NaNoWriMo 2010 - True Love's Kiss [3b / 10 ]
---> Part 3a
“Jonathan didn’t grow up like that,” he began, turning his glass over just as Michael returned with the bottles of whiskey and bourbon and refilled their glasses. The ice that had been in Jason’s cup had melted long before and now was soaking the coaster and the counter but neither the waiter nor the bartender paid it any need. Once David had paid for his drink and Michael had left, Jason continued as if he had never been interrupted. “He had a good home as a kid. He has parents who loved him and was born absolutely healthy. There was not a single dark cloud in the sky, metaphorically speaking.”
He took a drink of the whiskey, feeling that he needed it. “Everything went great until he was ten years old. He was riding in the car with his parents when they drove by this shop in a bad part of town that was rigged to blow. The explosion shattered the car windows and blew out his ear drums as his dad drove the car into a building, instantly killing himself and his wife. Jon had been in the hospital for months after, recovering from broken bones and internal organ trauma. While he was there he started learning sign language.” Jason’s laugh was bitter. “They told him he was never going to hear again just before they brought up his parent’s death. Talk about being tactless and cruel. The social workers came from him the second he was able to be discharged. There was no one to claim him.”
Another drink took the edge off the lump that was forming in his throat. “As is typical, they put him into foster care. I don’t know if they just didn’t check the people before they placed him in the home or if they were all really good at hiding previous offenses but either way, he got the short end of the figurative stick every time. I don’t remember exactly how many homes he was placed in but it seems like every one decided it’d be a good idea to beat the deaf kid or just make his life hell.
“Jon eventually got out of those places by living with boyfriends as soon as he turned eighteen but even then he couldn’t pick them. Oh sure, they started out sweet and kind but eventually they started being him too. A few of them even went so far as to sell him like he was some kind of whore before they were caught by the police. How he managed to get through it, I don’t know. He must have some incredible coping mechanism though. I’ve never heard of him going to a psychiatrist and yet he manages to keep himself together at work.”
Jason took a few more rather large gulps of his drink, leaving only a single finger of the alcohol left. He didn’t look over at David’s drink. He was too busy staring into his own. “I’ve been watching this happen to him over and over again for the last four years. Every time he comes into work while still in a relationship, he’s always limping or bruised and there have been times when he comes in without having eaten a thing all day. That night at the diner was one of his better days. You don’t want to know about the bad ones.”
There was the soft clinking of a glass being set down on the coaster before a large, warm hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to look at the other and saw the absolute rage filling David’s eyes, even if, judging by the gentleness of the hand on his shoulder, that rage wasn’t directed at him. He shivered at the look and was thankful that he was not the one all that anger was directed towards. He almost felt sorry for the bastard that was going to face this one’s wrath; almost being the key.
“What is going on with him now,” David asked him, his voice low and a flash of something inhuman crossing his perfectly normal grey eyes. The waiter didn’t say a word about it. “Who is it that’s hurting him now?”
Jason smiled softly, glad for the protective streak in this one. “It’s this kid with a French name; Guillaume something. He works as a lawyer, fresh out of law school too. He’s not a big guy. He might be taller than Jon but they have the same build and so proportionately are the same size. I think the only reason why the bastard can get away with it is because Jonathan’s pretty much grown up taking it.”
David’s hand dropped off and he swallowed the rest of his drink quickly before setting it down, upside down and resting his face in his hands, clearly trying to compose himself. To be honest, if Jason were in this guy’s shoes, he would be doing something similar. “Listen,” he said after a long minute, giving the other a chance to take deep breaths, “I don’t know you very well. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this about Jonathan’s life but I knew the moment I saw the way you talked to him in the diner and the way you touched him that you’re not like the others.” He rested his hand on this new comrade’s shoulder. “You’re going to be the one to take care of him, right?”
David turned his eyes up and looked down the counter of the bar, his expression one of deep thought. “You know, I don’t know why I reached out to him in the diner that night. I don’t know why he stood out to me. I just know that when I saw the bandages on his hands and wrapped around that one wrist, I knew that he was caught in something he could not get out of on his own and I just knew I had to be the one to get him out.”
Like Jason’s, his laugh was bitter and cold. Almost automatically his hand went to catch the dog tags around his neck, his fingers brushing the name and imprints.”I’ve served in the military for a long time. I have seen battle fields soaked in blood and the look in my comrade’s eyes when we got back from the battles. None of them, even the most haunted man, had eyes like Jonathan’s. At least they still had some good memories to combat the nightmares with. Your friend didn’t seem to have any left.”
It was something that Jason had known for a long time and yet had never really had the gall to think about. He didn’t want to think that Jon was that lost in his world of pain, that he was just that detached from the world around him. Long term abuse, he knew, damaged the mind in ways that not even years with a therapist could treat completely. He knew that if nothing was done soon, Jon might do something drastic, believing that no one would care if he were gone. While Jason had Michael to support him through it should things go that far, he knew it would take a long time to get over his own guilt.
