Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Fugitive and Me ❯ Personal Things ( Chapter 6 )

Chapter 6- Personal Things

 

I swear it wasn't my fault, I really wanted to like him, but you really can't make yourself do something like love someone, I know because I tried. So that means it's not my fault, right? Not my fault that he ran out with watery eyes, not my fault that the whole school is now also aware that he is gay, not my fault. Nope, nope, nothing's my fault and I like it that way.

 

I'm peeing. Well, actually, I just finished peeing minute ago but I'm still standing at the toilet holding my dick, staring at the air freshener above the toilet. I'd just been told off and put down by a drunk Miles, and now that I've retreated to the bathroom with a half bottle of beer on the sink next to me, I really don't feel like moving. My mind tells be that any normal guy who sits in a bathroom holding his dick for this long is probably jacking off, but I'm too lazy to do that either. Besides, I've never done that before. I'm drunk, tired, and I want to lie down and die.

 

There has been knocking on the locked door for the past thirty seconds, I choose to ignore it because once again, I just don't feel like moving, or speaking. The knocking turns to pounding and it's starting to interfere with my thinking time. All at once I shove my penis back into my pants, leaving the zipper and button open, and kick the door. The pounding stops and I decide it's yelling time.

 

“Hold your horses! You're not going to explode you shit butt!” I hollered. Shit butt, haha, I made a funny. After I got that out of my system I unlocked the door and smiled. There was some really thin and generally attractive girl standing outside, wearing what looked to me like a bra, as well as leather pants.

 

“I don't even like you!” I yelled. At first I wasn't sure what I was yelling at but then I realized I was pointing at the cleavage she was showing. I guess all is well then, after all I truly do not like boobs.

 

“I'm aware of that,” She hissed. “Can you get out of the bathroom? Better yet, get out of the house, we don't need any faggots here,” she was tapping her foot with her arms crossed. I didn't hear what she said but I don't think I like the way she's looking at me, so without thinking, I punched her in the face. I didn't think I'd punched her that hard, but as soon as I did, she screamed. I recognized the name she was calling out, Ricky, who do I know that's named Ricky?

 

All of the sudden my feet are no longer on the ground, I had just been standing there, pondering who this Ricky person may have been, and all of the sudden I was floating. I must have been in heaven, some how I'd died and now I've been taken up to live among the angels. I started humming a happy little tune and shut my eyes, just before my body was crushed against something hard, and cement.

 

“Fuck you, being a fag doesn't give you the right to hit girls!” A voice yelled. I don't know what that means, but there's a wooden reindeer standing in the grass right next to my head.

 

“This is all your fault!” I conclude, kicking over the yard ornament. “I'm supposed to be in heaven!” I kicked it again, but then I felt bad because you're not supposed to kick people when they're down. Wooden reindeers are people too, you know. Huffing, I turned around, leaving my defeated opponent on its side in the cold grass, stomping away. I don't know where I'm going, but the sidewalk is really, really wide today, and it's black too.

 

I think I've made it to the end of the street. There's pretty white lights coming toward me, I think it must be heaven, heaven is coming to bring me back home. I spread out my arms with the intention of giving heaven a big hug.

 

When heaven's lights suddenly went out, and a loud screeching sound pierced my ears, I passed out. The last thing I saw was a big `Happy Thanksgiving' written in orange and red lights in someone's yard.

 

-0-0-0-

 

When I woke up, I was in a nice, warm bed between two really soft blankets. My face was in a pillow and I had been sleeping with my butt in the air, but that doesn't change the fact that this bed is extremely cozy. I snuggled against the pillow and rolled over onto my back, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

 

I'm staring at the ceiling but the sound of opening and closing drawers turns my attention elsewhere and…

 

“Eew!” There's a guy in here and he's naked! I through the blanket over my head and shoved my face into the pillow. “Put clothes on, that's disgusting!” I yelled.

 

“Get over it,” There was a grunt and I paused. Where do I know that voice? I slowly peaked out from under the blanket with the hope he was dressed now, and to my satisfaction, he was at least wearing boxers now.

 

“No! You're all old… and… exposed… and ew!” I threw the blanket over my head and hugged myself. It was then that I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt. I gasped and threw the blankets off me, glaring daggers at him. “What did you do? You raped me, didn't you? You did! You PEDOPHILE!” I flailed and jumped out of the bed. Unfortunately my legs didn't hold me and instead of running out of the room, I collapsed and hit my head on the corner of the dresser.

