Date: Mon, 21 May 2001 14:33:29 -0500
From: Brennan Jobse <bjobse414@hotmail.com>
Subject: Running Scared - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Bonjourno, my friends! Okay, earthlings, I think you know how
this works. And because you do, I don't feel like going over it again.
HAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, anyway. So basically, the jist of it is if you want to be
here, stay. If you don't, leave. Nice and easy.  How's that for
instructions?

Running Scared
Chapter Two
By: Brennan Jobse

	This sucked. This wasn't a problem or an inconvenience. This was a
goddam calamity. What the hell did I think I was doing crushing on
Austin?!? Such were my thoughts as I scrubbed the kitchen floor
violently. It was late Sunday afternoon and my dad was reading in his
office.
	We had just gotten back from church an hour or so ago. My dad and I
were Catholic, so to speak. I hated every minute of it. Especially Reverend
Radisson's frequent tirades on the dissapointing lack of morality in
today's society. The authority figure of a religion that burned thousands
of people at the stake preaching about decency. It was almost laughable.
	I finished washing the floor and started to make supper. We always
had spaghetti on Sundays. As I dumped the noodles into the water, the phone
rang. I answered it quielty so my dad wouldn't hear.
	"Hello?"
	"Ben?" I felt my heart skip a beat and a smile creep across my
face.
	"Hi, Austin. What's up?" I tried to sound normal, tried to sound
like I wasn't nervous.  Like I had some kind of control.
	"Nothing. Just felt like talkin'. What're you doing?"
	"Making supper." I stirred the spaghetti a little to reinforce my
point and then stopped.  It wasn't like he could see me.
	"Oh, yeah. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to do something
later. Maybe catch a movie.  Hannibal's playing downtown."
	"Um, I can't. I have a lot of homework still."
	He scoffed and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Get real,
Ben. You're like, the smartest guy at school. There's no way you still have
homework on a Sunday."
	Dammit. He was right. I needed something he would believe. Anything
he would believe. But what? 'Sorry, Austin, I can't go. I mean, I want to,
but my dad would beat me if I tried' just didn't sound right. Once more, I
reflected on how much my life had changed when my mother died.
	I had always been a social child. My mom would take me to the park
and chat while I played. I met Aaron in the sandbox when I was four. He had
a truck and I had gummy bears. We were inseperable, as were our moms. As we
got older, we met new people, but we were always Aaron and Ben. That's just
the way it was.
	When my mom died, my dad, being the military man he is, decided my
mom had spoiled me, and had a crackdown on my social activities. No more
swimming, no more arcade, no more park days.  I'd get a sleepover at
Aaron's every now and then, which I cherished. No one really asked what
happened when I stopped going out. They just assumed I was working through
my grief, I guess.  Eight years later, not a lot had changed.
	 And now, here I was. Irony is a funny thing. Quite possibly the
hottest guy on the planet was asking me to see a movie. And he was nice and
funny and smart and... And my dad wouldn't let me go. I knew he
wouldn't. In fact, my daddy would probably smack me for being
presumptuous. Imagine, me thinking I could go out whenever I pleased. Like
I said, irony's a funny thing.
	"Come on. Come hang out with me," Austin was saying.
	I snapped my mind back to the present. "I can't," I started.
	"Why not?"
	"I just can't!" I was getting mad.
	"Alright, alright. No need to get testy," he said, a little annoyed
himself.
	I sighed. "Look, I gotta go, Austin. Supper's almost ready. I'll
see you tomorrow."
	"Fine. See you tomorrow." And the line went dead.
	I stared at the receiver in my hand for a second before placing it
