Date: Mon, 25 Apr 2011 04:42:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Crispin Taylor
Subject: Keep Bleeding, Chapter II

Chapter II-Picking Scabs; Opening Wounds

	"Don't pick at it, it's only going to make it worse," I chastised
across the table.
	"It's annoying!" he protested, letting his hand fall away from his
face to the table where it caused a thud.
	I shrugged and looked around. We were at a TGIFriday's, to my great
enthusiasm. Back home, I was a full-time server there, so this familiar
setting (to an extent) was very comforting and helped me feel?well?my most
confident.
	"What's good?" Chris asked, flipping through the thin menu
indecisively.
	"Well?it depends on what you're in the mood for. Their chicken
fingers are fuckin awesome; that's what I'm getting. Uhm?hm?also, their
burgers are pretty good. I'm not a big fan of burgers, so I never really
get them."
	He nodded as he continued to skim the menu. "Ribs!"
	I chuckled, "I've only had their ribs once. They were really dry."
	"I want the baby back ribs," he said, seeming to ignore my warning.
	I laughed, shaking my head, and waited for the waiter. Now?you have
to understand, I am very proud of my job and the way I do it?so when people
fuck it up, it bothers me. At every TGIFriday's, you have 30 seconds to
greet your customers. This guy (or girl) was going on 2 minutes.
	But for some reason?it didn't bother me as much. I was spending
time with Chris again. It was going to take a while to get used to being
around him all the time; his presence was?weird. I felt medicated. I'm ADHD
and I have bi-polar disorder, so my thoughts are always bouncing around, my
emotions are constantly fluctuating, and I never feel 100%
comfortable. Except with him. My thoughts were?quiet. My emotions? Just
one: affection.
	I hardly noticed that the waiter had taken our orders and that we'd
both gotten soups as our appetizers. Well, technically mine was a chili;
the white chicken chili, whereas Chris had gotten the broccoli-cheese soup.
	We chatted back and forth about nothing too important, mainly
asking questions and joking around. Then I felt his foot on
mine. Cautiously at first?then blatantly. Our eyes locked, but I laughed;
there was a string of cheese on his chin.
	"What?" he asked, wiping at his face.
	"Nothing, you got it. You had a piece of cheese on your chin."
	He rolled his eyes and laughed, but to my delight, his foot stayed
in its place. I wasn't sure if I was reading too far into things, which I
usually did, but Chris was still closeted. Public displays of affection
were completely off-limits, not to mention we weren't dating?or anything,
really. It was?natural feeling.
	About 10 minutes later, our waiter brought us our meals, which we
ate in almost silence. He commented on how the ribs were dry, and I just
nodded, not wanting to say "toldya so." It's not really my style.
	Our feet stayed together the entire time.
	Interestingly enough, the waiter must have assumed we were a
couple, because he brought the bill on one check, and presented it to
Chris, who would obviously be the more dominant one if we were in a
relationship.
	The grin across my face was so enormous I felt the sides of my
cheeks stretching.
	"Why did he put it on one?" he asked, also wearing an equally large
grin.
	"No idea?"
	"Well?I only have like?"
	I cut him off, "I was planning on paying anyway, fool."
	I made a face at him and took the check from him, eagerly sliding
my debit card into the slot and waiting for the waiter. Between our meal
and appetizer, another waiter had noticed I was wearing a Friday's hat
(pure mistake, I swear) and came to talk to us and asked if I was going to
serve there. A little while later, the manager actually discounted our
meal, taking off a full 12 bucks. The rest of the meal was completely
affordable, so I definitely didn't mind paying. Especially for Chris.
	We left Friday's feeling full and happy, ready to begin our first
night of hanging out. "I asked Brent if he could get us alcohol and he got
all pissy about it."
	I furrowed my eyebrows, shooting him a bemused look. "Oh really?
What'd he say?"
