Hate
By Martin Clement
Unless otherwise noted, this story is Copyright ©2006 by Martin Clement for Clement & Boule Associes. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied or stored for public or private use in any information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, including electronically or digitally on the Internet or World Wide Web, or over any network, or local area network, without written permission of the author.
No part of this story may be modified or changed or exploited in any way used for derivative works, or offered for sale, or used to construct any kind of database or mirrored at any other location without the express written permission of the author.
Thank you for respecting the intellectual property rights protected by the copyright laws of Canada, the United States and International Copyright Treaty.
Chapter 1
Ashamed
As we were passing through the front doors of the school, heading for the driveway where Mike's beaten old Civic was parked, right next to Matthew Harris' brand new pick-up, I stopped in my track when I saw him leaning against it. Matthew was your typical jock. Captain of the football team, he was one of my worst nightmare since my forced coming out when I was eleven.
"Hey Mike!" he said, looking at him like he was growing as if he were growing an arm in the middle of the face. "What the hell are you doing with the poof?" he asked, glancing at me with a look of disgust on his face.
"I..." I started, but Matthew wouldn't have any of my try at an explanation.
"I'm not fucking talking to you, queer!" he snapped at me, shoving me to the ground, sending my backpack flying on the concrete sidewalk. "So, why in hell are you hanging with the poof? Are you going crazy or something?"
"I..." Mike started, a bit confused. Then he looked at me and all I could see in the pools of his eyes was some kind of sadness. "I'm not hanging around him! We just happened to leave the school at the same time."
"Are you playing fool with me or what? I saw you fucking this morning and you were fucking speaking with him! Don't tell me you're being infected by his disease? You won't turn queer will you? He's going to give you some AIDS or something else!"
Yeah right! As if I could ever do that! Who would have given it to me, anyway! Even my father wouldn't look me in the eyes, how could I catch this disease if nobody would even touch me? Anyway, with all the stupid big boobs and air head girls he bragged on having fucked, I thought he had more chance to have it than me.
"Oh please, Matthew! I am no cock sucker! Who do you think I am, fuck! We were... he just asked me for some help for his literature expose this morning." he said, not able to look me in the eyes when he turned to look at me.
"Oh..." Matthew said. "Okay then... So... are you going to Gina's party Friday night?"
"Of course! Wouldn't miss it for a million bucks!"
"Yeah! There's going to be a lot of fresh boobs to munch at!" He looked at me and smirked, than grabbed his crotch through his slacks. "Yeah man, lots and lots of boobs. You surely wish you had some, faggot! That way you could fancy having a piece of me!"
Yeah right! As if I were so fucking dumb to want to have a piece of all the chicks he fucked with... Just thinking of feeling him up was enough to make me nauseous. Matthew was cute. Yeah, really really cute. He had muscles on him! But just the way he acted, like he ruled the world or something, made me want to scream. Why would he think he were a fantasy for me. He was just an asshole and I was not masochist enough to want an asshole. He was one of my enemy. I didn't want him. Not even to feel him up. I'm not that screwed up in the head. Well... it was not abnormal for him to think I was just some kind of pervert who would beg him to let me get into his pants. He was just that dense. Couldn't he put in his head that I wanted nothing to do with him? Actually, I wanted nobody at all. Not even the only guy I once loved... Not even Mike. He was also the enemy. He was on their side. And now I knew he was just a fucking coward.
"So I'll see you there!" Matthew said before heading for the entrance and passing through the door."
Mike waited for the door to close then looked down at me.
"Are you ready?" he asked, putting a hand in front of him to help me stand up.
If a glare could kill, Mike's mother would cry for a very long time under the loss of her only son. I slapped his offered hand and stood up by myself, trying to brush some dirt off my pants and sweatshirt.
"Lucas..."
"Don't!" I said, backing away from him.
"Please, Lucas... I... I'm sorry, okay?" He tried to stop me by putting a hand on my shoulder. As if it was burning me, I brushed it off and, still walking backward, watching him with wide eyes, afraid he would stab me in the back, I made a big circle to go around him.
