Title: Into Temptation
Title: In to Temptation
Author: ebony_tears
Pairing: Original male/male slash
Genre: Drama, Angst
Summary: Kevin O’Shea and Connor Ferrera shared a mutual hatred, that is until their parents decided to marry each other. Now forced to live as step-brothers under the same roof, their hatred is starting to reach new heights but after a few secrets unwillingly revealed, they find their relationship taking a most unusual turn.
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied non-con (though not explicitly described), child abuse, violence etc.
Disclaimer: I, Nada am the sole owner of the characters and plot line. Do not claim anything as your own. No PLAGIARISM.
Beta: Thanks to rons_pigwidgeon for putting up with my cross culturisms (me being a Brit and writing about Americans ^^;) and agreeing to join me on this journey.
Notes: I shouldn’t have to say this but just in case anyone’s thinking it - No, I don’t condone any of the subjects I warned you about just because I’m writing about them. Also, this is my first attempt at actually writing an original fiction so constructive criticism is more than welcome.
“…Yeah, sure. Of course. No, no problem, Mrs. Hoover. Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said. He adjusted the cell phone between his left shoulder and ear while leafing through his daily planner. “Yeah, that’s fine. Ok then, see you in a bit.”
Connor Ferrera leaned back in his computer chair and closed his eyes, letting his breath out in a loud ‘whoosh’ as he tried to relax the muscles in his back. To say he had been stressed out lately would be the understatement of the year, but it was not in his nature to complain or let other people interfere with his problems.
He sighed once again before looking at the computer screen to make sure the downloads were still working. The computer clock at the corner of the screen showed that it was 6:13 PM, which gave him seventeen minutes to get dressed and leave so that he could arrive at the Hoover residence by 7:00 PM. He looked around at the cardboard boxes that littered his room; so far his computer was the only thing he had managed to unpack since arriving in this house almost two weeks ago. Even his clothes were dumped unceremoniously in a laundry basket while his wardrobe remained as empty as the day his mother had bought it for him.
He tried to spend as little time as possible at home. Connor’s friends would never describe him as someone who avoided his problems, but, if he were to be honest with himself, that was exactly what he was doing.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself.
He hadn’t asked for this; he never asked for any of the shit that happened to him in life. Often he found himself asking the age-old question “Why me?” only to have his inner voice reply back, quite rudely, that he needed to ‘get his act together’. He needed to sort his thoughts out; it shouldn’t be this hard after all, he had had a month to get used to this arrangement, to settle down in his new family. He still couldn’t grasp the idea that he…that he - shit, he couldn’t even say it in his thoughts.
Maybe if he started from the beginning. He was Connor Ferrera, seventeen years of age and an only child until a month ago, which was when his mother decided - without prior consultation with him - to get married. That wasn’t the problem; his stepfather was a well-mannered man, a lawyer like his mother, and quite entertaining at the dinner table. No, he wasn’t the problem, but the extra “baggage” he carried in the form of Kevin O’Shea certainly was.
Kevin O’Shea: eighteen years old as of last week and the bane of Connor’s existence since Junior High. Kevin was, not so surprisingly, the star quarterback of Hawke High’s football team. He was extremely popular (which wasn’t to say that Connor himself wasn’t), well mannered towards his professors, and a total babe magnet. Their relationship, though simple, was extremely intense; a day wouldn’t pass without a confrontation between the two. The reasoning behind their mutual dislike was once again very simple: Kevin hated him because he was gay and Connor reciprocated because…well, because Kevin was a jerk.
And now, following a cruel joke that fate decided to play on him, he and Kevin were brothers. Well, stepbrothers, but bound by this - this disgusting label of kinship nonetheless.
He could still remember the similar look of horror that adorned Kevin’s face when he found out that his father was marrying the mother of his worst enemy. He was still blessed with that same expression every morning at the breakfast table, which is why Connor tried to stay away from this house; he already had too many problems going on without further aggravation from Kevin O’Shea.
He opened his eyes and stared at the computer clock. It now read 6:39 PM. Shit. He was going to be late.
“Zaf, where the fuck are you?” he muttered again. It seemed to be something he’d been doing a lot lately, filthy habit, his mother called it.
Connor quickly made his way through the cardboard boxes, tripping here and there until he stood in front of the sink in the bathroom. His unusually green eyes stared back at him in annoyance and the somewhat dark circles around his eyes didn’t help matters either. He turned the tap on and waited until the water turned warm before splashing it on his face. He was startled as something, or rather someone, banged against the door on the other side of the bathroom.
See, he would have learnt to live with Kevin, eventually anyways, if it hadn’t been for the en-suite bathroom between their rooms. In order to gain complete privacy, one had to lock the door that led from the other’s bedroom and then remember to unlock it and lock their own room so the other couldn’t get into their room. Connor shook his head in disdain, and people thought he lead a fairly uncomplicated life.
He tried to ignore the sounds of bumps and grunts that permeated through the other door while he went about doing his business.
“Ow…shit,” heard Connor followed by a few more expletives. He couldn’t curb his curiosity and went to lean his ear against the other door, listening to Kevin, and his girlfriend probably, rustle around.
“I’m sorry, are you okay Kevvy baby?” he heard Miranda Carpenter’s sickly high-pitched voice.
Suddenly an image appeared in Connor’s head of what they might have been up to…and how it had ended. Now feeling sufficiently disturbed, he made sure the door was unlocked and backed away until he was in his own room again. He heard a faint ringing noise and went towards his computer table to pick up his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Dude, open the fucking door. Been banging on it for ages. I think the neighbours are getting the wrong idea.” And the line went dead.
Connor stood for a moment longer looking around for his baseball cap and school bag, just to further annoy his friend. Upon finding his things he then took his time climbing down the stairs towards the front door where indeed someone was knocking persistently. He opened the door and let the guest in, watching as the other boy wiped his feet clean before looking up and offering Connor a wide grin.
