The Boys Underground
Never expose the family shame,
Always you'll hide your secret pain
WARNINGS: Before you go on, this is, as usual for me, a shonen ai. It's quite a bit more serious and darker than my usual things, and it deals with a lot of dark issues the innocent may not want to read. Well, you've been warned. Those who are staying, please enjoy.
Chapter One:
The Broken Doll
There was once a boy.
He was not like other boys. He did not play. He did not laugh. He did not even smile.
He was a handsome boy. He had a fair complexion, and hair as black as a crow's feathers, only softer, more like silk. It slid through ones fingers seductively and fell lightly in his eyes, which were light lavender, amethyst, purple crystal, prettier than any jewel and much, much colder.
He wore the traditional clothing of a little rich boy, lavished in crushed velvets and midnight blue brocades. He wore gloves of fragile satin and fancy hats with intricate embroidery hand-sewn on the long, wispy ribbons. He had shoes of the finest Italian leather with buckles of gold and silver.
He lived in the finest mansion in town, in the largest bedroom, with a sitting room and bathroom adjoined. He had servants to dress him and servants to take him to school. He had still more servants to clean his rooms of dust every day and more to make him elaborate meals he barely touched.
And yet, he was not a happy child.
He sat on a couch in his sitting room, looking out the window at the street below, where a gathering of children played soccer on the cool green grass. He had no expression on his face. He merely watched, indifferent to it all. His hands lay in his lap, lightly folded over a black velvet coat, his legs were crossed at the ankles and tucked back. He blinked once, slowly turning his head as the sound of a knock sounded at his door.
"Enter."
The door opened, revealing a tall, thin man with a mournful face.
"Sir, your afternoon tea."
"Sit it on the table, Ferdinand."
"As you wish." The servant left the dish on the desired table, bowed, and left. The boy eyed the food with distaste. He had no desire for food. He'd rather starve. He got up from where he sat and he picked up the dish. The smell of the food made him nauseous and he quickly took it to the bathroom and flushed most of it down the toilet, being careful to leave enough so that they thought he had eaten. Then he placed the dish back on the table and dirtied the utensils with a bit of food as well. Finished with his task, the boy sat primly on his couch once again.
Out the window, the boy could see that the red team was winning. How positively amazing. They had been losing only moments before.
**********************
Outside, the weather was gorgeous, and all the boys, save the Lexington boy, were playing soccer in the Lexington field. Mr. Lexington encouraged the boys to play there whenever they wished, since his own son was too frail to play and he himself loved to watch the game, as he had been a very good player before he became a business man and got married and had a child. His wife had long since passed away after birthing her son, and he had no real pleasure these days except to watch the boys play.
Ferris Stover loved the game himself and he was way ahead of any of the other boys, especially since his father, Kristoff Stover, was a famous soccer player. He knew more strategies and plays than any of the other boys, and that was why he was Captain of the red team. On top of that, he was a good-looking kid, he had dark eyes and nut-brown hair, a sturdy build and a wonderful smile.
He was one of Mr. Lexington's favorites. He was being awarded scholarships and spending money and rights to country clubs. He was a lucky kid.
As of now, Ferris was enjoying himself in the summer sun, running with the wind and generally having a good time. At break, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned, gazing up into the sky. As he did so, something in one of the mansion's windows caught his eye. At first he thought it was a statue, but he could feel the eyes on him as well, and he stared at the boy with a frown on his face.
Ferris had just moved here two months ago, and hadn't gone to the last three weeks of school, as it would have been a waste of time. He had heard a lot of talk about Jess Lexington. He wasn't exactly well-liked. In fact, many of the other kids had accused him of being downright creepy. It was hard to imagine for Ferris, who had always liked Mr. Lexington, and Mr. Lexington was a happy man, he smiled and clapped people on the back, made jokes and went to parties. How could he possibly father such a dark and moony little child? Ferris shook his head, realizing he'd been staring. He wondered though, as he went back out onto the field, why didn't the boy come down and play with the rest of them?
******************************
Jess was called down to dinner that night at an earlier hour than he'd expected. He followed Ferdinand down the steps, and stopped at the end of the stairwell when he saw his father chattering away happily to the boy he'd seen watching him earlier. He leveled his eyes to his father, whose eyes glinted dangerously when he saw Jess.
"Ah, Jess, so nice of you to join us. Have you met Ferris Stover yet?"
Jess's gaze left his father's and he strolled over to his own seat at the end of the table beside his father. They had two dining rooms; one for parties, one for everyday use. Jess despised the small table because he was forced to sit beside his father.
