was in the kitchen, having gotten home from work early. As I was getting the six-pack of Dr. Pepper I keep in the fridge for such emergencies, then some food for me to stuff myself on, which means chips and cookies, she looked up from the files she was working on at the kitchen table. "Honey?" she asked. "Mike called the house phone, looking for you. Four times." I stopped, and nodded. "I know," I said, then went back to my scrounging. "Are you all right?" "Yep," I said. "On retreat tonight. You know the drill." "What about dinner?" "I'll kill my own food outside. Damn squirrels." I was so in no mood to talk. "Jonas,' she said. "He was worried. What's the matter?" I turned, ready to shout, then caught myself before I got grounded for a year. "Nothing, Mom. Just need to get away from everyone, okay?" She sighed. "Okay. But, if you need to talk." "I know," I said. "Though I have a queue, so it'll have to wait." And with that, I headed to the back door. One good thing about having money, you have a crapload of property to relax on. I picked my face spot in the backyard, under the old oak tree Mom wouldn't part with, despite the landscaper's protests. The spot I had claimed as my own was free of irritating roots, so sleeping wasn't a problem. In short, practiced order, I set up the tent, using the pitons to hold it down and bending the support rods the right way to maximize the available space. Sipping it open, I dropped my gear inside, spread out the blanket, and settled down for some very private time. It was so quiet, there. No outside world to hurt me. Maybe not the best coping mechanism, but it made me feel better. And, let's face it, it didn't scare my parents that much. Shoes off, sticking to a white T-shirt and jeans, I was just stuffing another Oreo in my mouth, and turning the page on a JSA issue, when the tent shook. My headphones were way into the dance mix I made up from downloaded tracks, so I didn't hear anyone approach. The tent shook again, and the zipped-up door pushed inward. Looked like someone was knocking. I pulled my earplug headphones out, and opened the door. "What is-?" It was Mike, and I felt my heart burst all over again. He had changed clothes since school, now in a dark-blue logo less T-shirt, worn over cream-colored corduroys. But, he still looked like someone who lost something very important. "Jonas," he whispered. He put his hand inside the door, so I couldn't close it on him. "God, Jonas. Talk to me, please?" I wanted to go cold, so I couldn't feel anything anymore. "Okay," I said, giving up, and let him in. He chuckled as he entered the tent. "Jeez, dude. You buy this, or did Roswell give you one of the spares they keep buried under the desert?" "It works for me." "I can see that," he said, shifting uncomfortably as he sat down, on the opposite corner of the tent from me. "Jonas...about today." I shook my head. "I didn't know Wil was helping you with an audio project." Mike sighed. "I figured that. It wasn't a prank, either. I didn't even know he had you in mind." "I figured that." I shrank back against the wall of the tent. "Mike...it's not safe around me anymore. Maybe you should go." "No!" he said. "You're upset, and I'm not going to abandon a friend." He started chewing on his lip. "I just don't understand," he admitted. "What did I do?" I blinked. Confusion was setting in fast. "What do you mean?" "What did I do to make you hate me?" I felt my stomach lurch. God, he thought it was his fault. Oh, no, no! It wasn't. "No," I said. "You're not perfect, but you didn't do anything bad to me." He never did. Hell, he was one of the best friends I ever had. That's why this hurt so much. "Then why are you mad at me?" I felt the tears again. Damn, I hate being weak. But I needed to get my eventual ass-kicking over with. "I'm not mad at you. Mike, I like you." He looked up, brushing back a stray bang. "You...like me?" I nodded. "That's the problem." I lifted my head, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I like you, Mike Bannon. That's why I was pushing you away. It hurts too much, and I didn't want to hurt you too." "I don't-" Mike started to say, then came to a dead stop as realization hit. "I do see," he said. "My God..." "Not God's fault," I said, turning my face away. I could hear the shuffle of canvas as he seemed to be coming closer. I pushed against the wall, thinking maybe I could run some before I died. "It's all me. It's all my thoughts. I didn't tell you sooner because I didn't understand all of it. But...that's what's there, and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It just did." As he put his hand on my shoulder, I started to shake. "Just make my death clean, okay? For what friendship we did have?" There was a pause, and a finger pressed under my chin to turn my head around. His eyes, they were sad, but now there was something...hopeful, about them. "It's what friendship we do have," Mike said. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. -End Chapter 2-