Street Love: A contemporary standalone hurt/comfort romance

by Rhys Everly

  Damian rubbed Pierce’s hand. “Aw, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have been so forward if I’d known. You’re such a good kisser.” He pulled Pierce back down to the sofa and put a little distance between them without letting go of his hand.

  Pierce blushed. “Thanks. But it’s not that. I’ve done things with boys before. Just never anything below the waist. I’m not holier-than-thou, only willing to give it to the only one. It’s just, I’m… there’s… I… ” he began but didn’t know how to describe Rafe’s intrusion in their little session.

  “There’s another guy, and let me guess, he’s haunting your mind?” Damian concluded. Pierce nodded. “I know. I’ve been through that crap. I understand. I just hope he’s worth it. You’re a fine man,” he said.

  Pierce shook his head. “He’s better than I’ll ever be,” he said, even though he didn’t know where it’d come from and how he’d come to that conclusion. He barely knew Rafe. How could he say things like that?

  “That’s adorable. You’re in love,” Damian replied as if reading his mind. Pierce didn’t respond. “Good luck with him. I hope he doesn’t torture you.” Damian let go of Pierce’s hand and got up. “Well, I’m beat. You can crash here if you want to.”

  “Really? But we didn’t even—” Pierce started to say, but Damian interrupted him.

  “What do you think I am, mister? A slut? Just because we didn’t do anything, doesn’t mean I’ll throw you out in the middle of the night? Puh-lease,” he said and giggled, heading off into his bedroom.

  He brought a pillow and a blanket to Pierce, who embraced them both, and as soon as the lights went out, so was he.

  Thirteen

  Pierce

  Pierce might not have managed to get Rafe out of his mind over the next few days, but he had managed to make a new friend in Damian, who had dropped by Les Fourches on both Friday and Saturday to chat with Pierce and grab some food before heading off to dates.

  “I want to find a guy to torture my own thoughts and dreams,” Damian told him before heading out, leaving behind a ten dollar tip.

  Despite Pierce’s repeated insistence that nothing had happened between the two of them, almost the entire staff were in on the joke that Vance himself had started about Pierce having found a boyfriend.

  “He’s a really good guy, Vance, but I’m not ," Pierce told Vance for the millionth time. "Maybe you are. Word of caution, though. He’s a real geek.”

  “I love me a good geek,” was his reply as he set off to show a new arrival to their table.

  “I’ll set it up,” Pierce shouted his way, turning a few heads his way. “What?” he told the people looking at him.

  The next day, Sunday, he was off work until the next weekend, so after waking up and checking out of the hostel later than usual, he decided to take a walk to one of the restaurants around the accommodation. He had changed hostels since he’d got a job and had found something even cheaper now that he had access to the internet and set dates. He had kept true to his plan and only stayed in a hostel the day before his first shift until the day after his last. Usually a three-night stay cost him a hundred dollars. He was okay with the arrangement since he was slowly building up his funds to find his own place. The next hostel was only a street away from where he’d saved Rafe.

  Not that he had seen Rafe. He assumed he was staying away from a place he considered dangerous. Not only had he been attacked by a gang, but by a homeless dude who had played nice and then treated him like a dickhead in the end.

  Yeah, great job, Pierce. Real class act.

  He found his new favorite local restaurant and took a seat inside, ordering a soda and some bread for starters. He kept looking out the window, unwilling to lose hope of another chance meeting with Rafe. He ended up ordering mushroom and lentil soup and french fries. A cringe-worthy combo, perhaps, but one he’d been craving since the night before.

  When he was all paid up, he went out and the sky was dark. It was already seven p.m., and with clocks going backward a week ago, it looked much later than it felt. He didn’t know where he was going tonight. The weather was not as chilly as the other nights, but why would he ever sleep outside when he had the moderate warmth of the subway? He knew where the closest station was and made his way toward it, cutting through a street he hadn’t before.