"No, we haven't met," Ferris said, his eyes on Jess. Jess brought his gaze up to meet Ferris's.
"So we haven't. What else is new?" Jess sat down gracefully, his eyes never leaving Ferris's. Ferris couldn't take his own gaze away. Something about Jess made him stare.
"Well, then," Jess's father said smoothly, watching the tension in the air with great amusement. "Ferris, this is my son, Jess. Jess, this is the red team captain, Ferris Stover."
"Pleasure," Jess said curtly, barely bowing his head so that his fine hair fell into his eyes.
"I'm sure it's all mine," Ferris said breathily before sitting in the seat across from Jess. "I mean... Pleased to meet you, Jess."
Jess said nothing, he merely picked up his fork and waited for his father to take a seat.
Mr. Lexington sat next to his son and smiled warmly at Ferris. "Jess, Ferris is very good. He's even going to University for soccer."
"Lovely," Jess said, hardly interested. "I suppose he has no academic ambitions?"
Ferris frowned. "Of course I do. I'm not stupid, you know."
"Then what brings you to college other than your athletic skills?"
"Actually, I plan on becoming a teacher," Ferris informed the boy before him. Jess's tone was grating on his nerves. It was as if he thought no better of him than a brainless jock.
Jess chose not to say anything. He flicked his purple gaze Ferris's direction in an unimpressed way. Ferris could think of nothing to say. He hadn't known eyes could be the colour of a darkened sunset or that a boy's lips could look so utterly inviting. He swallowed his mouthful of food with difficulty.
"Why are you being such a terrible beast, Jess?" Mr. Lexington asked in a dark tone.
"Because I AM a terrible beast, Father," Jess said coldly. He stood and put his napkin down. "Now, if you will excuse me..."
Mr. Lexington grabbed his son by the wrist and pulled him back with such force that the table rocked as Jess hit it. Ferris looked at the man with shock.
Jess merely laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh, almost mocking. "What will you do, Father? You cannot possibly do anything to me with your pet here to witness it."
Mr. Lexington's grip loosened. "And when he is gone?"
Jess tore his arm from his father's grasp. "Then I shall worry later."
Jess left, his father staring after the boy with malice in his eyes. Ferris had never seen his idol look this way before. It made him wonder just what went on in this house.
Mr. Lexington turned to Ferris and smiled charmingly. "I'm sorry you had to see my boy in such a state. He needs mental help."
Ferris smiled weakly, not sure what to make of the statement or the actions that had just taken place.
"But," Mr. Lexington continued, looking rather dreamy. "You must admit he is beautiful. He looks just like his late mother."
Mr. Lexington stood and made his way to a painting over the fireplace that Ferris hadn't seen before. The woman in the painting did, indeed look very much like the boy he had just met. Her hair was as black as her son's, though hers was in ringlets, and her eyes were the same rare violet as her son's. The woman in the painting also had the same sorrowful look on her face.
"This is her. Jessica Mildred Woodall Lexington," Mr. Lexington said, looking at the portrait in adoration.
"She's very pretty," Ferris said politely.
"Pretty? No, she is absolutely gorgeous. What do you think of my beastly son?"
Ferris started at the sudden change in subject. "Well, he's... very...nice, I suppose..."
"Nice?" Mr. Lexington wheeled around to face Ferris. "He's a complete disgrace. Can't play sports, can't hold a decent conversation... He isn't even obedient! He's worse than a dog!"
"But he's your son!" Ferris cried. "Shouldn't you cut him some slack?"
"No."
Ferris set down his fork.
"I asked you what you thought of him, and I want the truth," Mr. Lexington said in a low voice.
"He does look like his mother."
"And?"
"Well, she's very beautiful..." Ferris felt awkward. It was as if Mr. Lexington wanted him to admit that a boy was good-looking. Was he trying to get him arrested?
"So, do you think that Jess is beautiful, then?" Mr. Lexington asked eagerly.
"W-well, I... He's a boy, sir."
Mr. Lexington nodded. "Ah, that is true. He is a boy, you are a boy. That wouldn't do at all, now would it?"
Ferris looked at Mr. Lexington, perplexed. "Well, I've gotta go home now, sir..."
"That's right!" Mr. Lexington cried. "Brandon! Take this young man home."
A servant entered the room hastily and bowed. "Come, sir."
"Uh, okay," Ferris nodded. "Good-bye, Mr. Lexington."
"Good-bye. Come play tomorrow?"
