Disclaimer: The chapter you are about to read is fiction. It was created in the mind of the author, and any similarities to real life are purely coincidental. This material contains sexually graphic language and is intended for adults. The story is about young gay love. If this type of subject matter offends you, you are invited to stop viewing it now. The writer, his editor, and publisher accept no responsibility for the actions of the reader. Persons viewing this tale must do so legally; in accordance to the laws that govern them. This material is the property of the writer, and is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No copies may be reproduced in any fashion without the permission of the publisher.ãJCPCo2002
He couldn't speak because of the breathing tube that ran in to his lungs through his mouth. However, Randy's eyes said everything, those deep, dark, brown eyes revealed the fear, and confusion, he was experiencing. Jim noticed how pale his skin was, and the apparent loss of his regular senses, as he looked down at his Randy in the bed.
Jim died one thousand sudden deaths as he braved looking at his friend. The broken up body, the wires and tubes running in and out, the distant look on Randy's face, all these sights tugged at Jim's very existence. Coupled with his guilt, and fear of Randy's death, Jim began to weep. `I can't cry in front of him,' he thought to himself, `it'll scare him more than he all ready must be.'
Jim slowly approached the head of Randy's hospital bed, and reached his hand to Randy's forehead. A strong urge to touch Randy, and reassure him, overtook Jim, he lightly touched the palm of his hand to his friend's head. He used all his strength to control his composure, as he gently laid his hand on Randy. Jim looked directly into Randy's eyes, and gave him a brief smile. He watched as Randy's eyes closed, and left his hand resting where it lie.
"I'm here for you Randy, I'm here."
"Maybe you should sit with him and I for a few minutes, Jimmy," Mary whispered, from her chair.
Jim stood motionless for a moment or two, before he took his hand off of Randy's face, and took a seat next to Mary. It was one of those cold metal chairs, and had no padding nor upholstery, a folding style type. He shifted his weight around to find some comfort in the seat, and couldn't seem to get into a position that allowed it. Jim sat next to the bed keeping his eyes glued on Randy, and ignored his discomfort.
Joe wheeled himself into the room about a half-hour later. He had been sitting in his room, getting yet another of a series of blood tests, he felt weakened. His head cocked a little as he positioned his wheel chair near the foot of Randy's bed so he could maintain eye contact on Randy's sleeping face. The fear of his own condition swarmed in his mind like a cluster of hornets stinging at him. He clung to hope, hope that he'd beat his disease, and hope he'd find what he so desperately desired, Randy's love.
The three sat in the room, all in their own thoughts, all quietly concerned. Occasionally one or the other would doze off for a second or two, it was obvious they were all exhausted. The only sounds in the room were that of the pumping ventilator and the beeps of the heart monitor. Randy seemed to have gone back into a deep sleep; his body appeared so un-life like as it lay under the clinically white sheets.
Sometime later Nurse Holmsley came in the room; in her hands she held a tray of food and offered it up to them. She looked at the various medical apparatus around Randy's bed, and made some notes in the chart that hung off the end of it. When she finished writing, she adjusted the flow to the intravenous machine.
"Oh Jim, I almost forgot, someone is in the family waiting room for you," she told him.
Jim looked up, his eyes filled with wonderment, and asked, "Who is it?"
"I didn't get his name, but he's a handsome boy. I'd say about your age, black hair."
"Thanks," Jim said, as he realized whom she meant.
"Gosh, I'm sorry, he's been there almost..." the nurse said, as she looked at her watch, "...twenty or so minutes. I plumb forgot about him."
Jim slowly stood up, and stretched, he wanted to stay near Randy, but knew he had to talk to Steve. His eyes glanced down at the tray, the one on wheels that was used for patient's meals and tabletops, often in hospitals. He saw a pad and pen that had been left for Randy to write his words. Jim saw some shaky writing, he noticed it was his name scribbled on the pad, he decided he'd leave a note for Randy in case he woke. Jim simply wrote, `Randy, I'll be right back. You're my best buddy.' After he'd written the little message he turned to Mary, smiled at her and nodded. Jim excused himself with Joey, and walked out of the room, dreading what he was about to do.
The short walk to the family waiting room was interrupted, as Jim rounded the nurse's station, a patient was being whisked down the hallway. Several people crowded around the gurney, all of them quickly walking to keep up, as it was wheeled into the I C U operating room. It was one of the many times Jim had seen this kind of thing since he'd been coming to the hospital; it added to his stress and anxiety. When Jim reached the door to the waiting room, he briefly stood outside, taking a few heavy breaths and collecting his thoughts. Feeling his courage, he pushed open the door and walked in.
"Steve," Jim replied, his voice soft and with little emotion.
"Jim, I'm so sorry. I know I'm not the best of people at times. Sometimes I get so angry at myself. I can be so selfish." Steve's confession sounded so sincere, he even had a tear or two in his eye.
Jim took it all in, he didn't say a word, he began to remember how much he had been attracted to Steve.
"It's like I push people away. I don't know why I do it. I hate myself. Please Jim, help me. Help me." Steve began crying, his tears were large, and streamed down his cheeks.