back in its cradle.  This was great. Now he was pissed. Well, he could stay
pissed. I didn't need to fucking explain myself to him. I had enough to
deal with without him throwing a fit.
	When dinner was ready, I went to go get my dad. I knocked on the
big oak door.
	"Enter."
	I opened the door and stepped inside. My dad was sitting at his
desk with his reading lamp on. "Dinner's ready sir," I said, keeping my
eyes on the floor. He got up and exited the room without so much as meeting
my eyes. I followed close behind him, not saying a word. It was routine.
	Dinner was normal. Dad bitched me out for making the spaghetti
wrong (as if there's a wrong way to cook noodles) and demanded to know why
my soccer team lost its last game.
	"We weren't ready, sir," I mumbled.
	"Bullshit," he snapped. "YOU weren't ready. I talked to Harold
Patterson.  His boy said you were dragging ass out there." Harold
Patterson's son, Patrick, hated me.  And he played like shit. What would he
know? "You smarten up and play better from now on, boy, and if I hear you
cost that team another game, you'll get a beating like you wouldn't
believe," he threatened.
	I wasn't in the mood. "Whatever," I mumbled, pushing back from my
chair and taking my plate to the trash to scrape it off. I wasn't hungry
anymore. I felt a hand on my shoulder spin me around harshly so I was face
to face with my dad. He grabbed me by my hair and yanked my head
backwards. I heard, rather than saw, the plate fall to the floor,
splintering into a thousand porcelain shards.
	"Don't you take that tone with me, boy," he growled, low to my
face. "You show your old man some respect."
	"Get off me." I struggled and swung at him, which earned me another
yank backward. My feet slipped forward on the linoleum floor and my dad
pulled me up and punched me on the left side of my face. I lost my balance
and fell to the floor, hitting my head on the counters on the way down. I
groaned and rubbed my sore head.
	"Get up! Get up, faggot!" my dad yelled, and kicked me in the
stomach. "You wanna fight me? Get up!"
	I felt all the air in my body rush out of me with a whoosh and
closed my eyes tightly in pain. He kicked me again, this time in the
ribs. I coughed and a bolt of white-hot pain flashed through me. Go away, I
begged silently. Just go away.
	I heard footsteps. He was leaving. I could hear him muttering as he
lumbered off, no doubt to his office, his sanctuary. "Goddammed pussy.
Won't even stand up and fight like a man."  A door slammed and then all was
silent. All I could hear was the sound of my own labored breathing. I
opened my eyes tentatively, almost like I expected him to still be there,
waiting for me to lift my lids. No one there. But the bright kitchen lights
made my head pound. I slowly got to my feet and flicked off the light,
wiping away involuntary tears of pain, and stumbled to my room. I closed
the door and searched under my bed for my first aid kit. I pulled it out
and took it over to the mirror to check myself out.
	I had a small cut on my face where my dad's ring had caught my
cheek, nothing major. The bleeding had mostly stopped by now. My cheek
itself was swelling up fast, however.I took off my shirt and gently poked
at my stomach. It was a little tender and I knew it would be bruised in the
morning, but it was nothing a few days wouldn't cure. I ran my hands over
my sore ribs, pressing slightly to make sure nothing was out of place. All
clear. I breathed a sigh of relief.  A broken rib would land me in the
hospital pretty quick and the last thing I needed was people asking more
questions. I brushed a hand through my hair and winced when I hit a bump.
It didn't feel wet. I looked at my hand. No blood. That was good. I didn't
think I had a concussion. I knew who I was, what had happened, I remembered
the names of all my teachers, and I didn't feel sluggish. Even so, I had a
hard time falling asleep that night.