"Of course."
And with that, Ferris was on his way home.
***********************
Jess sat in his room, with his hands in his lap and his ankles crossed once again, only this time, he sat at the edge of his bed. Fear coursed through him. His father would not soon forget what he had said, and he would be punished horribly. He had been stupid to open his mouth, but he didn't regret it. That boy would learn soon enough that his father was a nightmare. He was not the man he seemed to be.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Jess didn't have to say anything. His father came in on soft footsteps, with a dreamy look on his face. Jess watched him come over and sit on the bed beside him, his mouth growing dry.
"Oh, Jessie, Jessie," his father brought his hands to Jess's face, caressing him, with a look of delusional love on his face. Jess recoiled from the touch, but his father continued to slide his hands seductively on his face, bringing his fingers to Jess's lips. Jess turned his face away.
"I'm not her."
"Oh, Jessie, how I miss you when you aren't here with me," Mr. Lexington pressed his open, hungry mouth on Jess's tightly closed lips. But Jess's defenses weren't enough. All Mr. Lexington had to do was brush the boy's crotch and he gasped, allowing entry for his searching tongue.
Jess endured the long, hard kiss, waited until his father had broken it. But then the man's lips were on his throat, and his fingers were tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Jess closed his eyes, letting a single tear slip down his cheek.
Mr. Lexington did not notice this sudden emotion in his son, sliding Jess's blouse down his shoulders and kissing the hollow of his throat and his bare shoulders. He pushed Jess onto the bed and leaned into him, so that Jess could feel his hardness against his thigh.
"DAD!" he cried sharply, feeling wetness stain his bed and clothing. He dug his nails into his father's arms, trying to get him off. "I'M NOT HER!"
Finally, Mr. Lexington looked up. "I know," he said silkily. "You're my son, my little boy."
Jess took a shuddering breath. "Why...?"
"Because, I can't break you any other way."
Jess shuddered at his words. "What?"
"You heard me..."
Jess could feel his father arching his back, rubbing against him.
"Let me go," Jess said icily.
"I don't think I will."
"Then I don't believe I shall fight you."
"Oh you will. You will..."
****************************
The next day, Jess lay on the bathroom floor, sobbing. There was nothing he could do, because it had happened before, and he had let it happen. He hadn't tried hard enough. He may even have LIKED it.
He sat up and let another sob spasm through his body before he threw up into the toilet. The bile burned on its way up, and he coughed a little, trying to relieve the horrible sensation it had caused. He licked his dry lips and felt nauseous once again.
/I hate that bastard. I HATE him./
Jess coughed a little and crawled over to the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go. Steam clouded the room, and Jess let the hot water pound on his back and into his hair, which was already wet with sweat and tears. He wanted to lay his face in the puddle of water he was making by sitting over the drain, but he would never give that fuck the satisfaction. He laid his head against the wall instead and let sleep take him.
********************
Ferris played well that day as well, and was invited to lunch with Mr. Lexington. At first, he felt ready to decline, but he was overwhelmed with a desire to see Jess again, and so he decided to say yes. However, as they sat to lunch, they waited a full half hour before a servant came down the stairs in quite a rush.
"Sir! Sir! Young master was found fainted in his shower."
"What?" Mr. Lexington cried. "How...?"
"The water was dreadfully hot, sir."
"Is he okay?"
"Martha is looking after him."
"Well, let's go up to him."
Mr. Lexington stood, and gestured to Ferris.
"Come with us."
"Um, is it all right...?"
"Of course it is," Mr. Lexington said impatiently. "That is why I asked."
"Uh, of course, sir."
They all went up the stairs and into Jess's bedroom, where Jess lay, coughing and spluttering, on the floor, covered in nothing but a towel. Ferris blushed and averted his eyes, though he was strongly inclined to stare. As he turned, he noticed strange markings all over Jess's body. He would've tried to figure them out, but he would have felt wrong in doing so.
"Lord Jess, what happened?" asked the maid, Martha, as she hurriedly put Jess into his bathrobe, making wild glances at Ferris as she did so.
Jess didn't answer. He sat up, his towel sliding down as the maid tied his robe securely. Jess pulled it around him even tighter, looking around the room.
His gaze fell on his father, and he paled considerably. He stood quickly and backed away.
"Jess, what happened, lad?"
"I fell asleep. I was rather tired after last night." He gave his father a cold glare.
"What did you do?"
Jess started at the sound of Ferris's voice. Turning to look at him, he saw that the boy was as red as he was white, and he was trying not to look at him.