  It was dark and quiet, a lot of cars driving by in slow motion. The further down he walked, the more people he saw standing on both sides of the street. They were all young men. He had, accidentally, found a cruising place. He tried not to stare, but the more gazes he felt on him, the more he felt inclined to look back. Some even howled at him, trying to get picked up. Even if he did want one, what would he possibly say? “I have this cozy train on the 3-Line we can use”?

  A car slowed down, and he heard a familiar voice. His eyes traced it, and his legs took him closer to it.

  “I’m very good with whips,” Rafe said to the driver of a crimson Volkswagen. “If that’s what you’re into,” he added.

  He didn’t sound normal. Not like the sweet Rafe he’d talked to. He sounded passionate and sexy. He sounded dirty.

  “Rafe?” he called him.

  Rafe turned his head and saw Pierce. His eyes grew wide. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you actually selling yourself to a stranger?” Pierce said before he could stop himself, realizing how accusatory he had sounded.

  “What it’s got to do with you if I do?” Rafe asked.

  Pierce got closer. He was only a few feet from Rafe, now. “Nothing, I know. But how can you trust that all these people don’t have AIDS or something? How can you trust they’re not ax murderers?” Pierce pleaded with Rafe.

  “Hey! I’m just a teacher, dude,” the guy from inside the car said.

  “Yeah, have you heard of Grindr, dude?” Pierce replied, turning his attention back to Rafe.

  Rafe had already opened the door to the car. “Let me get this straight, Pierce. You have no right to judge me. You have no right to control me. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. So do us both a favor and get the fuck out of here. You’re polluting everyone with your crappy energy,” he said and got in the car. “Drive,” he told the teacher, and the red Volkswagen veered off, leaving Pierce alone with a bunch of rentboys staring at him.

  He shook off the tears he wasn’t aware were threatening his eyes and resumed his journey to the subway station.

  Had he hurt Rafe so bad he found the need to sell his body to survive, or had that been something he was already doing when he met him? He couldn’t imagine the sweet boy sexing it up for money. Hell, he couldn’t imagine him finding pleasure in any sexual endeavor. And not because he wasn’t attractive but because he seemed so innocent—too innocent to be doing anything as dirty as sex with strangers for money.

  He really wanted to talk to Rafe and explain himself, but Rafe didn’t seem as eager to do the same. Had he been such a complete tool that it had cost him a good friend? What could he possibly do to make it up to him?

  What was he supposed to do until next Friday, when his next shift was? Thinking of the week ahead, he already felt lonely. Sure, he could swing by his work and have a drink, but why waste the money? And then, he thought, what was the point of saving to find a room to rent if he had no one to invite, no one to share its warmth with?

  How he missed home. He might not have been accepted for who he was there, but he had friends that visited him and did things together, or he always had his mother to cook with, which was a fun activity, even though she thought being vegan was Satan clawing his way to Pierce’s soul.

  He saw a phone booth, and the longing to call home scratched at his heart just like his veganism had supposedly, and he found himself dialing home in no time.

  “Hello!” came the answer from his mom.

  “Hi, Mom,” he told her.

  There was a deafening pause for a few seconds.

  “Why are you calling, Pierce? Did you d
ecide to atone for your sins and claim the Heavenly Father as your Lord and Savior?”

  Pierce rolled his eyes. “No,” he told her, “I called to tell you that I found a job last month and soon I’ll be able to afford a room to live in.”

  Another long pause. He was trying to determine whether the pause was a delay in the line, or his mother thinking what insult to throw next. “Pierce, you know you always have a home here, with your father and I. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness and stop… sinning,” she said with her shrill voice. A voice that actually had the ability to turn Pierce into the devil his mother was so afraid of.

  “I can’t believe your homeless son is calling you after six months and that’s all you have to tell him,” he asked maintaining his calm. For now.

  She exhaled with attitude. The attitude that said, Oh, Pierce, you’re so young and you know nothing.

  “I cannot give up my place in Heaven because my son has decided to,” she said with a calm voice. “I don’t know what kind of people you’ve met to have made you this way, but I can’t have you sinning under my roof.”

