Date: Fri, 08 Oct 2004 02:56:31 -0400
From: Shane Lee <angel_lost_in_oblivion@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Beauty of Solitude (Chapter 1)

[Author's Note: This story is not about sex, so if you are looking for a
quick jerk-off session, you should find another story to read. There will
be sexual endeavors throughout the story, but none of those are in the
first chapter. This story is entirely fictional, and therefore any
similarities between real-life are purely coincidental. I will try to write
as quickly as I can, but bear with me if something comes up and I cannot
post regularly. This is the first story I've put on Nifty, so I would like
to thank the Nifty staff for posting it. Any comments, suggestions or
feedback is greatly appreciated and would help me shape and mold the story
in chapters to come.  Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading as much as
I enjoyed writing. ^_^]


The Beauty of Solitude

CHAPTER 1

	I stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom, blankly. The room is
completely drenched in darkness with the exception of a single line of
light pouring onto the carpet from beneath the door cast from the light of
the hallway. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan is like a lullaby,
threatening to send me into another dreamless sleep, sending a cool breeze
upon my body that gives me somewhat of a peaceful refinement. Dark ceilings
and walls give the impression that you are sitting in an endless void
unless the illusion is destroyed by the cruel brightness of a light, one as
annoying as the glow from beneath my door. I could be in deep thought and
have it all destroyed by a single flick of a light switch or open
flame. The smallest amount of light or sound can irritate me.

	I can't remember how long it has been since I came into my room to
seek the solitude: an hour, perhaps... maybe more, maybe less. I don't
care. I turn onto my side, curling up into the fetal position as I toss the
pillow onto the floor. Many things cross my mind, all of which I attempt to
discard but to no avail. An intense longing that seems to stem itself in my
heart, an aching feeling that something is missing is always the first
thought in my head, one that I am getting quite tired of hearing. It angers
me, sometimes, this reoccurring thought. No matter how hard I try, I cannot
seem to fill the empty feelings, nor can I get rid of them.

	Desire is one of the most painful emotions a human can feel. I
guess it can also be the most rewarding under the proper circumstances. I
know what it is my heart desires, but filling that void is a completely
different thing all in itself. Searching has come up empty, and it seems
waiting is doing the same thing. My best friend is always reassuring me,
telling me that everything will be all right in the end and the waiting
will be worth it. The only problem with her advice is that I don't know how
long my heart can take the wait. With each passing day it seems to crack
and wither more and more, and it seems that I am the only person who seems
to have these uncontrollable emotions.

	I know being homosexual has to be one of the hardest things and
also one of the biggest hurdles.  I have known I was gay for while now,
since I was 13 at least, and now at the ripe age of 17, the only thing that
has changed is my physical appearance and mentality. I have grown up,
matured, and learned a lot about life in a very short time. I don't
consider myself attractive, but the few people I hold dear to me tell me
that I am. Their opinions do not help; they are my friends and it seems
like they will always say what makes me happy. They have no idea that it
does the opposite for me. Who I really want to hear it from, however, are
those I do not know, strangers walking in the streets. Does that make me
vain?

	A faint sigh escapes my lips as I turn to lie on my back once again
and stare at the seemingly endless ceiling. Stretching, I lay my hands
behind my head and try to sink further into the soft material that fills my
mattress. My blanket is nowhere to be found, which only leaves the
possibility that it is crumpled in a heap on the floor along with various
pieces of dirty laundry.  Lifting the dark cloth covering the crimson
display of my digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to my bed, I watch
the time flash in front of me: 8:06PM. I laugh softly to myself as I
realize that I have been in my room since dinner, which was well over two
hours ago. Carefully, I place the cloth back over the display, making the
numbers disappear once again.

	The light below my bedroom door goes out suddenly, taking the
remaining light from my room. Darkness once again flows through the room,
causing my lips to form a gentle smile.  Finally. That light was beginning
to irritate me.

	A faint knock on the door takes away any chance of complete
solitude, me silently cursing whoever it is on the other side for
disturbing me once again.

	"Shane?" a voice calls from outside the door. I recognize the sweet
sounding voice immediately as my mothers. For some reason, her voice always
reminded me of the soothing sound of the ocean. Of course, she could sound
just as cruel as she could sweet, sometimes with the capability of sending
an icy knife through your entire body simultaneously turning that ocean
sound into a terrible hurricane.

	"Yes?" I reply softly, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am.

