Dreams of Forever

Part 1: Broken Dreams

by: deadxdreamer

comments: Was originally a fanfic, but I realized that it would be a much better original story.

Warnings: slash, lovely angst, foul language

claimer: the following story belongs to me, the owner of the site Dreams of a Dead Dreamer under the pseudonym deadxdreamer. If you would like to reproduce, post, or archive any portion of this story, please contact me and obtain permission first. Thank you.

***

There was the usual crowd in the dance floor at Transparent, the club that had recently opened near the college campus.  The punks, the gays, the transvestites, the ambiguously pretty ones, the wild ones, the promiscuous ones packed the place with gyrating bodies and dance moves blushingly similar to sexual positions.  

Garrett felt at home.

He got up from the bar, intent on going back to their apartment, regardless of where Adam was or how he was going to get home, scratch that, he’d probably not go home that night anyway… at least to their shared apartment.

A hand grabbed his arm and whirled him around to press against a thin, hard body and lips crushed his own.  The stranger’s hand soon fell onto Garrett’s leather clad butt and squeezed.  Getting over his shock, and the fact that the stranger’s tongue ring was trying to rub its way into his mouth, Garrett pushed away from the goth man.  Vaguely wondering if he should get tested for hepititus, Garrett pulled away from the man currently leering at him and licking his lips as his kohl lined eyes raked up and down Garrett’s form.

“Sorry, I’m taken,” Garrett said smiling back as he raked a hand through his messy blond hair.

The other man merely grinned back, tightening his hold on the lithe blond.  “It’s okay sweetheart, he’ll never have to know.”

Laughing Garrett merely leaned in to rub his nose against the stranger’s.  His lips ghosted over the other man’s lips, his sweet smelling breath washing over their almost joined lips.

“Maybe I just don’t want to fuck you,” Garrett whispered and broked out of the embrace with a laugh.

“Asshole!”

The name merely caused Garrett to laugh harder.  “Yeah, one you won’t get to enjoy tonight!”

He nodded to the bouncer that had slipped him his number when he and Adam were entering the club and hailed a cab.  All along the ride home, Garrett couldn’t help but be reminded of how gauche he was on the social/clubbing scene.  Not to mention how gauche he was when it came to sex (and not to mention how sexually repressed he really was… he wasn’t going to ever admit to himself how good it felt to be groped by a strange man in the darkness of the club… or how hard he was as a result of it.  Little Garrett, he decided, had a mind of its own.)  Yes he gave off the aura of being fucked/fucking on a regular basis, but the truth was, Garrett wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having sex with a man.  Well… just any man.

“My husband, who will no doubtedly be prince charming himself, is the only person in the universe who I’ll allow to stick anything up… there,” he thought to himself, grinning slightly.

Sighing, he wondered what Adam was up to.  He quickly shoved the thought from his mind as they turned rather explicit, reminding him of exactly what HE wasn’t doing and had only done once… almost.  He and his friend from jr. high were both too young to know what they were doing and it ended up just being awkward kisses and fumbling touches in the dark.  An accidental elbow to Garrett’s nose (which promptly erupted with a major nose bleed) had ended the whole nightmare.

Pouting a bit, he sank down ino his seat and glowered out the window.

"Sex is overrated anyway," he thought to himself, but his futile attempt at consoling himself back fired, stared at him straight in the eye, and retorted, "How the hell would you know?"

***

Adam had picked up the mail on his way up to the apartment and tossed Garett his.  The brunette invited himself into Garrett’s room and sat cross legged on the unmade bed.  Garrett glanced at him from where he was at his computer at his desk.

"What?  You have no study date?"

"Naw, I realized that I really had to study after I discussed my grade with Professor Spawn of Satan.  You lucky bastard, finished with all your finals."

"God Adam, you chose history as your major, no use griping about the subject when you chose it."

Adam glared at him.  "You could at least offer to help."

Garrett smirked at him. "No, because you’d take me up on it."

He turned back to his mail and found a letter from his parents.  He held it up for Adam to see.  "Look! The socialites decide they want to acknowledge their son’s existance."

Adam merely rolled his eyes and shuffled through his own mail.  "Are they even planning to come to our graduation?"

Garrett shrugged and tore open the envelope.  "This is probably an apology saying they can’t make it or something.  You know, Italy is lovely this time of year, maybe France or Greece, wherever the fuck it is that they go."

After reading the first few lines, Garrett dropped the letter and walked out of his room.  Adam got up after he heard the door slam shut and picked up the letter Garrett had dropped.  His green eyes flicked across the page.

Dear Garrett,

I regret to inform you that your father passed away last night due to a heart attack.  The family expects you to be here for his funeral in three weeks.  Your airplane tickets are enclosed.  You will be coming back next week.