"A matter of little importance to you," Jess said, backing into the bathroom. "And whatever are you doing in my bedroom?"
Ferris turned redder than before. "I... Your father..."
Jess didn't bother looking at his father, whom had done this on purpose. He merely closed the door of the bathroom and locked it securely.
**************************
The next day, Ferris was asked to take Jess to a movie. One look at the awful scowl on Jess's face, and it was apparent he wasn't going by choice.
They walked down the main street in silence, and finally Ferris felt the need to apologize.
"I'm sorry. Your father can be pretty persuasive."
"I'm quite aware of that. However, I am not a simpleton. You would have asked eventually even had my father said nothing."
"You talk really weird. Do you know that?" Ferris asked.
"It isn't so much weird as it is outdated."
Ferris thought about that. "True," he admitted.
"Would I tell a lie?"
"I don't know. I don't know you well enough."
"Of course, and as such, it will remain so."
Ferris felt a smile tug at his lips. "Really, you have the weirdest little language."
"Why, should I take that as a compliment, or a ghastly bit of insult? Whatever shall I do if you were to dislike me, I wonder?"
Ferris couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Actually, your father talks that way sometimes. Not as much as you do, but he does slip sometimes."
"He has spent entirely too much time in my company," Jess said dryly.
Ferris smiled. He was so cute! This thought caused Ferris to frown. He couldn't be, though. After all, he was a boy.
Ferris threw a glance Jess's way, to see if he'd picked up on his uncertainty. He didn't seem to have. He was looking at the streets with that appraising look of his, and Ferris had no doubt that every thought that went through his mind was negative.
"Jess, don't you ever get tired of seeing the world so badly?"
Jess turned his head slowly to look at Ferris.
"Why, whatever do you mean?"
"I mean, I can tell just by watching you that you're berating everything you look at."
"Do you read minds now?" Jess asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Ferris went silent, feeling defeated.
Finally, Jess broke the silence.
"I see the world as I was raised to see it."
"What does THAT mean?"
Jess turned away, letting the wind ripple through his dark hair.
"Exactly as it was meant."
Ferris frowned. "To confuse me?"
Jess turned to him again.
"And you fancy you're fit enough to become a teacher?"
Ferris scowled. "See? You're always so rude! Why do you have that need to lash out, Jess?"
"Because, I positively loathe you and everyone else that I have come in contact with. Please don't flatter yourself by attempting to be my friend. I am far too wise to not see through your adoration of my gutless father and it is only obvious that what you wish to gain by befriending me is merely the return of your adoration for my father and his influence in the community, therefore establishing a place for YOU in it as a prestigious member of society as well."
Ferris stopped walking and stared at Jess, stunned. That wasn't what he thought at all.
Jess stopped walking as well.
"Have I bored you with my slanderous speech? I do hope so. Maybe then I can go home and-"
"No, I'm not bored. I like you, Jess. I think you'd be a good friend if you'd only let yourself. And I am sad to hear what you think of me. I'm not like that at all."
"I'm sure," Jess replied dryly. /He LIKES me?/
"Yes, and that's what makes you hard to get to know. You're so sure of all your convoluted theories- yes, I know big words, too- and you are so damn stubborn. Doesn't anything fill you with passion, Jess? Isn't there anything you like to do? Don't you-"
"Is there nothing you won't accuse me of?"
"What do you like to do for fun, then?"
Jess had no answer to that.
"See? Your life is colourless."
"My life is positively filled with colour-"
"What colours? Grey? White? Black?" Ferris laughed humorlessly. "Don't you know those aren't colours? They're only SHADES? And do you know what another meaning for shades are, Jess?"
"Will you stop saying my name?" Jess said, clenching his fingers.
"What do you want me to call you? Mr. Lexington Jr.? Young master? Sir?"
Jess disliked all the suggested names.
"There's nothing left but Jess. Or do you prefer pet names, like Jessie?"
Jess grabbed Ferris by the collar and shoved him into a wall. "Don't EVER call me that again, do you hear me??"
Ferris stared into Jess's furious violet eyes. He was surprised to see pain there as well.
"Jess?"
Jess let go of Ferris and turned away.
"Let's just go." He suddenly sounded very tired. Ferris looked at him, but Jess's face was at an angle that he couldn't analyze.
"All right. Let's go..."
***************************
Hai yo! This is the end of Chapter One! I really hoped you were intrigued enough to want more! Because there is certainly more to this story than meets the eye! Bai yo!
