Steadfast

1

He was crushed. Word spreads fast, this time with the photo proof to go along… photo proof that came in vibrant, lively color that disgusted him; nauseated him. The love he felt for such a boy turned into being some sort of twisted, emotional confusion once there was full-blown proof of how much of a whore that boy was.

It was all in those sickening pictures. Everyone saw of that boy everything he thought he was the only one to see. He even thought at one point that he would be the only one to ever see that boy in such a compromising manner.

He was amazing at keeping his feelings a secret when he wanted to. It was all in the way he carried his seventeen year old frame through the bland halls of the school, the way his face remained nonchalant although his friends looked at him with a look of pity and a wanting to talk to him sometime later, and it was in the way he spoke to the boy he once thought he desperately loved.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t that attached.” He scoffed at the boy that he now has labeled a whore in his thoughts, but he ran his fingers through his tinted yellow hair, his pseudo, half-inch bangs being moved so that his upper forehead was revealed. He is an oddity, because you’ll only see his whole face when he lies, because his subconscious knows that having people look into the changing hazel depths of his eyes would make him seem more honest.

-

The blonde boy gazed up at the apartment complex before lowering his head down so that he could take the trek inside of the building and up the stairs.

“Julian?” he heard a smooth, deep voice say in a thick, unintentionally sultry European accent. The European was sitting on the wide window sill in the hall under a cushion from his own apartment, gazing over the uneventful scenic suburban life.

“Not now, Altair.”

“Ah,” the accent said quietly.

Julian gave the European a weak smile that said they would talk soon.

-

Julian was asleep. His breathing was coming heavy and slow as he was in his rejuvenating trance. He was woken up after about an hour and a half of sleep. There was a knock on the door; a gentle rapping.

As he stood and got progressively closer to the door, the rapping seemed to die off and completely go away before the time he stood before the knob. Julian wiped his eyes with his left and twisted the unlocked knob with his right and opened the door.

“You are looking stunning,” said Altair.

Julian took the time to study the European as he took his left from his eyes and used it to motion the man inside. Altair was so obviously French through his accent, though his mother was from Saudi Arabia, and so he possessed the thick, curly black hair that he kept short and well-groomed. An incomplete dominance of skin color was also apparent; as he seemed so pleasantly milky white with a subtle hint of a caramel tan that could never be achieved while sitting under the sun.

“I just woke up,” Julian said after noting the details of the delectably handsome man.

“That may just be apparent,” Altair said with a chuckle. He took the invitation into Julian’s apartment, sitting down on the couch that Julian was asleep on just a minute before. The twenty-two year old rested his heels on the coffee table.

Julian sat at the opposite end of the couch, sighing. He knew what was to come.

“What was the matter with you earlier? You did not come to talk,” Altair sounded slightly dejected.

Julian lost it. With tears streaming down his face, he mumbled, “I saw some pictures of Michael. He was… he was fucking some other guy. I’m trying not to care, and I’m trying to detach as quickly as possible, but I can’t do it as quickly as I wish I could.”

Altair was shocked. “Michael… he did this to you? He is the reason that you are crying?”

Julian held back his tears and held back any sounds of whining. He composed himself; keeping the rate of his breath calm and steady and straightening his posture to one more proper. Focusing on this was what kept him from crying some more.

“Yes.”

“I was very surprised to not see him with you today. I figured something happened, though this is something that I did not fathom.”

Julian smiled at the man next to him. The smile was small, but it was one nonetheless.

“What did I say?” Altair said dumbly, quizzically glancing at the blonde.

“Nothing.” Julian ran his fingers through his bangs at this lie. Altair’s way of never using a contraction was amusing to Julian. It was adorable.

“I am glad to have made you smile,” Altair said, curling his own lips into a smile as well.

