Date: Tue, 8 Jul 2003 05:12:57 -0400 From: C. E. Jordan Subject: BROOKLYN BLUES: TYSON & SHAWN - part 2 Brooklyn Blues: Tyson and Shawn by C.E. Jordan >From last episode: While tightly grasping Ty's neck with his left hand, the teen groped in his own right pocket, as if to get a weapon. He was practically pressing onto the young boy's body and staring steadily into the wide hazel eyes. Tyson was totally overpowered by Shawn's very presence; he wanted to run away, but at the same time he fought an urge to grab the boy in front of him and pull his body even tighter against himself. He felt faint, "I... I..." he stammered, "I didn't mean anything... I..." His frightened pubescent voice squeaked way higher than normal. _________________________ Part 2 Shawn relaxed and started laughing, his voice echoed in the small space, "Jeeze, there you go squeakin' again... you are such a scared pussy-cat. No, more like a mouse runnin' around in the dark." Ty recoiled as Shawn quickly pulled his right hand out from the pocket of his baggy jeans. But it held only a Snickers candy-bar. "It's alright 'mouse', I ain't got no gun, well, not ON me." He laughed again. Shawn moved slightly apart from the boy, but his hand on Ty's neck lingered there a little while before it was also removed. The younger boy giggled nervously, embarrassed, but relieved that he was not going to be beaten up or shot. And now he was feeling stupid that he didn't know what to say to the beautiful dark boy staring at him. He looked down bashfully, "Um... I..." He began again, but when he looked up Shawn had already started to walk away. "Oh... wait Shawn... I..." Shawn stopped and turned around expectantly, but Ty had gone dumb again. The older boy grinned and went back to Ty, "Tell me, what are you doin' standing around here all alone in the stairwell?" A pause, then almost a whisper, "Were you waitin' for me?" Before he got an answer Shawn continued speaking softly, "You know, I seen you watchin' me, always watchin' me... when I look up at your window you're always there hiding behind the curtains. But whenever I get close to you, you don't even look at me... what's up with that?" "I... I... don't know, shy, I guess..." Mumbled Ty. Shawn was quiet for a moment while he unwrapped his candy-bar, then offered a bite to Ty. "Want a piece? Wanna come to my crib for a while?" He asked both questions in one rush of breath. Ty blinked and nodded as he found himself biting into the sweet chocolate candy still held by Shawn's long dark fingers. It felt curiously intimate, to eat directly from another person's hand. The two boys exited the stairwell together onto their floor. "Um... I'm not supposed to leave the apartment while mom is at work..." "Well, you out now, ain't ya?" "Yeah... I guess..." "When is your mom coming home, anyway?" "She should be back by six this afternoon..." "So... you got a whole two hours before you have to go home... and it's only next door... sooo, you still wanna come with me?" Tyson hesitated only a moment. "Yeah, okay, I'm coming." He watched as Shawn pulled up a thin gold-coloured necklace from beneath his red T-shirt and used a key hanging on it to unlock his apartment door. "My room is over there," he said, pointing down to the end of a short corridor. As they passed through the apartment to Shawn's room, Ty looked around discretely. This place was smaller than the unit he lived in; it was neat and clean, but curiously bland. His own apartment had paintings on the walls, and books of all kinds were everywhere. Here there was a round clock on the wall along with two small pictures, photographs of Shawn's parents he assumed, but no books anywhere that he could see. "Your parents aren't home Shawn?" "Nope. My dad don't live here no more... and mom, she's always at work." Shawn's bedroom looked totally different from the rest of the apartment. It was cozy, cluttered, and comfortable; there were a lot of books and magazines around, on shelves, and on the floor, Ty smiled, it was almost like his own room. Tyson didn't particularly care for sports, but he recognized basketball star, Michael Jordan, looking down from a big poster attached to the inside door. And a few other pictures, of male teen-stars mostly, decorated the pale yellow walls. A computer sat on the small desk, and a pile of clothing spilled out onto the floor from a half- opened closet. More clothes were piled on one end of the bed. Shawn looked suddenly embarrassed and kicked some underwear under his bed. "Um... sorry, my place is real messy, I ain't too neat." "Don't worry about it Shawn, your bedroom looks just like mine." "It does?" "Yeah, mine is a little bigger, but just as messy." "So, mouse, you calling my room messy?" Shawn growled menacingly. Pretending to be mean again, he got into Tyson's face and stared him down. But this time Ty just laughed. "Hmmmm, so... I guess you ain't scared of me anymore, huh?" "Nope." "So why you still standing around? Sit down." And he gave the boy a small shove. Slender light Ty promptly fell over onto the bed. He reclined there cushioned by the soft pile of clothing. It felt comfortable, so he stayed like that. Shawn stood there for almost a minute silently gazing down at the bespectacled curly-headed boy. "What?" Asked Ty beginning to blush red under Shawn's intense stare. "How old are you?" "Nearly thirteen." "Why... err... how come you're so... so..." "So what?" Asked Tyson mystified. "So damn white.... those light eyes... all them curls... and you talk funny." "Oh, my dad was white -- British, and we lived in Europe for awhile." "Oh yeah? That's cool... he and your mom split?" "Naw, he... he died." Ty's small fist clenched and went to his coral mouth. His voice trembled a bit as he continued speaking, "Dad was in the World Trade Center when it went down." "For real?" Ty didn't answer. Shawn sat down on the bed near his new friend who looked so unhappy. "I'm sorry Ty." And before he realized what he was doing, he'd reached over and brushed some curls away from Ty's face. He gently stroked the soft cheek. Shawn became aware of the interesting contrast of his dark fingers touching that warm caramel skin and began to pull away, but Tyson grasped the hand and turned his face into it. Shawn felt soft lips briefly brushing his palm. He jerked his hand away as if burned and stood up. Tyson's eyes, magnified even larger by the round lenses, were wide, liquid, almost over- flowing, as he lay looking up at Shawn. "I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... I'm sorry. I'd better go." He got up off the bed and hurried toward the bedroom door too ashamed to look directly at Shawn. He was almost out the room when his struggling body was grabbed and dragged back inside. "Where you think you runnin' off to little mouse?" "You hate me." Tyson's light voice broke, and he avoided looking into Shawn's eyes. Shawn forcefully pulled Ty down to sit with him on the bed. He kept his arms around the boy, holding him still, afraid that any moment he might flee. "I don't hate you, it's just that I don't play that... that **gay* stuff..." Ty's body stiffened and abruptly surged away from Shawn. Once more he was headed for the open bedroom door. This time Shawn didn't try to restrain him and remained seated on the bed, but he spoke quickly, "Wait Ty, I just meant I ain't never done nothin', well, nothin' like that. Don't go Ty, please Ty." Tyson hesitated at the door, but didn't turn around to face Shawn. With his head down, he mumbled, "Why? Why should I stay?" "I... I don't know, the only thing I know for sure right now is, I don't want you to go... ever. (To be continued...)