	The door creaks open slowly and I see the silhouetted figure of my
mother standing in the doorway.  Even in the dark I can see the shine in
her eyes, which I feel are looking at me questioningly. She takes a step
in, almost as if she is gliding as she walks. I watch as her hand reaches
for the light switch while I groan in protest. I hear the gentle click of
the switch, but laugh softly to myself when light doesn't fill the
room. Thank you ceiling fan!

	"You just turned off the ceiling fan, mom," I say, hearing her
click the switch off and on a few times. Then she stops, but I can't tell
whether or not she left the switch in the on or off position. I won't be
able to tell for a few minutes, when and if the fan stops turning.

	"Oh," she utters, a hint of surprise in her voice. She takes
another step towards me, a small one, making me wonder if she had even
moved at all.

	"Kristina called," she says, breaking the silence. There was a hint
of annoyance in her voice as she said this, one that I didn't let slip
by. I watched her raise her hand and brush the few loose strands of hair
out of her face. "She wants you to call her when you get a free moment."

	I nod silently, knowing my mother had seen the gesture despite us
being in the dark. A few seconds pass, ones that seem to creep by as I
patiently wait for her to turn around and leave the room, closing the door
behind her. Instead, she stands there, eyes locked on my still body, eyes
that I know are filled with concern for my isolation. I can feel the
annoyance building up inside of me.

	Without a word spoken, seemingly sensing my irritation, my mother
slowly turns around and leaves my room.  The soft creak of the door closing
finally gives way for my relaxation. My eyes return to the ceiling, getting
lost once more in the endlessness above me. Thoughts begin to invade my
head all over again, the same thoughts that have plagued me many times
before and will undoubtedly plague me for days, perhaps months, to come. I
can feel my heart sink lower into my bed then the rest of my body, sending
a wave of sadness through my veins.

	A soft chuckle makes its way up my throat. Ironic, I think to
myself. It's ironic that I love to be alone, but being alone causes these
thoughts.

	Reaching over to the nightstand once more, my hand wraps around the
remote control for my compact disc player. The familiar music of Loreena
McKennitt pours from the speaker on command, her earthly music changing the
mood of the room instantly. The Celtic sounds dance in my ears, tranquil
and satisfying. I begin to concentrate, focusing on the dark void above me,
letting my body slip into meditation with the help of the soothing music
that makes its way into my head in gentle waves. Everything around me
becomes a blur of dark colors, melding into one another in absolute
perfection as I enter the one place I can truly be at peace, the one place
made solely for me.  The melodic sound of Loreena's voice begins to
disappear, being replaced with the gentle whisper of the sea as it splashes
against the all too familiar beach stretching for kilometers around me.

	I am about to take a step forward when I am pulled back into my
bedroom sharply, loud thumping reverberating through the walls from the
bedroom beside mine. The familiar sounds anger me, as I can never get a
moments peace when I am home. My brother, Matt, has his music turned to an
outrageous volume, which is normal, I guess. At 16, he has become high
tempered and very demanding. I wouldn't be surprised if his addiction to
narcotics is the cause.  Now that we are in a larger city, I'm sure he will
be able to find all the drugs he needs.

	Clicking off my own music, I sit up, planting my feet firmly on the
ground and head towards the door. I guess now is the perfect time to call
Kristina back. I turn the cold, brass doorknob and pull open the door,
doubling the volume of my brothers' music as I enter the hallway. He has no
respect for anyone else in this house, mainly me, as this is now routine
with him.

	I follow the hallway until I come to the stairs at the end of the
smooth, hardwood floor, making my way down them. A loud creak sounds with
each step I take, telling me just how old this house really is. My fingers
trace along the dark, hunter green walls as I move while my other hand
gently follows the banister. I hear the sounds from the television coming
from the living room, followed by the soft laugh of my mother. She and I
have never really had a common interest in many television shows. Then
again, I've never really had an interest in television at all, save the
occasional music competition or drama.

	After reaching the bottom of the stairs, I make my way into the
kitchen and sit down at the table, taking the phone off of the countertop
next to me. The kitchen is a lot different from our last one; this one has
a lot more space. The floor is made out of marble, one so beautiful I could
spend hours staring at it. Dark blues, greens and grays weave into each
other to make up the smooth surface, its beauty only heightened by the
same, hunter green walls that flow throughout the house. The countertops,
made out of the same marble as the floor, shine underneath the crystal
chandelier above my head. Taking my eyes away from the unusual cleanliness,
I pick up the receiver and dial the memorized digits that I know will
connect me with my best friend.

