Date: Sun, 11 May 2014 16:16:10 +0100
From: Secret Writer <secret_writer@outlook.com>
Subject: Cal - part 2

/*****

Cal - part 2

Notes from the author:

Hi there, this is my first story for nifty - so please let me know what
you think.  All constructive comments and feedback is really
appreciated.  You can contact me at secret_writer@outlook.com

All the usual disclaimers apply, if you shouldn't be reading this then
don't.  And if you don't like this kind of content, well really, WTF are
you doing here?

The (relatively brief) introduction to this story can be found
here: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/cal

And don't forget, if you enjoy this story (or even if you don't but have
found some other stuff you like) then think about supporting the site at
http://donate.nifty.org

*****/

It's dark when I wake up.  I can't really work out if it's early or late
and glance down to the floor to check my alarm clock.  Several things
happen at once.  My alarm clock isn't there.  That kind of makes sense
when I've finished realising that this isn't my bed.  But Oh My Fucking
Hell - I hurt.  Everywhere.  I collapse back into the bed, happy for it's
soft warmth.  Closing my eyes again I felt myself drifting away for a
moment.  Wait.  Where the fuck am I?  OK - it's a hangover, you can deal
with this Cal, open your eyes and see where you are.  I do.  It doesn't
help much.  The room is pretty big, and clearly not a studio, so I
quickly rule out being in my own building.  Oh wait, yeah, I went out
clubbing.  Fuck - who did I go home with?  It wouldn't be the first time
I've woken up with some pretty boy student type.  Oh jeez - have I done
it again?  Another night of seemingly great sex with an otherwise
emotionally unattractive, boring, just physically pretty lad?  No, that
didn't seem to fit either.  The door is open, so I guess I'm going to
have to go and find out.

I get up again, more slowly this time, and sit on the edge of the bed.
My clothes are folded neatly on a chair - this is not what I'm used to
finding after a night of drink and drug fuelled fucking.  Looking towards
the door, I see it.  There's a scary looking dog - the kind that looks
like it could chew your arm off for a light meal if it wanted to.  I
fucking hate dogs.  It growls at me as I make eye contact, but thankfully
doesn't move.  Neither do I.

"Scarlett!  Behave!"

The voice is loud, deep, and apparently in charge as the dog is quiet.
Seriously - this blood thirsty savage animal is called Scarlett!?  People
are weird.  I can hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom, and realise
that this is probably be the guy I went home with last night.  He steps
into the doorway.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

When I say he steps in to the doorway, I mean, he kinda fills the
doorway.  This guy is massive.  I mean, like, fucking huge.  I guess
around 6'4'', and about 4' wide - but not fat.  Just fucking huge.  I
guess he's 30-something.  He's got short cropped hair all over his head
and face - darker than blonde, but lighter than ginger.  I can see that
his arms are equally hairy, and judging by the top of his t-shirt, so is
his chest.  I have absolutely no fucking idea who he is.  I try and
remember the guys I met at the club, but can't seem to recall much of the
night at all.  But whoever he is, he's definitely not the kind of guy I
spend the night with.  Skinny, smooth, young - no, he ticks none of the
usual boxes.  So now I'm thinking that I need to say something.

"I'm Davey, good to see you awake, I was getting worried."

Presumably my confusion was obvious.  But his voice - it was as big as he
was, deep and kind of growly.  It kind of gets inside you.  Wow.

"I found you last night, getting the crap beaten out of you in the
street."

Yeah, now that he mentions it it, that does seem kind of familiar.

"I tried to help, the guys saw me and ran off, but you seemed in a pretty
bad way.  You wanted me to take you home, but you didn't really make
enough sense for me to work out where that was, so I brought you back to
mine."

I can see why they ran off, I thought.  I kind of want to right now,
except of course I'm naked and hurt like hell.

"Thanks - I think."  Oh god, talking seemed to be much more difficult
than I remembered.  I must look like a complete idiot.  And why do I even
care what he thinks of me?

"Why?"  I asked.  I know that I might sound like an ungrateful bastard,
but this is all fucking weird for me.  If I'm honest, I'm feeling out of
my depth and totally off balance with the whole thing.

"Why what?"  Which I suppose is a fair question.  I haven't been very
clear.

"Why did you help me?  And why am I here?"  I needed some kind of
foothold on reality, something to start making sense.

"Well, I guess it's because I'm a nice guy.  I'm not going to walk past
some kid being beaten up and do nothing.  And when I saw it was you, I
felt bad for you, so I tried to help."

"What do you mean - when you saw it was me?"

"I recognised you.  From the club, that's all."

"You were there?  Did we......?"  I didn't recognise him at all, and it's
not like I wouldn't have noticed him, it's pretty hard to not notice
someone who is like twice the size of a normal guy.