	"He was like," Chris began, then heightened his voice some, adding
a gay inflection to it, "oh my God, I'm not going to buy you alcohol if you
can't even ask how I'm doing first.'"
	I laughed and shook my head; "He's such a drama queen
dude. Seriously, just drop him."
	He smirked, "I know. Did I tell you he goes to the tanning bed?"
	I laughed. He had told me before. Countless times, actually, but I
acted interested. Anything he said was interesting. "Yeah, you did. I
thought 'no flamers' was part of the requirement for fitting your type?"
	He shrugged. "He's not that bad I guess."
	I just nodded as we walked to the El stop.
	We walked in mostly silence, and I took a few pictures, but I've
never been too big on pictures. I get in moods where I want to, and then
other times I just don't feel like it.
	We got back to the dorms in pretty good time and I took another
Benadryl just in case. I was allergic to shaving cream, but like the genius
I am, I forgot my electric razor back home. Knowing I couldn't go 2 weeks
without shaving, Chris and I headed to a Dominick's nearby and bought
razors, shaving cream, and lots of Benadryl. I was still slightly breaking
out, and the razor did a horrible job of shaving.
	I refrigerated the desserts I'd gotten at Friday's and kicked back
on the couch. "So how are we getting alcohol?"
	"I might ask Matt."
	I was silent for a few moments. I realized it would seem suspicious
if I didn't say anything, so I sucked it up and said, "Oh, okay."
	About 20 minutes later, the deed had been done. Matt had agreed,
and we would pay him back later. Lovely. Now the hard part came; going to
Matt's place and actually meeting him.
	I did not like Matt, and Chris knew this. I promised I would be
civil and give him a chance, as I had never met him in person. I figured he
couldn't be too bad.
	So we bundled up and headed out around 8 that night, killing time
beforehand by watching TV and cruising around on Manhunt, poking fun at
people. I never said we were the most morally praise-worthy people.
	We took the el about a stop, and then walked for about 20
minutes. I admitted to him that I was nervous.
	"Why are you nervous?" he asked, as if there was no possible reason
for me to be nervous.
	"Gee?I wonder? I'm meeting some guy who's given me no other reason
than to believe he's an absolute psycho?"
	Chris laughed and assured me Matt was fine. I believed him, but I
didn't trust Matt to remain "fine" for long. He was as unstable as a teeter
totter on a 3rd grade playground.
	We arrived at an apartment style building on the corner of two
streets. He called ahead to let Matt know we'd arrived, and he told us to
just come up. This was it.
	I trekked up the stairs behind Chris, clad in his leather jacket
and blue jeans, and finally came face to face with one person on the planet
I had come close to despising.
	"Hey, I'm Patrick," I said, shaking his hand.
	"Patrick? Matt," he introduced, shaking my hand as well.
	He was much shorter than I'd expected, about my height. I had
thought he'd be a few inches taller than me. He was about six feet even,
like me. I'd also thought he would be more attractive. In his MySpace
pictures, he'd been reasonably attractive. In person, there were acne scars
visible all throughout his face, along with razor burn and possibly other
marks from other incidences. I didn't stare. His boring brown eyes were
peculiar and even duller than mine. I couldn't tell if they were too small
for his face, or too close together; or maybe it was his nose that threw
the structure off. I couldn't be sure.
	"Come on in, kids," he said.
	That bugged me. Kids? I realized he was 26, but I did not like
being referred to as a kid, especially if he was sleeping with Chris, who
was all of about a month-and-a-half older than me.
	"So how've you been?" he asked Chris. I felt a little awkward. No,
scratch that; very awkward.
	"Pretty good, just busy with midterms and stuff. You?"
	"Ugh, last night was crazy. It started off just drinking wine, and
then my roommate came home with some people and we ended up drinking until
about 5 am; I had to get up at 7 this morning, so that wasn't really too
bright."
