A/N And I'm back. Sorry about being late, I had a lot of things going on Friday and then yesterday I was cleaning the house, what time was spent not cleaning the house, was instead put towards trying to stay cool. It was upper 90s and well...I prefer the 70s by far.

So, anyway, here's the next chapter...at least...I think it's the next chapter. If not, oh well, I don't care much. Keep in mind that this is the first rough draft version. The published version (in paperback with a nifty cover) is put together much better than this.

Understanding

Paris

Jesse’s apartment was hell. There was absolutely nothing there. I mean, he had the clothes he was wearing, a pair of random sweat pants, and in his drawer he had what looked like a work uniform to some random sub shop. When he told me why it was almost obvious how much he’d planned on dieing.

Unfortunately for me, he smokes. Nasty habit, I can’t stand it, but he didn’t seem to care and just kept lighting up, the most elated look on his face. It was disgusting.

But nothing topped the job he did, while I was there mind you. Gawd, I’m glad I went and hid in the bathroom. It didn’t much help since the guy was crying out like he was. In a way it made me flustered, knowing that Jesse could make that happen, but then I was just sick. Why was Jesse doing this? It was disgusting. He threw up afterwards anyway, so he really mustn’t have liked it.

So anyway, I’m lying here on the floor because he doesn’t want me on the bed, which is fine, I can handle that. It is his bed. But what I couldn’t handle was the incessant knocking on his door. I was floored. He’d been telling me the truth, and what shocked me further is that he was actually sleeping through it. I could hear him snoring as knock after damned knock echoed through the room. I couldn’t sleep so just lay there and stared. It was sick. How many people were actually coming to his room, ready to pay him whatever.

After a while it did stop and I was able to drift off a bit, only to be woken a little later by the sound of someone moving about. I opened my eyes and Jesse was sitting up in bed, puffing leisurely on another cigarette. He was slumped over, holding his head, and he looked rather shaken.

I sat up and stared at him. “Jesse? You okay?”

He was silent for a minute, taking another puff. “Yea,” he finally muttered. He didn’t look okay. He looked paler than usual.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good,” I said.

“I’m fine,” he bit out harshly. I jumped a bit and held up my hands in defeat.

“All right, calm down. I was just checking, you know. It’s okay,” I said, getting to my feet and walking over. I stopped next to him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He almost immediately got to his feet and walked to the corner of the room where he had a little moon chair, curling up in the blanket that was there and puffing on his cigarette. It wasn’t long before he started shaking and hid himself beneath the blanket, coughing as he cried and tried to smoke at the same time.

I sighed. “Jesse, I know you don’t want to talk and I know you don’t like me and all, but I’m here to help you, you can talk to me,” I said.

“Just fuck off. I can take care of it, I’ve done it before.”

“And you tried to kill yourself. Just… let me help you,” I said.

“I don’t want your help, faggot, get lost,” he hissed, his voice slightly choked with tears.

I sighed again. Faggot didn’t offend me, I was obviously gay and got called things like that all the time. I stood up and walked over, sitting on the floor next to him and waiting. He didn’t move the blanket and he didn’t look down, but more than once he nearly dropped the cigarette, so I took it and placed it on the ashtray. He didn’t protest.

He snuffed. “How many knocks did you hear?” he asked, his voice low, almost whispering.

I sighed. “About ten, maybe more,” I said. The form shuddered a bit and there was a choking sound before he started sobbing heavily, doubled over and curled up tight within himself and the blanket. I moved up a bit and ran my hand soothingly over his back. “You can stop you know.”

“I tried. I tried already, and if I stop then they just rape me and leave. I might as well get something out of it, it’s never going to stop,” he said, trying desperately to choke back more sobs.

I sighed again and chanced moving up and sitting on the edge of the chair. He didn’t say anything so I settled myself and continued to rub his back. “Have you told anyone?” I asked.

“I told you, no one cares,” he said.

“I care,” I said.

“Thanks, I feel so liberated,” he spat with the heaviest hint of sarcasm. He snuffed again and almost seemed to lean into my hand. He’s not really as cold as he is, is he.

“You know I just want to help,” I said.