"Ha ha, yeah, I was there.  And whatever the end of that question is, no,
we didn't."

"OK, good.  I mean, not good, but thanks.  For helping."  Oh My God, what
is wrong with me?  I can hardly speak to this guy.

"I was just making dinner - get dressed and come down to the kitchen -
it's lasagne."

"Sure, OK, thanks Davey."  My eyes had already shifted back to the savage
killing machine called Scarlett who was still sitting right opposite the
door.

"Don't worry about her, she won't hurt you.  But I'll take her with me,
out of the way."

Davey walked off, with Scarlett following behind him as if she was a very
well behaved puppy.  I realised that I'd spent the entire conversation -
if you could call it that - totally naked.  Not that I'm embarrassed, I'm
proud of my body.  But I wanted to get dressed.  My jeans and t-shirt had
obviously been washed and dried, but were still pretty battered.  I'd
have to throw them away when I get home.  I was pretty much intending to
just leave as soon as I was dressed, but pulling my jeans on was
surprisingly difficult and painful, causing me to moan and swear
considerably.  As fas as I could tell, I was badly bruised all over, but
not seriously hurt.

"Are you OK little guy?"  Davey returned.  My jeans on, I lay back on the
bed, temporarily defeated by my own body.

"Yeah, it just hurts a little."  I lied.  I fucking killed me to move,
but didn't want to tell him that.  What would he think of me?

"OK, well sit up, and I'll help you finish."  I propped myself up on my
elbows more in disbelief than anything else.  I've definitely never met
anyone like this guy before.  Before I had really had time to say
anything, he was stood in front of me, holding my t-shirt, ready to put
it over my head.  I sat up, and he pulled it down, over my head, holding
the sleeve for my arm.  I felt like a fucking child, humiliated, but also
knowing that it would take me twenty times longer to do it on my own.

T-shirt on, Davey kneels down and starts putting my trainers on my feet.
He works quickly, and I sit there, silent.

"There you go kid."  He called me 'kid'.  No-one has ever done that
before.

"Come on then, dinner is ready."

I tried to stand up, but wasn't really prepared for the pain and stumbled
slightly.  Davey caught me.  For the briefest of moments, he was
supporting me completely, and he didn't appear to even wobble slightly
with the effort.  Something strange was happening for me - I was hyper
aware of all the places where my body was coming in to contact with him.
Not least, his hand was touching my skin where my t-shirt had ridden up a
little.

"Maybe take it a little slower?" he said.

"Yeah", I reply, "Thanks.  Again."

As soon as I smelt the food, I realised that I was hungry, really
hungry.  So I decided to stay for the free food before going home.  I was
determined to walk without help, and I think Davey must have seen this as
he backed away from me - but not very far.

On the way to the kitchen we passed a bathroom, another bedroom which I
guessed must be his, and the main living room.  The place was pretty big,
and nicely done out.  The Kitchen was really a kitchen diner, and could
probably seat 10 people for a meal.  I sat at the nearest end of the
large table, where Davey had started to set out dinner.  He produced two
large plates of what was obviously home made lasagne.

"So", he started, "what's your name?"

I was totally embarrassed - I mean, how rude could I possibly be.  And
why did I care so much about what he thought of me?  I finished my
mouthful of food - which was tasting amazing.

"Oh my god - I'm sorry, I'm Cal."

"Well it's nice to meet you properly Cal.  You weren't really making much
sense last night."

"Oh, sorry, I don't remember."

"No, I guess not."

Our conversation continued rather awkwardly for the remainder of dinner.
For some reason, I found it almost impossible to speak to this guy.
Words formed clearly enough in my head, well, for the most part, but
hardly ever made it out of my mouth.  As soon as was reasonable, OK,
maybe a bit before that, I stood up and said that I was going home.

"I can give you a lift if you want."

"No, it's OK.  But thanks anyway.  For everything."

I'd like to say that I casually walked out and never looked back.  That's
definitely what I would usually do.  In reality, I got home and sat on my
bed, and felt totally confused.  The club, the guys in the street, the
beating - that all makes sense.  But Davey - he definitely does not.
There's something about him, something that has stayed with me, invading
my thoughts.

I woke up the next day feeling much better than I expected.  The world
seemed pretty unchanged, life was still happening, as much as it ever
does.  But inside, inside me, things were not the same at all.  I'd find
myself daydreaming, just thinking about him, wondering what he's doing.
And worse, wondering what he thought of me - if he thought of me at all.
I spent the best part of a week doing this - getting worse every hour.  I
was feeling sick, I needed to know what was going on, but had no idea how
to find out.  I didn't really have any friends, not real friends, and
certainly not the kind of friends I could talk about this to.  I'm not
sure I could talk about this to anyone at all.  Actually saying it out
loud to someone else is totally different to just thinking it.