He came forward and enveloped Connor in a tight huge.
“Missed you, dude,” he said as he let go.
Connor studied his best friend for any changes he should know about. Last year, when Zafir Adnan had gone on vacation, he had come back with a bar through his bottom lip; his mother made sure he never saw the sight of again.
Connor raised an eyebrow and asked, “No shocks and surprises this year?”
“I’ll show you,” Zafir said elusively and winked. “If you beg.”
“Come on.” Connor rolled his eyes as he led Zafir to the kitchen. “So tell me about Greece, did you get to meet the cousin you were raving on about so much?”
Zafir was half Greek and half Moroccon, which had blessed him with an abundance of relatives on either side of his family. He was nearly the same height as Connor, just an inch shy of being 6’0 tall, and fourth in the long line of seven siblings. They’d been best friends as long as Connor could remember, and Zafir had accepted his homosexuality as easily as a bucket accepting water when he had come out three years ago.
While Connor had pale skin and startling green eyes, Zafir was the complete opposite with dark brown curls and chocolate brown eyes. He was well built though not athletically so, as he preferred the finer arts, such as music and photography, over ‘barbarous groping’ as he called all sports. Connor hadn’t always had much confidence and Zafir had always been there to push him along, but still he allowed his best friend to take most of the limelight as he still felt uncomfortable surrounded by such fawning adoration from the female population of the school.
“…talking about marriage. Marriage I tell you!” Zafir had been saying. “I mean what the fuck, I haven’t even finished high school yet, and Connor, you didn’t hear a word that I said did you?”
Zafir also came from a very orthodox Islamic family, who was bent on seeing him settled down and with at least two kids by the time he hit the age of twenty. Being the younger brother of four girls and the older of another two, the pressure was pretty strong as it was up to him to carry on the Adnan line.
To Connor the image of Zafir settled down was…well it was unimaginable.
“Huh? Sorry, no umm yeah that is dumb,” Connor said as he threw a can of soda he didn’t remember taking out of the fridge at Zafir. “Well, your summer was certainly entertaining.”
“So was yours from what I heard,” Zafir said slyly and gave Connor a wink.
“Oh this is sick,” they heard a high-pitched voice behind them. “Will I have to see this sickening display every time I come over, Kevvy?”
‘Kevvy?’ Zafir mouthed before turning around and giving Miranda his award-winning smile. “Oh you mean this display?” With that said he grasped Connor by the front of his shirt and smashed their mouths together, making sure that their audience could see his tongue slipping into Connor’s mouth before he pulled away.
Kevin’s lip curled up in disgust and his blue eyes flashed angrily. “That was disgusting.”
Zafir rolled his eyes and got off the barstool. He came to stand a few paces away from Miranda and gave her an appraising stare, starting from her long legs with the obviously fake tan to the extremely short skirt that barely covered her underwear. Actually wait; was she actually wearing anything under that piece of cloth? Oh, Connor didn’t even want to think of that particular image. Miranda blushed to her dyed blonde roots, but the heat in her glare didn’t lessen. Zafir gave her a parting wink and turned away; this time it was Connor who followed him out of the kitchen.
“I was going to ask you how you been holding up but,” he waved his hand towards the kitchen and offered Connor a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be careful around him, right?”
Connor gave an uneasy laugh and shook his head. “Yes, mother,” he replied before looking at his wristwatch. “Listen Zaf, sorry I can’t stay. I’ve been called by the Hoovers to baby-sit and - ”
“But I just came back from vacation!” Zafir whined.
“Yeah I know, but it was last minute. I downloaded some study guides for Tis’ Pity She’s a Whore.” At that Zafir raised an amused eyebrow and Connor smacked him lightly on the head. “It was our summer reading assignment, you prick, and I can tell you didn’t even write it down, so anyways why don’t you get started on those?” Connor asked. “Please, I’m so sorry, you know I can’t turn them down.”
“Fine.”
“Great.” Connor leaned forward and gave Zafir a peck on the cheek. “Up the stairs, first door on your right.” He watched to make sure Zafir knew where he was going as this house was quite a bit larger than Connor’s old residence.
He sighed, truly happy to have his best friend back as the days without his witty repertoire and with Kevin’s snide remarks had been pure hell. He had to grab the keys from the kitchen and write a note for his mom to let her know where he was going.
When Connor entered the kitchen, he found Kevin and Miranda heavily engaged with each other’s mouth. He ignored them and walked around to where the notepad was hanging with a pen on top of the refrigerator. Connor had grabbed the keys after writing the brief note and was just about to leave when Miranda spoke up.
“So Kevin, what’s it like to have a faggot for a brother?”
“He’s not my brother,” Kevin replied crossly.
Connor gritted his teeth and held on to the keys so tight that his knuckles went white. She’s a girl, you can’t hit a girl, he thought before managing to plaster a smirk on his face and turning around.
“Actually there is one perk of having me as a brother,” he paused and his smirk grew lascivious. “I give one heck of a blowjob. Maybe I can give you some tips.” He couldn’t help but feel gleeful inside at the murderous look on both their faces as he continued. “See the trick is to cover your teeth with your lips so as not to bite Kevin’s cock off, I mean what else would be left of it then? And also it’s all in the tongue, it is the strongest muscle in the body. Of course, don’t forget to suck. Have a good time.”
He left them spluttering in the kitchen and walked out with ease. He grabbed his bag where he had left it before opening the door for Zafir and hoisted it on his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare download porn on my computer, Zaf,” he called out.
“Connor, you fucker!” It seemed Kevin’s vocal chords were in order again.
“You wish, O’Shea,” he replied before letting the front door slam behind him.