	Holding the phone against my ear, I patiently wait for an answer.

	"Hello?"

	A familiar voice.

	"Yes... hello." I say, clearing my throat. "Is Kristina there?"

	I can almost here her mother's thoughts as my voice becomes known
to her, just as I can hear the smile that crosses her lips.

	"Yes, she's upstairs in her room. One moment - I'll go get her."

	"All right," I reply, hearing her set the phone down.

	Kristina's mother and I always got along. We would make idle
conversation whenever I was in their home visiting, and our conversations
were always very intellectual. The occasion time I call, we speak for a few
moments when Kristina is occupied with something and can't come to the
phone right away, and even then our conversations mean something. She's a
petite woman, very gentle and very caring. Plus, she has a wicked sense of
humor, never failing to make me laugh at the perfect times.  Sometimes, I
would find myself getting jealous of Kristina for having such a wonderful
mother. Although I suppose she was more of a friend than a mother, which is
something many people never get the opportunity to experience.

	My thoughts are cut short by the sound of Kristina's voice on the
other end: "Hey!"

	Her cheerful voice always brings a smile to my face, no matter how
bad of a mood I'm in. Tonight is no different.

	"Hello, beautiful." My usual greeting.

	"Hey," she says again, followed by a short, wonderful laugh, one
I've come to miss dearly in the past two weeks. A smile breaks across my
face, one I know she hears.  There is a brief moment of silence as we both
close our eyes and feel each other closely, as if we're in the same
room. We embrace. I can see every aspect of her body from her long, wavy
brown hair that so beautifully brushed against my skin almost daily to the
glorious sparkle that emanates from her hazel eyes.  The gentle glow that
she seems to bring into every room she enters and the feeling of security
as she nears you. I picture each and every tiny aspect that makes up her
being; my Silver Angel. I feel a tear burning my eye, desperate to free
itself and run down my cheek. Kristina smiles, its radiance flowing through
the phone and surrounding me, opening my eyes and bringing me back into
reality.

	"You called earlier?" I manage to blurt out after a few moments,
forcibly.

	"Yeah, I did," she replies. "I haven't heard from you in a week and
thought I would call to see how you are doing. Obviously not very good
considering your mother told me you were alone in your room with the lights
off."

	I pause.

	"Eh... I'm fine. Nothing to worry about," I lie.

	"Don't give me that," she says. I can almost taste the anger in her
voice.  "I know something's wrong when you sit in your room for hours on
end doing nothing."

	I should know better than to try and lie to her, especially when it
comes to my feelings and emotions. She has always been very empathetic,
knowing when I was upset or under-the-weather. Within moments of being hit
by the sting of depression, the phone was ringing with her on the other
end.

	"It's nothing big," I tell her, deciding to come out with the
truth. "I just miss home, that's all. I've been here for two weeks and I
haven't met anyone. I have spent the bulk of my days lying in my room
listening to music. And, you and I both know that I can't do that when my
brothers are home.  I never realized not having anyone to talk to felt so
bad."

	"Have you gone out at all?"

	"Yeah... I've been downtown a few times and even to the mall."

	Her laugh is right on cue; she knows I'm not the type of person to
spend my time at the mall for any reason other than shopping, and even that
occurs very rarely.

	"When does school start?" she asks after her laughter dies away.

	"Monday..." I utter hesitantly, knowing it's going to be my first
day in a new school, something I've thought about many times in the past
two weeks. Oddly enough, the thought of stepping foot into a new school, a
much larger one at that, is quite intimidating.

	"Well, what are you worrying about? You're bound to find someone at
the school to establish a friendship with."

	She was always the one who never really worried about anything,
following the simple philosophy of `living one day at a time'. Whenever
something negative came her way, she took it with stride and overcame
it. Always gentle and caring, something she must have inherited from her
mother, especially when it came to those who were close to her. She was the
first person you could go to when something was troubling you and had the
gift of fixing it just by embracing you.

	"I don't know. I'm unsure of going to a new school where I don't
know anyone."

	"It's going to be fine; just don't think about it. Just pretend
like you're walking through the doors of St. Mary's again."