“If he’s that far gone, David, then you had better move quickly. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to last in that place before he takes matters into his own hands.” David turned sharply to look Jason in the eye at the mention of that but Jason’s gaze didn’t waver. “He’s losing his grip. He’s becoming more and more lost with each passing day and I don’t know how to reach him.” If his tone was getting more and more desperate he didn’t notice. He just the other man’s expression softening and understanding begin to dawn. “I just don’t know what do to for him anymore.”
Jason finished his alcohol and turned toward the bar counter, bending so he could pillow his head on his folded arms. He didn’t notice David resting a gentle hand on his back or Michael’s approach and sharp words, warding the other man away. David finished his drink and left the bar, but not before promising that he would take care of Jonathan and not to worry. Jason only heard part of it though because most of his mind was attaching to Michael’s voice and his soothing words. The noise of the bar coming to life around them was a buzz in the back of his mind. This was almost too much for him.
How long he stayed like that, the middle aged waiter wasn’t sure but when he was able to compose himself and sit upright again, he was greeted by Michael’s concerned green eyes and the worried eyes of whoever it was that had taken David’s seat. He sighed and nodded when his lover asked if he was alright now but turned down the offer for more alcohol. It was never a good idea to drink while depressed.
Turning on his bar stool, Jason let Michael get back to his regular work while he looked for something to do that might lift his spirits a little bit. He knew that his lover wouldn’t let the game continue if he was too out of it and he was determined to make tonight a success. While technically there was no real dance floor, there was a piece of floor that was small and could be considered as such if one really wanted to think of it that way. The music was not exactly club music and this wasn’t a gay bar so if he danced with someone it would have to be a woman but even if he ended up just dancing by himself, he was sure that he would find a way to bring up his own spirits. At the very least, he could pretend it was part of the game later.
As the bar slowly filled with people and the bar servers were gently being eased into the rhythm they would be keeping for the night, Jason managed to find enough change in his pockets to get a few danceable songs lined up on the juke box that many of the other patrons seemed to completely agree with and before long he had the small dance floor almost completely occupied. A few women tried to dance with him but when they saw the ring on his finger made sure to keep their touches as innocent as possible. It was one thing that he admired about many of the people here: even while drunk they respected each other’s boundaries.
While he danced and cheered up, a handsome smile touching his face while Michael glared somewhat jealously at the woman he was kind of dancing with, a new young man walked into the bar, his dark hair having fallen out of the place it had been gelled into while his dark suit, crisp shirt and silken tie had a bit of a wrinkle in them from having been worn all day. The man was young, but not too young to be admitted into the bar to begin with. The few other patrons in the bar who noticed him raised eyebrows at his presence. Well-to-do young men didn’t frequent this kind of place.
After putting in an order with the waitress for drink strong enough to make her raise an eyebrow, this same young man took to checking out the club around him, his eyes lingering on the exposed bust lines of the women and the fairly tight curve of the men’s asses. No one but Michael seemed to notice his wandering gaze but the bartender knew better than to make a move based on looking alone. He was already walking a tight rope with his boss for that kind of thing though, to be fair, just because he and Jason had matching rings, that didn’t mean that other people noticed that they were matching. This “gentleman”, however, knew full well the difference. Michael had more than once told him off for daring to touch what was his without his lover’s consent.
If the young man noticed the death glare being leveled at him from one of the barmen, he paid it no heed. His drink came and with a flirty smile at the waitress, he took a drink from it, his noise wrinkling out of instinct at the strong smell and no doubt foul taste. He turned and ate a few pretzels, trying to get the flavor to go away, but it was an action that was done in vain. In the end he decided to give up and instead just finished his drink in one large gulp. Not a drop of it spilled on his obviously expensive clothes, thankfully, but it was a near thing it seemed. He used a napkin to wipe his mouth and sat back in his chair, as if to let the alcohol kick in.
By the time Jason returned to the bar counter in a much better mood to continue the earlier love game with Michael, the young man was more than feeling the effects of the alcohol and those who were only half paying attention to him could tell. He paid his tab with the first whole numbered bill he could find, which happened to be a ten, and then got up as if to walk out, though he had to steady himself on the table. He wasn’t a very small man by any means but he wasn’t as prone to drink as he tried to make others around him believe. Even if the drink itself wasn’t all that strong, it would often affect him quickly and for long periods of time.
One of the other bartenders tried to stop him from walking out of the bar and demand his keys but the young man shoved him away and stepped out the door, stumbling a little bit in his step as he walked towards his car. The bartender rolled his eyes but understood the gesture, apparently. Guillaume Chrestien could handle himself.