~*~
Connor checked his watch and found out he was ten minutes late before pressing the doorbell. He shifted his weight from foot to foot hoping the Hoover’s hadn’t left already, or worse, they were late for their date.
The door opened to reveal a young girl with short platinum blonde hair and wide blue eyes staring at him shyly. Before he could mutter a greeting, Mrs. Hoover appeared, putting on her earrings, and motioned him inside with a warm smile.
“Well now that the baby sitter is here - ”
“Mom!” The girl that Connor knew as Diane Hoover reddened with mortification.
Mrs. Hoover just rolled her eyes and called for her husband, telling him they were getting late. She then turned to Connor and said, “I’m so grateful you could come at such short notice. Ben hardly gets any days off at the firm and we haven’t been out in so long - ”
“Martha, leave the poor boy alone.” Mr. Ben Hoover came down the stairs and grinned at Connor. “Thanks for coming out, son.” He slapped him on the back.
“You know where everything is. Make sure she does her homework, no games before that and the curfew is - ”
“Mrs. Hoover, just go. The house will still be intact and the universe will still be progressing when you return. Have a nice time.” Connor grinned, shooing the middle-aged couple out of the house.
Mrs. Hoover waved at her daughter and squeezed Connor’s hand before getting in the car. He watched Mr. Hoover reverse out of the drive way and his wife quickly rolled down the windows and called, “Connor you’re a star,” before the car zoomed away, leaving Connor blushing at the door.
Connor didn’t need to cook anything as Mrs. Hoover had prepared dinner and left it in the oven. The next couple of hours were spent in silence, which used to be very unusual two years ago as Diane was a very talkative kid, but Connor suspected she had a bit of a crush on him, one he didn’t need to fuel any further.
He was lounging on the sofa with Radiohead blasting in his ears when he felt the hair on his neck stand up. He looked up to find Diane staring at him, but she quickly blushed and looked away. Connor sighed and took out his earphones after shutting the mp3 player off; he sat looking at Diane, waiting for her to acknowledge him.
“Ok, what do you say to some food?” Connor finally asked. “That’s enough homework wouldn’t you agree?”
Diane shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Right.” Connor got up and headed to the kitchen noticing that Diane didn’t follow. He hated teen crushes, not that he hadn't experienced far too many himself when he was fourteen year old, but they were just so damn inconvenient. He and Diane used to be great friends, but ever since she had been back from Catholic school, she had been so shy around him; it was getting on his nerves.
He took out the meatloaf silently and cut a portion for Diane, though he wasn’t hungry himself. His appetite had disappeared since this whole marriage thing came about. Diane entered the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table, silently accepting the food.
“So, how’s school?” Connor tried to make conversation, but her only reply was a shrug. “Look, Diane - Deedee, I - ”
“You haven’t called me that in years.” That was the most she had said all night.
Connor raised an eyebrow. “I got the impression you were embarrassed by it.” He waited for her to say something, but nothing came. He sighed and turned to cover the meatloaf in cling wrap before putting it into the fridge.
“I hate Catholic school.”
“What?”
“The girls there are complete bitches, and are always talking about boyfriends, and it just pisses me off so much.” She viciously stabbed her meatloaf with her fork.
“Ahh boys, I should have known.” Connor smiled.
“Mmm-hmm.” Diane didn’t look up to meet his eyes. Connor was about to placate her when she opened her mouth and said, “Is it true that - that, umm…you know, that you’re it?”
Oh.
Connor didn’t answer instead he studied the blushing cherubic face and wondered whom she heard that from. Probably her parents, he thought. His sexuality wasn’t a secret, most parents he babysat for asked him because he was gay and knew that he wouldn’t have any untoward feelings towards their virginal daughters and also because he was a very nice and honest young man.
“Well, I don’t know what you mean by it, but…I’m in love, yes.” Connor turned away from her, busying himself with this and that despite the kitchen being impeccably organised.
“You - you are?” He could imagine her eyes widening, and it was confirmed when he turned around.
“Yes, but well, it’s all very pointless.” He sighed.
“Why? She doesn’t like you back?”
Connor raised an eyebrow at the pronoun, but didn’t acknowledge it in any other way. Obviously, she’d already forgotten what she had been questioning him about before.
“Well, she’s - she’s very pretty and I’m sure all the boys are crazy about her.” He walked towards her. “But she’s so far away most of the time; you see she goes to a Catholic school, and I don’t think I could bear a long distance relationship,” he said sadly.
Diane’s eyes widened further if that was possible. “Who -? I mean do I know her?”
“Now…” He drew closer, his hands coming up to settle at her sides. “I think you do, Ms. Ticklish.” And without any warning, his fingers started tickling her sides. She burst out laughing and fell to the floor, tumbling around, trying to escape from Connor’s clutches.
“S-stop. God, I can’t breathe,” she cried. Connor, taking pity on her, let go, and they lay side by side on the kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling with identical grins on their faces. “You know you didn’t answer my question.”
Connor thought of all the answers he could give her, but then settled for the easiest and the most honest one. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one waiting for Prince Charming.”
~*~
The Hoovers had arrived later than expected but Connor didn’t mind. It had felt good to finally be talking with Diane like they did before, without any pretence, something he had sorely missed over the summer.
He sighed and kicked a stone on the pavement; he really didn’t want to be going home, which was why he was now walking alongside Bay Park, at least 5 blocks away from his new house. Maybe I should have brought the Hummer, he thought, though of course the fuel prices these days were murderous, and he would know, considering he worked at a gas station. He could always ask…
No, Connor shook his head in frustration, he would never stoop that low. He looked down at his wrists now covered with black wristbands, but he knew what was beneath the fabric; his pain, his humiliation, his soul, all carved carefully into his skin. Every month he went, and every month that man came, touched him, whispered endearing words into his ears, but all Connor wanted to do was kill himself and take that man down with him.