Julian sighed and relaxed himself back on the couch, his knees forming an angle so that he did not drape his legs over the other. “I never thought that he was going to be the one to sink into being an exhibitionist whore,” Julian said in a grumble. He then curled his knees into his chest and whimpered all of his weaknesses into the hands that covered his eyes. “I never would’ve thought.”

Julian felt a hand creep up along his ankle, the soft but strong hand stroking it with a touch that could ease Julian out of his crying misery. It did, though just for a moment.

“Julian, it would do you better not to cry,” Altair quietly began to soothe Julian, “If you broke up over a different reason, I would understand why you would cry. Michael sleeping with another boy is something that you do not need to cry for. That shows how bad of a person he is and you do not deserve to let him make you cry.”

Julian shuddered, gasping once as an attempt to keep him from crying again, but his tears kept coming along with his sounds. The trails of his tears painted his face a shade of red that a macintosh would envy. Thank God he didn’t show his face to Altair, for he would be embarrassed into an even deeper shade of red.

Altair idly stroked Julian’s ankle, then extended his reach the lower part of his calves until he could reach up no further. Julian sighed softly at the affectionate hand, using all of his might to try to calm himself down, the slow, gentle manner of Altair‘s hand bringing him there.

“Julian, it is alright,” said Altair, “It is alright. Do not cry anymore, it is not worth this fuss. He is not worth this fuss.”

“You’re right, he isn’t,” Julian said as he used his wrist to dry up the moisture accumulating on his face. His whimpering and sobs ceased, and his tears dried on his cherry face.

Altair reluctantly took his affectionate hand away and rested it back at his side as he looked at Julian, who was still curled up a bit. Under Altair’s stare, however, Julian sat himself up, sniffled once, and focused on posture and his breathing.

“Of course he is not.”

-

Altair left Julian to his own devices, knowing that he’d be better off alone with a time of recollection on this day‘s events. Altair knew that he would be more needed tomorrow, for the second day of heartbreak is always more taxing than the initial one.

Julian’s broad shoulders slouched as he sat alone on the couch, contemplating his sadness and depression, ultimately deciding that it was senseless to dwell upon. It was senseless to keep feeling that way, but the sadness would be with him for at least a couple of days, taunting him and laughing at him because he chose another whore of a boy to be with. He knew this, and it was killing him inside because he knew he didn’t have the power to fix it.

“Julian, dear! What’s wrong?” Julian’s mother settled to the open space on the couch, eyeing Julian with a look of utmost concern. Julian had not heard her come in.

“Michael… he’s a slut,” Julian said, his voice shaky, though he did not dare shed one more tear.

“He cheated on you?” His mother gently pried, resting her hand on his knee comfortingly.

“Yes, mom. Yes, he did.” Julian looked down at the floor, tracing the pattern of the carpet with his eyes to distract him from generating tears. To speak of the problem only made him cry.

Julian’s mother left the room for a moment and brought Julian back a box of tissues, a glass of water, and a shot of Nyquil.

“Baby, go to bed,” the woman simply said, giving her son all of the ingredients she had for fast, adequate comfort.

“Thanks,” Julian whispered, allowing the thoughts of an easy, drug-induced sleep tempt him to his bedroom.

-

Julian dragged himself to school that next day, a headache plaguing him for all of that childish crying he did the night before. The good night sleep has done some wonders for him, though, clearing the red of his face and keeping those gross thoughts of that whore out of his head.

He didn’t dream about anything last night, and it made him happy to be left so undisturbed.

The mods of the day seemed to drag until mod four-five came along. This is when Julian had to pour his heart out to another confidant.

“Julian, I’m so fucking sorry about Michael. I can’t believe he would do something like that to you! You’re such a good person, you don’t deserve to put up with any of that shit,” rambled the redheaded girl to Julian’s left.

“Thanks, Mara,” Julian quietly said. He smiled at her, appreciating her concern and dismissing her usage of foul language.

