Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2012 01:51:58 -0400 (EDT) From: Erik Pruett Subject: Please Don't Go - 3 - Young Friends The regular warnings apply. Don't read this if it offends you, or it's illegal to do so. This would be the third installment of the story. If you're still reading this, I'm equal parts amazed and very happy. I've gotten some nice feedback in the two whole days it's been up, and I've got to say, it's very motivating to hear. No creepy replies as of yet, let's go ahead and keep that trend going, ha. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy, enjoy. :] --- The two of us are sitting on the old wooden bench my father put on our back patio when we first moved to Texas. It's maybe 10:00 PM, the sun has set, the fireflies are out. He's wearing a pair of black athletic shorts, a simple red v-neck, some white sneakers. I'm in a slim pair of jeans and a grey tank top, barefoot. Neither one of us has said a word in nearly an hour. After he saw my arrousal, I was quick to push myself off of him, and he'd let me go. Ever the angel, he first pretended like he hadn't seen it, but when I started apologizing we both knew that wasn't possible. He'd told me it was no worries, that sort of thing happens sometimes. If I hadn't loved him before, I certainly did now. Afterwards I'd thrown on some clothes. My body was aching from so many places I'd lost count. It hurt to breathe, hurt to walk, but with Jaime around at least my attentions were diverted from the pain. The two of us had grabbed sodas, gone out to the back patio to sit and talk. It took about an hour, but he'd coaxed the story of what happened out of me. And for near an hour since then, here we've sat. Silent. He's staring off into the horizon, toward the Austin city lights glowing in the distance. Every now and then he'll take a tiny sip of soda, but aside from that, he's a statue. When my soda's empty, I decide I've waited long enough. Or rather, my severe lack of patience finally compels me to speak. "So... what? Are you satisfied? What are you thinking?", I ask in a hushed voice, though nobody else is around. He turns, regards me for a few seconds. The way he's staring, it's like I can feel the heat coming off his eyes. I feel stupid. "Am I satisfied? Sash, you told me your dad beat you half dead. Why would that be satisfying?" "I don't know", I groan, "I just... can you please just tell me what you're thinking." "I'm thinking that I wanna' beat your dad's ass, that's what I'm thinking." I stiffle a laugh. "What the hell?" "Jaime, he'd kill you. Besides, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone", I reply. He looks at me sympathetically, the kind of look you give a lost puppy. "I know. But... God, Sash! Look at you, how could he do that to you?", his voice trails off, as sad as it is angry. I drop my eyes to the ground. "I.. I mean, it's okay. Stuff happened, but I'll be okay. Really." For a while after that there's silence again. Under the moonlight, the air still and temperate, everything feels surreal. I'm still having trouble accepting that it isn't a dream, but I've pinched my arm probably fifty times already, and I still haven't woken up, so I guess it must be real. I'm fiddling with a loose string on the hem of my tank top when I hear a slight sniffing sound, barely audible, but there. I look up. He's crying. Jaime is staring, not at me but in my direction, glassy eyes wet with tears. His shoulders bob just a little with sobs he's mostly suppressing, his hands clenching and unclenching. I can feel my heart breaking. "Jaime", I start to say, but I lose my breath. Without thinking I walk over, sit next to him, pull him into a hug with what little strength is left in me. He doesn't pull away. "You don't deserve to be treated that way Sash. He's your dad, he shouldn't do that to you. Nobody should do that to you. You don't deserve it", he's half-whispering into my ear between sobs, his arms now wrapped around me the way mine are around him. I think back to when I first got to Texas, my first few weeks in school. They were hell. I was quiet, shy, never looked anyone in the eye, and those traits combined with my less-than-masculine looks to make me a pretty obvious target for bullying. For weeks kids were relentless in messing with me, to the point where going to school was almost as awful as staying at home with Dad. But then I met Jaime. It'd been by sheer coincidence. The night prior, I'd taken one of Dad's backhands across the face, and a teacher had sent me to the guidance office due to the black eye I wore to class the next day. Jaime was sitting, waiting to be seen for a schedule change. He introduced himself, all smiles and friendliness, and immediately we hit it off. By the time I left, I had my first real friend. And after that, he made damn sure that nobody ever messed with me again. Most people quit messing with me just because he asked, and those that kept it up discovered that he could throw a mean right hook. Since the day I met him, he's always been there for me. Whether it be defending me at school, pushing me to be more social, rescheduling plans with other friends so I could sleepover his house, or even just sneaking out after dark to sit on my room and talk about nothing. He's always there, defining loyalty and friendship in real time. I take a deep breathe. Here we go. "Jaime", I begin, my voice is already unsteady. I pull away from him a little, so I can look him in the eyes. I try my best not to sink into them, so deep and green and lusterous. "Yeah?" "Jaime, you've always looked out for me. Always. And you're always doing things for me and putting me in your plans and hanging out with me." I pause for a second, breathe. He's looking at me, still sniffing a little, confused. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I open it a second time, but I can only manage a sigh. I close my eyes, take a breath, and I can feel the moment passing me by. I lean in, quicker than I really mean to, and kiss him on the cheek. Then I pull away, my face burning, and his wide eyes bore into mine. "Thanks", I mumble. For a second I sit there, wait for him to say something, anything. But when all he does is stare, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, I rise quick from the chair and make for the door. My eyes are already welling up by the time I'm inside the kitchen. I race for my room. I can't hear anything, can't see anything except for that look on his face, and it hurts so much that I really can't bear the thinking about the repercussions of what I've just done. Because even thinking about losing Jaime and all he means to me is like swallowing fire. Then he grabs me by the wrist, and pulls me backward. I fall backward with a yelp, crash into him and the two of us collapse onto the floor, me landing on top of him. Immediately I scramble to get off, to run to my room, but as I start getting up he grabs me and doesn't let me leave. "Let go of me!", I scream, tears freely falling from my face, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, just let go of me, please!" I flail and squirm, manage to free an arm, without thinking I throw an elbow into his ribs. It shocks him, and his grib loosens. I break out and start running down the hallway to my room. My eyes are stinging and my legs are unsteady. I'm nearly there when he races up behind me and physically tackles me to the ground. I crash into the floor and the pain in my torso subdues me before he even has to. He's in something like a pushup position above me, arms fully extended, panting, and I lay there sobbing under him. "Sasha, what the fuck?!", he half exclaims. I can't meet his face. "I'm so so sorry. P-please just don't hit me." I hear him inhale sharply. "Look at me." "Please, I'm begging you. Just leave." "Look. At. Me", he punctuates every word. When I can bring myself to turn my face toward him, he takes it upon himself, gently forcing my face toward his until I'm looking him in the eye. I've never seen that kind of hurt on his face before. "Why would I ever fucking hit you, Sash? Are you insane?", he's breathing hard, his voice is a little angry, but mostly hurt. "I'm sorry." He stares at me with a look of internal conflict, really boring into me with his gaze, but his eyes are latched directly on to mine and I can't look away. Before I can speak, before I can think or breathe or do anything, he lowers his face. He closes his eyes. And his presses his lips into mine, and kisses me. My first kiss. Everything going on around us faded to black. The sound of cars on the highway near my house, gone. The pain that coursed like lightning all through my body, gone. Everything save for the sensation of his soft lips pressed against mine was gone, and for a brief moment I tasted the kind of unadulterated bliss that before that moment I'd only ever imagined in my most daring moments. And just as I really felt myself sinking into him, he slowly pulled away. "Don't ever apologize to me, okay Sash?", he whispers. I shiver. "Jaime... I...", my mouth moves back and forth struggling to make the words come out, but it's not that easy. "You probably shouldn't be laying like that. Must be sore", he says with a shy smile. Then stands up, pulling me up with him. As I'm rising, I can see quite clearly that his shorts are tented. He looks as hard as I feel, but mine's held mostly down by tight underwear and slim jeans, while his is just jutting out like a short pole. My eyes get wide. He looks at me, follows my gaze and then starts laughing. "Told you it happens sometimes, didn't I?", he managed between giggles. I start laughing too, which only prompts him to laugh harder. Before long the two of us are sitting on the floor, both laughing like madmen. And when the laughter finally abates, he helps me to my room. He gets me some snacks, grabs the DVD's from the living room, sets everything up. He even lays down in my bed, lets me snuggle up next to him, and as the two of us watch Act Of Valor, he gently runs his fingers through my hair. I fall asleep sometime before him, long before the movie is even halfway over, and drift pleasantly into the most peaceful sleep I've ever had since my mother died. And at that moment, nothing feels heavy at all.