Connor’s biological father, Demitri Ferrera, only married his mother to get a Green card (well that’s what she told Connor) and therefore left his American wife and son after only six years of marriage. His mother then went on to marry Richard Darmouth, to whom she remained under not-so-blissful matrimony for a further six years. In those six years Connor accepted what no child should ever be allowed to; he didn’t know why he let it happen or why he still does. His mother never came to know of it and how he wanted to scream at her, “Look what you’ve done to me, look what I’ve become. Do you even care?” But he kept his lips sealed and lay at night, listening to their muffled moans and groans, knowing that his mother couldn’t possibly give her husband the satisfaction her own son’s fragile body did. Perhaps he did it out of vengeance, to show her how little she was worth if her own husband sought cheap thrills from a boy of ten.
And now, now he did it out of spite because he hated himself. He deserved every disgusting touch he received, every bite inflicted that broke his skin, every hurtful word, because he let it go on and now it was too late. There was no end to something that began over ten years ago.
Lost in thoughts, he arrived at his house to find the lights were still turned on inside. He looked towards the driveway and saw three cars parked behind his Hummer, so every one was home. Great, Connor thought with dejection, no time like the present for family bonding. He stood for a few more moments, collecting his thoughts together and steeling himself against whatever lay behind closed doors.
“…I simply cannot condone such behaviour.” Connor heard followed by what could only be his mother’s voice speaking in calm tones, though he didn’t make out the words. “Linda, no! He's far from over the legal restriction to buy alcohol and I don't want to imagine how he got hang of such an amount either. I didn't raise my son to be so irresponsible! ”
Ok, so this definitely was a conversation Connor did not want to get involved in. Maybe if he just headed towards the stairs, quietly enough…he could -
“Where have you been? Do you know what the time is?” His mother glared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her features pinched in anger.
“Mom, I - ”
“Exactly. Last time I checked, I was still your mother therefore you owe me an explanation. What is wrong with you?!” she continued to howl.
Something heavy settled in Connor’s stomach, he could feel it digging deeper and deeper, clawing at his insides. He could hear faint voices surfacing above his mother’s shouts and making their way to his ears.
“Connor…are you hiding?”
Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommy…
A dark, dark place. Connor was claustrophobic, the closet was small, and it smelt of cheap perfume and stale shoes. He was so, so young, tucking his knees against his chest, trying not to think of the monsters lurking in the shadows.
Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommy…
“Mommy isn’t here…”
“Linda, will you stop it!”
Connor’s eyes focused in front of him at the broad, handsome man placating his mother. He felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown in his face; he barely stopped himself from taking huge gasps of air, opting instead to just flare his nostrils and clench his fists.
“I left you a note,” he managed to say weakly.
Eric O’Shea looked at him, his brows creasing in concern at the beads of sweat that rolled down Connor’s temples.
“I didn’t see any - ”
“Linda, come with me for a moment.”
He steered her towards the kitchen and he heard them rustle around. They conversed in low tones lest Connor was eavesdropping, which he was in neither any mood or condition to do, before returning, the note he had written earlier on in the evening balled up in Eric’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Connor.” Eric shook his head. “It seems Kevin has been rather busy tonight.”
“I - I can take him upstairs if you want.”
“Oh, you don’t have to - ”
“No, I think it’s good that he’s trying to get comfortable around his brother.” Linda O’Shea, formerly Ferrera, turned to her husband and frowned. “Kevin’s not such a bad boy, Eric, can’t you see he’s crying out for attention. I just think - ”
Connor moved past them into the living room, muting out their voices as he walked across to the sprawled form of Kevin on the coach. The smell of alcohol was almost overwhelming as he steered Kevin’s arms over his shoulders and tried to adjust their balance.
Climbing the stairs was a mean feat, one Connor didn’t want to be repeating any time soon. He wondered what had gotten Kevin so smashed, though he could probably guess what with the events earlier on.
Kevin’s room was far more organised than his own; it didn’t have the indifferent air that Connor’s own room refused to let go of. There were posters on the wall, clothes strewn on the floor, sheets rumpled on the bed…it seemed like a perfectly normal teenager’s room, unlike the one on the other side of the bathroom.
He laid Kevin down on the unmade bed and started working on his shirt buttons. A hand clamped down on his and he looked up to see clear blue eyes staring at him with an unreadable expression. Well, he definitely seemed more sober than before.
Kevin squinted, though his grasp on Connor didn’t lessen any.
“Is…Is - whatitsname….homo - gay thing…gaysex, is it.” He paused, seeming to struggle with coherency. “Is it conta - conge…you know when it gets to you…is it gay?”
“No, O’Shea, homosexuality isn’t contagious.” Connor sighed.
Kevin blinked. “Oh…well tuck me in then.”
Connor rolled his eyes but continued with undressing Kevin, who had started emitting soft snores already. His eyes were trained on the job he was doing and were mostly well behaved, he didn’t need to add any unnecessary complications to this arrangement.
By the time he was finished tucking Kevin in, he was exhausted himself. He crossed over to the bathroom door and went through it into his own bedroom. He had to do a double take as his eyes roamed over his room, taking in the stack of cardboard boxes, now empty and neatly arranged at one corner of the room. He swiftly went to the wardrobe and threw the doors open to see all his clothes hung inside. Everything was in order, his books, his CDs, his paintings.
“Zaf, I love you,” Connor muttered to himself with a grin.
His eyes fell on the computer screen where a post-it note was stuck, it simply said: “Connor, you slob!”
Connor undressed and slipped underneath his cool sheets, his fingers tracing the faint scars of his left wrist. Suddenly everything seemed a lot better than it had in months. Maybe…if he could just sleep without dreaming. Just this once.