 

-Third Person.-

 

Tom rolled his eyes and pulled a shirt over his head, calmly walking over to the clumsy moron that now lie in the middle of the floor, moaning. Coming to the conclusion that the boy was still half drunk, and not all there, he slipped his arms under the half-conscious body and put him back on the bed.

 

“Fuckin' hurts,” Fox mumbled. Tom greatly considered chaining the kid down so he wouldn't be able to get up and make an idiot of himself once again, but the handcuffs were in the other room. He sighed and headed out of the room and down the stairs to get an ice pack that Fox could use when he came to his senses.

 

He really didn't appreciate being called old by this kid. For one thing, he was hardly a month over Twenty-four, and the fact that his students, or at least one of them, considered him old downright bugged him. He knew that for at least the rest of that day he wouldn't be able to pass by a mirror without searching for any possible grey hairs. It's not hard to spot grey in a head of chin-length pitch-black hair.

 

Secondly, this was no way for Fox to be thanking him after what he'd done. The kid had been standing in the middle of the road with his arms spread out and this big stupid smile on his face. If Tom hadn't seen him through the snow when he did, it would have been the end of him. Of course, if he would have just run the kid over and claimed it as a complete accident (or maybe a suicide would work too), it would have saved him the trouble he went through. Not only did Fox throw up all over himself, and Tom's shirt while Tom was carrying him back to the car, but it had made him inexcusably late for an important meeting. Upon having to run back home, change his shirt and put the boy in a secure location, he arrived twenty minutes later than he should have. Unfortunately that secure location happened to be his own bed, so Tom also took it upon himself to sleep on the couch that night.

 

And what thanks did he get? He was accused of being old.

 

Not to mention, he didn't have time for this, he was going to have a visitor that afternoon, and it's the kind of visitor that automatically suggests having everyone else leave the house before the visiting begins. Really, Juan was going to arrive in an hour and if Fox was still out of it by then, he'd probably have an unpleasant awakening. And of course, the awkwardness of seeing the boy at school on Monday afterward would end up being all but unbearable. Tom decided to focus on one goal, and that was to get Stupid Drunk Boy out of his house.

 

-First Person-

 

I groaned and my eyes fluttered open, falling upon a bookcase that was pushed against the wall on the opposite side of the room. My head was throbbing and I felt groggy and disgusting, my whole body was shaking and my throat dry. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and scoffed to myself, remembering where I was. I wiggled a little and rolled over part way, trying to see if my ass was sore at all. How else could I know for sure that he didn't rape me? Fortunately, I felt no pain in my lower regions, but that doesn't change the fact that he might have molested me in my sleep. He's old and gross and actually kind of attractive when he's… I did not just think that. The point is, that people like him so obviously can't get any, so they have to take it. This is my theory and I am going to take a shower and thoroughly search my body for signs of molestation or rape just to prove it.

 

The door opened and he walked in, he was wearing one of those pink shirts again, it was just like the average plain, office shirt, except it was pink. I couldn't help but wonder if he accidentally put a red shirt in with all his white shirts and voila! Pink shirts!

 

“Here,” He handed me a plastic bag with ice and water in it. “So, are you doing all right?” His voice was pleasant but I could sense the irritation behind it.

 

“I'm thirsty,” I spat, placing the ice pack on my forehead. He frowned and just stared at me, the look on his face told me that he was debating over whether or not to throw me out of the house. Obviously he'd given up hiding it.

 

“Well? Are you going to let me dehydrate in your house, or are you going to get me something to drink?” I glared. He didn't make a move, but his expression became completely blank, or maybe it was shock.

 

“I think…” He began. “I think you're leaving, right now,” With that he had me by the wrist and was pulling me off of the bed. I my head hit the ground with a thump and the ice pack slid down onto the floor next to me. I half expected him to stop when I let out a sharp cry after my already screaming headache was made worse. But when I let the situation register again I was still being dragged toward the door.

 

“Wait! Ow! Stop it!” I yelled. “Let me go you fucking bastard,” I opened my mouth and chomped at his hand, but it was no use, my mouth couldn't reach.

 

“I'm giving you a detention for swearing in my bedroom, you little dick,”

 

Hypocrite!

 

He kicked the door open and I scowled. I grabbed the leg of his dresser with my one free hand. “And for attempting to make love to my moving car,” He gave my arm a sharp tug, but I wouldn't budge.

 

“All right! Dude, come on! I'm sorry!” I yelled, he was really stretching my arms out. I saw stairs, too, based on the current situation the fact that we were on the second floor and would have to go down stairs was very bad for someone in my position.

