Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ Somewhere in Ohio ( Chapter 4 )

Standing Outside

the Fire:

Somewhere in Ohio

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I'm looking for a place
searching for a face
is anybody here I know
cause nothings going right
and everything's a mess
and no one likes to be alone

Isn't anyone trying to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
but I... I'm with you

Dawn had come and gone, and the sun was climbing ever higher in the sky. Around eight in the morning Andrew had turned on NPR, needing something to drone out the ever-present silence. Lyn had barely moved since he had gotten settled in the car, the sedatives in his system rendering him all but unconscious. Once in the car Andrew had gotten on the nearest interstate headed west and drove, doing nearly something around twenty miles over the speed limit the whole time. He wanted to be as far away from New York as possible when Lyn awoke. What he had done last night had boarded on kidnapping and he wanted to make it as hard as possible for Lyn to get home... so maybe he wouldn't try. He had no doubt Lyn would be livid the moment he had his wits about him, but he had to do something... and getting away was the only think he could think of. He had been driving for seven hours straight with out stop and they were currently somewhere in Ohio. He had no idea where he was driving to other then away, and inspite of the fact he had not slept since the night before he wasn't tired.

It occurred to him rather suddenly that he had to pee. His eyes widened. Now. He hadn't had to go at any time in the last seven hours. He realized now that it wasn't that he hadn't had to go... it was that he hadn't noticed. To the blonde man's eternal gratitude there was a wayside rest just a few miles ahead. It was an agonizing five minutes and he parked quickly on the gravel access road. The wayside rest was more or less just a cornfield. There were a couple of scattered picnic tables and a pile of rotting boards that looked like it might have at one point in time been an outhouse. Taking a moment to thank the powers that be for being blessed with genitalia that made watering the corn come as second nature he hopped out of the car and proceeded to do just that.

It was a good day he realized, about sixty degrees, give or take... a gentle breeze... it made taking a piss in a field down right pleasurable. The sun was out and the corn shone and waved. It was like a post card for the Midwest. Belatedly Andrew though he should have checked his watch before he started... this had to be a record.

"You know, they have irrigation to help with that."

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "He dothe awaken." He called over his shoulder. "No comments from the peanut gallery... If you hadn't been living off IV's for the last couple days you would be right here with me. In fact I am suprised your not anyway. We've been on the road seven hours." With a small sigh of satisfaction Andrew put things back in order and zipped up turning to face Lyn. Despite the cheerfulness of the day there seemed to be a black hole around Lyn. He was sitting on a nearby picnic table, sandled feet dangling the hem of his flannel pants just showing under the quilt he still had wrapped tightly about him. Judging by his facial expression, he was not a happy camper.

"Where the fuck are we."

"A small rest stop about an hour or so into Ohio." Lyn blinked several times.

"What the FUCK do you mean Ohio."

"Ohio. Great Lakes state on the other side of Pennsylvania. It's about ten in the morning New York time... I guess that makes it either and hour earlier or an hour later here..."

"What am I doing in Ohio. With you. In my pajamas and a quilt from the foot of my bed?" Lyn asked the question as though he were talking to a very small child. Andrew chose to ignore the condescending tone meandering over to the picnic table where Lyn perched and made himself comfortable on the bench.

"I came over to your place last night and got you. Listen Lyn..." Andrew tilted his head back to look up to him. "I couldn't let you self destruct like that. I can't just ignore it when someone close to me is in pain. And you, my friend, are in a lot of pain."

"I'm not close to you. I'm not your friend."

"All right. Have it your way. Either way you are still at a rest stop somewhere in Ohio with me. And I have no intention of bringing you back."

"What the hell are you talking about!" A note of panic was starting to creep into the darker mans voice as he clutched the quilt around him. "You cant just fucking kidnap me!"

"I didn't. You came willingly. You were drugged out of your mind, but you still trusted me enough to follow where I led. Lyn you need help. I'm doing the only thing I can think of." Andrew's voice was quiet. He knew what his true feelings were... he was crushing on Lyn in a big way... He couldn't ascribe genuine emotion to it, just a crush, as he kept telling himself. But it was enough. "You don't have anyone in your life right now do you. No friends, no lovers... at least not the kind who stay around more then a night... You signed over power of attorney to me Lyn."

"So what now you're my mother?" Lyn sounded like a sullen teenager. "Take me home." Andrew shook his head.

"Nope."

"Fine then I will walk." Lyn hopped off the table. The moment he landed he knew it was the wring thing to have done. His weak legs almost gave out at the knees but not for he rolled his ankle painfully, and with a cry went tumbling to the ground in a heap of bony limbs and quilt. Andrew was kneeling next to him in an instant.