Chapter Two
Author: ebony_tears
Pairing: Original male/male slash
Genre: Drama, Angst
Summary: Kevin O’Shea and Connor Ferrera shared a mutual hatred, that is until their parents decided to marry each other. Now forced to live as step-brothers under the same roof, their hatred is starting to reach new heights but after a few secrets unwillingly revealed, they find their relationship taking a most unusual turn.
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied non-con (though not explicitly described), child abuse, violence etc.
Disclaimer: I, Nada am the sole owner of the characters and plot line. Do not claim anything as your own. No PLAGIARISM.
Beta: Thanks to rons_pigwidgeon for putting up with my cross culturisms (me being a Brit and writing about Americans ^^;) and agreeing to join me on this journey.
Notes: I shouldn’t have to say this but just in case anyone’s thinking it - No, I don’t condone any of the subjects I warned you about just because I’m writing about them. Also, this is my first attempt at actually writing an original fiction so constructive criticism is more than welcome.
“…Yeah, sure. Of course. No, no problem, Mrs. Hoover. Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said. He adjusted the cell phone between his left shoulder and ear while leafing through his daily planner. “Yeah, that’s fine. Ok then, see you in a bit.”
Connor Ferrera leaned back in his computer chair and closed his eyes, letting his breath out in a loud ‘whoosh’ as he tried to relax the muscles in his back. To say he had been stressed out lately would be the understatement of the year, but it was not in his nature to complain or let other people interfere with his problems.
He sighed once again before looking at the computer screen to make sure the downloads were still working. The computer clock at the corner of the screen showed that it was 6:13 PM, which gave him seventeen minutes to get dressed and leave so that he could arrive at the Hoover residence by 7:00 PM. He looked around at the cardboard boxes that littered his room; so far his computer was the only thing he had managed to unpack since arriving in this house almost two weeks ago. Even his clothes were dumped unceremoniously in a laundry basket while his wardrobe remained as empty as the day his mother had bought it for him.
He tried to spend as little time as possible at home. Connor’s friends would never describe him as someone who avoided his problems, but, if he were to be honest with himself, that was exactly what he was doing.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself.
He hadn’t asked for this; he never asked for any of the shit that happened to him in life. Often he found himself asking the age-old question “Why me?” only to have his inner voice reply back, quite rudely, that he needed to ‘get his act together’. He needed to sort his thoughts out; it shouldn’t be this hard after all, he had had a month to get used to this arrangement, to settle down in his new family. He still couldn’t grasp the idea that he…that he - shit, he couldn’t even say it in his thoughts.
Maybe if he started from the beginning. He was Connor Ferrera, seventeen years of age and an only child until a month ago, which was when his mother decided - without prior consultation with him - to get married. That wasn’t the problem; his stepfather was a well-mannered man, a lawyer like his mother, and quite entertaining at the dinner table. No, he wasn’t the problem, but the extra “baggage” he carried in the form of Kevin O’Shea certainly was.
Kevin O’Shea: eighteen years old as of last week and the bane of Connor’s existence since Junior High. Kevin was, not so surprisingly, the star quarterback of Hawke High’s football team. He was extremely popular (which wasn’t to say that Connor himself wasn’t), well mannered towards his professors, and a total babe magnet. Their relationship, though simple, was extremely intense; a day wouldn’t pass without a confrontation between the two. The reasoning behind their mutual dislike was once again very simple: Kevin hated him because he was gay and Connor reciprocated because…well, because Kevin was a jerk.
And now, following a cruel joke that fate decided to play on him, he and Kevin were brothers. Well, stepbrothers, but bound by this - this disgusting label of kinship nonetheless.
He could still remember the similar look of horror that adorned Kevin’s face when he found out that his father was marrying the mother of his worst enemy. He was still blessed with that same expression every morning at the breakfast table, which is why Connor tried to stay away from this house; he already had too many problems going on without further aggravation from Kevin O’Shea.
He opened his eyes and stared at the computer clock. It now read 6:39 PM. Shit. He was going to be late.
“Zaf, where the fuck are you?” he muttered again. It seemed to be something he’d been doing a lot lately, filthy habit, his mother called it.
Connor quickly made his way through the cardboard boxes, tripping here and there until he stood in front of the sink in the bathroom. His unusually green eyes stared back at him in annoyance and the somewhat dark circles around his eyes didn’t help matters either. He turned the tap on and waited until the water turned warm before splashing it on his face. He was startled as something, or rather someone, banged against the door on the other side of the bathroom.
See, he would have learnt to live with Kevin, eventually anyways, if it hadn’t been for the en-suite bathroom between their rooms. In order to gain complete privacy, one had to lock the door that led from the other’s bedroom and then remember to unlock it and lock their own room so the other couldn’t get into their room. Connor shook his head in disdain, and people thought he lead a fairly uncomplicated life.
He tried to ignore the sounds of bumps and grunts that permeated through the other door while he went about doing his business.
“Ow…shit,” heard Connor followed by a few more expletives. He couldn’t curb his curiosity and went to lean his ear against the other door, listening to Kevin, and his girlfriend probably, rustle around.
“I’m sorry, are you okay Kevvy baby?” he heard Miranda Carpenter’s sickly high-pitched voice.
Suddenly an image appeared in Connor’s head of what they might have been up to…and how it had ended. Now feeling sufficiently disturbed, he made sure the door was unlocked and backed away until he was in his own room again. He heard a faint ringing noise and went towards his computer table to pick up his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Dude, open the fucking door. Been banging on it for ages. I think the neighbours are getting the wrong idea.” And the line went dead.
Connor stood for a moment longer looking around for his baseball cap and school bag, just to further annoy his friend. Upon finding his things he then took his time climbing down the stairs towards the front door where indeed someone was knocking persistently. He opened the door and let the guest in, watching as the other boy wiped his feet clean before looking up and offering Connor a wide grin.
