Detention Chapter Fifteen: Conclusion Part Two
By: Robert Jimenez
Eve dropped me back off at school after the last class of the day had ended. The parking lot was filled with students heading to their cars and out of the gates. "I don't know why the hell you're comin' back here," Eve said. "School is over."
"I still gotta go to detention," I told her.
Eve rolled her eyes. "You're only in detention cause you wanna be. If I were you, which I'm thankfully not, I wouldn't listen to a fuckin' thing that closet-case asshole said."
"I can't afford to get suspended from school again," I said.
"Bein' suspended has nothin' to do with you goin' to detention. You go to detention cause you think that's where you need to be, not cause you gotta be there."
I didn't really know what she meant by that, so I didn't say anything.
"You better hurry up. You don't wanna be late." As I opened the door, Eve told me, "Don't worry. Things are gonna work out just the way they're supposed to. He'll come back. Wherever he is."
"What if he doesn't?" I asked.
"Then that's his loss. You can only do your part. The rest is up to him."
"Maybe..." I opened the door and climbed out. "Thanks," I said. As soon as I closed the door, Eve cranked the volume of the radio up to the highest it would go and peeled out, almost hitting several people on the way out. I smiled and made my way to the boy's locker room.
"Up!" Wilson yelled.
He stood over me, his dirty sneakers inches away from my sweaty face. I lifted myself up, trying to keep my arms as straight as possible. We had already done a hundred and thirty five pushups and had about seventy more to go. My whole body was numb and I felt like I was going to fall apart at any second. I looked at the others: Billy, Jason, Luke, and Scott Howard. Billy was the only one of us who seemed like he had enough energy to do two hundred, but the rest of us were barely making it.
If Chris were here, maybe I would've been able to do it a bit easier. Chris could probably do two hundred pushups without breaking a sweat. If he had been here, like he should've been, maybe it would've been easier. Wherever he was, he was supposed to be here with me. The reason I had gotten detention to begin with was because of Chris. If he wasn't here to do this with me, why was I here? I thought about what Eve had told me. I don't go to detention because I have to, but because I feel like I have to.
"Down!" Wilson called out.
I dropped to the ground. Pain vibrated throughout my body. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I didn't want to do this anymore. I had endured torture from this man for over three weeks now, and it was time for it all to stop. I didn't want to do detention anymore. I didn't have to do detention anymore. I had already paid the price for my actions with Chris.
I never realized it until Eve told me, but the only reason why I showed up to detention day after day, wasn't because I was afraid of the consequences that would occur if I didn't show up - because obviously Chris didn't care about the consequences - but because deep down I felt like I deserved to be punished: I felt like I deserved to be punished for my attraction to Chris, for our relationship - or however it could be defined - and I felt like I was being punished for just being me. And I didn't want to do it anymore. There was no reason for me to be here. There was no reason for any of us to be here. I was tired of being victim to Mr.Wilson. I was tired of being victim to Chris and everybody else at this school, but most important, I was tired of being victim to myself.
I stood up. My legs were shaking, and I was drenched in my own sweat, but I was still standing.
Wilson, with his muscular arms crossed over his chest, stared at me, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Did I tell you to get up, Newman? You still have twenty five more to go. Get down."
"No," I said defiantly. Everyone else stopped when they heard me say that. They looked at me and then they looked at Wilson, fearful of what he was going to do next. I wasn't afraid, surprisingly, I was waiting to see what he was going to do next.
"I'm gonna tell you this one more time, Newman," Wilson told me. "Get down, or I'll put you down myself."
"You won't do a fuckin' thing," I said. "You can't make me do shit." I was surprised how confident and resolute I sounded when I said that. It felt good to say that to Wilson. I've always wanted to say that to him.
"Who the fuck do you're think you're talkin' to little boy?" Wilson asked stepping up into his face. His cold blue eyes stared down at me menacingly. His face was stone hard and I almost expecting him to hit me or something. I was ready if it came down to it. I wasn't gonna back down from him, not today or any other day. "When I tell you to fuckin' do somethin', you better fuckin' do it." Wilson didn't yell, he spoke very quietly and calmly, making sure I heard every word he said. He was so close to me that I expected him to kiss me. His breath was colder than his eyes and chilled my nose.
"This is my last day of detention," I told him. "I'm through." I turned to walk away, but Wilson grabbed my wrist and squeezed tight. He yanked me back around.
