A Simple Thing
A Simple Thing
Sydney Alexis
It had been such a simple thing, pulling this boy he loved onto the parquet floor and dancing with him.
It was such a simple thing, this choice he made. He'd thought of it for days, though he'd never admit it.
Ivory silk that eased through his fingers as smoothly as Justin's hair. It was a romantic notion, but he'd bought the scarf because of it. And then he started second guessing himself.
What right did he have to go to some kid's prom?
Next thing he knew he was fucking lit and Michael was pulling up down from his imminent death.
"You'll always be young. You'll always be beautiful..."
Michael had been the second to tell him these things, but he was the only one that had meant them then.
It was two months after Brian sucked off his soccer coach for the first time. Two months after Brian had become his whore. The broken, bruised boy that the man fucked mercilessly and raw.
The boy he left bleeding in the shower, cum seeping from his hole.
The boy he lied to with acts and deeds and words of love.
"It's not lying if they make you lie. If the only truth they can accept is their own."
He became hard and cruel, expecting the worst in people.
His wit and his sharp tongue kept people at a distance.
He used people like he'd been used and discarded them when he'd gotten his needs met.
And Michael sat back and watched his friend self-destruct. He heard the timer rattling in the background, knew time was running thin, but he kept his vigil. Late nights out, eyes burning and mind a little fuzzy from lack of sleep all so he could see Brian home safely.
Until, one day, Brian picked up some kid from under a street lamp.
"I know it's scarier choosing your own path than doing what's expected of you."
He didn't examine his choice; he got dressed, got in his jeep, and went. It wasn't until he was standing near the doorway, listening to music he didn't recognize spill out into the corridor that he began to rethink his choice.
And then his feet were carrying him into the entrance. Eyes filtering through the masses, he scanned the crowd, but unlike every other party he'd been to, he wasn't looking for a trick; he was looking for Justin.
Just like some sort of made for Lifetime movie, Brian spotted him, and every single second thought and bad feeling melted away the moment Justin smiled. And then they were dancing.
The little boy had forgotten his lessons, though; nothing gold can stay.
"There’s only two kinds of straight people in this world: the ones that hate you to your face and the ones that hate you behind your back."
It didn't sound like it did in the movies--the thunk-swish-crack of a baseball bat hitting Justin's skull.
It was all moving too slow and too fast at once. A push/pull of time as he saw Hobbs swinging, as he screamed Justin's name, as the bat clattered to the ground seconds after Justin fell.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest, his stomach lurching. Rubber soled shoes squeaking against pavement as he ran to Justin's side. Sticky, wet blood coating his body as he cried and broke above the only person he'd ever loved. The only one who'd loved him in return.
"...and then I knew why Debbie calls you Sunshine."
The water sluiced over his skin, rinsing blood from his hands. Justin's blood.
He shouldn't have gone.
It had been such a simple thing, pulling this boy he loved onto the parquet floor and dancing with him. But this wasn't like all those nights at Babylon where they moved against each other until pm became am. No. This had been an open declaration of love and defiance. One Justin might loose his life over.
And Brian didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.
For: trouble2urh3art.
Sydney Alexis
It had been such a simple thing, pulling this boy he loved onto the parquet floor and dancing with him.
It was such a simple thing, this choice he made. He'd thought of it for days, though he'd never admit it.
Ivory silk that eased through his fingers as smoothly as Justin's hair. It was a romantic notion, but he'd bought the scarf because of it. And then he started second guessing himself.
What right did he have to go to some kid's prom?
Next thing he knew he was fucking lit and Michael was pulling up down from his imminent death.
"You'll always be young. You'll always be beautiful..."
Michael had been the second to tell him these things, but he was the only one that had meant them then.
It was two months after Brian sucked off his soccer coach for the first time. Two months after Brian had become his whore. The broken, bruised boy that the man fucked mercilessly and raw.
The boy he left bleeding in the shower, cum seeping from his hole.
The boy he lied to with acts and deeds and words of love.
"It's not lying if they make you lie. If the only truth they can accept is their own."
He became hard and cruel, expecting the worst in people.
His wit and his sharp tongue kept people at a distance.
He used people like he'd been used and discarded them when he'd gotten his needs met.
And Michael sat back and watched his friend self-destruct. He heard the timer rattling in the background, knew time was running thin, but he kept his vigil. Late nights out, eyes burning and mind a little fuzzy from lack of sleep all so he could see Brian home safely.
Until, one day, Brian picked up some kid from under a street lamp.
"I know it's scarier choosing your own path than doing what's expected of you."
He didn't examine his choice; he got dressed, got in his jeep, and went. It wasn't until he was standing near the doorway, listening to music he didn't recognize spill out into the corridor that he began to rethink his choice.
And then his feet were carrying him into the entrance. Eyes filtering through the masses, he scanned the crowd, but unlike every other party he'd been to, he wasn't looking for a trick; he was looking for Justin.
Just like some sort of made for Lifetime movie, Brian spotted him, and every single second thought and bad feeling melted away the moment Justin smiled. And then they were dancing.
The little boy had forgotten his lessons, though; nothing gold can stay.
"There’s only two kinds of straight people in this world: the ones that hate you to your face and the ones that hate you behind your back."
It didn't sound like it did in the movies--the thunk-swish-crack of a baseball bat hitting Justin's skull.
It was all moving too slow and too fast at once. A push/pull of time as he saw Hobbs swinging, as he screamed Justin's name, as the bat clattered to the ground seconds after Justin fell.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest, his stomach lurching. Rubber soled shoes squeaking against pavement as he ran to Justin's side. Sticky, wet blood coating his body as he cried and broke above the only person he'd ever loved. The only one who'd loved him in return.
"...and then I knew why Debbie calls you Sunshine."
The water sluiced over his skin, rinsing blood from his hands. Justin's blood.
He shouldn't have gone.
It had been such a simple thing, pulling this boy he loved onto the parquet floor and dancing with him. But this wasn't like all those nights at Babylon where they moved against each other until pm became am. No. This had been an open declaration of love and defiance. One Justin might loose his life over.
And Brian didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.
For: trouble2urh3art.