He came forward and enveloped Connor in a tight huge.
“Missed you, dude,” he said as he let go.
Connor studied his best friend for any changes he should know about. Last year, when Zafir Adnan had gone on vacation, he had come back with a bar through his bottom lip; his mother made sure he never saw the sight of again.
Connor raised an eyebrow and asked, “No shocks and surprises this year?”
“I’ll show you,” Zafir said elusively and winked. “If you beg.”
“Come on.” Connor rolled his eyes as he led Zafir to the kitchen. “So tell me about Greece, did you get to meet the cousin you were raving on about so much?”
Zafir was half Greek and half Moroccon, which had blessed him with an abundance of relatives on either side of his family. He was nearly the same height as Connor, just an inch shy of being 6’0 tall, and fourth in the long line of seven siblings. They’d been best friends as long as Connor could remember, and Zafir had accepted his homosexuality as easily as a bucket accepting water when he had come out three years ago.
While Connor had pale skin and startling green eyes, Zafir was the complete opposite with dark brown curls and chocolate brown eyes. He was well built though not athletically so, as he preferred the finer arts, such as music and photography, over ‘barbarous groping’ as he called all sports. Connor hadn’t always had much confidence and Zafir had always been there to push him along, but still he allowed his best friend to take most of the limelight as he still felt uncomfortable surrounded by such fawning adoration from the female population of the school.
“…talking about marriage. Marriage I tell you!” Zafir had been saying. “I mean what the fuck, I haven’t even finished high school yet, and Connor, you didn’t hear a word that I said did you?”
Zafir also came from a very orthodox Islamic family, who was bent on seeing him settled down and with at least two kids by the time he hit the age of twenty. Being the younger brother of four girls and the older of another two, the pressure was pretty strong as it was up to him to carry on the Adnan line.
To Connor the image of Zafir settled down was…well it was unimaginable.
“Huh? Sorry, no umm yeah that is dumb,” Connor said as he threw a can of soda he didn’t remember taking out of the fridge at Zafir. “Well, your summer was certainly entertaining.”
“So was yours from what I heard,” Zafir said slyly and gave Connor a wink.
“Oh this is sick,” they heard a high-pitched voice behind them. “Will I have to see this sickening display every time I come over, Kevvy?”
‘Kevvy?’ Zafir mouthed before turning around and giving Miranda his award-winning smile. “Oh you mean this display?” With that said he grasped Connor by the front of his shirt and smashed their mouths together, making sure that their audience could see his tongue slipping into Connor’s mouth before he pulled away.
Kevin’s lip curled up in disgust and his blue eyes flashed angrily. “That was disgusting.”
Zafir rolled his eyes and got off the barstool. He came to stand a few paces away from Miranda and gave her an appraising stare, starting from her long legs with the obviously fake tan to the extremely short skirt that barely covered her underwear. Actually wait; was she actually wearing anything under that piece of cloth? Oh, Connor didn’t even want to think of that particular image. Miranda blushed to her dyed blonde roots, but the heat in her glare didn’t lessen. Zafir gave her a parting wink and turned away; this time it was Connor who followed him out of the kitchen.
“I was going to ask you how you been holding up but,” he waved his hand towards the kitchen and offered Connor a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be careful around him, right?”
Connor gave an uneasy laugh and shook his head. “Yes, mother,” he replied before looking at his wristwatch. “Listen Zaf, sorry I can’t stay. I’ve been called by the Hoovers to baby-sit and - ”
“But I just came back from vacation!” Zafir whined.
“Yeah I know, but it was last minute. I downloaded some study guides for Tis’ Pity She’s a Whore.” At that Zafir raised an amused eyebrow and Connor smacked him lightly on the head. “It was our summer reading assignment, you prick, and I can tell you didn’t even write it down, so anyways why don’t you get started on those?” Connor asked. “Please, I’m so sorry, you know I can’t turn them down.”
“Fine.”
“Great.” Connor leaned forward and gave Zafir a peck on the cheek. “Up the stairs, first door on your right.” He watched to make sure Zafir knew where he was going as this house was quite a bit larger than Connor’s old residence.
He sighed, truly happy to have his best friend back as the days without his witty repertoire and with Kevin’s snide remarks had been pure hell. He had to grab the keys from the kitchen and write a note for his mom to let her know where he was going.
When Connor entered the kitchen, he found Kevin and Miranda heavily engaged with each other’s mouth. He ignored them and walked around to where the notepad was hanging with a pen on top of the refrigerator. Connor had grabbed the keys after writing the brief note and was just about to leave when Miranda spoke up.
“So Kevin, what’s it like to have a faggot for a brother?”
“He’s not my brother,” Kevin replied crossly.
Connor gritted his teeth and held on to the keys so tight that his knuckles went white. She’s a girl, you can’t hit a girl, he thought before managing to plaster a smirk on his face and turning around.
“Actually there is one perk of having me as a brother,” he paused and his smirk grew lascivious. “I give one heck of a blowjob. Maybe I can give you some tips.” He couldn’t help but feel gleeful inside at the murderous look on both their faces as he continued. “See the trick is to cover your teeth with your lips so as not to bite Kevin’s cock off, I mean what else would be left of it then? And also it’s all in the tongue, it is the strongest muscle in the body. Of course, don’t forget to suck. Have a good time.”
He left them spluttering in the kitchen and walked out with ease. He grabbed his bag where he had left it before opening the door for Zafir and hoisted it on his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare download porn on my computer, Zaf,” he called out.
“Connor, you fucker!” It seemed Kevin’s vocal chords were in order again.
“You wish, O’Shea,” he replied before letting the front door slam behind him.
