by Lydia Thorn
“I am,” Ivan replies and passes Mr. Bowie a smile before he looks at me and the smile vanishes.
We sit quietly with our meal. Me watching Ivan, Ivan watching me, and on occasion both of us watching Mr. Bowie, who seems almost oblivious to the thick dark cloud between us. He smiles as he orders another round of beers and the more I drink, the fewer fucks I give. Actually, I’m struck by the urge to watch Ivan squirm.
“Are you a deep sleeper, Mr. Bowie?” I ask, popping a fry in my mouth. I glance at Ivan and if looks could kill…
“What a strange question.” Mr. Bowie chuckles, amused.
“Yes, that is a strange question.” Ivan agrees, his beautiful mouth tight and tense.
“I was just wondering about the effects of caffeine and if it ruins your sleep.”
“Just don’t drink it before bed.” Mr. Bowie replies, dumbfounded.
“What was Ivan like as a kid?” I ask changing the subject and it doesn’t seem as if Ivan likes this question any more than the last. Though I am genuinely interested.
“Boring,” Ivan replies and drinks more of his beer than before.
“He was a little wannabe gangster.” Mr. Bowie smiles, his voice flowing far away from this place. “But he was still a really good kid.” He sits back, and I wish I can crawl inside his mind and see what he’s seeing. “He used to come to me crying all the time about his brother.”
“Sibling rivalry.” Ivan finishes.
“Yeah…” Mr. Bowie replies hesitantly. He orders another round and now I’m starting to get worried, I don’t think I can take another round, hell I couldn’t even handle the first round.
When his head plops onto Ivan’s shoulder, Ivan smiles in a way I’ve never seen before. He strokes his face as Mr. Bowie sighs, his skin turning red. “I knew you would drink too much,” Ivan says to him as he gets out the booth and helps him up.
“I’m fine, just call a Lyft.” Mr. Bowie chuckles.
I attempt to stand before falling back down in the booth. The room is spinning like crazy. I want to go home; I don’t want to see this at all, and yet my damn body won’t cooperate with me. There’s no one to steady my balance, no one to lean on. I’ve never felt more alone. More of the third wheel.
“Hell no,” Ivan says to Mr. Bowie’s request. “I can drive, I haven’t had as much as the two of you.”
I look over at Ivan’s side of the table, I was so sure he was drinking more and more but I see two full untouched mugs and one that’s not even halfway finished. He was nursing just one mug this entire time, and I didn’t notice.
“Is he okay? You got him?” I say, trying one more time to get up. I just want to go home.
“Help me get him to the car,” Ivan says walking Mr. Bowie’s half limp body out the door. I open the car door and watch as he props him inside.
“My house is not far.” I stumble back, my brain wanting to lean back for some reason. “Drive safe.”
“Get in.” Ivan pulls the seat forward and I obey and slip in the back and lay down.
Why did I give in so easily? Is it really because I can’t make it home on my own or because I want him to take care of me the same way he’s doing to Mr. Bowie? I try to explain how to get to my apartment complex, but it doesn’t seem like Ivan is even listening to me. Instead, we take a long drive into Manhattan and stop off at a Brownstone in a much nicer area than where I’m living and I follow Ivan and Mr. Bowie inside and shut the door.
I’ve never been inside a brownstone before, the interior is just as beautiful as the exterior, we pass a light brown foyer with a large dark statue of a naked man holding an apple out, a playful smirk on his features as if enticing the visitor to partake.
The rest of the place is decorated in creamy white and light gray and there is no way in hell I believe a teacher is making enough money to live in a place like this. What is it? Gramercy Park? A place like this has to fetch millions, and yet he’s teaching school in the Bronx? Am I missing something here?
I watch Ivan carry him to the off-white sectional couch and lay him down. I pull one of those decorative throw blankets off of one side and drape it across his sleeping figure. I try to stand and steady myself, I don’t feel like I need to vomit so that’s good. I’ve never been drunk before, but in the movies, they always spew.
“If I had known he lives so out of the way I wouldn’t have gotten in, I have no idea how to get home from here.” I laugh nervously.
“It’s not going to work.” Ivan confronts me, his eyes narrow on me causing me to feel even more uncomfortable.
“What?” I reply, truly dumbfounded.
“What you’re trying to do.”
“I wasn’t aware I was trying to do anything.”
“Lots of young guys are attracted to Damien. They all try to get close to him and they all end up with a broken heart.”
Is that what this is about, some fucking ‘Don’t come near my man,’ bullshit? “Except for you, right?” I reply, feeling hurt and angry. “Because you have the honor of being his best friend’s little brother. Or because you keep it all bottled in, that is until you explode and start blowing him.”
“That was a onetime thing,” Ivan argues. “And even if you did tell him, why would he believe you over me?”
“Then you can leave me alone for good, delete those pictures so I can move on.”
“Delete yours first.”
I pull out my phone, no longer giving a damn if he got the upper hand and showed my dick pic for everyone to see, I just want to be away from him, away from them both. I hate how I feel, he’s not mine, he wants me to replace him for god’s sake so it’s not like I don’t know he has feelings for him. I toss him my unlocked phone and watch as he taps about before handing my phone back to me.