By the time it was Friday evening, I was going fucking crazy.  I decided
to go back to the club to look for Davey - I had to see him again.  I
didn't have the tiniest idea why, or what I was going to do if I found
him, but I had to do something.  Walking around the club, I didn't see
anyone I knew - not that I was really shocked by that, it's not a place I
go a lot.  I searched, and I mean really searched, but Davey was nowhere
to be found.  On my way out, there were a couple of lads I could
definitely have had for the night, they were looking me over and smiling,
hoping.  But that wasn't why I was there.  Instead of going straight
home, I decided to take a slight detour past some of the more popular
bars.  OK, so I admit it, I was hoping that I might somehow bump in to
him.

I walked past several bars, looking through the windows, even walking
around a couple before leaving again, but no sign of Davey.  And then I
saw him.  I knew it was him, even from the other side of the road.  There
he was, sat with three other people in the window.  I crossed the street,
but didn't know what to do.  It wasn't really my kind of place, pretty up
market, expensive.  I walked in trying to look confident, and feeling
anything but.  I ordered a bottle of lager which cost me £9.  £9 - !
Fucking expensive.  There wasn't any way I could get close to him, so I
leant at a table where I could watch him.  He didn't notice me.

Really - I'm stalking him now am I?  Jeez.  What was happening to me.  I
thought I was being subtle in my watching, but one of his friends had
caught me staring in their direction a couple of times.  The third time
around, I couldn't pretend it was accidental.  We sarted one of those
non-verbal converations across a bar.

He pointed to himself, raising his eyebrows - are you looking at me?

I shook my head, smiling - no.  His friends weren't paying attention.

He looked around where he was sitting.  There was something quite funny
about him - the way he mimed to me about the other people at the table.

He pointed to the guy sat next to him.  Him?

Shaking my head.  No, not him.

Apparently he's straight anyway.  What about him?  A guy stood near them
who I don't think he actually knew.

No - I shook my head again again - not him.

Her?  Even he didn't buy that one, but it was funny to ask and made me
laugh out loud.

No, not her.  His fake shocked look was priceless.

Him then?  Pointing at Davey who was sitting at the end of their table,
facing away from me.

I nod, yes, him.  The guy who intrudes in to my thoughts every day, who I
can't get rid of, who I don't understand.

Really?  Him?  Am I sure?

Yes, I sure.

His little acting out of 'Well if you're sure' again made me laugh.

Apparently we'd stopped being subtle, as the girl in their group was now
watching this little exchange.  Bollocks, I didn't really want it to be
like this.  There was some leaning in and talking happening now,
interspersed with occasional glances to me, and at Davey.  The three of
them now seemed to be debating something - and then the first guy said
something to Davey.  He turned around, looking directly a me, and then
back to his friends.  I couldn't read his expression.  There was some
sort of joke at Daveys expense, as the other three of them were
laughing.  And then I realised that it was probably about me.  Fucking
idiots.  The don't know anything about me, how dare they?

Intantly angry, I turned away to leave.  But the place was fairly busy,
and I'd been stood there for several minutes and there were now twenty
odd  people between me and the door, so I had to manouver around them
which took much longer than I wanted it to.  Keeping my head down, I
picked my way through - not wanting to draw attention to myself any more
than I had already.  I was almost at the door when out of nowhere I ran
straight in to this guy.  He was solid - like running in to a wall.  Fuck
- I didn't want a scene with the guy on the door, not now.  But looking
up, it was him, Davey.

"What you doing here Cal?"  He was calm, surprised, but friendly.  I was
the total opposite.  What was I going to say?  I really hadn't thought
his through.  Why was I even here?

"Sorry Davey - I'll go."

"No way kid."  His big hand on my arm felt electrifying.  "Come and join
us."

"No, really, I don't want to be in the way."  It was a bad excuse, but I
couldn't think of anything else.

"You won't be in the way, come on."  He half pushed and half led me back
towards the table with his friends.  Someone found another chair, and I
found myself sat next to Davey.

"Guys - this is Cal.  Cal - this is Kati, Simon, and Mark."  There was a
general round of good natured greetings, followed by a slightly awkward
silence.

"So Davey", it was Kati, "is this the guy?" Her emphasis of 'the guy' was
pretty obvious, and I don't think she was trying to be subtle.  Amusement
flicked around the group.  I looked to Davey, as did everyone else.

"Yeah, this is Cal, they guy I told you about."  Apparently this was some
kind of exciting news.  I expect my confusion showed, and they guy who
had originally seem me, Simon, explained a little more.

"We've heard all about you Cal."  I was surprised, and also excited.
He'd told people about me.

"Several times" added Mark, rolling his eyes.  I knew he was joking,
everyone but Davey though it was amusing.  OK, everyone but Davey and me.

"Oh, OK then."  I didn't know what else to say.  I barely know what's
going on myself.

