FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Chapter Two: Rejected Society
Stix grunted as he sent the garishly painted doors of the Arts Wing swinging, the show of strength more of an ingrained habit than a display of anger. Kenji, scuttling through behind him, rolled his eyes and peered around the clean, brightly-lit lobby. Brian had told them to meet him here, and, needless to say, they were late. By now, Kenji reckoned, Brian knew him so well that he automatically scheduled everything ten minutes earlier. The small boy smirked and Stix glared at him, which only made Kenji giggle. He often drove the invariably punctual Stix up the wall with his tardiness, but it was all worth it to see him snort in frustration, worrying at his diverse piercings as he fidgeted.
There was a swish of clothes rubbing together and Kenji and Stix turned around just in time to see Brian rising from his sprawled seat in bench that was half-hidden by a huge potted plant. Stix grunted in greeting and pulled at his earring, which the others interpreted as an impatient ‘So where’s this wonder-boy of yours?’
Brian made an elaborate bow, drawling, “If you’d care to follow me, gentlemen?” Kenji laughed and skipped a few steps ahead.
“Come on, Stix, you were the one who was in such a hurry before! Crazy little fucker.” Stix rolled his eyes eloquently, exasperated, and followed, tugging a laughing Brian along with him.
A few minutes later found them standing outside the choir room, peering in through the window at the side of the door. The room was partly filled by rows of risers, on which the students sat, listening attentively to a girl who stood in the free space, singing. Along the wall there was a row of chairs, partially filled with random spectators.
Brian pointed out a boy sitting somewhere in the middle. “That’s him.”
‘Boy’ was perhaps not the right word, for he looked to be about 20. He was tall, and wore an immaculately ironed shirt and loose khakis over a white muscle shirt. His brown hair spilled onto his forehead but did little else, and Stix saw no evidence of any piercings. He pulled at his barbell, unbelieving.
Kenji voiced their mutual protest perfectly. “Way too fucking normal, man. Our image will go to Hell!”
Brian shushed him. “So doubting, my friend. Come on, let’s go in. It’s his turn.” He opened the door and they slipped in.
The was making his way to the cleared space, clearly confident and at ease. When he stood alone in the middle of the circle, he cleared his throat lightly and nodded to the teacher, who pressed a button on a huge (and undoubtedly expensive) music installation. A soft, not-quite-punk-rock-or-pop song came on, sad notes drifting throughout the room. The singer closed his eyes, seemingly counting, and then opened his mouth and let the sound poor out.
It wasn’t like hearing an angel sing. It was as if they were listening to the devil himself; smooth and alluring; deep and sexy with a dangerous edge to it; a voice you visualized as molten lava, sparks of lightening, velvet over iron.
Stix’s mouth dropped open and Kenji’s eyes were glazed over. The young man started swaying to the music, spreading his hands out in front of him. Brian smirked. The spell was cast; all he had to do now was add fuel to the flame.
“He’s good, ain’t he?”
“Yeah,” Kenji gaped, awed. Stix just grunted.
“And guess what?” Oh, how he loved the suspense. Brian let the pause draw out until Stix’s displeased rumble warned him that he’d stretched the moment long enough. “He’s gay,” Brian finished triumphantly. And then the unbelievable happened.
Stix smiled.
Darren
“Come a little closer, why don’t you leave the light on,
And it’s a nice day to leave you again.
And it’s time to break out and lead on,
It would be nice of you to go
“Walk away, come again
Walk away, come again
Come again, oh I don’t know I have to go
Come again, oh I don’t know I have to go…”
I felt a smile creeping onto my face as I sang, swaying a little, mouth hovering over an imaginary microphone as I pictured the bright flash of spotlights in my eyes and adoring fans at my feet.
“Come a little closer, why don’t you leave the light on,
And it’s a nice day to leave you again.