Never expose the family shame,
Always you'll hide your secret pain
WARNINGS: Before you go on, this is, as usual for me, a shonen ai. It's quite a bit more serious and darker than my usual things, and it deals with a lot of dark issues the innocent may not want to read. Well, you've been warned. Those who are staying, please enjoy.
Chapter One:
The Broken Doll
There was once a boy.
He was not like other boys. He did not play. He did not laugh. He did not even smile.
He was a handsome boy. He had a fair complexion, and hair as black as a crow's feathers, only softer, more like silk. It slid through ones fingers seductively and fell lightly in his eyes, which were light lavender, amethyst, purple crystal, prettier than any jewel and much, much colder.
He wore the traditional clothing of a little rich boy, lavished in crushed velvets and midnight blue brocades. He wore gloves of fragile satin and fancy hats with intricate embroidery hand-sewn on the long, wispy ribbons. He had shoes of the finest Italian leather with buckles of gold and silver.
He lived in the finest mansion in town, in the largest bedroom, with a sitting room and bathroom adjoined. He had servants to dress him and servants to take him to school. He had still more servants to clean his rooms of dust every day and more to make him elaborate meals he barely touched.
And yet, he was not a happy child.
He sat on a couch in his sitting room, looking out the window at the street below, where a gathering of children played soccer on the cool green grass. He had no expression on his face. He merely watched, indifferent to it all. His hands lay in his lap, lightly folded over a black velvet coat, his legs were crossed at the ankles and tucked back. He blinked once, slowly turning his head as the sound of a knock sounded at his door.
"Enter."
The door opened, revealing a tall, thin man with a mournful face.
"Sir, your afternoon tea."
"Sit it on the table, Ferdinand."
"As you wish." The servant left the dish on the desired table, bowed, and left. The boy eyed the food with distaste. He had no desire for food. He'd rather starve. He got up from where he sat and he picked up the dish. The smell of the food made him nauseous and he quickly took it to the bathroom and flushed most of it down the toilet, being careful to leave enough so that they thought he had eaten. Then he placed the dish back on the table and dirtied the utensils with a bit of food as well. Finished with his task, the boy sat primly on his couch once again.
Out the window, the boy could see that the red team was winning. How positively amazing. They had been losing only moments before.
**********************
Outside, the weather was gorgeous, and all the boys, save the Lexington boy, were playing soccer in the Lexington field. Mr. Lexington encouraged the boys to play there whenever they wished, since his own son was too frail to play and he himself loved to watch the game, as he had been a very good player before he became a business man and got married and had a child. His wife had long since passed away after birthing her son, and he had no real pleasure these days except to watch the boys play.
Ferris Stover loved the game himself and he was way ahead of any of the other boys, especially since his father, Kristoff Stover, was a famous soccer player. He knew more strategies and plays than any of the other boys, and that was why he was Captain of the red team. On top of that, he was a good-looking kid, he had dark eyes and nut-brown hair, a sturdy build and a wonderful smile.
He was one of Mr. Lexington's favorites. He was being awarded scholarships and spending money and rights to country clubs. He was a lucky kid.
As of now, Ferris was enjoying himself in the summer sun, running with the wind and generally having a good time. At break, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned, gazing up into the sky. As he did so, something in one of the mansion's windows caught his eye. At first he thought it was a statue, but he could feel the eyes on him as well, and he stared at the boy with a frown on his face.
Ferris had just moved here two months ago, and hadn't gone to the last three weeks of school, as it would have been a waste of time. He had heard a lot of talk about Jess Lexington. He wasn't exactly well-liked. In fact, many of the other kids had accused him of being downright creepy. It was hard to imagine for Ferris, who had always liked Mr. Lexington, and Mr. Lexington was a happy man, he smiled and clapped people on the back, made jokes and went to parties. How could he possibly father such a dark and moony little child? Ferris shook his head, realizing he'd been staring. He wondered though, as he went back out onto the field, why didn't the boy come down and play with the rest of them?
******************************
Jess was called down to dinner that night at an earlier hour than he'd expected. He followed Ferdinand down the steps, and stopped at the end of the stairwell when he saw his father chattering away happily to the boy he'd seen watching him earlier. He leveled his eyes to his father, whose eyes glinted dangerously when he saw Jess.
"Ah, Jess, so nice of you to join us. Have you met Ferris Stover yet?"
Jess's gaze left his father's and he strolled over to his own seat at the end of the table beside his father. They had two dining rooms; one for parties, one for everyday use. Jess despised the small table because he was forced to sit beside his father.
