Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2009 00:53:11 +0200
From: Ciar Bennett <ciar.bennett@gmail.com>
Subject: Bridges to Cross, Ch. 1

This work of literature depicts love between boys. It's fiction and none of
the events are real. If there is any resemblance with any person, dead,
alive or yet to be born, it's purely coincidental.

I personally wouldn't rate this chapter as 18+, but since the archives are,
you better be legal^^

*****Bridges to cross, Ch. 1*****

All of a sudden, the door burst open and in the dark wooden frame emerged
a silhouette I would recognize even in my drowsiest state. I wasn't really
asleep, and a bit startled, I rubbed my eyes just to assure myself that this
wasn't my wild fantasy, bringing me the pleasure I've longed for since the
moment I entered the Citadel.

It was him, Eliam, panting, topless, with little drops of sweat, glimmering
from the light in the hallway. I blinked, still quite confused and just a bit
aroused from his very presence. The view was so much better than that in my
dreams! The light from outside and the darkness of my room battled across
his body, perfectly shading and highlighting his defined chest with those little
nipples that rose up and sank down with every breath he took. As my eyes
travelled to his abs I couldn't help but stare at the cutest belly button I've
seen on a boy. Thank God, he couldn't see me perving him.

In this perfect moment that would surely leave me with some blissful
memories, my roommate shuffled, stood up in his bed and switched on the
lights. I turned my head towards him and watched, mentally giggling at the
funniest `what the hell's going on' face he had on as he looked baffled at
Eliam and broke the silence:

- Are you lost or something, Graff? -- shivers ran down my spine, as Axel, my
 best friend and most awesome roommate ever, spat the name of the boy of
my desires -- You have no business busting our door at freaking mental
o'clock...

- Fuck you, Alexavier. -- returned the greeting Eliam, facing Axel for a couple
of seconds and then captured my gaze in his blue-green eyes -- I'm not here
for you.

I still wasn't used to their rivalry; it was more like pure hate than fair
competition. But what kept me mute was the last sentence, it was way too
disturbing and I felt my blood rushing in my cheeks.

- Spill it, retarded mutant! -- demanded Axel, but Eliam didn't even bother to
hear it.

I watched in silent horror and astonishment as he approached my bed and
knelt beside it, not breaking even for a second our connection. He took a
breath and curved his lips in an unsure smile, then grabbed my hand and
slowly intertwining our fingers and blushing, whispered:

- Uhm... Luke... I think... I like you and... - my mouth fell open and my mind
 froze. This was definitely a fantasy, there was no way it was real... - And I...

- You what?! -- I gulped and pushed his fingers away, hiding my hands under
the sheets. It wasn't my voice, it was Axel's and I began panicking what's
going to happen next.

Eliam, clearly frustrated with the rude interruption, turned his back to me
and slowly, but confidently repeated:
- I. SAID. THAT. I. LIKE. LUKE.

- You can't! You fucking can't! -- almost screamed Axel and jumped from his
bed.

- Who are you to tell me what to... - Eliam couldn't finish, because Axel
punched him, once... twice... My head was spinning now, I lost count.

Both boys started fighting, pushing themselves towards the hallway. Finally,
somehow they managed to slam the door shut and all I could hear, frozen in
fetal position, barely breathing and shaking furiously, were their shouts,
muffled by the wall.

My eyes closed and I blacked out.

It's who I am. It's what I do best.

***

11 years earlier

He came home too soon, usually his boring work at the office continued to
the small hours of the night. That day, it was three o'clock in the afternoon as
he entered and shouted my name:

- Luke! Luke, come here this instant! -- his voice was strange, I'll probably
never forget it. It was a dark voice, full of rage and despair. But I was happy
that he was back.

I almost tripped down the stairs as I hurried to the front door and hopped
next to him, hugging his leg and screaming, excited:

- Daddy's home, daddy's home!

There was something strange about him today; it wasn't only the way he
called me and the way he looked... He smelt odd, it was a faint odour of
something like cooking sherry, just a bit stronger. He never drank.

- Daddy, is something wrong? -- I asked, looking with my big olive green
puppy eyes.

He pushed me away from him, too harsh to be playful, then grabbed my little
arm and dragged me to the couch, where he basically threw me as if I was a
soulless stuffed animal.