"Why?" I asked to nobody, looking at the clear blue sky. "Why the hell does it keep on coming back?"
"Lucas..." My own name coming from his mouth became the ugliest word on earth. He tried to reach me again and stop me from going away.
"Don't you dare..." I snorted then started laughing morbidly. "I can't believe I was thinking about you wanting us to be friends again. I can't believe that I was reconsidering all the hate I've had for you for the past five years! How can I be so stupid and set my guard down so you can just spit on me? You're just a coward, Michael Walsh! A fucking coward! I wish I never knew you!" I was still backing away from him, almost screaming at him.
"Lucas, please!" he pleaded with me.
"Oh no! Oh no, Michael! Never... I promised myself I would never let you ruin my life ever again." Tears were now filling my eyes and my voice was ragged, my throat constricting and breathing becoming more difficult. "Leave me the fuck alone... It's too hard for me to take... Stop it, please stop it..." I fell to my knees, crying.
"Lucas... Please, believe me... I'm really sorry."
"Oh you're sorry... yeah right! Why would you be, huh?"
"Because... because I just want my friend back, okay?"
"Your friend... I'm not your friend anymore! Which part of not being friends anymore don't you understand? You know, if being your friend means for me to hurt more than I already do, you can keep your friendship to yourself! I don't need this shit you call friendship! I don't need it, Michael! Don't you understand?"
Then my eyes went icy cold. I stopped crying like the baby I was and stood up. "Now I know..."
"You know what?"
"I know... The only reason you came and talked to me was to make me cry."
"No, Lu..." I didn't let him finish.
"You will never ever see me cry again. That's a promise."
"Luke..."
"Don't ever call me by this name" I screamed. Then I grabbed my bag and stormed off, running so fast I thought my lungs would blow right out of my chest. I ran and ran and ran on the street, passing the elementary school, then the kindergarten in record time, and when I got to my home's driveway, I just stopped in my tracks. There, sitting on the front porch of the house, my father was talking with nobody else than Mr Walsh.
It was not unusual to see my father talking with Mike's father since they've been friends for so many years. But each time I saw Mr Walsh after the horrible events of 2002, it had always been from afar. Never had he told me anything about it.
I remember Mr Walsh had always been a fair man. Jeez, he was the best man I could have met. He was a very nice person. And my godfather, by the way. When I was seven years old, which means two years before he got to know how perverted I was, he had bought one of these Yard Man land mower tractors and was just testing it on his front lawn when he saw me looking at him with wide eyes. I was stunned by the machine. I remember seeing a wide smile crossing his lips then him asking me "Hey Luke! Want to have a ride?" I knew right then that I just loved the man right then and there as I just jumped on his knees, laughing and smiling so wide I'm sure he thought my face would just split.
The look on Mr Walsh's face didn't match the one I remembered oh! so well of that mowing day. Yeah, of course, after the events, the look hw was giving me all the time was never this one I loved so much. But it never looked quite the same as my father's. Every time my father would look at me, the only thing I would see was... shame... I was making him ashamed of me... and I think that's the first thing that killed me inside. Oh! God forbid, he never looked my way too long... I was just a faggot still living in his house. As weird as it seemed, I was never afraid he would kick me out. At least, my mother would have never let him do that. No! My mother always wanted to be the perfect Martha Stuart and keep up appearances like in the movie Welcome to Pleasantville.
The look on Mr Walsh has always been, after he found out I was a fucking poof... sad. Yes, he looked sad. Every time I would walk down the street, looking at my feet, and hearing the coughs of the old land mower, I would try a look, hoping he would not remark me sneaking a peak. Each time, I would find him looking right into my eyes, a very sad look on his face. I always thought of it as his own personal version of shame.
When he saw me, my father stopped talking, as if I were intruding into a very private conversation. Jeez, I wasn't his son anymore... how in hell would I think that anything he was saying was any of my business? Even family talk didn't involve me anymore...
