Original fic: So - Rug extract (for want of a better title)
Title: So - 'Rug Extract' (Working title)
Pairing/Characters: Own characters: Mark and David
Genre: Coming of age
Word Count: 1296
Rating: R for adult themes
Warnings/Spoilers: Teenage angst between friends that features an abusive relationship between an adult and a teenager, so a little dark in places.
Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, so please ask before sharing
Beta: unbeta'd
Summary: It is a couple of weeks after David discovers that his friend Mark was abused by his mother's boyfriend. The friends have been attempting to behave normally since Mark refused to allow David to tell anyone what happened, but it's becoming increasingly difficult for David to ignore the situation.
Author’s Notes: This excerpt is part of a larger story that I summarise as follows: David discovers his friend Mark has been abused, and not just by being beaten. He's horrified, to say the least, and wants to help. What he didn't count on was that Mark is gay, and that maybe his own feelings for Mark go beyond friendship. Over at 1_million_words, I suggested that I'd write some 'scenes' in some of my original fics from prompts supplied by the members there. landrews gave me the prompt of Rug and suggested this fic for me to write in.
"I think we should look at some kind of rocket," I was telling Mark as we walked into his bedroom after school one afternoon. "Is that rug new? I don't remember it being there before."
Mark gave me what I could only describe as a nervous look as he dropped his school bag next to his bed. "Yeah… well, no, it's old, but I found it in the garage and decided to put it in here."
"Ah, okay." I frowned at him but let it go; it wasn't like I was an expert at decorating. Anyway, we needed to talk about the science project we'd come to discuss. I dumped my own bag and sat on the end of his bed, kicking at the fringe on the scruffy-looking rug as I went on, "So the thing is, if we…"
I stopped talking, peering closer at the edge of the rug. I could see some kind of stain showing under it.
"Don't…" Mark said, but I'd already flicked part of it over with my shoe.
I looked at the stain I'd uncovered, trying to decide if it really was what I thought it was. After a moment, I met Mark's eyes. He'd been watching me silently, and now he looked away, his face just beginning to flush.
"Is that blood?" I asked after a moment.
He shut his eyes. "Yes."
My heart had begun to thud. "Who's?"
He opened his eyes and looked right at me, like I should have known without him saying.
I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to know. "Yours?"
He licked his lips slowly, almost deliberately, and my eyes followed the movement of his tongue. He didn't speak, but he nodded.
My heart was still bouncing inside my chest like I'd run a couple of miles. I knew the answer to the next question before I even asked it. "Did Kevin do something to you?"
"I'm okay. Honestly." He'd dropped his eyes away from mine again and was almost unconsciously rubbing his arm.
Just knowing that bastard had hurt him again made me want to kill the guy. "You can't keep letting him get away with it," I told him lowly, flipping the rug back into place. "Wouldn't your mother believe you if you showed her this?"
Mark's mouth tightened, and he kept up that rhythmic motion on his arm. "She doesn't care."
"What do you mean, she doesn't care? Of course she does!"
He snorted and turned his head away again. His voice was low and angry when he started talking, and I couldn't remember him ever showing such bitterness before, despite everything I knew about his mother's boyfriend. "If she cared, don't you think she would have kicked him out by now?"
I didn't know what to say. He had a point, although I still couldn't believe his mother could care so little for him that she'd believe Kevin was only 'disciplining' Mark, and that he deserved everything the guy dished out to him.
"You've got to tell her about…" I trailed off, scared to put into words what we both knew Kevin had done to Mark just a couple of weeks earlier.
He swung around, fury in his eyes. "What's the point? If you really think she's going to believe me over him, you try telling her and you'll see."
I blinked, stunned, and just stared at him in horror. I'd been trying to convince him to tell her since it happened, and although he kept refusing, he'd never sounded so utterly without hope.
I couldn't bear to see him like this. And there was no way Kevin should be allowed to get away with it. "Maybe I should."
His eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, fists clenched by his sides. "No! You can't. She'd never…" He was almost gasping for breath suddenly, like he was really afraid I would say something. "She'll think…"
I stood up too. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I shook my head. "Okay, okay. Calm down! What will she think?"
"He'll tell her… I wanted it."
I let my hand drop away. "What?"
He shut his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around his thin frame, holding himself tight. When he opened his eyes again, I could see tears forming. It made me feel sick to think that Kevin had done this to him - had hurt him so badly - and yet his own mother wouldn't believe him when he told her.