"No, we haven't met," Ferris said, his eyes on Jess. Jess brought his gaze up to meet Ferris's.
"So we haven't. What else is new?" Jess sat down gracefully, his eyes never leaving Ferris's. Ferris couldn't take his own gaze away. Something about Jess made him stare.
"Well, then," Jess's father said smoothly, watching the tension in the air with great amusement. "Ferris, this is my son, Jess. Jess, this is the red team captain, Ferris Stover."
"Pleasure," Jess said curtly, barely bowing his head so that his fine hair fell into his eyes.
"I'm sure it's all mine," Ferris said breathily before sitting in the seat across from Jess. "I mean... Pleased to meet you, Jess."
Jess said nothing, he merely picked up his fork and waited for his father to take a seat.
Mr. Lexington sat next to his son and smiled warmly at Ferris. "Jess, Ferris is very good. He's even going to University for soccer."
"Lovely," Jess said, hardly interested. "I suppose he has no academic ambitions?"
Ferris frowned. "Of course I do. I'm not stupid, you know."
"Then what brings you to college other than your athletic skills?"
"Actually, I plan on becoming a teacher," Ferris informed the boy before him. Jess's tone was grating on his nerves. It was as if he thought no better of him than a brainless jock.
Jess chose not to say anything. He flicked his purple gaze Ferris's direction in an unimpressed way. Ferris could think of nothing to say. He hadn't known eyes could be the colour of a darkened sunset or that a boy's lips could look so utterly inviting. He swallowed his mouthful of food with difficulty.
"Why are you being such a terrible beast, Jess?" Mr. Lexington asked in a dark tone.
"Because I AM a terrible beast, Father," Jess said coldly. He stood and put his napkin down. "Now, if you will excuse me..."
Mr. Lexington grabbed his son by the wrist and pulled him back with such force that the table rocked as Jess hit it. Ferris looked at the man with shock.
Jess merely laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh, almost mocking. "What will you do, Father? You cannot possibly do anything to me with your pet here to witness it."
Mr. Lexington's grip loosened. "And when he is gone?"
Jess tore his arm from his father's grasp. "Then I shall worry later."
Jess left, his father staring after the boy with malice in his eyes. Ferris had never seen his idol look this way before. It made him wonder just what went on in this house.
Mr. Lexington turned to Ferris and smiled charmingly. "I'm sorry you had to see my boy in such a state. He needs mental help."
Ferris smiled weakly, not sure what to make of the statement or the actions that had just taken place.
"But," Mr. Lexington continued, looking rather dreamy. "You must admit he is beautiful. He looks just like his late mother."
Mr. Lexington stood and made his way to a painting over the fireplace that Ferris hadn't seen before. The woman in the painting did, indeed look very much like the boy he had just met. Her hair was as black as her son's, though hers was in ringlets, and her eyes were the same rare violet as her son's. The woman in the painting also had the same sorrowful look on her face.
"This is her. Jessica Mildred Woodall Lexington," Mr. Lexington said, looking at the portrait in adoration.
"She's very pretty," Ferris said politely.
"Pretty? No, she is absolutely gorgeous. What do you think of my beastly son?"
Ferris started at the sudden change in subject. "Well, he's... very...nice, I suppose..."
"Nice?" Mr. Lexington wheeled around to face Ferris. "He's a complete disgrace. Can't play sports, can't hold a decent conversation... He isn't even obedient! He's worse than a dog!"
"But he's your son!" Ferris cried. "Shouldn't you cut him some slack?"
"No."
Ferris set down his fork.
"I asked you what you thought of him, and I want the truth," Mr. Lexington said in a low voice.
"He does look like his mother."
"And?"
"Well, she's very beautiful..." Ferris felt awkward. It was as if Mr. Lexington wanted him to admit that a boy was good-looking. Was he trying to get him arrested?
"So, do you think that Jess is beautiful, then?" Mr. Lexington asked eagerly.
"W-well, I... He's a boy, sir."
Mr. Lexington nodded. "Ah, that is true. He is a boy, you are a boy. That wouldn't do at all, now would it?"
Ferris looked at Mr. Lexington, perplexed. "Well, I've gotta go home now, sir..."
"That's right!" Mr. Lexington cried. "Brandon! Take this young man home."
A servant entered the room hastily and bowed. "Come, sir."
"Uh, okay," Ferris nodded. "Good-bye, Mr. Lexington."
"Good-bye. Come play tomorrow?"