"Hey Luke! What would you think about going camping together?" My father would always suggest what he really was feeling like doing when I was a kid. Never had he just come and push me to do something. There was this way he used to ask me if I would mind doing something that was just irresistible. He used to get me to do anything just because he made me think it was my own personal decision to do it or not. I was always so happy to please, because he was always talking to me like I was an adult, never talking to me like I was a kid, even if I were one. So when he up and suggested that we go on a camping trip together, just me and him, I was in heaven. It was a pure bliss. I remember all the fun we had trying to fish and not even catching a simple catfish. I remember stopping by the grocery store and choosing a very big and ugly trout. I remember my mother shuffling my hair with her soothing hand while giving a wink to my father about this bait she wouldn't call. I remember eating the less than tasty trout, the whole ugly fish sitting in the middle of the table. I remember telling the bluff to my mother, my father smiling, winking at me, calling me a traitor, and my mother laughing her eyes off.
"Excuse me..." I whispered through a little breathe of air, trying to force myself between Mr Walsh and the rail to get to the door. My father never looked my way.
"Hi Lucas..." I heard him mumble. A shiver went right through my body and I fumbled with the handle, trying to get inside as fast as possible. But my hand was so moist I couldn't open it. That's when I felt it. A hand... on my shoulder... "Lucas..." Mr Walsh mumbled again. I was trapped. I had nowhere to go. I couldn't get inside. I couldn't run past him. I couldn't do anything to save myself. If he wanted to beat me to death, he could do it right then and there. As big as he was, jeez, he was more than twice my size, he could probably break my neck between his thumb and his index finger. I started trembling. I couldn't breathe anymore. So I turned around, facing him, my eyes went icy cold, I looked at the floor and waited for the punishing to start. He was there, inches from me, when he lifted both his arms. I cringed, my eyes shut, my face contorted, waiting for what had to happen happened. That's when I felt his arms wrap around me, pressing my head against his massive chest. You would think that I just collapsed right there in my godfather's arms you would be far from it. It might have happened in the beginning. It might have happened a couple of years ago. It could have worked. Not now. Instead, I just did what I was used to when trapped, I froze. At first. I went completely rigid. And cold. I stopped breathing. Then I just panicked. And I tried to free myself. But as Mr Walsh took a grip on me, squeezing me harder against his chest, that's when I lost it and started really trashing around, screaming for him to leave me alone.
"Dad!" I didn't hear Mike's car nor his door slamming. "Leave him, dad! You're scaring him!
"Lucas... I'm so sorry... so sorry..." he whispered while kissing my head.
"Dad! Stop it!" Mike barked.
That's when, I think, that Mr Walsh realized what he was doing and let go of me. I pushed him hard then, turning to face the door, I finally could grab the door handle and storm inside, slamming the door in the process. I ran to my room and closed the door, leaning my back to it and sliding to the floor, not even answering my mother's "How was your day, sweetie?" In any other situation, I would have told her to keep her sweeties to herself, thinking of how she could shove it up her ass, if she wanted, but today was just so full of all these emotions I tried so hard to suppress, all these memories I tried to forget, all these glorious days of my childhood when I was still somebody for my father, when I was in a secret love for my best friend, when he didn't know, when nobody knew, when my mother hadn't betrayed yet, when I was still Lucas Decker, when I wasn't just some poor faggot.
When I heard a soft knock on my door, then the soft voice of Mike through it calling my name, tears came back to my eyes.
"Lucas... please open the door..."
"Go away..." My voice was raspy like sandpaper. I was such a mess. Such a poof. Such a worthless piece of shit.
"Please, Lucas... I'm... I'm really really sorry... I... I never wanted to hurt you, okay?" I heard the sobs in his voice. He was crying. Good for him. His turn now. "I know I fucking messed up everything. I know, okay? I know everything is my fault, Lucas... I know you really don't want anything to do with me right now. I know I'm a jerk. I should never have punched you. I should have never treated you like the piece of shit I treated you. I'm the one who is a piece of shit. I'm the jerk. I'm the king of the dumbs. I'm the one who should be treated the way you've been for all these years. Please, Lucas... Just... just open that door, okay? I wont even enter your room if you don't want me to. I'll just stay there on this side. Please." He was crying openly. That's what I wanted, isn't it? Not even close. For years I've waited and waited, wishing I could hear these words, wishing I could also forget how important they were to me. Wishing I could really really hate him as much as I wanted. So I got on my feet and opened up the door. Mike was there. Sitting Indian style, facing my room, eyes cast down, looking at his lap. So I sat down the same way in front of him, on my side of the door.