"She won't believe that, will she?" It seemed so unlikely that any mother would believe a bastard like Kevin over her own son. How could she doubt Mark's honesty? It didn't make any sense to me, his best friend, who knew him better than anyone else in the whole world.
Mark laughed - an edge of hysteria obvious in the sound - and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "You don't know her. Or him."
I sat down beside him. I didn't know what to say, but it seemed like there had to be something I could do; some way I could help make his mother believe what was going on under her own roof.
"Besides…" Mark started, his fingers flexing against his school pants.
I frowned, watching his hand. "Besides what?"
"It's not like I don't…"
"Don't?" Don't what?" I was lost. What did he mean?
He turned his head to eye me sideways, like he was judging how much I'd believe, but he didn't answer.
"I believe you, you know. I've never doubted any of it," I told him. "I saw his handprints!"
"David…"
"What?" I couldn't understand this Mark; the best friend I'd known all these years had never been so cryptic.
"I enjoyed it."
"What?!" I was so shocked, I stood up. My eyes must have been huge. "You can't have." I backed away a few steps, reaching blindly for my school bag behind me.
He didn't stand or try to stop me. "Not all of it, obviously," he said, flicking his hair out of his eyes and studying his hands where they rested on his thighs. "But… at the end, when he… touched me. I got off."
I didn't have a clue how to respond to that. I mean, I'd understood what he'd told me about himself when he'd admitted the abuse, but even so… I couldn't believe what my ears were hearing. It just didn't seem in the least bit possible that someone could enjoy… that.
"So you see," Mark was saying now, "she'd never believe it wasn't… something I wanted. You don't think I should have liked it enough to do that, and no one else will either. Can you imagine if I tried to get the cops involved?" He looked up, and the hopelessness of his situation was written across his face. "If you don't believe it, what chance is there? And they'd ask; I know they would. I mean, how am I supposed to deny it? Kevin would tell them, and it would be a lie if I said I didn't come."
I shook my head, but not to contradict him. I didn't get it and I didn't know what to say. He was probably right about the cops, and by extension, perhaps he was right about his mother. I was having enough difficulty with it myself now.
"I have to go," was all I managed in the end. I grabbed my bag and took off like there was a fire under me.
I glanced back as I left the room, and Mark was just sitting there, his head bowed and his hands gripping his thighs.
I ran all the way home so I couldn't think of anything beyond getting each lungful of air into my body.
~//~
Pairing/Characters: Own characters: Mark and David
Genre: Coming of age
Word Count: 1296
Rating: R for adult themes
Warnings/Spoilers: Teenage angst between friends that features an abusive relationship between an adult and a teenager, so a little dark in places.
Disclaimer: I own these characters and this story, so please ask before sharing
Beta: unbeta'd
Summary: It is a couple of weeks after David discovers that his friend Mark was abused by his mother's boyfriend. The friends have been attempting to behave normally since Mark refused to allow David to tell anyone what happened, but it's becoming increasingly difficult for David to ignore the situation.
Author’s Notes: This excerpt is part of a larger story that I summarise as follows: David discovers his friend Mark has been abused, and not just by being beaten. He's horrified, to say the least, and wants to help. What he didn't count on was that Mark is gay, and that maybe his own feelings for Mark go beyond friendship. Over at 1_million_words, I suggested that I'd write some 'scenes' in some of my original fics from prompts supplied by the members there. landrews gave me the prompt of Rug and suggested this fic for me to write in.
"I think we should look at some kind of rocket," I was telling Mark as we walked into his bedroom after school one afternoon. "Is that rug new? I don't remember it being there before."
Mark gave me what I could only describe as a nervous look as he dropped his school bag next to his bed. "Yeah… well, no, it's old, but I found it in the garage and decided to put it in here."
"Ah, okay." I frowned at him but let it go; it wasn't like I was an expert at decorating. Anyway, we needed to talk about the science project we'd come to discuss. I dumped my own bag and sat on the end of his bed, kicking at the fringe on the scruffy-looking rug as I went on, "So the thing is, if we…"
I stopped talking, peering closer at the edge of the rug. I could see some kind of stain showing under it.
"Don't…" Mark said, but I'd already flicked part of it over with my shoe.
I looked at the stain I'd uncovered, trying to decide if it really was what I thought it was. After a moment, I met Mark's eyes. He'd been watching me silently, and now he looked away, his face just beginning to flush.
"Is that blood?" I asked after a moment.
He shut his eyes. "Yes."
My heart had begun to thud. "Who's?"
He opened his eyes and looked right at me, like I should have known without him saying.
I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to know. "Yours?"