"Are you okay?" His hand rested on Lyn's narrow back. Lyn pulled a way, chin set defiantly. He got most of the way to his feet before falling again, colt like, to the ground.

"God Damnit!" it was a cry of pure frustration. Lyn knew he needed help, knew that in truth as far away from his old life as he could get was the best place for him, but if he was going to do this he wanted to do it himself. He wanted to act like the man he should be and heal himself.... Right now he very literally couldn't even stand on his own.

"Shhh." Andrew half admonished, half soothed, wrapping his arms around Lyn's chest and hauling him to his feet, supporting most of his weight. "What happened? Are you still that weak."

"Fuck off! I just twisted my ankle okay!"

"All right." Andrew shrugged then lifted Lyn into his arms, quilt and all. It was like lifting a child, Andrew doubted Lyn weight more then 120 lbs. Andrew himself weighted about two hundred pounds, and was at least two inches shorter then Lyn. He was built like a brick wall, but Lyn with his sinew and height should weight at least close to that... Shaking his head Andrew headed for the car.

"What the FUCK do you think you are doing! Put me down!" Lyn struggled for about three steps before just slumping in Andrew's arms, too weak physically and emotionally to continue. "I hate you."

"No. You don't." Andrew deposited Lyn carefully in the passenger seat, tucking the quilt around him and even going so far as to buckle his seat belt before rounding the car to his own side. "I think, the best plan is to pull over in the next town, get a room in a cheep motel, grab some lunch, then relax for a bit." Andrew glanced over to Lyn when he didn't answer. "Sulking? Go ahead sulk." Andrew shrugged as he belted himself in and turned on the engine, pulling back out onto the freeway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Andrew glowered at the room service menu in front of him. Hamburgers... and various forms of fried chicken... that was about it. He looked over to Lyn again then back at the menu. Andrew hadn't eaten meat other then fish in years... not to mention the fact that the closest thing he had had to junk food in ages was cream cheese wantons... Lyn's diet, Andrew knew from the occasional lunch outing, also tended towards salad and rice cakes... when he ate that was. If they were going to be on the rode for a while they were going to have to loosen up their eating standards... further more, Lyn really needed to be eating red meat to get his weight back up. No more salads and rice cakes for either of them.

"Lyn will you eat vegetable beef soup?"

"No."

"Are you more likely to eat something else?"

"I'm not hungry."

Andrew sighed. "All right, here is the deal. I understand you have a thing about eating, but, I will hold you down and shove food down your throat if I have to and sit on you for two hours to make sure its fully digested so you cant throw it back up if you have to. This assumed, what is your food preferences?"

"Nothing." Lyn was curled up on the bed opposite Andrew, leaning back against the headboard; his quilt still wrapped around him like a cocoon.

"Fine, have it your way." Andrew shrugged feigning nonchalance. He wasn't kidding when he had said he would force-feed Lyn. The man was not fat, and judging by his build had never been fat, nor was ever capable of being fat. He didn't care about psychological issues. Lyn needed to eat. So Drew was going to make him eat. Picking up the phone he dialed room service and ordered two bowls of Vegetable Beef soup, and a turkey sandwich for them to split...and at the last minute some vanilla Ice Cream... Lyn could use the fat and calcium in dairy food as well. The meal having been ordered Andrew flopped back on the bed, watching Lyn out of the corner of his eye. He was not looking forward to the next big challenge... getting the man to eat. Especially as Drew hadn't slept in about thirty-six hours.

The next thing Drew was aware of was something cold and metallic poking at his cheek. He stirred and opened his eyes warily. Lyn was hovering over him...poking him in the face with a soupspoon.

"Foods here." Lyn said simply before crawling off Drew's bed and back on to his own. Drew sat up blinking, surprised he had managed to fall asleep so quickly. Rubbing his eyes he looked over to the tray on the table. Two bowls of soup, a sandwich, and a bowl of ice cream. Andrew approached the tray with caution, leery of food that came from this rather seedy hotel. After close inspection everything did appear to be real food, and Andrew carried the tray over to the beds sitting down next to Lyn. He picked up one of the bowl and tried to hand it to Lyn. The lanky man just stared at him insolently.

"Come on. You need to eat. I will eat exactly the same thing. Just eat the soup and I will be happy." He watched Lyn carefully, sizing him up. He had had a kitten once, got it when it was far far too young to survive away from his mother. He carried it in his pocket all day keeping it warm feeding it from a bottle. The kitten would drink from the bottle if he set the cat and the bottle down together... but he had the kitty version of colic and would often throw it back up, but if he sat down with the pathetic little thing and cuddled and petted it as it drank, the cat kept the formula down, and ate more and slept better afterwards. Touch was the key. Lyn was cat like in a lot of ways. In the way he moved, in his sometimes affectionate sometimes stand offish behavior... Drew had a feeling a little cuddling and petting would go a long way to get this fragile animal to eat as well.