"Don't you ever walk away from me like that!" Wilson screamed. "You don't get to fuckin' leave until I fuckin' tell you -"
I spat in his face. I did it without even thinking about doing it. Neither one us expected it to happen. I watched the spit roll down the side of his face. Wilson just stared at me, unable to move or think. He had been crushed. I had just destroyed him. I broke free from his firm grasp, turned and walked away. I was aware of the other boys' eyes on me as I walked away, but I paid no attention to them.
I walked faster, energy building up inside of me rapidly. I felt so many things: excited, vindicated, nervous, happy - I yanked off my sweat-drenched shirt and started running down the street. I'd never felt so full of energy in my life. I ran and ran, without stopping, without needing to stop. I had never ran so long and fast in my life, it was unbelievable. Somehow, I don't know how really, I was able to run all the way home in less than a hour, when it took more than a hour for me to get home by bus.
By the time I reached my neighborhood, it was very close to being sunset. I stopped running and started walking. It took a few minutes for my heartbeat to slow down - but as I rounded the corner to my house, my heart started beating wildly again. I didn't understand why, but it was really strange. The closer I got to my house, the more I knew that something was up. My stomach bubbled and I felt this tingling sensation in all over my skin. Something important was about -
I saw it, but it took a few moments for it to register in my head. I saw it, but I didn't understand the importance of it right away, but when I did understand, my heart nearly stopped beating. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A part of me thought it was a dream, that somehow I had imagined the whole scenario with Wilson and the run home, that this would be the last thing I saw before I woke up. But I realized it was real, and that I was actually seeing it...Chris' truck was parked in my driveway.
I saw Chris, after I saw the truck, sitting on my porch, his head hung down in contemplation. He must've felt something too, because he looked up just as I began to make my way up toward him. It was weird to see him again. Even though it had only been three days since I'd last seen him, those three days felt like three years. We just stared at each for a while, neither one of us not knowing what to say to each other. I couldn't believe he was there and from the look on Chris' face, it looked as though he were surprised to see me too.
"Hey," he said finally, breaking the silence between us which seemed to have no end. I was afraid to take a step toward him, even though it was my house and it was my porch he was sitting on. I wanted to do so many things, I wanted to say so many things: I wanted to scream at him for putting me through so much shit, I wanted to kiss him because I was so happy to see him, and I wanted to hold him, to let him know that I understood the pain that he was going through.
"Hey." I said.
Once again, we returned to silence. It was too difficult for me to come up with words that effectively expressed what I wanted to say to him. I could tell that he had the same problem. It was weird that I could have so much confidence in front of Wilson, but when it came to Chris, I was timid again. Finally, I decided if Chris wasn't going to make a move, I was going to. I walked up toward him, right past him as if he wasn't there, and unlocked the door, pushing it open. "Come in," I said.
I could tell that Chris was reluctant to come into my house - and I was a bit reluctant to invite him inside. But like Eve said, at some point we were going to have to face each other. We needed some kind of resolution. Chris stood and walked toward me. My heart fluttered in my chest as he moved toward me. The excitement and anger I felt when he came toward me was equally matched. I turned on the lights in the living room. Chris closed the door behind him, locking it.
"How have you been?" I asked. My back was facing him so that I couldn't see his face.
It took Chris a long time to answer the question. "Fine. I guess..." It was so weird to hear his voice again. I wanted to hear it for so long, but I wasn't expecting for it to be tonight. "Shit's been fucked up lately," he finished.
I sat on the couch. Chris sat in the chair on the opposite side of me. He looked the same, still beautiful, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made him look different than he used to. I probably looked the same way. "What about you?" he asked.
"Pretty shitty," I said. "Things haven't been goin' to well for me lately either." We were talking to each other like we didn't know who each was anymore. "Where did you go?" I asked suddenly.
Chris looked away from me. "I had to go..." he said.
"I just got in my truck that night after I came over here and just drove to wherever I could go to," Chris said. "I had to get away from here for a while."
"Away from me," I said bitterly.
"Not just you, B. A lot of shit. Sides, I didn't really think you would care. That night when I came over here to talk to you, you didn't even wanna say shit to me. You fuckin' shut me out."
"I was mad at you. I felt like I had a right to shut you out, because you did the same to me."
"You don't know the shit I was goin' through at home, with my dad."