“Yea, and then when I’m all better and you get what you want you’ll leave, right?” I was a little taken aback by this statement and my hand left his back momentarily. It was long enough for him to get he wrong message and he flew from the chair, locking himself in the small bathroom. Oh gawd, I was an idiot. I walked over as I heard the shower start and knocked on the door.

“Fuck… off!” he spat out.

“Jesse, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever. Go do something else, leave me alone,” I heard muttered.

I sighed. “I’m not going anywhere.” With that I walked over to the chair, grabbed my blanket, and sat down. No, I wasn’t going anywhere. It took a lot to get me to leave people alone and I wasn’t going to start just because he called me a fag and threw some other obscenities at me.

It was almost a half hour before he finally got out of the shower and walked back into the room. He pulled the uniform out of his drawer and pulled it on quickly, removing the towel he’d wrapped around his waist after his pants were securely fastened to his hips. He then grabbed what was left of the smoldering cigarette, finished it off, and grabbed another.

“Why are you still here?” he asked me after a moment.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving,” I said.

He chuckled a bit. “Well, I am, so unless you want to sit here… whatever,” he said, slipping his feet into his boots and buckling them. He puffed on his cigarette again and just walked out, leaving me there. I jumped up quickly and pulled on my shoes, running out just as he turned the corner at the end of the hall. Damn, he was fast.

“Jesse! Jesse, wait up, hey!” I called, rushing after him. He didn’t seem to notice me so he neither slowed down nor stopped, just kept walking, puffing away. When I stopped next to him I gave him a hurt look. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. “You know, you’re being awfully mean to me.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he mumbled.

“What did I do?”

“You saved me,” he said, pushing a long strong of hair behind his ear. The tip hung just below the chin-length of the rest of his hair and it was kind of cute the little tuft that it made.

“You have really nice hair,” I said, not realizing it until it was too late.

“Whatever. Are you going to follow me around all night or what?” he asked, rounding a corner that I rounded right after him.

“Yes. I’m going to follow you until the doctor says you can be on your own again,” I said.

He snorted. “That blows. Fine, then you get to sit and watch me work my boring job. If the manager follows me into the bathroom you know why,” he said. He turned abruptly and walked into a little shop. It was dank, but there were a few people there, buying subs and getting sodas. “Have a seat. I work counters if you need anything,” he said, walking over and stepping behind the bar. The person working there said something curt to him and he rolled his eyes, walking past him to toss the butt away and wash his hands. He pulled on a pair of gloves and immediately started work. I just walked over and sat down at a table, watching him work.

It was eight o’clock by the time he was done and I was relieved that there were no trips to the bathroom and that the manager wasn’t there anyway.

“Paris, you want anything?” he asked.

“Like what?” I asked, almost startled that he’d spoken to me. He hadn’t said a word to me since he started working.

He shrugged. “I dunno. A soda, a sandwich. It’s late, have you eaten?” he asked. Had I just detected a hint of compassion!

I jumped up and walked over. “Um, no, I’ll take a sub. What do you have?” I watched as he rolled his eyes and it was fifteen minutes before I had a perfectly made sub. “Wow. You’re good at that.”

“It’s my job. I’ll wrap it and we can just go,” he said. I nodded and watched as he quickly threw the thing into a bag, handing it to me as I paid for it. We left together, he pulling out another cigarette and lighting up on out trip back.

“You seem a bit happier now,” I said.

He snorted. “Yea, because the manager wasn’t there,” he said. He sounded relieved and it made me sick to think that even his manager was forcing him into fellatio and sex.

“Jesse… what if you transferred out? Went to a different college?” I asked.

“I don’t have anything, Paris. If I pack up and leave, I’ll lose my scholarship, I have no money of my own, so I’ll be living on the streets with nothing. I just have to deal with it,” he said.

“But… look at you. You’re so happy when you’re not… you know. I mean…”

He shook his head. “Forget it. Just forget it,” he said, suddenly looking very depressed. Shit! I can’t do anything right. He’s just so sad again, it makes my heart ache. I wanted to reach out, wrap my arms round him, and hold him until he smiled again. But then I realized it’d probably just piss him off more.

I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I said forget it, didn’t I? It’s not a big deal, just drop the fucking subject,” he said, walking down the hall to his room. He unlocked it and I was surprised that he stopped and held the door for me to follow him. “Are you staying with me the entire night?” he asked.

