by Fel Fern
Seth wasn’t much of a fighter but he still stuck around because he had nothing to do. Seth could rely on his trust fund for survival but ordinary folks like Kurt had a gym to run. He was done fooling around with a guy who didn’t take anything seriously.
“What do you say we head back to my place?” Seth said, running his finger up Kurt’s chest. Kurt grabbed Seth’s hand and set it down gently.
Kurt shook his head.
“Seth, how many times have I told you? It’s over between us. What are you even still doing here? Hard Iron is a place for serious fighters who have promising futures.”
Kurt couldn’t even remember why he hooked up with Seth in the first place. Certainly not for Seth’s charm. He’d fallen for a handsome face, that was all. Plus, Seth pretended to be really into him.
It had been ages since Kurt had been with anyone. He knew it was all pretend, because some of his guys warned him about Seth. Seth slept with two other boxers before, then dumped then after a week.
Why couldn’t Seth leave him the hell alone? Kurt wanted to avoid using violence, but he needed to bring his point across.
“I’m not warning you again, Seth,” he said. “Back off.”
“You’re being cold,” Seth said. “I’m hurt.”
Seth didn’t look insulted at all. Seth tried to touch him again but Kurt gave him a little push.
“That’s it. I’m revoking your gym membership. Don’t show your face tomorrow. You’ll only be thrown out.” Kurt warned.
Seth looked like Kurt had punched him the face. “You’re serious.”
“I am. Seth, you’ve had your fun in my world but its time to go back to yours,” he said in a flat voice.
Seth came from a prominent family and he was a party boy. Kurt didn’t need to do a lot of digging. Seth was always featured in the gossip section of the local papers. He always got in trouble but Seth’s father was an influential businessman and was friends with the mayor.
Seth could get away with anything because he could rely on his dear old dad to get him out of trouble.
Thinking about Seth’s background only made him remember why they were so different. They should both move on with their lives. It was better that way. Kurt didn’t feel anything for Seth, just resentment.
“You ass,” Seth muttered angrily. Seth’s entire demeanor was changing. Seth’s face contorted with fury, reminding Kurt of a viper about to strike. “You’ll regret breaking up with me.”
Seth stomped out of the gym. Seth tried to kick at a bunch of barbells on the floor. Maybe Seth intended to mess up the arrangement but all he got for that was a hurt foot.
“Ow,” Seth muttered, before exiting.
Finally, Kurt had some peace and quiet. His chest felt lighter, like a huge load had been lifted off his shoulders. The loud crack of a gun going off outside the gym made Kurt jump.
Kurt hurried locking up, then he ran to the source of the noise. His younger brother Travis always said Kurt had a bad habit of running right into trouble. Still, if there was someone genuinely hurt, Kurt couldn’t just walk away.
Kurt heard thudding footsteps slapping on the pavement. Whoever it was, he or she was in a hurry and was heading right towards Kurt.
He tensed, mentally prepared himself for a confrontation. Kurt didn’t know what to expect. The runner entered his line of sight. It was a tall and lean guy in his mid-twenties.
He looked panicked. The man seemed familiar but for the life of Kurt, he couldn’t bring up a name. Under the harsh glow of the nearby street light, he glimpsed the huge bloodstain on the guy’s green jacket.
Blood?
Terrified light blue eyes met Kurt's and for a second, Kurt was transported back in time. Back to highschool. Kurt remembered pushing a freshman against the lockers and stealing a kiss from him.
“James?” He asked out loud.
James continued sprinting towards him. No, Kurt realized. James was running away from someone. Kurt stood right in front of James, blocking his path.
James didn’t seem to notice Kurt standing there, because James collapsed right into Kurt’s arms. James slumped against him. Blood soaked into Kurt’s shirt.
“Help me,” James uttered, before shutting his eyes.
He’d fallen unconscious.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Kurt looked past James’ face to see a pale-faced kid, no an adult staring at the two of them. The guy was holding a gun but he wasn’t pointing it at them.
He was acting all twitchy and Kurt didn’t miss his bloodshot eyes. Just great. A fucking addict. Young adults these days easily fell prey to asshole dealers who were selling some kind of new designer drug on the market.
Still holding James, Kurt pulled out his phone and held it out.
“I’ve called the cops, stay where you are, fucker,” Kurt yelled.
The guy dropped the gun and bolted like a hare caught in a hunter’s trap. Kurt dialed 911.
“911 emergency, how can I help you?” Asked a voice on the other end.
“My friend was just shot,” Kurt said quickly.
With James passed out on him, he couldn’t assess the extent of James’ injuries. He hoped the druggie only hit James’ shoulder. He told the responder what little he knew.
“An ambulance’s on the way, sir. Please stay on the line while I get your details.”
James kept his ear pressed to his cellphone. He studied James closer. James had filled out, height-wise but that face looked the same as it did ten years ago.
Back then, Kurt was a senior and James a freshman. They barely crossed paths in high school. His old man soon passed away, leaving Kurt with a mountain of debts and Travis to take care of.
Travis was in the same year as James. He remembered Travis mentioning off-hand that James left town right after graduation. So James had returned to Black River Bend.