"Chris, you never gave me a chance to know what was going on with you. The more I tried to really know you, the more you pushed me away. It's not really fair for you to blame me for not being there for you. Because when I was there for you, you pissed right in my face."
"What could you've done to fix shit, B?" Chris asked. "You can't fix my problems."
"I never said I could fix all your problems, Chris. That's not my responsibility. But I made it clear to you that I was always there for you to try and find solutions to your problems."
Chris looked at me; his eyes were glazed. "I didn't have anywhere to go. Nobody wanted me. Not my dad, not Billy - that was my supposed to be my best friend and he closed the door in my face. And then you - there was nobody who could help me. I couldn't stay here anymore."
"Running away doesn't fix anything, Chris. Just makes things harder. And not just for you, but for the people who care about you."
"Nobody gives a fuck about me," Chris said sullenly.
"If you really believed that, you wouldn't be here," I told him. "You know how I feel about you, Chris. I've told you and I've shown you. And I know that you care about me too, even if you don't want to. You do. That's why you're here. And I'm glad you're here."
"I came here wantin' to make shit better between you and me, B. I wanted things to be different. I wanted..." Chris shook his head and looked away from me again. "I don't know why I thought I could just pop back here and hope everything was gonna go back to normal. No fuckin' such thing as normal in my life." He was doing his best not to cry. I was doing the same.
"I went to your house earlier today," I told him. That caught Chris' attention immediately.
"Why?" he asked, alarmed.
"To see if you were there. But you weren't. You were gone. And then your dad came to the door. He told me you wouldn't be back and I believed him for a while. I believed that you wasn't coming back, and that it was because of me. I looked at him, and he looks like you, but at the same time he looks so different: so angry, so hurt, so lifeless. I hoped that wherever you were, you didn't have that same look of hopelessness in your eyes, that look of failure and pain. I just wanted you to come back. And you did."
"I wouldn't have come back if it wasn't for this dude I met in this restaurant," Chris said. "His name was Aaron. Or that's what he said his name was. It was probably somethin' else. Anyway, that's not important. He brought me over to his apartment, cause I didn't have nowhere to sleep other than in my truck. He wanted me to spend the night with him. He was cute. And I knew he wanted to get down with me, but then we started talkin'. He started askin' me about you. And I couldn't answer none of his fuckin' questions about you, cause I didn't know that much about you. Not the important shit anyway. The reason why I came back here, B, was cause I wanted to know about you. I wanted to know what you liked and didn't like, I wanted to know what was special to you and what wasn't...I wanted to be special to you...so I left at three o'clock in the mornin' and drove all the way back here."
I was pretty much speechless after Chris told me that. All I could say was "Oh."
"Are you still hangin' around Luke Blockhead?" Chris asked.
Shaking my head, I said, "No. I never did anything with him. I thought I wanted to. But I didn't. You were the only one I could ever think about. You were the only one I wanted and couldn't have."
"Well, I'm here now," Chris said.
"So I see."
"Do you still think we could..." Chris stopped.
"I don't know."
Chris nodded his head. "Do you still love me?" he asked. I loved the way he asked me that question. It was the only time in the years that I had known him, from freshman year to now, that I had seen him appear so vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
"I never stopped," I said.
Chris squeezed his eyes tight and bit his bottom lip. I knew what he was going to say next and I knew how hard it was for him to say it. "I love you, B." I believed him and I felt happy that he had finally told me. He opened his eyes and said more clearly and confidently, "I love you."
"I know." We both start crying. I didn't want to and Chris didn't want to either. But it was beyond our control. The emotion between us was too thick for us to not acknowledge it. So we cried. Not for a long time, but long enough to reestablish the bond between us, one that I hoped would be much harder to break than the first time. I got up up from my seat and Chris got up from his seat.
We met each other halfway and he grabbed me like I was something he had been missing all of his life, and I held him as though he had always been an important part of my life. Our lips met, and we kissed. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss Chris, to feel the passion of his lips sliding against mine; to feel his wonderful tongue moving gracefully in my mouth; I missed wrapping my arms around his neck while he squeezed my ass. I missed everything that was him. As we kissed, oblivious of everything around us, I made a promise to myself that I would never lose this feeling again, and I hoped that we would never have to feel this separation again.
"What are you thinkin' about?" Chris asked. His slid his fingers in between mine and our hands interlocked. His touch felt so warm and comfortable.