	I laughed forcefully. I was sure it was supposed to be an amusing
story, right? I don't know, maybe I was being too frigid. I do know that he
sounded like some college freshman; I would have expected Chris to say that
and Matt to shake his head in disappointment. Nope; exact opposite.
	"Wow, why would you do that?" Chris asked.
	I shifted a little bit, somewhat anxiously.
	"Eh, I dunno. Just letting loose. What're you crazy kids up to
tonight?"
	There it was again. Kids.
	What was this guy, a pedophile, then?
	"Nothing much, just chillin; taking a couple shots and stuff,"
Chris replied, petting the kitten that had found its way up onto the bar.
	"Don't let him up there," Matt reprimanded in a bitter tone. I
frowned. I wanted to tell him not to talk to Chris that way, but I bit my
tongue.
	"What are you doing tonight?" Chris asked. "Crazy night out?"
	"Oh God no," Matt dramatized, throwing his arms down at his sides
from where they were previously on his hips. "I'm staying in for the
night. I would invite you kids to hang out here, but my roommate has
someone over and I'm headed to bed early."
	Chris diverted his attention to the living room where a movie was
playing, the light from the TV illuminating the otherwise dark living room.
	"Nice."
	"We should do something tomorrow. Maybe grab lunch or something?
I'm free after 3. I have to run to Best Buy and look at TVs because he," he
nodded towards the living room "always hogs that one."
	"It's your TV," Chris protested.
	"So what? I don't mind. I need a new one anyway."
	The way he bragged, I could tell he had money. It made me feel
somewhat irritated that he just threw his money around like that.
	"Anyway, I'll let you kids get going. Don't have too much fun," he
said in a?knowing tone. Was he hinting at something?
	"We'll be fine," Chris responded, sliding his shoes on next to me.
	"It was good meeting you," I said falsely, shaking his hand again.
	"You too," he returned.
	I turned my back and began to descend down the stairs, but not
before I could hear an audible 'smooch' from the doorway. That little fuck
kissed him! Just like that. So easy. Meanwhile, I mentally battled myself
wondering whether or not I should even tap him, let alone kiss him.
	We headed out with our Smirnoff in hand, back to the dorms.
	"That wasn't so bad, right?" Chris asked me once we were a safe way
from Matt's place.
	"Yeah, he's really nice. Not a bad guy at all," I lied.
	I think he saw through my charade but he didn't object. We returned
to the dorm, he turned on some music, and we started our shots. Let me just
say that lime Smirnoff is the most disgusting vodka in existence?next to
the shitty stuff like Skoal.
	Apparently an hour or so had passed, and we were both quite
buzzed. Nowhere near drunk, but quite buzzed. I was feeling bolder, being a
bit touchier, openly flirting, so on and so forth; he was also open a bit
more. He talked more, a bit louder, and he made more jokes, laughing and
also touching more. It was promising until he signed on AIM. Brent, the
drama queen mentioned earlier, was online.
	Here's one thing about Chris that drives me insane. He is the most
promiscuous male I know. I started having sex when I was 15 and I had slept
with 9 people by the time I met him; his number was higher than mine, and
he had started this year. Nonetheless, he'd never been in a relationship
and from the looks of it, he had no intention to experience one anytime
soon. Brent was just another fling. But he also, for some very odd reason,
had a huge crush on Brent. I did not like him at all, and it really had
nothing to do with the fact that Chris liked him. Remember? Not a jealous
person here.
	My reasons for disliking Brent were similar to my reasons for
disliking Matt; they both treated Chris like absolute shit; like he was
some kid that they enjoyed fucking around with, but that they could forever
kick around and expect him to always be there. Granted Brent hadn't reached
Matt's level yet, Brent was far more annoying and frequent in our
conversation; he looked like a shaved monkey, in my opinion. Now he was
arguing with Chris about how bisexuals didn't exist.
	"So I don't exist?" Chris was typing, laughing to himself and
calling me over.