			 * * * * * * * * * * * * *

	The next day at school was long. Austin avoided me like the plague
until I cornered him outside of English class at the end of the day.
	"Listen, Austin. I'm sorry I was such a shit head to you
yesterday. I had a fight with my dad and I didn't really feel like doing
anything." It was practically the truth. "So are we okay?"
	"Yeah, we're okay, man. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have pushed it.
It wasn't any of my business." He looked genuinely sorry.
	I laughed and pinched his cheeks with both hands like my grandma
used to do to me. "Don't worry about it, dude." He smiled, swatted my hands
away, and took a playful jab at my stomach. I grimaced in pain and lurched
back.
	"Hey, are you okay, Ben? I didn't hit you that hard," he said,
concerned.
	"I'm fine," I said hoarsely.
	"You don't look fine," Austin replied quizzically.
	Think, Ben. Think fast. "I fell off my bike. The muscles are still
a little tender," I lied. He seemed satisfied with that and we dropped it.
	"Soccer practice will be cancelled today as Coach Haverland is
ill. Soccer practice is cancelled. Thank you," the intercom blared.
	I glanced at Austin, who was grinning at me like a madman. "What?"
I asked.
	"You have no practice. Wanna come over?"
	I thought about it. Go home early and listen to my dad bitch, or go
hang out with this stud until I was supposed to be home from
practice. Hmmm. Tough choice.  "Sure," I said nonchalantly.
	Twenty minutes later, we were at his house. I liked Austin's house.
It wasn't small, but it wasn't a palace either. It was... comfortable. Had
a lived-in feeling.  The trees were placed so they shaded the place in the
summer and warmed it in the little winter we had here in Vancouver. It was
made of brick and had a big picture window in the front.  Whoever designed
it had good taste.
	We went upstairs and played video games for a while. Austin killed
me. And took great pleasure in it, I might add. Of course, I wasn't really
paying a lot of attention to the game.  Every time I glanced at him, I was
awestruck. He was concentrating and I could see the wheels in his head spin
as he searched for ways to total my car and force it off the road. The
light from the screen reflected off of his face and made his cobalt eyes
glow. God, I wanted him.
	After he won the fifth time, I surrendered my controller and laid
back on his bed to watch him play against the machine. I felt my eyelids
get heavy and before I knew it, I was asleep.
	I woke to a soft warm breeze tickling my eyelids. They fluttered
open and I was greeted by those incredible blue eyes I loved so much.
Austin was sitting on his heels on the bed beside me. He bent over my face
and smiled. "Austin," I started, and was silenced when he placed his index
finger on my lips.
	"Shh..." he whispered and replaced his finger with his lips. His
lips moved lightly over mine with the grace of a swan. I opened my mouth
and timidly pushed my tongue into his mouth. I touched his tongue with mine
and for a while we fought with them, trying to see who would come out on
top. I was on sensory overload. Austin was all I could smell, all I could
feel, all I could taste. We broke the kiss and looked at each other. He
smiled at me and caressed my face.
	I kissed him again, this time with more passion and moved on top of
him. I ran my hands up underneath the hem of his black T-shirt and he
whimpered. The shirt came off and I dove on him, trailing kisses up his
jawline to his ear and back down his neck. His hands were roaming on my
back and through my hair.
	"Ben," he breathed.
	I made my way down his chest and stopped at his pink dime-sized
nipples. I licked the right one and blew on it gently, causing Austin to
moan out loud. A shiver shot up my spine and I attacked the nipple. I
sucked on it until it was erect and Austin was writhing and squirming
underneath me.
	"Ben... Ben..." he moaned.
	And then he got farther away, almost like he faded right from
underneath me. But I could still hear him calling me.
	"Ben... Ben... Wake up, Ben..."
	I opened my eyes and blinked. I was in Austin's room. On his
bed. Austin was shaking my shoulder. "Come on, Ben, wake up. It's 5:30." I
sat up and rubbed my eyes. A dream. It was all a dream. I looked to Austin
in confusion and he smiled. "You passed out after I slaughtered you at that
game. You must have been really wrecked. I've been shaking you for like, 5
minutes. But you have to go home now. It's half past five."
	I got off the bed and found my shoes. "Thanks. Uh, sorry I fell
asleep on your bed," I apologized from the floor, where I was putting them
on. I was a little embarrassed. I mean, what did I say while I was asleep?
More importantly, what did he hear?
	But he just smiled and held out his hand to help me up. "No
problem, man," he reassured me as I grabbed his hand. He pulled me up and I
thought he held on for an instant longer than necessary. Was Austin...? No
way. It was the dream. It was messing with my head, making me imagine
things that weren't there.
	"Bye, Austin," I said as I started walking down the driveway.
	"Um, hey, Ben?" he called from the door frame.
	I turned around. "Yeah?"
	He looked like he was going to say something, then thought better
of it.  "Nothing. See ya later." He waved and closed the door.
	I stood there for a second or two, thinking. Then I started home,
more confused now than ever.

Brennan's Ramblings: There you have it, folks. Chapter two. You know, I
think I'm really starting to like Ben and Austin. Anyhow, drop me a
line. Tell me what you thought.  bjobse414@hotmail.com