"Detention," I said.
Chris kissed the back of my neck. He licked the back of my ear. "Why?"
"If it wasn't for detention, we wouldn't be here in this bed."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"I'm glad we went through it," I said. "And I'm glad it's over."
"I still can't believe you spit in Wilson's face," Chris said.
"Me either. But he deserved it. I just hope I don't get expelled for it."
"Don't worry about him," Chris said. "Knowin' his ass, he probably liked it."
We both laughed. I felt Chris sniffing my skin. "I know I smell bad," I told him, "I haven't taken a shower yet."
"No," Chris said. "I love the way you smell." He pressed his hard stomach against the small of my back. I could feel his dick get hard again. "When's your birthday?" he asked.
"October 8. Why?"
"I just wanted to know...what's your favorite ice cream flavor?"
laughed and rolled over to look at Chris' face. "What's with
the twenty questions?"
"I just wanna know," Chris said, kissing me softly.
"How can your favorite be vanilla? That's so fuckin' plain."
"What's yours?" I asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Big difference. You're stupid as hell, Chris."
"You're a fuckin' idiot."
"You're an asshole,"
"Fuck you," Chris said.
"Fuck you, too. I hate you."
"I hate you too."
I laughed. Whispering, I said, "I love you."
Chris kissed my forehead. "I love you too, B." He kissed me for real the second time. It felt like an electric current was spreading between us. We both got hard and started to lose ourselves in each others touches. It was one of the most perfect and simple moments I'd ever had in my life. I rolled over again, so that I was looking out of my bedroom window, and so that Chris could have access to my ass.
It had hurt a little the first time he put in earlier, but when he put it again, it felt much better. He pushed himself all the way into my ass very slowly. Chris wrapped his arm around my chest squeezing me tightly against his sweaty, muscular chest. I moaned louder and louder as Chris started to pick up his speed, shoving his big dick harder and faster in and out of my ass.
As he fucked me, I remembered all the different times and places we had fucked: in Ms. Navarro's classroom on the hard floor; the first time Chris had come to my house after driving me home from school for the first time; in the gym with Billy Anderson; on the football field in the early morning, in my bedroom as it rained outside, in the school library when nobody was paying attention...I squeezed my eyes shut as Chris continued to ram me. It felt good to be with him again, making new memories. Right before Chris shot his load in my ass, he squeezed me tight and released a final cry. He continued to squeeze me tight, minutes after he came inside of me.
I looked out my bedroom window, into the darkness and thought about a lot of things. I thought about Mr. Wilson and what would happen when I went to school the next day; I thought about how Chris would treat me the next day at school. Would we be like Billy and Jason and be openly affectionate, or share private passion? I thought about what kind of person I was going to be when I went to school tomorow, if I was going to be confident and strong or self-conscious and weak.
I thought about Chris' dad and if Chris would ever forgive his father, and if Chris' father would ever accept Chris for who he was; I wondered if me and Chris would make it to the end of the school year - or at least until New Years Eve. I thought about Senior Prom and if I would go with Chris or stay at home with him and watch old stupid movies on tv.
I thought about graduation, and whether we would still be together afterwards or not. While I was in college in New York and Chris was still in California, would things work? Everything hadn't been fully resolved yet as I wished it had been. And then I realized that none of those things mattered. I needed to stop worrying about the future and just focus on this moment. Because this moment was perfect.
Last night, when I looked out the window into the darkness, I only saw loneliness and grief. But right now, with Chris lying naked beside me, with everything I ever wanted happening just as I wished it would, happening, I didn't see darkness and despair, I saw possibility and new beginnings. I recalled the conversation Chris and I had in the park that night, when I asked him if he believed in 'forever'. He told me forever didn't exist. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn't. But this perfect moment existed. No matter what happened in the future, good or bad, I could look back at this moment and smile and be happy. Nothing else mattered.
SAD ENDING!!! I LOVE THIS STORY SOO MUCH!!! IM SATISFIED WITH IT!! HOPE U GUYS ALL LIKE THE WAY I ENDED IT. WELL, IF U GUYS EVER WANT TO TALK TO ME, IM seetherfreak16 at AIM. Talk to me. I love hearing new things about my stories. The Next Series is called the "Miami" series, its about two best friends of course boys…and … well … they go to Miami to find a job, and lets just say WHAT A JOB TO FIND!!!