	I came over to the laptop situated on his desk and leaned over his
shoulder as he typed. The smell-his smell-radiated off him in strong waves,
drowning my senses. I wanted to take the exposed skin on his neck that he
was leaning towards me as he typed.
	I was hardly paying attention to the conversation. It was a serious
buzz kill because I was actually getting irritated at Brent's logic. I had
met many-a-gay who was thoroughly frustrated with the fact that I
considered myself bisexual. To them, it was either gay or straight; no
in-betweens.
	"What should I say to this, dude?" he asked, pointing at
something. I stopped staring at his face long enough to get the gist of the
conversation.
	"Here, let me type."
	He gave me a look, half-smiling.
	"What? I know how to sound like you, don't worry," I replied,
rolling my eyes. "I've only been talking to you on Aim and Yahoo for the
past 5 and-a-half months."
	He laughed and went to find the Smirnoff.
	"This is killing my buzz," I said to him as I typed to Brent.
	By the end of the conversation, I was quite sober, but I didn't
really mind. Chris was quite annoyed with Brent, but I could tell from the
way that he spoke to him that'd really made progress in the "talking things
out" department since I first met him.
	"Fuck, it's already past 4 and I have to be up soon!"
	I looked at the clock and laughed. I forgot he had to go home for
Easter.
	"Yeah, we should probably call it a night," I said, standing from
the chair and stretching.
	He stretched too, his shirt pulling up to present me with a look of
his wide-spanned happy trail. As usual, my eyes shot down to the skin
revealed. I wanted to touch it; to feel he fine hairs beneath my fingertips
and know that if I followed them low enough, I'd find a "long lost friend,"
so to speak. I wanted to embrace these primal instincts and make him
mine. I wanted this. Badly.
	Instead, I yawned and said "Are you using the bathroom first or??"
	"Go ahead," he said, also yawning.
	We were lying in bed before I even knew it.  Separate beds, that
is. Still, he wasn't far from me. About 3 feet at the most. I could reach
out to him if I felt brave enough.  "Wow?I'm exhausted," I laughed. "We
didn't even do anything today."  "I know. You fucked up my sleep schedule,
asshole!"  "Pft, you sacrificed that when you first met me."  He laughed
and shifted slightly in his bed. I noticed he always wore shirts to bed,
and they somehow always found their way off in the middle of the night;
like he didn't want me to see him shirtless or something.  "Ugh?I have to
be up in like, 4 hours," he groaned. It was going on 5 now.  "What time is
your ride going to be here?"  "Like, 10," he continued to groan.  "That
sucks?better get some sleep," I replied slowly.  "Yeah?" he yawned,
"Goodnight."  "Night."  When I awoke the next morning, the first thing I
noticed was that Chris was awake before me. That usually doesn't
happen. His snores weren't filling the room in their peaceful way, and I
slowly remembered that he had to leave. I almost forced myself to get up,
but I heard voices in the living room.  "Yeah, and can we get my friend
something too? Just like a breakfast sandwich or something?"  "What
friend?" came the skeptical voice. I imagined her peaking into the bedroom
but my eyes were glued shut.  "Just a friend here for spring break."  I
heard the door open and close and their voices faded.
	I think I dozed off again, because when I woke up, he was coming
through the bedroom door. He looked handsome with his hair all gelled like
rows of little golden porcupine quills into a small, imitation
faux-hawk. He was wearing his leather jacket, but underneath, it looked
like he was wearing a collard shirt, and a nice, tight yet fitting pair of
blue jeans. I wanted to pull him into bed with me.
	"Hey, wake up you. Food," he said, touching my face and laying a
hot bag that smelled like McDonald's next to me so that it was propped
between the nightstand and the bed.
	I opened my eyes completely, as before I had them squinted like
they were closed, hidden somewhat among the covers.
	"Oh, thanks," I said, smiling.
	"No problem. I'll be back later on, but just text me or something
if you get too bored," he said. "And the password to my laptop is written
on one of the sticky notes on my desk."