"So what do you do?" asked Kati.  Fuck - I was totally unprepared for
normal conversation.  What do I say?  'Well, it's funny you mention that
Kati - I steal cars for a living.'  No I don't think so.  I wanted these
people to like me - like really like me.

"I'm in Sales."  It wasn't a total lie - I do sell the cars.

"Wow - Simon worked in Sales for a few years, didn't you.  Who do you
work for?"

Shut the fuck up Kati - I think it but don't say it.

"It's a small company, you won't have heard of them."  An easy lie.

I think that Davey noticed my discomfort, his leg pressing ever so gently
against mine as he intervened.  My heart seemed to stutter as he did.

"OK, it's not an interview Kati, leave the little guy alone."

This again brought some amusement to the group, seemingly at Davey's
expense.  The tension broken, things seemed pretty relaxed, although I
didn't really say very much, not knowing anyone they were talking about
or really having anything in common.  After an hour or so, Davey went to
the bathroom, leaving me alone, with his friends.  I didn't notice for a
second or two, but all eyes were on me, their conversation had stopped.

"What?"  I tried to sound confident.

"So Cal, what's going on with you and Davey?"  It was Kati who spoke
first.

"I, errrr, I dunno what you mean."  Fuck.  What was I supposed to say?

"Well he told us about what happened last weeeknd, but we haven't really
heard much more since then."  Seemingly the other two were happy for Kati
to take the lead.

"OK, well, I guess there's not much to tell, I just ran in to him here."

"Oh really?" Simon did nothing at all to disguise his tone of 'that's
complete bollocks Cal', and no-one, including me, believed it anyway.

"OK, so, I was just saying thanks, that's all."  It was kind of true.  I
mean, I hadn't actually said much more than that.  Had I even said that?
I don't think I had.

"And is that really all there is to it?"  Kati was obviously not buying
it.  As much as I tried not to, I think I started to blush.  What's wrong
with me?

"Oh, I think maybe there is something else."  Simon this time, stating
the fucking obvious, but being really nice about it too.  I was feeling
trapped somehow.  I don't do well in these kind of situations.  My
instinct is to punch the guy.  I guess this was also obvious.

"OK, OK, we're just interested, that's all."  Mark tried to save the
rapidily deteriorating moment.  Unfortunately, Kati totally missed the
mood and thought that teasing me was going to help.

"I think the boy has a crush on Davey.  Are you in loooove with him?"

I can see now that she was taking the piss, but in the moment, it was too
much.  I was feeling proper rage, unable to process my thoughts and
feelings logically, I was feeling attacked, and I wanted to punch
someone.  Thankfully, I managed to control myself enough to just leave,
angry, no, furious, pushing people out of my way as I left the bar.  I
turned the corner and punched the wall a few times.  It didn't really
help, and certainly didn't do anything to stop the tears forming, not
matter how hard I tried.

"Cal!"  It was Davey.  Fucking hell, I really didn't want him to see me
like this, especially after making such an idiot of myself in front of
his friends.  He stepped around the corner and saw me.

"Cal.  What's going on?"  He looked genuinely concerned.  "What's wrong?"

He stepped towards me pulled me in to a hug.  I was expecting pain, my
ribs still bruised and tender.  But I'd never felt anything quite like it
before, totally contained, protected, safe.  My anger dissolved almost
instantly, and to my immense embarrassment, I started to cry.  I couldn't
help it, everything suddenly felt way too intense, too much for me to
handle - everything started spilling out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry Davey, I really am.  I just wanted to see you, and you weren't
at the club, and then you were here, and I didn't know what to do.  And
then your friends started asking me what was going on, and I don't know.
I really don't know.  You're such a nice guy an I don't even know if you
like me and..."

"Cal, it's OK, I'm..."  But I didn't hear him, or at least it didn't
register.

"...you don't even know anything about me, and if you did you probably
wouldn't ever talk to me again..."

"Cal, really, it's OK..."

"...and now I've spoiled your night out and all of your friends probably
think I'm an idiot and you probably think that too.  You probably just
came out here to tell me to..."

He didn't try talking to me again.  Instead, he kissed me.  Not some big
dramatic movie scene kiss, just a normal soft, gentle kiss.  I looked at
him, silent, confused, shocked.

"I really don't know how this is going to go Cal, but unless you stop me,
I'm going to do that again."  I didn't move.  He kissed me again.  Now
don't get me wrong, there weren't any choirs of angels or orchestra's or
anything, but I'm pretty sure that for just a few seconds my world shrunk
so that there was just him, and me.

"I'm going home now.  If you want, you can come with me, and tell me what
the fuck it is you're going on about."  His smile was infectious, and my
body was still throbbing from the feeling of being held so completely.  I
nodded, still totally unsure why, but it kind of felt like a good idea.