“What happened to you?” He asked the silent figure.
2
James dreamt a drug addict took a shot at him but it wasn’t so bad because Kurt was there.
Kurt. The same guy from high school who gave him his first kiss. James didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to find out what would happen next but reality reared its ugly head.
James needed to get up. Get ready for a double shift because Diane had a doctor’s appointment.
He woke up, groaning at the bright sun on his face. James felt a slight ache from his left shoulder, right where the druggie in his dream shot him. He opened his eyes, rubbed at them with his right hand. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t in his bed. He was in a hospital room.
Someone snored right of him. An old woman. Another patient.
James looked down, and saw his arm was in a cast. His heart sank. It wasn’t a dream after all. That also meant he didn’t imagine running into Kurt. He looked to the chair next to the bed, then let out a sigh.
Empty. He should have known.
Hope deflated in his chest. James still wasn’t sure if he conjured up Kurt in his head. Maybe he just collapsed against a stranger, some good-hearted guy who called 911 and refused to let him bleed out on the road. That stranger must be long gone by now, probably had other better things to do.
He didn’t expect his parents to visit him or anyone else. James’ parents were absent most of his life and he didn’t have that many friends. More like zero. His co-workers at Happy Mart didn’t count.
“Hey, you awake?” Said a deep and familiar voice.
Kurt appeared in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. For a few seconds, James was stunned into silence. Man, but Kurt looked good. He heard Kurt took over his dad’s old gym. After retiring from the sport, Kurt became a coach and trainer for other fighters.
Kurt certainly looked the part. Kurt was cut. Was it possible that Kurt was even bigger? Kurt wore a plain black tee that did nothing to hide his muscular chest and arms. Kurt also had on a pair of worn-in blue jeans and work boots. Kurt’s gold hair was cut short, which only highlighted his for
est green eyes.
Now, James thought, this was the very definition of a real man.
What must James look like in bed? A scrawny and pathetic nobody?
Back then and now, Kurt was still way out of his league. Worse, Kurt had to come to his rescue. Again.
He couldn’t believe Kurt was here. Kurt walked up to him, handing him one cup. Their fingers brushed for a second and he made a strange, squawking sound in his throat. He blushed. Kurt might think he was some kind of idiot.
“Shit. You must be thirsty. You need water, not coffee. Wait right here,” Kurt said.
As if James was going anywhere.
“Who’s the hot rod?” Asked the woman next to him. She wasn’t sleeping after all. “Family? Friend? Special friend?”
“I wish,” he muttered.
Kurt returned with bottled water. He opened it and handed it to James, who took a big gulp. Cold liquid washed down his dry throat. He coughed and hacked.
“Slow down,” Kurt chided.
“I’ll have that coffee now,” he said.
Kurt handed the cup to him and sat on the plastic chair, sipping his coffee. It was only then he noticed the dark stains on Kurt’s shirt and the shadows under his eyes.
“Did you spend the night here?” James asked.
Kurt shrugged like it was no small matter but it sure meant plenty to James. James felt like he’d been slugging at it alone his entire life. He was a loner by nature simply because making friends and connections were hard for him. He had a boyfriend once. James met Ralph in college but that felt like a million years ago.
“I feel partly responsible,” Kurt said.
“For what?” He asked, uncomprehending. “You didn’t shoot me.”
“Yeah, but you got shot near my gym.”
James shook his head. “You’re not making any sense at all. The streets, the area around your gym isn’t your responsibility. It’s the police’s.”
“Which reminds me, the police want to take your statement,” Kurt said. “A few folks in the neighbourhood heard a gun going off last night. The called the cops right after I called 911.”
His face fell. “I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet.”
“I’m friends with Sheriff Starr. He’s a decent guy. He’ll talk to you and you alone.”
James fingered his blanket for a few moments. “Okay. I trust you.”
Kurt nodded and took out his phone, presumably to send the Sheriff a message.
“Kurt,” he began, then hesitated. “I’m not sure if you remember but ten years ago—”
“I do,” Kurt interrupted.
“You were my first kiss. Not sure if you knew that.”
Kurt blinked at him, then cursed. “Sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for? I’m glad it was you,” he said. “You had to save me again last night.”
“Seems I’m good at that,” Kurt said with a smile.
James didn’t feel like smiling back. He knew Kurt was only trying to cheer him up.
“Mrs. Fritz, it’s time for your physical therapy,” a nurse said, entering the room with a wheelchair.
“Aw, but I still want to eavesdrop on these two handsome young men,” grumbled Mrs. Fritz.
Once the nursed wheeled her away, it was just the two of them in the ward.
“Are you up for telling me what happened, James?” Kurt finally asked him.
James wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t know how to start conversations with people. Working at a convenience store was okay because people usually just asked him where stuff was. With Kurt, he found it easy. He told Kurt everything, beginning with him locking up the store at night.
“I’m pathetic,” James finally said. “I couldn’t even defend myself. I’m pissed at the guy who shot me but mostly at myself.”
“Don’t say that. You couldn’t have predicted that guy having a gun. Shitty things happen to nice people.”