Sincerely,

your mother

Adam shuddered at the cold tone of the letter.  Even he could pick out the subtle sentence structure and diction that distanced herself from her son, he could only wonder what else the letter told about the woman who had written it … especially to the English/Psych major who had just run out.  He pulled out the airplane tickets and noted the departure date as the day before their graduation.  Sighing slightly, he put the papers down on Garrett’s desk and went after the brunette.

He found Garrett sitting on the bench at the park he often frequented when wanting to be alone.  The sun was beginning to set and the lights lining the small walkway where Garrett was seated were beginning to light up.  Adam stood in front of Garrett for a while, just staring at his bowed head.  After what seemed an eternity, he sat down next to Garrett and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"You know, they find some way to fuck up my life, even when they die."

Adam tightened his hold. "Garrett…."

"I know, I’m not being fair."

They sat together in silence for a little while longer.  Garrett drew away slowly and stared at the sky.

"I should go," he said quietly.

Adam silently nodded.  "He was your father."

This caused Garrett to chuckle bitterly.  "Really?  You could have fooled me.  He concieved me then he kind of went away.  He was always too busy to see me, too busy to talk to me, too busy to even know my fucking name until I was seven.  He wasn’t my father.  He was just… the lucky sperm that got through.  Don’t even get me started on my mother.  We had our big falling out when I told her I was gay."

Adam sighed and watched Garrett for a few moments before standing up and offering him a hand.  "C’mon, let’s go mope at Grover’s."

"I’m not in the mood for greasy food."

Adam smirked at the younger man and pulled him up off the bench.  "Oh come on, everyone knows that fattening food makes you feel better when you’re feeling down."

They walked down the dim walkway towards the main street, walking comfortably in silence.  At the intersection Garrett smiled up at Adam.

"Thanks."

***

+ Garrett’s p.o.v. +

Home.

It’s never felt like one while I was here but lying down in my bed and staring at the window overlooking the lake… it felt familiar.  Memories of the days I spent here, the tears I’d shed, the lessons from the private tutor my mom and dad got me… fooling around in this bed with Keith.  Man… I didn’t realize all those memories I’d repressed until I came back to this place.  It’s hauntingly familiar and things I don’t want to remember are coming back anyway and it’s all I can do to breathe.

I get up and sit at the window.  It’s got a gorgeous view really.  I spent hours just sitting here after my lessons and just stare out at the forest and the sun shimmering along the surface of the lake.  The sun was out today and causing the waters to shine like thousands of tiny sapphires.  

To the right of our house was Keith’s.  I’m almost 100% certain they’ll be coming over tonight for dinner to offer their condolences and secretly see what I’ve been up to the past four years (and compare me to their son.)  To the left of us was the Detweiler house.  They were an elderly couple, who I’m not even sure are still alive.  And the house on the other side of the lake….  The house at the other side of the lake fascinated me.  I didn’t know who live there.  I didn’t even know how the property rights stood between us.  We certainly didn’t own it (otherwise I’m sure my parents would have stuck me there, out of their sight, long ago.)

My curiosity about that house always plagued me.  Then I knew what it was I had to do.  I had to see who was living there.

I had made it downstairs when my mother caught up with me.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

And that was that.  She continued on her way upstairs with her tumbler of brandy and I continued outside.

It was warm.  It always got this way around summer.  Not hot but warm… like a blanket on a cold winter’s night.  The sand was glaringly white but looked inviting so I shed my sandals and walked barefoot along its sun warmed surface carrying my flip flops hooked in my left two fingers.

All around me, the colors, the textures, the rustic beauty of it all bombarded my sense and told me this is why I’d come back, that even my dead father and harpy of a mother couldn’t take even this measure of pleasure away from me.

Ensonced in these thoughts, I didn’t realize how far I’d come until I found myself in front of the colonial style house.  The paint looked clean and fresh, further evidence to me that someone indeed lived here.  A sudden wave of nervousness overwhelmed me.  What was I doing here?  What was I going to say if someone did live here?  Since I walked all this way… I might as well knock… right?

I squared my shoulders, opened the gate of the small white picket fence surrounding a neatly kept yard, and headed towards the white door.  So far, so good.  Knocking was another thing.  The brass knocker was staring right back at me, almost mocking me, teasing me that I couldn’t do it.  I lifted my hand and knocked twice.  A few minutes later, I was preparing to leave.  Maybe no one lived there, afterall.  Or maybe it was just a summer cabin that was used only occaisionally.  I turned to leave when I heard the door open and a man’s voice call out.

"What do you want?"

***

end part 1