  He could picture her in his head. What she’d be like if she was in front of him. The way she’d smile gently. The way her eyes would squint and her cheeks would ball up, forming a fake tenderness that would send Pierce ballistic.

  “Go fuck yourself,” he said, and slammed the phone back on the receiver. There were a million things he wanted to tell her. But that seemed to sum everything up. She was not a mother. She was a puppet. And he didn’t know if puppets had the ability to learn or even listen.

  He paid the fare for the subway and sat down in an almost empty train. He took his book out of his suitcase and started reading, trying not to think of innocence lost and of devilish mothers finding salvation. It was going to be a long night. Thank goodness it was a long book.

  Fourteen

  Rafe

  The next day, Rafe couldn’t get Pierce out of his mind. Not that he had been able to while whipping and tying up the naughty teacher that had picked him up. He didn’t do kink, but for the extra cash he had charged him, he wouldn’t mind adding it to his services. One-twenty for a night was more than he’d made since he started this dangerous profession.

  He subconsciously went through all the places he’d met Pierce. He walked through Central Park and then the café he’d taken him after the attack. When he realized he was standing at the very alley the assholes had pulled him down, he accepted the fact that he wasn’t ready to let Pierce go so easily.

  He went to the hostel where he knew Pierce preferred to stay and asked if he had been around, but they told him he hadn’t turned up in weeks. If only he’d asked where Pierce’s job was, he could check there as well. If Pierce still worked there.

  At four, he met Marissa for their customary hot drink and pizza slice. He had only found the guts to go back to Mario’s and apologize to his friend a week after he had been kicked out of his family house. Marissa had taken him back in. He didn’t even need to explain. She did want to go and kick his father’s ass, however, when he told her what happened. They were back to besties in a matter of seconds.

  When it got to five o’clock, he headed off, wanting to get an early start. The last couple of weeks he’d managed to do two clients in a few nights. With the light going out so early in the day, men got horny much earlier, and he managed to fit in an evening client before a midnighter. There had been nights when he had had no one, but he was doing well, all in all.

  He got there a little before six and waited for the guys to start driving by. At half past six, an old man in a Porsche stopped in front of Rafe, and he was already calculating how much to raise his price for such a… prestigious man.

  “Hello, sexy. What’s your name?” Rafe smiled as soon as the window had rolled down.

  “Rafe, can we talk?” someone said behind him, and Rafe recognized the raspy voice. Pierce appeared from the shadows, his face pinker than he remembered it and looking at Rafe’s chest rather than his eyes.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” Rafe snapped, biting his lip. He’d missed Pierce and his company. But he’d be damned if he let such a venomous man back in his life.

  “Why are you doing this?” Pierce asked. He was now standing at the end of the sidewalk, a car away from Rafe.

  Rafe shrugged. “Got to make a living somehow, don’t I? Not everyone can walk into a bar and get a job.” He turned to the old man again.

  “Have you even tried it?” Pierce insisted. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

  Rafe took some steps closer to Pierce, forgetting the senior in the car. This man had the ability to infuriate him and weaken his knees at the same time. Right now, the former was winning. “What do you mean, Pierce?”

  He took a moment before he answered. “I-I care about you,” he mumbled.

  Knees were about to give up on him, but he let the infuriated part take over before he showed how easy he was. “A man who cares about someone else lets them explain why they thought leaving home was the best option for them, not judge them before they can explain why they felt that way,” he hissed, not wanting to turn heads in the darkness.

  “Tell me,” Pierce begged. It was a little louder than a whisper. It was a plea. It was desperate.

  “It’s too late now.” Rafe pushed the warmth in his heart deeper inside and stood strong.

  That man was poison for him. He couldn’t let himself be sucked back in.

  He turned and opened the door to the old man’s car. They could discuss details on the ride back to his place. Before he managed to take the seat, a hand pulled him back gently, and Pierce closed the door.

  “I’m sorry, old man, he’s taken for the night,” he told the driver.

  “Whatever,” he said and drove to the next rentboy.

  Rafe protested. He was losing money. Losing his reputation. He wanted to punch Pierce. And he made sure to tell him all these things.