“Ugh, I swear to God, Jules. I want to give him a piece of my mind. I’m going to hit him so fucking hard that he won’t know it was a short, redheaded Annie-looking girl like me who did it,” she continued, a fierceness in her voice. Her anger was sincere, although her words were not. She would never even hurt a fly. Unless it was a really big one.

Julian chuckled as he moved his hair away from his face. He smiled weakly. “Mara, I’m over him.”

“I don’t care if you’re over him or not. He doesn’t need to be fucking with my Julian like that!”

All Julian could do was smile. Having a friend like her could brighten up your day, even if that friend had an extremely obscene vocabulary.

The bell rang. It was time for Julian’s mod six lunch.

Julian never ate because mod six was too early to be eating. He walked with Mara to lunch and sat with her at their usual spot which was directly in front of the school’s main entrance. A tall, scholarly looking boy joined the two, smiling with his pearly whites and greeting them with a kind “hello.”

“Marty!’ Mara chuckled, hugging the boy who had a foot and a half on her.

“Hi, Mara. Look, Julian, I’m so sorry about Michael…” Marty tailed off.

Julian turned away to face the bushes as the tears wanted to collect in his eyes. Julian did not let them. “It’s a nice day we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it sure is!” Mara exclaimed, understanding the message that Julian was trying to send.

It took Julian a moment before he turned around and faced his friends. He enjoyed lunch as if Michael didn’t even exist.

-

Julian walked to his truck that afternoon by himself. Julian’s memories were in that truck. The six thousand dollars he saved from his first year of his first job was put into that truck, his first drive-in movie was in that truck, his first love first kissed him in that truck… and now, in the truck bed, awaiting forgiveness or drama, was Michael.

“Julian, I… I’m sorry,” Michael pouted, hanging his head in shame.

The shame was fake to Julian. “Yeah, I’m sorry that you’re such a slut.”

“Julian! I didn’t… I was…”

“Fuck you. It’s over,” Julian spat, opening the truck bed like a gentleman. “Now get out of my truck.”

“Julian! I’m sorry! Okay, I’m sorry,” Michael’s face started to become tear-stained. His pretty little tan face turned flushed and his sexy green eyes became so disgusting as the white around them turned a sickening red.

“I’ve been hearing apologies all day. Out of every apology I got for you, the last fucking apology I get for you is the one from you,” Julian could barely help but shout at the boy. “It’s too late for your apologies! Get out, and go home.”

“Julian, please…!”

“Go!” Julian shouted this, his deep voice erupting with anger.

Michael got up and slid out of the truck, looking sadly at Julian. Julian felt no guilt, for he was not wrong.

-

Julian was so happy to pull into the parking lot of the complex. Michael was on his mind, and he couldn’t wait to drown that out, with something, anything…

“Julian, hello,” said a familiar voice as Julian walked up the flights of stairs to his apartment.

Julian turned to the window sill where he knew Altair would be sitting. Altair was on top of his regular cushion with a book in his lap, the sunlight making the very gentle tan of his skin glow with health.

“Hey, Altair,” Julian said as he made his way to the sill now, sitting on his knees on top of it, leaving his books at the floor.

“How did your day go?”

“My friends wouldn’t stop bugging me about Michael. Michael wouldn’t leave my truck today. My day was all about Michael. All when I could do without thinking about him,” Julian said with a sigh.

“It will all go away soon, Julian,” Altair said, laying the book down on his firm stomach. Altair offered a smile of comfort.

“I don’t want to bug you with my problems,” Julian said, looking out of the glass window, intently watching the small bit of people walking around the neighborhood.

“It is okay, Julian. It really is,” Altair began, “The second day of heartbreak is the one most trying. You should talk to me on a day like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Out of something primal, Julian felt himself lean over his knees to Altair, pressing his lips to the comforting man. Julian found his hands at the older man’s shoulders as his tongue delicately traced the outline of his savory lips, eliciting a small sound from the accented man. Julian made sure he memorized how Altair tasted, because he knew that the aftermath would be too awkward so it would never happen again.