“Jonathan didn’t grow up like that,” he began, turning his glass over just as Michael returned with the bottles of whiskey and bourbon and refilled their glasses. The ice that had been in Jason’s cup had melted long before and now was soaking the coaster and the counter but neither the waiter nor the bartender paid it any need. Once David had paid for his drink and Michael had left, Jason continued as if he had never been interrupted. “He had a good home as a kid. He has parents who loved him and was born absolutely healthy. There was not a single dark cloud in the sky, metaphorically speaking.”
He took a drink of the whiskey, feeling that he needed it. “Everything went great until he was ten years old. He was riding in the car with his parents when they drove by this shop in a bad part of town that was rigged to blow. The explosion shattered the car windows and blew out his ear drums as his dad drove the car into a building, instantly killing himself and his wife. Jon had been in the hospital for months after, recovering from broken bones and internal organ trauma. While he was there he started learning sign language.” Jason’s laugh was bitter. “They told him he was never going to hear again just before they brought up his parent’s death. Talk about being tactless and cruel. The social workers came from him the second he was able to be discharged. There was no one to claim him.”
Another drink took the edge off the lump that was forming in his throat. “As is typical, they put him into foster care. I don’t know if they just didn’t check the people before they placed him in the home or if they were all really good at hiding previous offenses but either way, he got the short end of the figurative stick every time. I don’t remember exactly how many homes he was placed in but it seems like every one decided it’d be a good idea to beat the deaf kid or just make his life hell.
“Jon eventually got out of those places by living with boyfriends as soon as he turned eighteen but even then he couldn’t pick them. Oh sure, they started out sweet and kind but eventually they started being him too. A few of them even went so far as to sell him like he was some kind of whore before they were caught by the police. How he managed to get through it, I don’t know. He must have some incredible coping mechanism though. I’ve never heard of him going to a psychiatrist and yet he manages to keep himself together at work.”
Jason took a few more rather large gulps of his drink, leaving only a single finger of the alcohol left. He didn’t look over at David’s drink. He was too busy staring into his own. “I’ve been watching this happen to him over and over again for the last four years. Every time he comes into work while still in a relationship, he’s always limping or bruised and there have been times when he comes in without having eaten a thing all day. That night at the diner was one of his better days. You don’t want to know about the bad ones.”
There was the soft clinking of a glass being set down on the coaster before a large, warm hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to look at the other and saw the absolute rage filling David’s eyes, even if, judging by the gentleness of the hand on his shoulder, that rage wasn’t directed at him. He shivered at the look and was thankful that he was not the one all that anger was directed towards. He almost felt sorry for the bastard that was going to face this one’s wrath; almost being the key.
“What is going on with him now,” David asked him, his voice low and a flash of something inhuman crossing his perfectly normal grey eyes. The waiter didn’t say a word about it. “Who is it that’s hurting him now?”
Jason smiled softly, glad for the protective streak in this one. “It’s this kid with a French name; Guillaume something. He works as a lawyer, fresh out of law school too. He’s not a big guy. He might be taller than Jon but they have the same build and so proportionately are the same size. I think the only reason why the bastard can get away with it is because Jonathan’s pretty much grown up taking it.”
David’s hand dropped off and he swallowed the rest of his drink quickly before setting it down, upside down and resting his face in his hands, clearly trying to compose himself. To be honest, if Jason were in this guy’s shoes, he would be doing something similar. “Listen,” he said after a long minute, giving the other a chance to take deep breaths, “I don’t know you very well. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this about Jonathan’s life but I knew the moment I saw the way you talked to him in the diner and the way you touched him that you’re not like the others.” He rested his hand on this new comrade’s shoulder. “You’re going to be the one to take care of him, right?”
David turned his eyes up and looked down the counter of the bar, his expression one of deep thought. “You know, I don’t know why I reached out to him in the diner that night. I don’t know why he stood out to me. I just know that when I saw the bandages on his hands and wrapped around that one wrist, I knew that he was caught in something he could not get out of on his own and I just knew I had to be the one to get him out.”
Like Jason’s, his laugh was bitter and cold. Almost automatically his hand went to catch the dog tags around his neck, his fingers brushing the name and imprints.”I’ve served in the military for a long time. I have seen battle fields soaked in blood and the look in my comrade’s eyes when we got back from the battles. None of them, even the most haunted man, had eyes like Jonathan’s. At least they still had some good memories to combat the nightmares with. Your friend didn’t seem to have any left.”
It was something that Jason had known for a long time and yet had never really had the gall to think about. He didn’t want to think that Jon was that lost in his world of pain, that he was just that detached from the world around him. Long term abuse, he knew, damaged the mind in ways that not even years with a therapist could treat completely. He knew that if nothing was done soon, Jon might do something drastic, believing that no one would care if he were gone. While Jason had Michael to support him through it should things go that far, he knew it would take a long time to get over his own guilt.