“Yea. I’ll stay on the floor,” I said. He just shrugged and started pulling off his uniform. “What are you going to do for clothes?” I asked.

He shrugged again. “I dunno, already. I don’t have the money to get new ones, so I’m just going to have to wear what I have until work starts to pick up.” Unfortunately I knew what he meant by that and it made me a little sick.

“You know what… I’ll be right back,” I said and I put the sub and soda down, leaving the room momentarily to filter into my own. I had some extra clothes that might fit him well enough. Hell, I had so many clothes that I could give him half wardrobe and still have about a months worth of outfits without having to wash anything.

I opened the closet and stared at what I had. Jesse was a dark person. So black, gray, dark colors. Black jeans, black tee-shirts, some socks, a jacket, sweaters, and little accessories that I had from my old roommate. He’d left fishnet and solid black arm warmers, and a fishnet shirt that I was never going to use. I gathered them and put them all in a bag, then left for Jesse’s room.

I walked in to hear the shower. At least he cleaned up after he smoked. I couldn’t stand the smell in his room, it was driving me insane. I’d only dated a smoker once since I couldn’t stand it and I never wanted to do it again. Wait… Then why was I so infatuated with Jesse? Maybe it was the whole bad boy thing, though the whore factor really didn’t help my feelings along. It made me want to cherish him in a way.

I knocked on the bathroom door. “What! Gawd damnit, can’t I get a few minutes to myself!” he yelled at me.

“Sorry. I have something for you,” I said.

“Grand. Let me finish my fucking shower!”

“All right, you don’t have to bit my head off or anything,” I said. I backed up and sat down in the moon chair again, waiting.

A few minutes later, Jesse’s pissy form appeared and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Gawd, that was not good for me at all. I thought it had been hard seeing him just topless in those, black sweats, but this was sin. The towel was in the way of a full view, but his body just looked so good. He was thin, not a sick kind of thin, but a lean kind of thin, and he tapered so wonderfully. He had abs, and a chest that made me realize if he wanted to he could pick me up and throw me out of his room, his arms were just as bad. But then, letting the eyes trail a little lower, he had an ass. Damn did he have an ass. Most guys had a flat, semi-lump that left their jeans hanging off of them, but Jesse had a full ass that would have filled the hand wonderfully. His legs were long, still rather teenage, and just as lean as the rest of him.

“What the hell are you looking at? If you want to pay up, I’ll take the towel off,” I heard. I snapped my eyes from their position and looked up to find Jesse staring at me, a small grin on his face, his fingers tugging at the towel suggestively.

I felt my cheeks go red. “No, don’t, I didn’t mean to,” I said quickly.

He chuckled. “Of course you didn’t. But what gay guy can resist me. I’m so gawd damned sexy,” he teased, ruffling his hair with another towel. He grabbed his sweat pants and pulled them on under the towel, the side parting just a bit and falling off before they reached his waist. I caught a small glimpse of the top of his rear and my cheeks flushed even more.

He laughed. “Why don’t just grab me and bend me over? It’s obvious you want to,” he said.

I glared at him indignantly. “Look, just because every other gay guy you’ve met fucks you indecently, doesn’t mean that that’s what I want to do. Unlike them I actually like you and I want to get to know you, so if you could stop acting like a whore for a minute or two, I’d really appreciate it!” I snapped. I gasped when I realized what I’d just admitted and my hand slapped over my mouth. Shit.

He stared at me, his dark blue eyes becoming icy. “Whatever. I’m sorry if you’re in love with me and all, but just because I let guys fuck me doesn’t mean I’m into them, it just means they pay well. So, get over your little infatuation and get over it fast,” he said and he climbed back into his bed.

I sighed. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

“Whatever.”

“I brought you some clothes. I’m not sure how they’ll fit but… you might as well,” I said, putting them down.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. I have a feeling it was sincere. I smiled a bit and kicked off my shoes, crawling back into my little cocoon on the floor. I snuggled into the blankets and sighed as the light was clicked off.

“Night, Paris,” I heard through the silence. I smiled. He really wasn’t as bad as he sounded.

“Night, Jesse.”