 

“I don't care, I have a buddy coming over, and you need to get out,” The pulling stopped, but I still really just wanted to go back to the nice comfy bed, I didn't even feel like standing up with the screaming headache I was experiencing.

 

“Wait! …Can't I stay here?” I gave him my most, innocent, hopeful look.

 

“Why?” He rolled his eyes, obviously at my sad attempt at the pouting puppy dog look.

 

“I'm really tired, my head hurts, and I don't even have anywhere to go! Miles is pissed at me and I can't go to my own house… please?” I asked. “I just want to sleep, I promise I'm not going to get in the way,” I said sincerely. He sighed and rubbed his hand on his forehead, I knew I'd gotten him. The puppy eyes and the pouty lips never fail, I swear it!

 

“Fine, but sleep on the couch, and please don't touch anything, no exploring,” He ordered. I nodded tentatively, still lying on the ground at his feet.

 

“Uhm, I don't know if I can walk, can you carry me?” I asked. He gave me the death glare. “Jesus,” I laughed aloud at his hateful expression. “I was just kidding,” I giggled. He didn't look amused at all, so with that I gathered myself together, pushed to my feet, and trudged down the stairs, moaning over dramatically in pain every step.

 

I've decided that he didn't rape me.

 

I got settled in on the couch, resting my head on one of the pillows that was already there. I was a little cold, a little uncomfortable without a blanket, but the hangover was too bad for me to have cared. Only a moment after I'd shut my eyes I felt something soft spread over me. By the time I'd opened my eyes he was already out of site, but there was a glass of water on the table in front of the couch and I was under a blanket. Aww, how sweet of him.

 

“Mr. Curtis?” I lifted my head slowly and looked around. He'd stopped on the stairs, obviously waiting for me to say what I had to say. “Thanks a lot, by the way,” I said simply. It wasn't great, but hey, I'm trying to be nice.

 

“Call me Tom,” He smiled and then continued up the stairs. I smiled too and laid my head back down on the pillow before reaching out and picking up the glass of water. I slowly brought it to my lips and took a gulp of it into my mouth. It was nice to be drinking something besides alcohol, beer may have more flavor, but this water tastes… horrible! It tastes horrible! I spat it out all over the floor, wondering what the hell he'd given me.

 

“This shit tastes like soap!” I yelled, continuing to spit out the disgusting taste straight onto the carpet.

 

“I know,” There was a loud cackle from upstairs.

 

“Fuck!” I yelled and began coughing dramatically. “Son of a bitch!” If it hadn't been for the hangover I would have gotten right up and destroyed that conniving prick.

 

-0-Ten Years Later-0-

 

I haven't talked to Matt since last Thursday, which means I probably pissed him off. He gets so angry for the dumbest things, goes all psycho and holds unnecessary grudges. What can I say? I know him a lot better than I really should. Tom always said it's his easily aroused attitude that had started all this, and after hearing both their sides of the story, I have to agree with him.

 

It had become one of my favorite pastimes to freak out innocent little Darryl in as many different ways as I could. Just the mention of butt sex would send him crawling up the walls, and his eyes widened every time I mentioned rape crimes or said the word gay. He's actually kind of a sweet person once you get past the annoying part, I really think he's trying to accept the fact that his cell mate is gay, and I have to give him credit for that at least.

 

“Hey, Darryl,” I said. It was still early, we'd just been sent back to our cells, which meant the lights wouldn't go out for at least another hour or so. He turned to me in askance, he'd been lying on his bed, writing something in notebook, as had I. “Do you know how to play the dots game?” I asked. He shook his head back and forth, and he looked as though I'd scared him again, I couldn't help but laugh. “Come on,” I said, turning to a blank page in the notebook. “I'll show you, it helps with the boredom,” I slid down off my bed and kneeled on the floor, placing the notebook in front of me. I looked up at him, he was still hesitating, pen in hand.

 

“Darryl, come on, on your knees,” I made that come out wrong on purpose, and he'd definitely caught it. It was hilarious how his cheeks turned red and his eyes got all big and nervous. “I'm kidding, just get down here so I can show you how to play,” I ordered. He nodded and obeyed, kneeling in front of the page on which I'd already drawn a square of dots.