“If he’s that far gone, David, then you had better move quickly. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to last in that place before he takes matters into his own hands.” David turned sharply to look Jason in the eye at the mention of that but Jason’s gaze didn’t waver. “He’s losing his grip. He’s becoming more and more lost with each passing day and I don’t know how to reach him.” If his tone was getting more and more desperate he didn’t notice. He just the other man’s expression softening and understanding begin to dawn. “I just don’t know what do to for him anymore.”
Jason finished his alcohol and turned toward the bar counter, bending so he could pillow his head on his folded arms. He didn’t notice David resting a gentle hand on his back or Michael’s approach and sharp words, warding the other man away. David finished his drink and left the bar, but not before promising that he would take care of Jonathan and not to worry. Jason only heard part of it though because most of his mind was attaching to Michael’s voice and his soothing words. The noise of the bar coming to life around them was a buzz in the back of his mind. This was almost too much for him.
How long he stayed like that, the middle aged waiter wasn’t sure but when he was able to compose himself and sit upright again, he was greeted by Michael’s concerned green eyes and the worried eyes of whoever it was that had taken David’s seat. He sighed and nodded when his lover asked if he was alright now but turned down the offer for more alcohol. It was never a good idea to drink while depressed.
Turning on his bar stool, Jason let Michael get back to his regular work while he looked for something to do that might lift his spirits a little bit. He knew that his lover wouldn’t let the game continue if he was too out of it and he was determined to make tonight a success. While technically there was no real dance floor, there was a piece of floor that was small and could be considered as such if one really wanted to think of it that way. The music was not exactly club music and this wasn’t a gay bar so if he danced with someone it would have to be a woman but even if he ended up just dancing by himself, he was sure that he would find a way to bring up his own spirits. At the very least, he could pretend it was part of the game later.
As the bar slowly filled with people and the bar servers were gently being eased into the rhythm they would be keeping for the night, Jason managed to find enough change in his pockets to get a few danceable songs lined up on the juke box that many of the other patrons seemed to completely agree with and before long he had the small dance floor almost completely occupied. A few women tried to dance with him but when they saw the ring on his finger made sure to keep their touches as innocent as possible. It was one thing that he admired about many of the people here: even while drunk they respected each other’s boundaries.
While he danced and cheered up, a handsome smile touching his face while Michael glared somewhat jealously at the woman he was kind of dancing with, a new young man walked into the bar, his dark hair having fallen out of the place it had been gelled into while his dark suit, crisp shirt and silken tie had a bit of a wrinkle in them from having been worn all day. The man was young, but not too young to be admitted into the bar to begin with. The few other patrons in the bar who noticed him raised eyebrows at his presence. Well-to-do young men didn’t frequent this kind of place.
After putting in an order with the waitress for drink strong enough to make her raise an eyebrow, this same young man took to checking out the club around him, his eyes lingering on the exposed bust lines of the women and the fairly tight curve of the men’s asses. No one but Michael seemed to notice his wandering gaze but the bartender knew better than to make a move based on looking alone. He was already walking a tight rope with his boss for that kind of thing though, to be fair, just because he and Jason had matching rings, that didn’t mean that other people noticed that they were matching. This “gentleman”, however, knew full well the difference. Michael had more than once told him off for daring to touch what was his without his lover’s consent.
If the young man noticed the death glare being leveled at him from one of the barmen, he paid it no heed. His drink came and with a flirty smile at the waitress, he took a drink from it, his noise wrinkling out of instinct at the strong smell and no doubt foul taste. He turned and ate a few pretzels, trying to get the flavor to go away, but it was an action that was done in vain. In the end he decided to give up and instead just finished his drink in one large gulp. Not a drop of it spilled on his obviously expensive clothes, thankfully, but it was a near thing it seemed. He used a napkin to wipe his mouth and sat back in his chair, as if to let the alcohol kick in.
By the time Jason returned to the bar counter in a much better mood to continue the earlier love game with Michael, the young man was more than feeling the effects of the alcohol and those who were only half paying attention to him could tell. He paid his tab with the first whole numbered bill he could find, which happened to be a ten, and then got up as if to walk out, though he had to steady himself on the table. He wasn’t a very small man by any means but he wasn’t as prone to drink as he tried to make others around him believe. Even if the drink itself wasn’t all that strong, it would often affect him quickly and for long periods of time.
One of the other bartenders tried to stop him from walking out of the bar and demand his keys but the young man shoved him away and stepped out the door, stumbling a little bit in his step as he walked towards his car. The bartender rolled his eyes but understood the gesture, apparently. Guillaume Chrestien could handle himself.