	"Oh God?I'll never find it then," I joked, sitting up.
	He rolled his eyes, "Later dude."
	"Have fun."
	With that, he was gone.
	I ate in silence, then headed to the living room to get some
water. I didn't really know what to do with myself. I could go back to
sleep, of course, but I was already too awake. After seeing him so dressed
up like a little gentleman, I couldn't get my thoughts to shut up. But that
was normal for me, I guess. It's just that usually, they weren't always
about one thing. Or more accurately; one person.
	After finishing my gratis meal, I headed over to the large panes of
glass to gaze upon the amazing city below. Directly from his window, a
little to the right, I guess, was a clear and perfect view of Chicago's
downtown "Loop." My attention hardly lasted and I began to think in
overdrive about whether my acceptance to DePaul would be as guaranteed as
both Chris and Iwon had assured me. Besides the amazing school opportunity
and the excitement of living in the city, I would see him every
day. Every. Day. I would just have to hope that a high school dropout with
a perfect GED score could get in. Making the trip back home in a few weeks
would try my patience severely, especially if I didn't have a letter
waiting for me. Could my emotions handle that kind of taxation?
	I shuddered involuntarily and walked away from the window,
inadvertently hugging myself. I logged onto his laptop after successfully
finding the sticky note, and then went about my usual routine of checking
my Facebook, MySpace, Email, and a few stray accounts on other sites. It
was still fairly early, so I decided to sign into AIM and at least talk to
some friends and let them know how my trip was going.
	Not many people were online, so after a mere 30 minutes or so, I
opened his iTunes, jammed out, and started cleaning. I'm not sure exactly
where I got these cleaning traits; my friends joke that it's my
part-Polish-part-Mexican heritage being more dominant than the other mass
of races that were present in my blood. Either way, I hardly noticed as I
did the dishes, tidied up, cleaned the bathroom, and tried to vacuum?but
lacked the actual device. So finally, around 1 PM I hopped in the
shower. By the time he got back at 2, I was a whole new me and his dorm was
a whole new dorm.
	"What did you do?" he laughed as he observed my handiwork.
	"I got bored?so I cleaned."
	He looked at me with a look of amusement and shook his
head. "You're crazy."
	I felt proud of my work and his approval, especially since he was
completely Polish?although maybe that's just the stereotypes coming out.
	I asked how his Easter went and he informed me that he had indeed
told his sister about his sexuality.
	"What'd she say?" I asked eagerly.
	"She was like 'Chris, noooooo!'"
	I pushed my eyebrows together as to why he found it humorous.
	"She's fine, though."
	"And you're sure she's not gonna tell your dad or brother?"
	"I'm sure," he said. "It wasn't that big a deal."
	I nodded. "True."
	So we sat around for most of the day. Despite the warmth of his
room, I wanted nothing more than to just "snuggle" up to him on the
couch. I fought internally to keep myself from acting on my thoughts, but
it was harder than I thought.
	Luckily, Iwon arrived not too much later that day and I finally got
to meet her; she was hilarious. The three of us got along like we had known
each other forever, and I felt like I was truly a part of the group.
	We hung out the rest of the day, heading to the DePaul Gym for a
bite to eat and returning later. The entire time, I kept wondering what
life would be like if I was actually accepted; if my dreams were actually,
for once, granted. I would put forth every bit of energy I had to see to it
that they would be. And even though Chris and I had met online in October
with basic sexual desires in mind, I knew my "desires" had evolved into a
much less primitive and carnal feeling. I knew that deep inside, my love
for him was threatening to tear me apart like some great internal blaze
licking at my stomach and organs. Despite the obvious complications in the
way, I knew the only way to douse this flame and preserve myself entirely
was to somehow get him to feel like I did, if not for one day. But I was
about to learn that under no circumstance, no matter how dire or desperate,
could you make someone love you.

-KB: II