~*~
Connor checked his watch and found out he was ten minutes late before pressing the doorbell. He shifted his weight from foot to foot hoping the Hoover’s hadn’t left already, or worse, they were late for their date.
The door opened to reveal a young girl with short platinum blonde hair and wide blue eyes staring at him shyly. Before he could mutter a greeting, Mrs. Hoover appeared, putting on her earrings, and motioned him inside with a warm smile.
“Well now that the baby sitter is here - ”
“Mom!” The girl that Connor knew as Diane Hoover reddened with mortification.
Mrs. Hoover just rolled her eyes and called for her husband, telling him they were getting late. She then turned to Connor and said, “I’m so grateful you could come at such short notice. Ben hardly gets any days off at the firm and we haven’t been out in so long - ”
“Martha, leave the poor boy alone.” Mr. Ben Hoover came down the stairs and grinned at Connor. “Thanks for coming out, son.” He slapped him on the back.
“You know where everything is. Make sure she does her homework, no games before that and the curfew is - ”
“Mrs. Hoover, just go. The house will still be intact and the universe will still be progressing when you return. Have a nice time.” Connor grinned, shooing the middle-aged couple out of the house.
Mrs. Hoover waved at her daughter and squeezed Connor’s hand before getting in the car. He watched Mr. Hoover reverse out of the drive way and his wife quickly rolled down the windows and called, “Connor you’re a star,” before the car zoomed away, leaving Connor blushing at the door.
Connor didn’t need to cook anything as Mrs. Hoover had prepared dinner and left it in the oven. The next couple of hours were spent in silence, which used to be very unusual two years ago as Diane was a very talkative kid, but Connor suspected she had a bit of a crush on him, one he didn’t need to fuel any further.
He was lounging on the sofa with Radiohead blasting in his ears when he felt the hair on his neck stand up. He looked up to find Diane staring at him, but she quickly blushed and looked away. Connor sighed and took out his earphones after shutting the mp3 player off; he sat looking at Diane, waiting for her to acknowledge him.
“Ok, what do you say to some food?” Connor finally asked. “That’s enough homework wouldn’t you agree?”
Diane shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Right.” Connor got up and headed to the kitchen noticing that Diane didn’t follow. He hated teen crushes, not that he hadn't experienced far too many himself when he was fourteen year old, but they were just so damn inconvenient. He and Diane used to be great friends, but ever since she had been back from Catholic school, she had been so shy around him; it was getting on his nerves.
He took out the meatloaf silently and cut a portion for Diane, though he wasn’t hungry himself. His appetite had disappeared since this whole marriage thing came about. Diane entered the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table, silently accepting the food.
“So, how’s school?” Connor tried to make conversation, but her only reply was a shrug. “Look, Diane - Deedee, I - ”
“You haven’t called me that in years.” That was the most she had said all night.
Connor raised an eyebrow. “I got the impression you were embarrassed by it.” He waited for her to say something, but nothing came. He sighed and turned to cover the meatloaf in cling wrap before putting it into the fridge.
“I hate Catholic school.”
“What?”
“The girls there are complete bitches, and are always talking about boyfriends, and it just pisses me off so much.” She viciously stabbed her meatloaf with her fork.
“Ahh boys, I should have known.” Connor smiled.
“Mmm-hmm.” Diane didn’t look up to meet his eyes. Connor was about to placate her when she opened her mouth and said, “Is it true that - that, umm…you know, that you’re it?”
Oh.
Connor didn’t answer instead he studied the blushing cherubic face and wondered whom she heard that from. Probably her parents, he thought. His sexuality wasn’t a secret, most parents he babysat for asked him because he was gay and knew that he wouldn’t have any untoward feelings towards their virginal daughters and also because he was a very nice and honest young man.
“Well, I don’t know what you mean by it, but…I’m in love, yes.” Connor turned away from her, busying himself with this and that despite the kitchen being impeccably organised.
“You - you are?” He could imagine her eyes widening, and it was confirmed when he turned around.
“Yes, but well, it’s all very pointless.” He sighed.
“Why? She doesn’t like you back?”
Connor raised an eyebrow at the pronoun, but didn’t acknowledge it in any other way. Obviously, she’d already forgotten what she had been questioning him about before.
“Well, she’s - she’s very pretty and I’m sure all the boys are crazy about her.” He walked towards her. “But she’s so far away most of the time; you see she goes to a Catholic school, and I don’t think I could bear a long distance relationship,” he said sadly.
Diane’s eyes widened further if that was possible. “Who -? I mean do I know her?”
“Now…” He drew closer, his hands coming up to settle at her sides. “I think you do, Ms. Ticklish.” And without any warning, his fingers started tickling her sides. She burst out laughing and fell to the floor, tumbling around, trying to escape from Connor’s clutches.
“S-stop. God, I can’t breathe,” she cried. Connor, taking pity on her, let go, and they lay side by side on the kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling with identical grins on their faces. “You know you didn’t answer my question.”
Connor thought of all the answers he could give her, but then settled for the easiest and the most honest one. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one waiting for Prince Charming.”
~*~
The Hoovers had arrived later than expected but Connor didn’t mind. It had felt good to finally be talking with Diane like they did before, without any pretence, something he had sorely missed over the summer.
He sighed and kicked a stone on the pavement; he really didn’t want to be going home, which was why he was now walking alongside Bay Park, at least 5 blocks away from his new house. Maybe I should have brought the Hummer, he thought, though of course the fuel prices these days were murderous, and he would know, considering he worked at a gas station. He could always ask…
No, Connor shook his head in frustration, he would never stoop that low. He looked down at his wrists now covered with black wristbands, but he knew what was beneath the fabric; his pain, his humiliation, his soul, all carved carefully into his skin. Every month he went, and every month that man came, touched him, whispered endearing words into his ears, but all Connor wanted to do was kill himself and take that man down with him.