I check to see if the pictures are there, and they’re not. Good. Now I can go home. I check my pockets for train fare, nothing. Walking it is.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” Why the hell did I answer?
One tug and I’m in his arms, his strong hands lifting my chin and bring me into his world, his scent, his kiss, and I give in like a drunk fool.
“I love you.” He breathes on me. “I love you.” He says it again, his voice trembling, his silver eyes burning a hole in mine. The child from the classroom returns and I can’t read him or know what he wants.
“I love you too,” I whisper to him and feel deep in my heart those words could be true. “Kiss me again.” I sigh and feel his lips again, his tongue-twisting, he tastes like beer, I wonder if I taste the same to him. I press my body close, hands traveling to his ass when he stops me and pulls away.
“You’re really good at this. I almost believe you, Raven.” He wipes his mouth.
“What?” I say, still woozy. “I wasn’t…” Oh fuck. “I need to get home.”
“I’ll take you.” He heads to the door.
“We have no deal. I did it just now to try it out and I don’t like it at all.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, it isn’t bullshit. I mean I can get into it if I try but just thinking about you being some sicko mouth rapist is enough to turn me off. I mean, what kind of person would do something like that, anyway? Blowing some old guy in his sleep.” I laugh. Just let me die right here. “Just because you’re some kind of pervert doesn’t mean all gay men are. I got train fare. I really hope you get some therapy.”
He says nothing to me as I walk out the door. He doesn’t try to stop me without any of the confidence he had before. He lets me go.
Hopefully, some mugger will stab me to death on my way home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOUIS
We’re all stars now
In the Dope Show
We’re all stars now
In the Dope Show
Ugh, I wish she would turn that shit down, I’m not in the mood. Is this what being hungover feels like? Like I just finished banging my head against the wall? How the hell could anyone take
this? I can’t stop thinking of last night. Why the hell did I say all that? I wanted to hurt him, even though he didn’t do anything wrong. If I wasn’t such a child, I would have just told him I couldn’t do it and leave, no need to name call or act like he belonged to me. I feel empty and full at the same time. I want to explode and implode.
I’ve already made peace with never inspiring the same love in another person, or at least I thought I did. I believed his words last night and lost myself in that feeling and hated him for it not being true. I’m learning that I’m a possessive person, even of things that aren’t mine.
And I still can’t make heads or tails of the look on Ivan’s face during my rant. Maybe understanding him is not my business. I need to focus on myself and my possible immediate problem. I guess the worse that can happen now is everyone gossiping about my dick pics if he wishes to return my bullshit with his own.
The bass of the song thumps through my walls.
They love you when you're on all the covers
When you're not, then they love another
They love you when you're on all the covers
When you're not, then they love another
“Cut that shit down!” I hear my mother banging on the wall.
After my shower, I meet her in our compact kitchen and she places a kiss on my cheek. “God, what a dumb bitch out there.” My mother flips the pancake and presses down on it with the spatula. “Morning sweetheart.”
“Did I wake up in the Twilight zone? I can’t believe you made breakfast.”
“I know right?” She laughs and plop the last cake on the stack and sits it at the counter. We don’t have a table in the kitchen and neither of felt the need for one. We ate in the living room or our bedrooms, and for my mom, sometimes at her desk in front of the computer. “I’ve finished my manuscript and thought, I could use some breakfast.” She says, her tank top revealing the sleeve tats on her arm. My favorite one was the colorful Koi fish swimming in a tidal wave.
“Can I expect dinner too?” I tossed a few linked sausages on my plate along with the golden pancakes and fluffy eggs.
“Nope, gotta get started on the outline for book three of this series.”
“One can dream.” I sigh teasingly.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No…How can you…no!” What the hell. Her question takes me by surprise.
“Your mom was quite the party animal in her day, okay.” She tosses the serving spoon in the sink. “I know a hangover when I see one.” I freeze, not knowing what the hell to say when a smile appears on her face. “You must have met some cool friends if they got you out of the house, Rei and Toby have yet to take you anywhere.”
“What kind of mom is proud of her kid for having a hangover?” I laugh.
“A mother who knows her son needs to loosen up.” She washes the dishes. “Besides, your father and I partied a lot when we were your age and we were okay.”
“Dad crashed his bike,” I say and regret the heck out of it the moment the words fly from my lips. “I didn’t mean…”
“Hey, that was some other fucker’s fault.”
“Sorry.”
“He’s going to recover, your dad’s a fucking fighter.” She slams the plate in the rack sending shards to the floor.
“I’ll clean it up,” I say reaching for the pieces to pick up.
“Fuck me!”
“No, it’s me, I’m an idiot. I’m just taking things out on you.”
“If one of these new friends is hot, then maybe he can loosen you up, make you forget about your worries, then you won’t come home acting like a little shit head.”
“Mom! This conversation is over.”
Cooking really isn’t my mother’s forte, but you can’t go wrong with preseason sausages and boxed pancakes. When I reached the balcony after leaving the house, Kiki burst out her apartment door, the music blasting behind her. She holds a neon pink dildo in hand as her microphone as she takes her concert to an audience.