- Stop calling me your `dad'! I'm not and I will never be! -- he was pissed off, I
couldn't understand why he was so angry with me, I haven't done anything bad.

- What's wrong, Brad? -- my eyes watered and I brushed them as the first tear
started crawling down my cheek.

- Your mother's dead, Luke. Gone. Forever.

I just stood on the couch with a blank expression, breathing faster and feeling
dizzy. My real father left my mum, when she said to him about her pregnancy.
She decided to keep me, no matter what, killing all career chances for her
and ending her dream of finishing university and getting a degree in Psychology.
She was almost twenty, when I came to be.

In the hospital she met Brad and they instantly fell in love. She was happy
with him, I was happy with him, and it seemed he was happy with us, too.
They never married though, just lived together, but for me Brad was my
father. I knew my story, but since I didn't know Robin -- my real father -- I
couldn't feel any loss. My life was good, at least until that day.

- You can't live with me anymore, Luke. I'll have to give you away. Kids aren't
for me. All I was after was your mum. And she's gone now...

What Brad said was a complete mystery for me. I grasped just two things, my
mother was dead and Brad didn't want to look after me. He was twenty-five,
I couldn't blame him... He wasn't ready for a child, especially one that was not
his own. One that stood in his way...

In all its gory detail he told me about the last moments of my mother's
existence. Every word stabbed me in the heart and while all I needed was
comfort, Brad continued the torture.

I wanted to run, but I couldn't. My body didn't react at all. Scared to death, I
just sat there, watching the murderer of my mother laughing hysterically and
I couldn't do anything. My breath stopped for a second and I fainted for the
first time in my life.

***

As I awoke, everything seemed different. I wasn't at my house anymore. The
woman, sitting in the chair near my bed smiled pitifully and asked if I
remembered where I lived, or what my name was. I was scared, I have
forgotten everything.

- Lu... Luke. -- I whispered as tears started to fill my eyes.

Later on, the woman informed me that I was left unconscious in front of her
shelter, an orphanage in a city, I've never heard of. She wasn't really gentle
or caring, just doing her job. The same day, she sent me to a check up and the
psychiatrist concluded that my amnesia is part of my newly acquired post
traumatic stress disorder.

No one searched for me. No one wanted me back. After a year of changing
institutions, I was put for adoption, like some lost kitty, waiting for
someone to come and like me.  Someone to come and want me. Someone to come
and take me...

***

When my new family found me, I was already seven years old. They were a
shy, caring pair, but they weren't able to have a kid on their own, so they got
me. It wasn't a great deal, I wasn't even a good deal. My blackouts happened
almost every day, whenever I was very excited, sad or angry. Each strong
emotion that overwhelmed me, made me faint.

One week after all the paperwork was done and I was officially adopted, my
new mother found out she was pregnant with twins. It was a miracle, but for
me it was just another awful segment of the rollercoaster of my life. After my
new brother and sister were born, I became a piece of furniture, then a
helper and a servant and later on a nuisance. The twins took all the space in
my parents' hearts. I was obsolete.

***

The happiest day of my life was my fifteenth birthday, I didn't get any
presents, and there wasn't even a party, just a letter.  A letter that changed
everything, that made me believe that I deserve something better in my life.

I've never heard of Private Academy "I. K. Brunel", I haven't applied there
either. But here was their letter of acceptance, written with a typewriter on a
nice piece of chocolate-coloured and scented paper with dark robin egg blue
ink. The signature was delicate and reminded of long lost times of nobility.
The person it belonged to, that R. Cole, definitely had some style. The wax
seal was just a bit too much and while looking at the letter left on the small
coffee table I giggled, thinking of the resemblance that this Academy bore
with Hogwarts.

I examined the letter once more and from it fell a little note, written in the
same manner as the R. Cole signature.

"11th September, come, don't bring anything."

*****Notes*****

All rights go to me, Ciar Bennett, the author.

>>>More (hot) highschool life in the next chapter!<<<

I'd love to read your comments and answer your questions.
Constructive criticism, praise and sweets are always welcome.
Send your love (and occasionally un-love) to ciar.bennett@gmail.com

xoxo, Ciar:D