“Nice?” He echoed. “You can’t call me nice. You don’t know a single damn thing about me.”
“No,” Kurt agreed. “But I want to.”
He shivered at Kurt's intense gaze. Ten years ago, he thought he imagined it all—Kurt kissing him like he wanted James. He passed it off as an accident but maybe he’d been wrong all this time. He knew Kurt had some family problems to take care of back in highschool but they were no longer in the past. They were in the present.
All James wanted to do was leave this shit town right after he graduated. He told himself he was better than anyone else for leaving. James thought he’d be able to make something out of himself, to leave his past behind but he only ended up back here. A loser.
“Teach me to fight,” he blurted.
Kurt frowned as if he wasn’t expecting James to say those words. “What?”
“I need to learn to defend myself so something like that would never happen again,” James said quickly.
Was he making up an excuse to spend more time with Kurt? No, James decided. Deep down, he also wanted revenge on the asshole who shot him. James felt like a weakling his entire life, someone who needed protection, who couldn’t stand up for himself.
He wanted, no needed a change.
“Okay, we have classes for beginners every Thursday night but you should let your shoulder heal first,” Kurt said. “Tom, he’s the guy who teaches those classes, is a retired boxer. Awesome guy. He has plenty of experience.”
“No. I want to be taught by you,” he said, trying to figure out the best way he could phrase his next words. He added, “I don’t do well with other people watching. I get nervous too easily. I tried taking a Taekwondo class once but I didn’t make it past the first lesson because the instructor kept signaling me out. Just you and me. Please.”
Crap. James didn’t even know what he was asking for.
Did James even make any sense at all?
“I don’t do one-on-one lessons,” Kurt finally said. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t come cheap. No offense.”
“None taken,” he paused. “Kurt, I felt beat down my entire life. I always needed someone else’s help. I need to learn to stand up for myself. I want to get back at that guy who shot me, just because he could.”
“He shot you because he was an addict,” Kurt said. “And revenge is never a good motivation.”
Kurt was about to rise from his chair. Worried his words would drive Kurt away, James grasped Kurt’s arm with his left hand. He grimaced as pain shot from his injured shoulder. Kurt touched his hand with his big and callused one and gently set it back down on the bed.
“Then teach me so I could simply fight for myself,” he whispered. “And you’re right. I don’t have much money. Hell, I don’t even have a hundred dollars in my savings account but maybe I can repay you in other ways.”
That certainly got Kurt’s attention.
Kurt sat back down, eyebrows raised. “Keep talking.”
“You know what I mean,” James blurted.
He could feel his entire face heating up. His cheeks and neck must be red by now.
“I just want to hear you say it.”
“If you agree to this arrangement, then I’m yours to do as you please.”
James must be running some kind of high fever because the old James wouldn’t offer himself up like a platter to a stranger. Except Kurt felt like a stranger he’d known his entire life. James felt safe around Kurt, like nothing and no one else in the world could touch him.
Kurt was his guardian angel. Kurt protected him back in high school and he was still doing it today.
“You better remember that promise,” Kurt said, moving from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. “Because I have every intention of claiming my reward.”
Reward.
In the past, Kurt took a kiss from him but they were both adults now.
He shivered when Kurt ran the pads of his fingers up his arm, his touch, feather-light. James could feel his dick getting hard under the sheets. Good thing Kurt couldn’t see his erecti
on under the thick blanket, because James couldn’t be more embarrassed.
He made that offer, never imagining Kurt would even consider it. James had even mentally prepared himself for rejection. If Kurt laughed right at his face, James would tell Kurt it was all a joke.
“So you’ll help me?” He asked.
“I will,” Kurt said. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re not doing this for vengeance.”
Too late for that. James started to picture the guy who shot him in his head. When he thought of the druggie, intense hatred burned inside him. He thought of all those times he’d been beaten down by bullies who had nothing else better to do.
Even after high school, the bullying never stopped. James was a pushover who let people walk over him. He couldn’t even say no to Lou when his manager asked him to take over Diane’s shift, despite taking a double shift the day before.
“Oh shit, I forgot to call my manager,” he said.
“No problem. I answered your phone while it was ringing earlier this morning and spoke to your boss.”
“Yeah? What did you tell him?” He asked warily.
“That he should’ve had better security,” Kurt said. “I also told him you needed time to recover in the hospital and can’t work any time soon.”
“We’re talking about Lou, right? He’s kind of pushy,” he said.
“Lesson number one,” Kurt said, holding out one finger. “You gotta learn to push back.”
3
Kurt couldn’t focus on work that entire week. He sat in front of his computer and stared at the black screen for a few moments. Kurt wondered what James was up to.
In the end, the hospital sent James home to rest because they needed the bed space. Kurt managed to speak to the doctor.
James was lucky. No broken bones or serious tissue damage. Still, it would take weeks, even a month for James to have full use of his shoulder again.
Kurt couldn’t forget the fire blazing in James’ eyes when he begged Kurt to teach him how to fight. He got hard just thinking about James. Kurt wanted to touch James again, steal more kisses from him. It was crazy how quickly he’d become obsessed with James.