She's pilgrim and pagan
Soft worn and social
In all of her dreams
She's a saint like Jackie O
I toss my backpack and give in to the music. Why the hell not? I’m hungover and scared as shit to face Ivan again, I might have lost Toby’s friendship, and Rei doesn’t even want to confide in me. Might as well dance my way to my doom. Hell, I’ll dance until the end of the year if I have to.
This isn't God, this isn't God
This isn't God, this isn't God
God is just a statistic
God is just a statistic
“Seriously Kiki, you’re driving my mom and half the building insane.” I pick up my backpack once the music dies and replaced by another old tune.
“So, what? They know where I live.” Kiki shrugs and wiggles the bright pink cock in my face.
“Go to school.” My mother stands in the door frame, her demeanor less relaxed than mine. I know that look, it’s the same one she gave to Simon the bully’s mom right before she punched her in the mouth for claiming that it was my fault her son was bullying me back in elementary school. “The last thing you want to be is a twenty-year-old jobless loser who lives to piss everyone around her off to escape from the realization that she made a mess of her own life.” My mother stares daggers at Kiki.
“Eat shit, old broad.” Kiki sneers, her grip tightens on the shaft.
“Stop it, both of you.”
“Get to school.”
“Fine, but no fighting.”
Ivan and Mr. Bowie standing in the halls is not the sight I want to be greeted with. Something happened, the air about them is tense as hell as Ivan walks away and Ivan tries to stop him before giving up, leaving Xander and the others laughing.
“Talk about going down in the world,” Xander says loud enough for all to hear.
“He’s gotten so fucking weird lately.” Another commentates.
Toby comes in after me. “Hey.” I greet him when I notice he was going to walk past. And when he keeps on, I follow him to his locker. “That’s the game you’re gonna play now?”
“I tried to warn you.” He says casually. “Don’t you see the changing of the guard? Ivan is slowly losing his shine, and Xander is taking over. And you publicly talked shit to him.” He sighs. “I’m still open to helping out with Ivan but not if you’re going to keep quiet about what’s going on.”
“Fuck you.” I leave and head to the men’s room to get some air, I know it’s a crappy place to get some air but I’m not ready to go to class. I duck out of sight when I notice who’s in here. Ivan, and he’s here alone. What is he doing? I peek around the corner and see him at the mirror, a blade pressing against his wrist. “Stop!” I yell and run in and grab at the blade, we struggle and I slip on the blood and bang my head on the floor.
“You’re bleeding.” Ivan grips my hand and helps me up. “I’m sorry!”
“What were you doing?”
“Don’t worry about me!”
“What the hell happened?” Mr. Bowie met us in the hall. “Ivan, Louis, get to the nurse’s office now!”
They couldn’t do a damn thing about our wounds. I don’t know how bad Ivan cut himself, but the meat flayed open on the palm of my hand. I now sit on one of the many beds that line the ER ward with only a curtain for privacy.
“What the hell happened to you?!” My mother marches into the small space like a bat out of hell.
“Mom, I told you on the phone. I’m fine, really.”
“If I have to choose between some rebel of a son who gets into knife fights and my nerdy little pastry chef you know I choose the pastries, right?” She taps her feet, her hands tremble.
“I know mom.”
“I hope you cut the fucker worse.”
“It wasn’t really a fight.”
The doctor stitches my hand, over twenty is needed to close the wound. My mother makes me promise I’ll see my father before leaving. I hate seeing him laying there att
ached to all those machines. If I can compare my mother to a Komodo dragon, then my father was the dragon. When she told me he had gotten into an accident, my first reaction was denial. My father was like a God, completely untouchable. But not only had he been touched, but he’s been out since the start of my senior year with no sign he’s waking up any time soon. And even so, I don’t think he would regret getting on that bike again. He lived life to the fullest, he believed in living hearty and loving without shame. He was the first person I came out to because of it. And his advice was to live like a King. Does a King care what the peasants think of him? Hell no. Perhaps that’s why I admire Ivan so, to me he lives the life my father told me I should live, he’s not ashamed to tell someone what he wants, but I live in fear…
Or maybe this entire time I’ve had a false impression of the man, that I’ve placed my own vision of him in my head onto him, and not once did I try to know him as he is. I leave my mother to my father and go to Ivan’s room.
Inside are two handsome as hell men. One tall with blonde hair, who looks damn near like Ivan’s twin, though his hair is more neatly combed. And the other is a little shorter but jaw-dropping with his long face and soulful green eyes. He looks like a Rockstar with his silver strip of hair tucked behind his ear.
“Thank you, for helping my brother.” The blond says as he ushers the other and himself out the door and closes it to give us privacy.
I have no idea what Ivan told them, and I feel awkward as hell.
“I don’t need another lecture.” Ivan sits up, a tube attaches from his arm to a small clear bag and judging by the hospital gown he’s not leaving anytime soon.
“If I had known how bad things were with you, then maybe...I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t have poked at you last night.”
“This is not your fault, it’s mine.” He gestures to his chest. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself; I just do it for the rush. I wouldn’t have cut so deep had you not interfered and grabbed the damn razor.”