"What can I do to get you to eat Lyn? You need to eat and I'm not going to take no for an answer." He grabbed Lyn's wrist and held it up showing how slender it was, how Andrews hand wrapped all the way around it with ease. "This is not normal, its not healthy, and Lyn..." Andrew paused a moment, this was a bit risky but. "And thought you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, being emaciated just isn't attractive." He took a deep breath, watching Lyn carefully. Setting the soup bowl down, he took Lyn's hand instead of his wrist, rubbing his thumbs over the back of it. "Please Lyn?"

Lyn glared. Leave me alone you bastard. What did this man want from him anyway? He wasn't interested in sex. There was no way Lyn was buying into the 'I'm your friend and I want to help you' song and dance. No one was that nice. Not in real life, maybe in musicals and plays and books, but not in real life. There he goes with that hand holding thing again... what the hell does he want why does he keep touching me like this? So gentle and tender... no one touches me like that... feels so nice.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?" He had to get Lyn to eat. Andrew sighed and thought another moment. Stroking, cuddling, that's what Lyn needed but he could barely stand to be touched. The way he glared when Andrew got with in five feet of his personal bubble could have frozen Vodka, but he never pulled away. Finally Andrew decided there was only one way to do this. In a sudden motion he scooped Lyn into his arms, then climbed onto the bed. Settling on the bed, leaning back against the headboard Andrew sat Lyn between his legs, leaning back against his chest, tucking the quilt around him. Lyn's mismatched eyes widened in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing you bastard!"

"I'm getting you to eat." Andrew picked up the bowl of soup and spoon, arms around Lyn's waist. "Now are you going to feed yourself or do I have to do it.

Lyn considered his options. His natural reaction was to rebel. Lyn was a rebel by nature and when it came to food he was as stubborn as the proverbial mule. At the moment however, he felt dreadful, exhausted, weak, his ankle throbbing from the twist earlier. Now he was resting comfortable against a large muscular chest, with big strong arms around him. Who the hell was this man, to hold him so gently, to treat him so well? Didn't he know? Didn't he understand? Lyn wasn't the kind of guy people were nice to. He was the kind of guy you picked up at a bar, who you tried to get drunk so you could turn a quick trick. Lyn was the kind of guy who would spread for anyone, the kind of guy who didn't need promises, or attachments... or even first names. Lyn looked back at his gentle ben, then down at the arms holding him loosely, but intimately, the hands proffering the food. He had no doubt Andrew would feed him if he refused. Frowning more deeply, Lyn took the bowl of soup and spoon, sniffing the dark liquid tentatively. It smelled like a can.

It was a good first step. He had taken the food, but Andrew still half expected to end up wearing it. Lyn was rigid in his arms, but not pulling away. It had been a long time since Andrew had had anyone in his arms. Years since he had held a man like this, and it felt good, too good. Now, if only Lyn would do something with that soup, other then stare at it. Come on. He encouraged mentally; first bite is the hardest, come on... Gently he caressed Lyn's arm. "One bite, come on." He urged softly. Lyn's slender fingers shifted grip on the spoon, then drug it through the soup, dodging vegetables and alleged meat products. Finally he slowly raised the utensil to his lips. Andrew continued the gentle caresses of his arm, encouraging him through physical contact. Lyn sipped the broth from the spoon.

"That's it, good job."

Slowly one spoonful at a time, Lyn ate. He managed to get down most of the bowl, small serving that it was. Lyn said nothing, preparing for each bite as though he was eating live crickets instead of soup. Andrew could feel him struggle with each mouthful, felt him gag a few times, but Lyn needed the food too badly for Andrew to let him stop. He held him loosely throughout the ordeal, an arm around his waist, free hand massaging his shoulder, stroking his arm, tucking stray strands of hair back from his face. He was holding something wild and beautiful and fragile, some sort of exotic bird. He wasn't sure why Lyn trusted him even so far as this. Andrew knew that is he had suddenly found himself in Ohio with an acquaintance of three moths, he would be pressing charges faster then Germans drove on the autobahn, not checking into a motel with him.

Lyn didn't believe in a lot of things. He didn't believe in love. He didn't believe in God. He didn't believe in friendship, or loyalty or honesty. He didn't believe there was much in humanity worth saving. He knew Andrew must have an ulterior motive, but hell if he knew what it was. Besides what did it matter? His own personal safety was a moot point, and its not like Andrew had done more then touch him, chaste as a monk. What did he have to loose? Miserable here, or miserable in New York. It was all the same. At least here, with Andrew, for the moment anyway, he was safe in someone's arms, and it felt so good, to be safe, to be touched, to feel some facsimile some mock of love.