 

“Now,” I began, showing him as I explained it. “You made horizontal and vertical lines connecting the dots, and then you try to make squares. But we're taking turns and you don't want me to get any squares. So you have to make sure that you don't leave it so that I can make one. When you do get a square finished, you get to go again, so chances are, if you get once square you're bound to get a lot more,” I made a square of my own as a demonstration. “And then you put whatever letter in it so we can tell who's squares are who's, and in at the end whoever has more, wins, it's easy,” I smiled, feeling like I'd been explaining to a two year old. He stared at the page for a moment and then nodded.

 

“Why did you put a T?” He pointed to the box I'd made.

“Because,” I stated firmly, and then made the first move on the new board.

 

I'd won the first and second games, and Darryl won the third. Turns out he caught on right away, not that I'm surprised, it's a children's game after all.

 

“Dunno, I think I prefer plain old tic-tac-toe,” He shrugged and yawned.

 

“What? Why?” Tic-tac-toe is only the most pointless game ever. “You can never win in tic-tac-toe, unless you're playing against a complete moron,” I scoffed. After I said that, Darryl drew a tic-tac-toe board on the same page as our other games. He put an X in the upper right corner. I rolled my eyes and made my move as well, just to play along, putting an O in the lower right corner. Five moves later, he'd beaten me.

 

“What the fuck,” I stared down at our game in complete disbelief.

 

“Can only win if you're playing against a complete moron, is it?” He grinned, tossing his pen up into the air and catching it. I glared and snatched up my own pen, drawing a new board. I put an O in the center, but before he could make his move, the lights went out.

 

“Shit,” I said, picking up the notebook and closing it. I heard him shuffling around in the dark but I couldn't see a thing.

 

“G'night, Darryl,” I said out of instinct. There was a silent pause as I awaited a reply.

 

“Good night,” His voice was shaky and small, but I'm glad to know he said it back, at least he doesn't hate me. I lie back on my bed and shut my eyes, realizing before I fell asleep that I hadn't really thought about Tom at all after work.

 

-0-0-0-

 

I was playing catch with Mark during recess, Aaron had been called in to discuss something with one of the prison staff members. Apparently, Aaron had been able to become acquainted my most of the staff, Mark had told me that a lot of them were even fond of the guy. But I don't think they would have been if they ever found out that he was working on an escape plan. I thought the whole idea was a load of bullshit, I've never heard of any real person escaping from modern day prisons, only seen it in movies.

 

Like I said, I was playing catch with Mark at recess, using one of the mostly deflated footballs that no one cared to use. It was kind of boring, really, just throwing the ball back and forth, complimenting on catches and throws every once in a while. But then again, prison life isn't exactly supposed to be fun.

 

“Fox,” I heard a familiar voice beside me, and even though I hadn't heard it in quite sometime, I wasn't surprised that he was talking to me again.

 

“Matt,” I practically spat out the name as I threw the ball back to Mark. I didn't expect this to mean the game was over, but Mark didn't throw it back, and he seemed to think I was busy now. So having nothing better to do, I turned my attention to Matt.

 

“I believe this belongs to you,” He held out his hand and in his palm was a diamond ring, the one I'd thrown at him on my first day. “I had to beat the shit out of one of the inmates when I saw him with it. I was going to sell it, but then it hit me that doing so would be illegal, so…”

 

“Matt,” I cut him off, snatching the ring from his hand. “Shut up,” With that I started to walk away.

 

“Did he ever tell you what our relationship was before everything got fucked up?” Matt called to me. I paused, and turned to him, slipping the ring onto my ring finger of my right hand.

 

“You mean before you fucked everything up?” I asked. He didn't look amused so I just nodded.

 

“I loved him too, you know. I mean, he was clingy and annoying and stupid and a real son of a bitch. But you know, it's just so hard not to love him, wouldn't you agree?” He put his hands in his pockets and started coming closer to me.

 

“Not with the part about Tom being stupid but otherwise, yes,” I replied, sounding almost as uninterested as I was.

 

“He was stupid,” Matt insisted. I didn't care to argue with him, there's no point in arguing with an idiot. “But that's not what I'm getting at, Fox. I had plenty of chances to shoot Tom before he was killed, all right? And because of my own personal issues, I didn't take those chances, I never did, I didn't kill him,” He insisted. Well, I'd already started to believe that but whatever. “You know who did,” He said, almost in a threatening way, as if he was hinting me something.

 

“It doesn't matter, Mattsy, I still wish you'd go die in a hole,” I smiled sweetly and waved him off, walking off to go find Mark.

 

`”Fox!” He called. I ignored him, I'd spotted Mark and Devon and made a beeline for them.