Jim felt Steve's pain; he took him in his arms. Having Steve in his arms made Jim realize how much he really loved him, and how much he really wanted him. He held him in his arms and felt the warmth of Steve's body against his own.
"All my life, I've been so fucked up. I've done some really bad things Jim. I never think, I don't know why. Oh please Jim, please help me."
Steve was visibly shaken and crying uncontrollably. He held onto Jim, and liked being in his arms; it gave him a sense of security. Jim seemed so much in control, so responsible, so caring; all these traits were things Steve wished he had himself. Memories of all the bad things that were carved into his brain surfaced, he felt totally worthless. For the past several years, since he'd been involved with Bernie, he was often wracked with guilt and self hate. He had teetered and tottered between, trying to become a good person, and being tempted back to the ways he knew were wrong.
Jim holding Steve in his arms kissed him on top of the head. The love he felt at that precise moment was greater than any love he had ever felt. He wanted so much for Steve to be his, to be able to be happy together, and to be loved himself. A few tears welled up in Jim's eyes.
"Steve, I'm here for you. We'll get through it together. I love you."
"Do you Jim? How could you? After all the horrible things I've done, and said?" Steve's deep set, brown eyes, filled with shame, looked deeply into Jim's, and then he quickly looked down to the floor.
Jim reached his right hand up to Steve's chin and gently pushed up so Steve was looking back into his eyes.
"Look Steve, we all say things when we're mad. I've said lots I wished I hadn't, lots I wished I could take back, but I can't. Once the horrible things come out of my mouth, it's too late. I try to remember when people say things when they're angry, that they're just like me, so I try my hardest not to pay attention to what is said in anger." Jim continued to hold Steve's head up and continued to look directly into his eyes.
"You mean it Jim-jim? Can you really forget what I said?"
"Yes, Steven, I can." Jim thought if he called him by his full name, it would show his sincerity, he knew that in the beginning of relationships he had to build a bond, a bond of trust.
"Well, I need to tell you something else. I feel horrible, but I have to be honest. Oh, Jim you're gonna hate me. I make everyone hate me." Steve's eyes filled with tears again.
Jim held him tighter in his arms, and lightly brushed his lips on Steve's face. He wondered what Steve had done, but decided he'd say nothing, giving Steve space to tell him when he was ready. He just held him in his arms and cherished the moment.
"I stole from you Jim.... I'm so sorry. I'm a fucking thief." Steve began crying hard again.
Jim held him, saying nothing, and waited for Steve to go on.
"I stole some pot from you. Why Jim, why? Why do I do these things?"
Jim didn't know the answer to that. He thought about it, but he had no idea. What he did know, was that if Steve had stole some pot, he didn't really care. It wasn't like Jim wouldn't have smoked it with him any way; it really wasn't that big of a deal to him. As he held Steve in his arms, Jim was more interested in being in love with him, than the pot. Steve seemed to fill an emptiness Jim had been feeling for a long time, since his parents had died in that fiery car crash. `Pot, who fucking cares about pot?' Jim rationalized the thought.
"Steve, it's ok, I would have smoked it with you any way. What's mine is yours. Ok? I love you, that's all that matters."
"Really Jim-jim? You really love me?"
"Yes Steven, I do."
"I love you too."
The two boys kissed, briefly, both knowing someone could walk in on them any moment. It was one thing for two boys to embrace, and cry in the Intensive Care Unit's waiting room, but kissing was a whole different thing for two boys to do in public. Especially in 1974, and in upstate New York.
Jim's body and mind filled with desire for Steve as he held him in his arms. He needed to be with him. The feelings came rushing back, the tenderness he'd felt in bed with Steve those few nights before. His feeling of being loved by Steve and his need to be loved by him was stronger now.
"Let me go back to see Randy a few more minutes, and then let's get out of here. Let's take a ride out to the cabin, just you and me. So we can be all alone, together." Jim made certain he hinted strong enough to Steve what was on his mind, so there would be no mistaking his motives for being alone with him.
"Really, you want to? And you know...?"
"God yes, I want you so bad."
"Ok." Steve meekly replied.
To be continued:
I did it again, left you all hanging, don't fret none, I promise the next chapter will be hot, hot, hot! We sure are taking some turns. Aint we? Hope you all liked this chapter, and keep reading more. Write me, you all know's how much I love e-mail. Here's the addy Justin69SK@aol.com
Oh, hey, if you get the hankering to see my web site, here's the addy for that. And this time, I promise it's correct. Sorry about the last time, and the change of addys. The change was Homestead, and the bastards didn't even ask if it was ok to do.. The wrong address I gave in Chapter 9, was my bad fingers. Here is the URL to my site: http://justinscorner.homestead.com
I'd also like to invite you all to the newest chat room on Nifty, and remind you, to support the best site for reading stories about our lifestyles on the Internet. The chat room is called Nifty Writers, it can be accessed through a link on the Nifty's Chat page, or right from here: www.nevernet.net/nifty/nifty-w.htm
Sees you all soon! J