He licked his lips slowly, almost deliberately, and my eyes followed the movement of his tongue. He didn't speak, but he nodded.
My heart was still bouncing inside my chest like I'd run a couple of miles. I knew the answer to the next question before I even asked it. "Did Kevin do something to you?"
"I'm okay. Honestly." He'd dropped his eyes away from mine again and was almost unconsciously rubbing his arm.
Just knowing that bastard had hurt him again made me want to kill the guy. "You can't keep letting him get away with it," I told him lowly, flipping the rug back into place. "Wouldn't your mother believe you if you showed her this?"
Mark's mouth tightened, and he kept up that rhythmic motion on his arm. "She doesn't care."
"What do you mean, she doesn't care? Of course she does!"
He snorted and turned his head away again. His voice was low and angry when he started talking, and I couldn't remember him ever showing such bitterness before, despite everything I knew about his mother's boyfriend. "If she cared, don't you think she would have kicked him out by now?"
I didn't know what to say. He had a point, although I still couldn't believe his mother could care so little for him that she'd believe Kevin was only 'disciplining' Mark, and that he deserved everything the guy dished out to him.
"You've got to tell her about…" I trailed off, scared to put into words what we both knew Kevin had done to Mark just a couple of weeks earlier.
He swung around, fury in his eyes. "What's the point? If you really think she's going to believe me over him, you try telling her and you'll see."
I blinked, stunned, and just stared at him in horror. I'd been trying to convince him to tell her since it happened, and although he kept refusing, he'd never sounded so utterly without hope.
I couldn't bear to see him like this. And there was no way Kevin should be allowed to get away with it. "Maybe I should."
His eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, fists clenched by his sides. "No! You can't. She'd never…" He was almost gasping for breath suddenly, like he was really afraid I would say something. "She'll think…"
I stood up too. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I shook my head. "Okay, okay. Calm down! What will she think?"
"He'll tell her… I wanted it."
I let my hand drop away. "What?"
He shut his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around his thin frame, holding himself tight. When he opened his eyes again, I could see tears forming. It made me feel sick to think that Kevin had done this to him - had hurt him so badly - and yet his own mother wouldn't believe him when he told her.
"She won't believe that, will she?" It seemed so unlikely that any mother would believe a bastard like Kevin over her own son. How could she doubt Mark's honesty? It didn't make any sense to me, his best friend, who knew him better than anyone else in the whole world.
Mark laughed - an edge of hysteria obvious in the sound - and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "You don't know her. Or him."
I sat down beside him. I didn't know what to say, but it seemed like there had to be something I could do; some way I could help make his mother believe what was going on under her own roof.
"Besides…" Mark started, his fingers flexing against his school pants.
I frowned, watching his hand. "Besides what?"
"It's not like I don't…"
"Don't?" Don't what?" I was lost. What did he mean?
He turned his head to eye me sideways, like he was judging how much I'd believe, but he didn't answer.
"I believe you, you know. I've never doubted any of it," I told him. "I saw his handprints!"
"David…"
"What?" I couldn't understand this Mark; the best friend I'd known all these years had never been so cryptic.
"I enjoyed it."
"What?!" I was so shocked, I stood up. My eyes must have been huge. "You can't have." I backed away a few steps, reaching blindly for my school bag behind me.
He didn't stand or try to stop me. "Not all of it, obviously," he said, flicking his hair out of his eyes and studying his hands where they rested on his thighs. "But… at the end, when he… touched me. I got off."
I didn't have a clue how to respond to that. I mean, I'd understood what he'd told me about himself when he'd admitted the abuse, but even so… I couldn't believe what my ears were hearing. It just didn't seem in the least bit possible that someone could enjoy… that.
"So you see," Mark was saying now, "she'd never believe it wasn't… something I wanted. You don't think I should have liked it enough to do that, and no one else will either. Can you imagine if I tried to get the cops involved?" He looked up, and the hopelessness of his situation was written across his face. "If you don't believe it, what chance is there? And they'd ask; I know they would. I mean, how am I supposed to deny it? Kevin would tell them, and it would be a lie if I said I didn't come."
I shook my head, but not to contradict him. I didn't get it and I didn't know what to say. He was probably right about the cops, and by extension, perhaps he was right about his mother. I was having enough difficulty with it myself now.
"I have to go," was all I managed in the end. I grabbed my bag and took off like there was a fire under me.
I glanced back as I left the room, and Mark was just sitting there, his head bowed and his hands gripping his thighs.
I ran all the way home so I couldn't think of anything beyond getting each lungful of air into my body.
~//~