And it’s time to break out and lead on,
It would be nice of you to go
“I want everybody to be closer,
But the words came out alone and I’m just lonely…”
The daydream changed, became more enticing, as I conjured a handsome youth into the front row. In my imagination, I stretched out my hand to touch the boy’s fingertips, sending a shiver up my spine. Just then, there was a different note to the music, and I watched in horror as the boy’s features morphed into those of a slightly younger girl, with curly blond hair and warm brown eyes. Over her shoulder I caught a glimpse of black…
“Walk away, come again
Walk away, come again
Come again, oh I don’t know I have to go
Come again, oh I don’t know I have to go
“And it’s so damn hard!
And it’s a waste of my time
It’s so damn hard!
And it’s a waste of my time.”
The song ended, and I came back to myself to find that the other students were applauding. My fingers were still stretched out in front of me, yearning…
I pushed the matter to the back of my mind firmly, grinning at the people’s praise. Ah, my adoring fans. I fought my way back through the mass of chairs and book bags that stood on the risers and plopped down on my seat gratefully. Shoving my hand through my hair in a futile attempt to neaten the unruly strands, I let my eyes wander the room. A wild mop of dreadlocks by the door caught my eye. So Brian had showed up again, had he? With friends…a huge Mexican and a small Asian boy. I winked at my friend and he flipped my off jovially, in keeping with the tradition that had started when he and I first met. I grinned as I remembered it, my first basketball practice at MacBaey.
Brian stepped forward as if he owned the place. “Yo, name’s Brian. I’m 19 and I’m planning on majoring in juvenile psychology. I play --. I’ve been on this team since last year, been playing basketball since middle school. Before that I shot hoops at the park. I play in a band and…uh…that’s it.” He had an unmistakable southern drawl, not pronounced enough to grate on the ears but definitely there. I looked him over, noting the ebony skin and massively oversized clothes. His hair was twisted into a wild array of thin, bleached dreadlocks that hung to his ears. He certainly looked like a basketball player, and he walked like someone who had blackmail on everyone and knew how to use it to his own best advantage.
Brian’s slight smile turned into a shit-eating grin as he tripped the next guy to brave the introduction. His friends laughed and slapped him on the back. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the next person. When it was my turn, I fought to control my nerves. I knew I had to tell them, but it was so hard, every time…
“I’m Darren, I’m 18 and a freshman and I’m studying psychology. I’ve been playing b-ball all my life and I have a black belt in karate. I like to sing and I like men. And yes, that means I’m gay, for the less perceptive ones among us.”
There was a silence…
…broken by a cheerful southern drawl: “So, you gonna be ogling us in the showers all the time then?” I winked at Brian.
“Oh, you know it,” I purred in my best bedroom voice (a specialty of mine). Brian flipped me off, and I laughingly went on, “But don’t worry, I don’t fall for the sweaty asshole types.” Everyone laughed and I relaxed. The worst was over, and it seemed I had made a friend.
Brian approached me after basketball practice later that day. I was fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, reeking to high heaven and trying to keep the sweat from drying in my eyes. It had been an unspoken rule ever since I joined the team that I took my shower after all the rest had. It was slightly uncomfortable and the water was usually cold by then, but if it meant that I could avoid awkward situations, I’d gladly wait a little longer.
“Hey man,” he said, plunking down next to me wearing only his towel. I looked up at him. “Heard you singing today.”
I smiled. “I noticed. Almost thought you were swinging my way to, the way you kept stalking me all the time. I changed my mind when I saw the big guy, though.”
“Oh?” He raised one neatly sculpted eyebrow.
“Yup. I’m onto you, Brian! You’re going to abduct me and make me stand on dark, mysterious corners for sinister reasons, aren’t you? Scoundrel!”
Brian guffawed and slapped me on the back. This always amused me, because I’d never really thought that people could actually ‘guffaw’, ‘quaff’ or ‘hustle’ until I met Brian, who does all three with abandon and doesn’t think twice about it. It’s unabashedly masculine and can be hilarious, and sometimes even sexy.