 

-0-0-0-

 

“So I heard I'm not the only one that was talking with one of the guards earlier,” Aaron began. “What did that Fritz guy want?” He tossed a handful of clothes into the dryer and then reached for more.

 

“Not sure,” I shrugged, setting the timer on the washing machine. “Probably wanted in my pants,” I added idly.

 

“You are gay, right?” He questioned. I turned to him, somewhat surprised by his bluntness, and by the way he seemed to think that I knew that he knew. I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. “Then why didn't you comply?” He questioned. I raised an eyebrow, giving him a serious look, there were obvious reasons why I would have been intended to say no.

 

“Because I'm not a whore,” I said plainly. “Besides, I've lost all sexual attraction, apparently, he used to be able to turn me on with a look, but I'm back to my old wonderful self,” I mumbled, talking to myself rather than Aaron, though that didn't change the fact that he was listening.

 

“And that is?” He asked.

 

“Someone who sure as hell doesn't need or desire sex,” I stated, “Or any kind of intimate human contact,” I'd been the same way when I was a kid, I think Tom was the guy who really woke me up, or more, woke up my dick.

 

“You like it that way?” I saw him lean against the dryer and cross his arms. I nodded, I sure as hell like it this way.

 

“Me too,” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder before turning his attention back to his work. I watched him for a moment, wondering which of the many possible things he'd meant by that.

 

-0-Ten Years Earlier-0-

 

The headache was gone when I woke up, as well as the glass of soapy water that had been left on the table next to me. I yawned and stretched, scratching my lower back as I sat up on the couch, staring lazily down at my feet. My throat was still dry and I decided that since I couldn't trust Mr. Curtis to get me anything, I'd have to find something myself. Yes, I'm going to explore, what better are students at than contradicting their teacher's requests?

 

I trudged into what I suspected to be the kitchen to find exactly what I was looking for, a sink, praise the lord. I hurried over, taking a glass out of the drying rack next to the sink and filling it with water. Just to be cautious, in case he went as far as putting soap in his own water supply, I sniffed it first, and then took a small sip. It tasted like good old normal water, and I gulped it down. Half way through emptying the glass I started hearing sounds. Kind of creepy ones, first there was a loud thud right above me, and then… what was that? A moan? Curiosity got the best of me and I set the water down and headed for the stairs.

 

When I reached the top I kept hearing little grunts, followed by shushes, and whispering, I felt like someone was going to jump out and eat my face. I crept down the hallway to the source of the noise, and just before I reached the door, it hit me. Moaning, grunting, and thumping, what does that add up to? Oh my god, there's someone having sex in this house, in this room! Where is Mr. Curtis! I have to tell him there are horny people in his home! I slowly reached out to grab the doorknob, opening it quietly just before hearing a familiar voice in the form of a moan.

 

In the room there was an empty bed, and next to it was a pile of blankets and sheets. The strange thing about this pile of sheets was that it was moving, and there were these disgusting noises… oh my god. I can see a dark-skinned elbow sticking out of the sheets, and the top of a head of jet-black hair. Otherwise, all I see is the white sheets, and those disgusting noises…

“Some- someone is in here,” I don't recognize the voice, sounds like the black guy said it… not trying to be racist or anything, I don't know his name after all. Only a moment later I realized that two pairs of eyes were on me, one of them I recognized clearly.

 

“Uhh…” I gulped, neither of them looked very happy.

 

“Extremely bad timing, get the hell out of my fucking room!” Something was thrown at me. I can't be certain because I slammed the door before it hit me, but I think it was a dildo. EW. This whole thing is just… ew. Teachers aren't supposed to have sex with other men! They're not supposed to have dildos either! They're just supposed to teach… and make my life miserable… and… oh my god!

 

Mr. Curtis is gay!

 

“Sexy little… ugh… white boy,” I heard a voice from behind me and jumped when I realized I was leaning against the door. “Should have invited him in - fucking yes - I'da fucked you both,” I wrinkled my nose, thoroughly offended.

 

“Yeah, `Cause you're just such a pimp,” I heard Curtis's voice. I decided that I'd done enough spying for today and I hurried back downstairs to my lovely couch. My couch. I curl up and hug my knees, trying to get over the nasty images that are stuck in my head.

 

A/n- Ahahaha, this chapter was fun. Took for fucking ever but it was fun. I planned to actually have Chapter Seven up by Christmas but I no longer think that's going to happen, but anything's possible I guess xD. Sorry for the wait, there's shit going on in my life right now and I had to deal with some… things. But it's pretty much over and I'm in a writing mood, so hopefully chapter seven will be up soon.