"Of course."
And with that, Ferris was on his way home.
***********************
Jess sat in his room, with his hands in his lap and his ankles crossed once again, only this time, he sat at the edge of his bed. Fear coursed through him. His father would not soon forget what he had said, and he would be punished horribly. He had been stupid to open his mouth, but he didn't regret it. That boy would learn soon enough that his father was a nightmare. He was not the man he seemed to be.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Jess didn't have to say anything. His father came in on soft footsteps, with a dreamy look on his face. Jess watched him come over and sit on the bed beside him, his mouth growing dry.
"Oh, Jessie, Jessie," his father brought his hands to Jess's face, caressing him, with a look of delusional love on his face. Jess recoiled from the touch, but his father continued to slide his hands seductively on his face, bringing his fingers to Jess's lips. Jess turned his face away.
"I'm not her."
"Oh, Jessie, how I miss you when you aren't here with me," Mr. Lexington pressed his open, hungry mouth on Jess's tightly closed lips. But Jess's defenses weren't enough. All Mr. Lexington had to do was brush the boy's crotch and he gasped, allowing entry for his searching tongue.
Jess endured the long, hard kiss, waited until his father had broken it. But then the man's lips were on his throat, and his fingers were tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Jess closed his eyes, letting a single tear slip down his cheek.
Mr. Lexington did not notice this sudden emotion in his son, sliding Jess's blouse down his shoulders and kissing the hollow of his throat and his bare shoulders. He pushed Jess onto the bed and leaned into him, so that Jess could feel his hardness against his thigh.
"DAD!" he cried sharply, feeling wetness stain his bed and clothing. He dug his nails into his father's arms, trying to get him off. "I'M NOT HER!"
Finally, Mr. Lexington looked up. "I know," he said silkily. "You're my son, my little boy."
Jess took a shuddering breath. "Why...?"
"Because, I can't break you any other way."
Jess shuddered at his words. "What?"
"You heard me..."
Jess could feel his father arching his back, rubbing against him.
"Let me go," Jess said icily.
"I don't think I will."
"Then I don't believe I shall fight you."
"Oh you will. You will..."
****************************
The next day, Jess lay on the bathroom floor, sobbing. There was nothing he could do, because it had happened before, and he had let it happen. He hadn't tried hard enough. He may even have LIKED it.
He sat up and let another sob spasm through his body before he threw up into the toilet. The bile burned on its way up, and he coughed a little, trying to relieve the horrible sensation it had caused. He licked his dry lips and felt nauseous once again.
/I hate that bastard. I HATE him./
Jess coughed a little and crawled over to the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go. Steam clouded the room, and Jess let the hot water pound on his back and into his hair, which was already wet with sweat and tears. He wanted to lay his face in the puddle of water he was making by sitting over the drain, but he would never give that fuck the satisfaction. He laid his head against the wall instead and let sleep take him.
********************
Ferris played well that day as well, and was invited to lunch with Mr. Lexington. At first, he felt ready to decline, but he was overwhelmed with a desire to see Jess again, and so he decided to say yes. However, as they sat to lunch, they waited a full half hour before a servant came down the stairs in quite a rush.
"Sir! Sir! Young master was found fainted in his shower."
"What?" Mr. Lexington cried. "How...?"
"The water was dreadfully hot, sir."
"Is he okay?"
"Martha is looking after him."
"Well, let's go up to him."
Mr. Lexington stood, and gestured to Ferris.
"Come with us."
"Um, is it all right...?"
"Of course it is," Mr. Lexington said impatiently. "That is why I asked."
"Uh, of course, sir."
They all went up the stairs and into Jess's bedroom, where Jess lay, coughing and spluttering, on the floor, covered in nothing but a towel. Ferris blushed and averted his eyes, though he was strongly inclined to stare. As he turned, he noticed strange markings all over Jess's body. He would've tried to figure them out, but he would have felt wrong in doing so.
"Lord Jess, what happened?" asked the maid, Martha, as she hurriedly put Jess into his bathrobe, making wild glances at Ferris as she did so.
Jess didn't answer. He sat up, his towel sliding down as the maid tied his robe securely. Jess pulled it around him even tighter, looking around the room.
His gaze fell on his father, and he paled considerably. He stood quickly and backed away.
"Jess, what happened, lad?"
"I fell asleep. I was rather tired after last night." He gave his father a cold glare.
"What did you do?"
Jess started at the sound of Ferris's voice. Turning to look at him, he saw that the boy was as red as he was white, and he was trying not to look at him.