“Nah, man. Stix is just our charmin’ drummer.” The drawl made all his words sound lazy, an effect I rather enjoyed. “We’re actually looking for a singer for the band I’m in, Rejected Society. You remember I told you about that, right? I must have, sometime.” I nodded. “Well, Stix plays drums; Kenji, the little guy, plays bass and I’m on guitar;, but none of us can sing to save our grannies. And, you know, we figured we’d give you a chance at it.”
I beamed at him. “Really? I could join your band? When can I try out?” This was a dream, I was sure of it, and I surreptitiously pinched myself to make sure. Oh wow. I had wanted to do something with my voice for a while, and now the perfect opportunity had come up. I grabbed at it (figuratively, of course, I didn’t actually molest Brian, although with the way he was dripping water everywhere that wouldn’t be too bad of an idea…)
He shrugged. “Sure, we’ll let you try, can’t hurt. You got anything going on after practice tomorrow?”
“I have a class from one to two-thirty. Is three okay for you guys?”
Brian nodded. “Sure, we’ll meet you in the second practice room, alright?” The high-tech, sound-proof practice rooms were open to students when there were no classes going on.
“Great!”
He thumped me on the back again, then stretched and sauntered over to the showers. “Come on, y’all,” he called into the steamy room, “get your asses out of there and let my man Darren shower! We ain’t got all day!”
I laughed and headed into the warm spray, the hot water cleansing and relaxing me until my mind was nothing but a blissful haze.
Silently, I left the other man's house, as I'd left all the other men's houses in the unvarying routine that was my nightlife. I didn’t bother to say goodbye, knowing that it wasn’t expected or wanted. No one likes to admit that they are living a string of one-night-stands, least of all me.
I walked home slowly, hitching my collar up against the rain. I felt horrible, reproaching myself, but I knew that I'd go back to the bar and go to a random man's apartment to get lost in the temporary satisfaction again, if only to satisfy my need for human contact, while my desperately romantic heart cried out at the lack of a relationship. It was like a horrible addiction, and I was still foolishly waiting for the right man to get him out of it.
Sometimes I thought that I turned into a completely different person around that time at night, bitter and self-deprecating, lonely and desolate. It scared me a little, the moody Darren that wasn’t Darren, because I knew that he was also a part of me, hidden at most times but surfacing when needed.
He was me, and that frightened me because it meant that I was doing something wrong.
The song is called ‘Closer’ and it’s by Zornik, a Belgian band that I quite like. Lyrics used without permission.
As always, countless thanks to my fantabulistic reviewers!
Valoria Gilden: It will be alright! Not for a while yet (cackles like crazy mean authoress she is), but eventually. Tyler says to hug you too, so consider yourself smushed :P. I haven’t cracked under the pressure yet (ominous creak) but I’m not sure how long I’ll hold on! Please review again! And again! And again!
FlowingQuill: (Snaps to attention) Yes, sah! Or ma’am, whatever it may be. Thanks for your review, it motivated me.
LadyFalcone: Glad you like it and I hope I haven’t lost your interest through lack of updating!
Staris: Oh, yes, the landlord is a bastard, which is why I’m not even bothering with giving him a name! Hahaha! Take that, you scumbag! Lol. I can’t wait till I introduce the rest of the characters either…I believe you’ll like Darren’s psychology professor…and here comes D-(oops, couldn’t go telling now could we?)-someone, complete with a superman-cloak bedecked with hearts, to show poor deprived Tyler the glory of love! With sound effects, oh yeah. :P. So, no worries, there is hope for him yet. I’m so glad you like this poor excuse for a story, sorry that I haven’t updated, and please please review again!
Princess max: I finally updated again! I don’t completely understand why you took everything of fp, but I’m so glad you’re putting it back up! Tyler is indeed quite strong, although part of that strength will be crushed later in the story…(blatant foreshadowing). I now have an excellent idea for Kenji, although Dr. Hood is still a stumper. Ah well, we’ll just have so see what flows out of the old pen, right? And Tyler isn’t at home because his dad kicked him out, but we’ll get to that later. Thanks so much for deigning to review my work, please do so again…
Much love to all (potential) reviewers,
Wormy