"Why?" I asked. There was a long pause. I almost see Mike's heart beating through his chest.
"Because... I'm a coward..."
"But why? It was just a fucking kiss, Michael! Just a fucking kiss! You could have just told me you didn't want me to kiss you. You could have just dodged it! When I kissed you, it was just a way for me of telling you that I loved you... Not that I hated you! I know I shouldn't have done it. I know I should have clammed all my feelings inside myself. I know that way we could still be friends. But you betrayed me. You fucking punched me in the face, Michael! Can't you see I was loving you more than myself? More than my life?"
"Yeah..." he breathed.
"Michael... What are you expecting of me?"
"I just wanted my friend back..."
"So you can betray me every time one of your jock friend passes by? I can't do it, Michael."
"I love you, okay?!!" he screamed. "There! I said it, Lucas! I love you!"
I was stunned. To say the least. So that's the way the cat was finding its way out of the bag. But I couldn't let it go that eazy.
"What a good way of finding it!" I said.
"I know I didn't dodge it! I know I kissed you back, Lucas! I couldn't! I loved you! But I couldn't... I couldn't say it. Hell, I still does, Lucas... I still love you! And you know what is so painful, it's that I know you hate me now. I told my father yesterday. I told him I was in love with you. He never hated you. Hell, he likes you like his own son. He was ashamed... but not by you. He was ashamed of me... Me! Not you! He has been ashamed by what I had done to you."
When his eyes met mine, I saw all the sadness in his eyes.
"Then why did you tell Matthew Harris you were not with me then?" I had to keep the mask up not to break down and fall into his arms. I couldn't just forget. Everything was so fresh, all the hurt had followed me for so long... I couldn't forgive. Not now. Maybe not ever.
"I'm still scared... See, I really am a coward. Lucas... I might hurt you again, I don't know. But I want to loosen up. I want to be able to stand for myself and for you. I really want to make up for all the horrible years you went through. If it can be some kind of consolation, I want you to know that I've suffered along with you. Every time somebody would hurt you, I would hurt too. When they painted your locker, I tried to sneak back in school that very night to scrape the pain so you wouldn't have to face the colour everyday. But when I came back, Harris was there, writing that horrible word on your locker."
"So... it was him who did it?"
"I'm not really sure for the paint... But it pretty looks like him to do something like that."
There was an awkward silence after that. It made me feel all puzzled. I knew I hated my life since the day I kissed Mike. I knew I hated everything he did to me. I know I hated that he was a coward. I knew hw would have to do more than just come and make up. Even explaining wouldn't be enough. He had betrayed my trust in him. He had betrayed our friendship in the name of keeping the façades up and not suffer what I've been through. But we've been friends for so many years...
Mike just sat there a moment, it seemed like hours but it probably was only a couple of minutes, then stood up.
"I'll try, Lucas... I'll try..."
Then he left.
That night, I cried all through my homework. I went to bed early after eating in silence, my mother trying to make small talk with me and my father all through supper. I had to be up bright and early, as everyday, because I would really need the pep talk with the bench at the elementary school.
To be continued...
Thank you for all your great comments on chapter 1 of Hate, they really meant something to me. They encouraged me to continue on with this story. I thought I couldn't deliver this chapter before next week... I guess that your pep comments just brought me to come with it early! Thank you all! So this was chapter 2. I hope you like the story so far and that you will want to read it till the end.
You can send me any constructive comment, I'm pretty open and I'll try to answer all the messages. Don't give me flames cause you know, I don't give a shit about them. If you didn't like to read a gay story, well, what the hell were you doing here? Sorry for people who wanted a good wank because there won't be any explicit sex. Why? Because I don't feel like writing about it right now. And if you were offended by the fact my principal characters are gay, why don't you go back to your churches and trust in everything they say and leave me alone? For the others, welcome to my story and see you soon!
Martin Clement