  “Rafe, I’m sorry I was such a dick. It’s what happens when I open my mouth. So I’m gonna shut it and let you tell me about you, hoping you can forgive me, because frankly? I can’t imagine not talking to you ever again,” Pierce said and waited for Rafe’s response.

  Rafe couldn’t believe that a guy like Pierce wanted his friendship. Pierce was poison, but if poison tasted so sweet, to hell with antidotes.

  They walked down the road, taking a left and finding a Chinese restaurant to sit in. Rafe only ordered a side of spring rolls and a glass of water. Pierce ordered juice for both of them and a main course of rice noodles to share.

  And finally Rafe let go of all the resentment about Pierce that had crept up in him and let the charming, toxic guy win him over with a nice dinner night. Which he’d be damned if he paid for.

  Pierce told him about his job and his colleagues and how excited he was but how empty his routine was without a Rafe to save from gangs. Rafe chuckled even though it was hardly a joke and hardly funny. When he finished his brief update he gave the mic over to Rafe.

  “So can you tell this idiot why you left home?”

  The noodles came that very moment, giving Rafe time to think how and where to start the story. When the waitress left, he was ready. He just didn’t know how ready Pierce was for it.

  “My dad was always abusive. He always bullied me. Called me names. Nothing I ever did ever pleased him. I was always bullied at school, too. I only had a couple of friends, but mainly I kept to myself, which only gave fuel to the fire. I was the school faggot, the sissy, the cocksucker. That’s what they called me,” he said. Pierce’s eyes were glued on Rafe’s, his hands crossed in front of his mouth.

  “The only nice person in my life was my mamacita. But my dad beat her, and she couldn’t do a lot for me. She tried, though. God, she tried. And then, I found someone else who liked me. Some boy in my neighborhood, who at first I thought was another, more dangerous, bully. But he turned out to be hopelessly in love with me, and you know… what else does a gay teenage
r with no friends and no support want? So I let him love me. He was only a year older than me and he seemed experienced, but I didn’t care about these things. I cared for his kisses and his hugs. And then I let him in. I lost my virginity to him and didn’t even bat an eye about it. I wanted to do it and I did it.

  “But after the night we spent together at his place when his parents were out, he disappeared. I started worrying. I thought that’s all he ever wanted from me. I even thought he slept with me to win a bet. Then, two weeks later, he turned up, texted me, and asked to meet up. I wasn’t sure about meeting him. I thought he’d betrayed me. But I wanted to find out why he’d disappeared. So I met him at his house. And he told me why. He found out he was HIV positive. And he was afraid he had passed it on to me.”

  Rafe paused to take a bite and inspect Pierce. He was waiting for the story to go on. He hadn’t taken a single bite of the noodles or a sip of his juice.

  “I went through all the exams and the crap and waited for the results. I was certain I didn’t have anything. I didn’t feel different. I didn’t think my first time would actually screw me up so badly. But I had the fear. What if? And two weeks later the results were in, and I was positive.”

  Rafe, again, examined Pierce’s face, who tried to show his compassion by pursing his lips and wrinkling his forehead.

  “I told my parents. I didn’t know how else I could afford the medication. So I had to tell them two things. That I was gay, and that I had HIV. How cliché was I?

  “Turns out, a lot. My dad started beating me up. When my mom tried to stop him, he beat her up. He didn’t want anything to do with my sicknesses. Both of them. He blanked me out. Didn’t talk to me anymore. Just beat me up if I tried to go out. Until I got a very bad cough and I was homebound. My mother stayed home to look after me. When my dad came back she asked him for money for a cough syrup. My dad went ballistic, beating my mom, me, throwing stuff across the room. He said he’d go to hell before paying for my fix. He was crazy. He didn’t know what he was talking about. And the more we tried to reason with him, the more violent he became. He broke my mom’s nose. He punched me in the eye. I just knew I couldn’t be in there with him anymore. I was only making things worse for my mom. So I ran. To keep my mom and myself safe,” Rafe finished and took a gulp of his juice.