Connor’s biological father, Demitri Ferrera, only married his mother to get a Green card (well that’s what she told Connor) and therefore left his American wife and son after only six years of marriage. His mother then went on to marry Richard Darmouth, to whom she remained under not-so-blissful matrimony for a further six years. In those six years Connor accepted what no child should ever be allowed to; he didn’t know why he let it happen or why he still does. His mother never came to know of it and how he wanted to scream at her, “Look what you’ve done to me, look what I’ve become. Do you even care?” But he kept his lips sealed and lay at night, listening to their muffled moans and groans, knowing that his mother couldn’t possibly give her husband the satisfaction her own son’s fragile body did. Perhaps he did it out of vengeance, to show her how little she was worth if her own husband sought cheap thrills from a boy of ten.
And now, now he did it out of spite because he hated himself. He deserved every disgusting touch he received, every bite inflicted that broke his skin, every hurtful word, because he let it go on and now it was too late. There was no end to something that began over ten years ago.
Lost in thoughts, he arrived at his house to find the lights were still turned on inside. He looked towards the driveway and saw three cars parked behind his Hummer, so every one was home. Great, Connor thought with dejection, no time like the present for family bonding. He stood for a few more moments, collecting his thoughts together and steeling himself against whatever lay behind closed doors.
“…I simply cannot condone such behaviour.” Connor heard followed by what could only be his mother’s voice speaking in calm tones, though he didn’t make out the words. “Linda, no! He's far from over the legal restriction to buy alcohol and I don't want to imagine how he got hang of such an amount either. I didn't raise my son to be so irresponsible! ”
Ok, so this definitely was a conversation Connor did not want to get involved in. Maybe if he just headed towards the stairs, quietly enough…he could -
“Where have you been? Do you know what the time is?” His mother glared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her features pinched in anger.
“Mom, I - ”
“Exactly. Last time I checked, I was still your mother therefore you owe me an explanation. What is wrong with you?!” she continued to howl.
Something heavy settled in Connor’s stomach, he could feel it digging deeper and deeper, clawing at his insides. He could hear faint voices surfacing above his mother’s shouts and making their way to his ears.
“Connor…are you hiding?”
Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommy…
A dark, dark place. Connor was claustrophobic, the closet was small, and it smelt of cheap perfume and stale shoes. He was so, so young, tucking his knees against his chest, trying not to think of the monsters lurking in the shadows.
Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommy…
“Mommy isn’t here…”
“Linda, will you stop it!”
Connor’s eyes focused in front of him at the broad, handsome man placating his mother. He felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown in his face; he barely stopped himself from taking huge gasps of air, opting instead to just flare his nostrils and clench his fists.
“I left you a note,” he managed to say weakly.
Eric O’Shea looked at him, his brows creasing in concern at the beads of sweat that rolled down Connor’s temples.
“I didn’t see any - ”
“Linda, come with me for a moment.”
He steered her towards the kitchen and he heard them rustle around. They conversed in low tones lest Connor was eavesdropping, which he was in neither any mood or condition to do, before returning, the note he had written earlier on in the evening balled up in Eric’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Connor.” Eric shook his head. “It seems Kevin has been rather busy tonight.”
“I - I can take him upstairs if you want.”
“Oh, you don’t have to - ”
“No, I think it’s good that he’s trying to get comfortable around his brother.” Linda O’Shea, formerly Ferrera, turned to her husband and frowned. “Kevin’s not such a bad boy, Eric, can’t you see he’s crying out for attention. I just think - ”
Connor moved past them into the living room, muting out their voices as he walked across to the sprawled form of Kevin on the coach. The smell of alcohol was almost overwhelming as he steered Kevin’s arms over his shoulders and tried to adjust their balance.
Climbing the stairs was a mean feat, one Connor didn’t want to be repeating any time soon. He wondered what had gotten Kevin so smashed, though he could probably guess what with the events earlier on.
Kevin’s room was far more organised than his own; it didn’t have the indifferent air that Connor’s own room refused to let go of. There were posters on the wall, clothes strewn on the floor, sheets rumpled on the bed…it seemed like a perfectly normal teenager’s room, unlike the one on the other side of the bathroom.
He laid Kevin down on the unmade bed and started working on his shirt buttons. A hand clamped down on his and he looked up to see clear blue eyes staring at him with an unreadable expression. Well, he definitely seemed more sober than before.
Kevin squinted, though his grasp on Connor didn’t lessen any.
“Is…Is - whatitsname….homo - gay thing…gaysex, is it.” He paused, seeming to struggle with coherency. “Is it conta - conge…you know when it gets to you…is it gay?”
“No, O’Shea, homosexuality isn’t contagious.” Connor sighed.
Kevin blinked. “Oh…well tuck me in then.”
Connor rolled his eyes but continued with undressing Kevin, who had started emitting soft snores already. His eyes were trained on the job he was doing and were mostly well behaved, he didn’t need to add any unnecessary complications to this arrangement.
By the time he was finished tucking Kevin in, he was exhausted himself. He crossed over to the bathroom door and went through it into his own bedroom. He had to do a double take as his eyes roamed over his room, taking in the stack of cardboard boxes, now empty and neatly arranged at one corner of the room. He swiftly went to the wardrobe and threw the doors open to see all his clothes hung inside. Everything was in order, his books, his CDs, his paintings.
“Zaf, I love you,” Connor muttered to himself with a grin.
His eyes fell on the computer screen where a post-it note was stuck, it simply said: “Connor, you slob!”
Connor undressed and slipped underneath his cool sheets, his fingers tracing the faint scars of his left wrist. Suddenly everything seemed a lot better than it had in months. Maybe…if he could just sleep without dreaming. Just this once.
Chapter Two