"A matter of little importance to you," Jess said, backing into the bathroom. "And whatever are you doing in my bedroom?"
Ferris turned redder than before. "I... Your father..."
Jess didn't bother looking at his father, whom had done this on purpose. He merely closed the door of the bathroom and locked it securely.
**************************
The next day, Ferris was asked to take Jess to a movie. One look at the awful scowl on Jess's face, and it was apparent he wasn't going by choice.
They walked down the main street in silence, and finally Ferris felt the need to apologize.
"I'm sorry. Your father can be pretty persuasive."
"I'm quite aware of that. However, I am not a simpleton. You would have asked eventually even had my father said nothing."
"You talk really weird. Do you know that?" Ferris asked.
"It isn't so much weird as it is outdated."
Ferris thought about that. "True," he admitted.
"Would I tell a lie?"
"I don't know. I don't know you well enough."
"Of course, and as such, it will remain so."
Ferris felt a smile tug at his lips. "Really, you have the weirdest little language."
"Why, should I take that as a compliment, or a ghastly bit of insult? Whatever shall I do if you were to dislike me, I wonder?"
Ferris couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Actually, your father talks that way sometimes. Not as much as you do, but he does slip sometimes."
"He has spent entirely too much time in my company," Jess said dryly.
Ferris smiled. He was so cute! This thought caused Ferris to frown. He couldn't be, though. After all, he was a boy.
Ferris threw a glance Jess's way, to see if he'd picked up on his uncertainty. He didn't seem to have. He was looking at the streets with that appraising look of his, and Ferris had no doubt that every thought that went through his mind was negative.
"Jess, don't you ever get tired of seeing the world so badly?"
Jess turned his head slowly to look at Ferris.
"Why, whatever do you mean?"
"I mean, I can tell just by watching you that you're berating everything you look at."
"Do you read minds now?" Jess asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Ferris went silent, feeling defeated.
Finally, Jess broke the silence.
"I see the world as I was raised to see it."
"What does THAT mean?"
Jess turned away, letting the wind ripple through his dark hair.
"Exactly as it was meant."
Ferris frowned. "To confuse me?"
Jess turned to him again.
"And you fancy you're fit enough to become a teacher?"
Ferris scowled. "See? You're always so rude! Why do you have that need to lash out, Jess?"
"Because, I positively loathe you and everyone else that I have come in contact with. Please don't flatter yourself by attempting to be my friend. I am far too wise to not see through your adoration of my gutless father and it is only obvious that what you wish to gain by befriending me is merely the return of your adoration for my father and his influence in the community, therefore establishing a place for YOU in it as a prestigious member of society as well."
Ferris stopped walking and stared at Jess, stunned. That wasn't what he thought at all.
Jess stopped walking as well.
"Have I bored you with my slanderous speech? I do hope so. Maybe then I can go home and-"
"No, I'm not bored. I like you, Jess. I think you'd be a good friend if you'd only let yourself. And I am sad to hear what you think of me. I'm not like that at all."
"I'm sure," Jess replied dryly. /He LIKES me?/
"Yes, and that's what makes you hard to get to know. You're so sure of all your convoluted theories- yes, I know big words, too- and you are so damn stubborn. Doesn't anything fill you with passion, Jess? Isn't there anything you like to do? Don't you-"
"Is there nothing you won't accuse me of?"
"What do you like to do for fun, then?"
Jess had no answer to that.
"See? Your life is colourless."
"My life is positively filled with colour-"
"What colours? Grey? White? Black?" Ferris laughed humorlessly. "Don't you know those aren't colours? They're only SHADES? And do you know what another meaning for shades are, Jess?"
"Will you stop saying my name?" Jess said, clenching his fingers.
"What do you want me to call you? Mr. Lexington Jr.? Young master? Sir?"
Jess disliked all the suggested names.
"There's nothing left but Jess. Or do you prefer pet names, like Jessie?"
Jess grabbed Ferris by the collar and shoved him into a wall. "Don't EVER call me that again, do you hear me??"
Ferris stared into Jess's furious violet eyes. He was surprised to see pain there as well.
"Jess?"
Jess let go of Ferris and turned away.
"Let's just go." He suddenly sounded very tired. Ferris looked at him, but Jess's face was at an angle that he couldn't analyze.
"All right. Let's go..."
***************************
Hai yo! This is the end of Chapter One! I really hoped you were intrigued enough to want more! Because there is certainly more to this story than meets the eye! Bai yo!