	I shake my head at the thought of my old high school, one I wasn't
very fond of. Being openly gay, you aren't exactly treated very well by the
faculty of a school based on Catholicism. Actually, nothing involving the
Catholic religion treats gay people very well. But, despite all the
negative thoughts towards me, I did have some wonderful memories at the
school, most of which took place on the stage with my friends.

	"It's not that easy..." I murmur. "Our school has uniforms, and
this one doesn't... I won't be able to pretend I'm walking into our
school..."

	"Sure you can. It just takes a little effort. Promise me one thing,
though...  if you're going to close your eyes, don't trip and fall when
you're walking into the school. That would be really embarrassing."

	I can't help but laugh at this, feeling the flow of laugher's
medicine through my veins.  Kristina laughs, too, the ring of our laughs
together is soothing to my ears, something else I've grown to miss since
we've been apart.

	"I don't think that's going to happen..." I mutter, still
chuckling, remembering the many times I had experienced a clumsy moment at
my previous school. You wouldn't exactly call me graceful during one of
them.

	"Who knows... anything can happen," she says matter-of-factly with
a few stray chuckles, obviously remembering the same experiences.

	"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I agree.

	I let out a long sigh as I finish my much-needed laugh session,
followed by one from Kristina's lips. Her sigh alone tells me what I needed
to hear, and although she may not say it through words it rings clearly in
my mind: `I miss you'. Hearing that is enough to almost bring me to tears
as I can feel their bitter sting in my eyes already.

	"It's going to be fine," she repeats, and oddly enough it is very
reassuring. "You're going to meet some wonderful people, I'm sure of it."

	There is a long pause as I try to believe what she is saying before
I say anything further. I can hear her soft breathing through the telephone
line, soft and unlabored. Her mother mutters something in the background,
but I can't make it out.

	"Do you think I'll fit in?" I ask out of the blue, unsure of the
answer.

	"I told you to stop worrying about it," Kristina says sternly,
getting rather annoyed with my questions. "Everything will be fine. I
promise."

	I nod, keeping silent for another few moments while her words sink
in. I really shouldn't be worrying because I have been through this before
when I was in elementary school. I must have switched schools over a dozen
times between my first and eighth grades, each time having to make new
friends and build new relationships. Sometimes I would succeed while other
times I wouldn't and I would be alone. Of course, there are many
differences between then and now, the major one being that I am now in High
School and I was only in elementary school then. It is more difficult to
build a friendship with High School students then it is to build ones with
kids in elementary schools.

	"I must sound like a baby," I mutter.

	"Nah, you don't. Everyone worries when it comes to new
experiences."

	"Yeah, everyone worries except you!" I exclaim, releasing a soft
chuckle.  Kristina laughs, too.

	"You've got that right!" she says, still laughing.

	"Hurry up," I hear a voice from behind me, interrupting my
laughing. I turn around to see my brother Matt standing in the doorway to
the kitchen, a baseball cap with the words `Pimpin' written across the
front containing his shaggy brown hair as it sticks stupidly out from the
sides. He is wearing outrageously baggy pants and a tight t-shirt that has
a marijuana leaf on the front of it. His slender frame looks ridiculous in
his choice of clothing. "I need the phone."

	I roll my eyes and turn back to the table, increasingly annoyed
with my lack of privacy, albeit on the phone or even in my room. Matt
continues to stand in the doorway, obviously in a hurry to use the
telephone to call up one of the friends he has already made from
skateboarding around the city the last two weeks. It's quite humorous that
potheads always know where to find people of their own kind.

	"Kristina," I say reluctantly, "I have to go."

	"I heard," she returns. I can sense the anger in her voice. "Do you
ever get more than ten minutes on the phone at a time?" she asks.

	"Not generally. Someone always wants to use the phone whenever I'm
on it, even when they could have used it before I did."

	"Yeah, I don't think I could handle that. You should get your own
phone line," Kristina suggests.

	"I'm thinking about it. Anyway, I really should go," I say with a
soft sigh. "I will call you on Monday to tell you how school went."

	"All right," she murmurs, "I should be home Monday evening; I don't
work until Tuesday."

	"Okay, I will call you then. Love you."

	"Love you too."

	I wait until I hear her end go dead before I hang up the phone and
get up.  Matt rushes past me, nearly knocking me over as he steals my chair
and picks up the receiver.  Shaking my head, I make my way out of the
kitchen as he dials the number. With one last look into the living room, I
turn and make my way up the stairs and back into my room where I close the
door and fall back onto my bed.