Date: Sat, 29 Jul 2000 18:49:06 -0500
From: Willy B <haztech@email.msn.com>
Subject: Flip pt6

Flip
Part 6

        "Where's Flip?" Nick asked as he stretched to his full length on
top of his bed. Trent and John looked up quietly from their seats when Mike
entered their room.
        "He's down on the beach, thinking." Mike scowled inwardly. His
reaction to what his friend had done to himself hadn't been too
pleasant. "I fucked up big time. He doesn't want me around right now."
        "Fuck. I don't know if I'd want you around right now either," Nick
scowled right back at Mike, "if you'd chewed me a new asshole like you did
to him."
        "Actually, I think you chewed around it. It fell out on its own."
Trent wanly smiled, his attempt at lightening things failing miserably.
"Look, I made sure the place was clean and safe when he told me he wanted
one." He glanced down at the scrollwork on his forearms. "I should
know.... Besides, I think it looks good, if you'd take the time to notice."
        "I just wish I knew why he did it." Mike was at a loss, thinking
about Philip spending the entire day in that shop with Trent, while
everybody else saw the sights. Not to mention it had to have hurt! "You're
sure it's just because he wanted it?"
        "Well..." Trent shifted nervously. He'd gotten his first tattoo to
deflect his parents' disapproval of him in another direction, but Flip had
incorporated a Maltese Cross into his. He'd explained it away, saying it
was a firefighting symbol. So it was more likely a way for him to show his
pride in himself, but in the end Trent really couldn't be sure, "...yes. I
think, anyway."
        "Hell, Mike! You're acting like he did it to hurt...." Nick stopped
and remained in thought for a minute. Everybody in that room was there
because they'd been in counseling together. Each had, at least once in
their short lives, attempted suicide. Mike had tried to get a cop to shoot
him the last time he'd gotten drunk! Nick shook himself. He'd found himself
on a freeway overpass.
        Philip was a paradox, though. On one hand, he had pushed everybody
away more than once that week; on the other, he'd directed all his
available energy into helping complete strangers as part of a volunteer
fire department.
        "No." Trent felt himself rising to Philip's defense again. "He did
it to identify himself, set himself apart. He's proud of what he can do. So
why shouldn't he tell the world?"
        "Yeah, but I wish he'd accept all of himself." Mike wasn't totally
convinced. He'd been through a lot with Philip that week. He knew they'd
made progress pulling his old friend out of his self-imposed prison. He
smiled a little at his thoughts. 'Even if it was by the ankles, kicking and
screaming all the way!' "Not just the parts he thinks the world will like,
that he likes."
        "Tell you what..." Nick glanced at the others in the room. Maybe it
was time for a little shock treatment. "Let's go find him together."
        "What are we going to do?" Mike asked cautiously. Nick could be way
too forward and he was certain to be as uncomfortable as Philip. He could
lose his friend to whatever Nick had planned.
        "If what you've told us is true..." Nick smiled around the room
before proceeding, "then it's about time we introduced him to himself."
        "You'll be lucky if he doesn't introduce you to his fist!" Mike
shook his head. "He has a quick temper."
        "That's the other reason for all of us to go." Nick's smile broke
into a grin, "Besides, I'm pretty sure I can run faster scared than he can
mad!"

        "Hey, fag boy!" Nick spoke up when they found Philip lying on the
dark beach, staring out into the black sky over the Gulf of Mexico. He
ignored the sudden intake of breath from Mike and the others as the
reclining boy stiffened his whole body, like he was ready to spring.
Whether it would be away or toward him, he was unsure of.
        "Wha...what did you say?" Philip felt his adrenaline pumping
throuhout his body at the intrusion and the rude accusation he felt
accompanied it. He found himself absently rubbing his upper left arm,
feeling a renewed ache from that region as his anger found itself
redirected inward, targeting his own feelings that had betrayed him to the
others and to his own failed self image.
        "I said, `Hey, fag boy!'" Nick forced a grin through his fear of
the sudden pounding he expected. He extended his shaking hand, "I'm Nick
and I'm a fag as well!" He saw indecision and confusion cross Flip's face
and breathed again; he'd had no idea he'd been holding it. "You know,
queerer than a three dicked mule?"
        "I...I...I...I'm J...J...John, and I...I...I'm g...ga...gay as
well." John finally breathed out the rest as he blushed. He hated it when
he was feeling stress and his stuttering came back with a vengeance. He
glanced at Nick with aggravation. This was all his fault, but he was
willing to go along with it. His shoulders slumped. Even if he spent the
next month back in speech therapy because of it!
        "I'm Trent, and I'm gay." Trent just smiled at Philip, trying to
reassure him that they were sane. "Bet that arm still stings. I know mine
did after...." He let the thought trail off as Mike hesitantly stepped up.
        "I'm Mike and I'm gay." Mike said cautiously. He knew what Nick was
trying to do now but it still made him nervous. It was like they were back
in `group' but without the professional counselor. He could only hope they
knew what they were doing, now that they'd started. "And you're my best
friend."
        "OK, so now you know who we are." Nick withdrew his untended hand
and cautiously knelt next to the silent redheaded boy. His eyes reminded
Nick of a trapped animal. There was no hatred directed outward that he
could see, but the warmth he'd seen creep into them earlier was gone as
well. "Who are you?" He waited patiently, his last question hanging
suspended in the air like a tremendous sharp blade. "It's OK. You can tell
us."
        "I...I'm...." Philip started; his terror and the loathing it
generated kept him rooted in place. He glanced from face to face barely
visible in the dim light from the hotel. Each set of eyes that returned his
gaze seemed to stab completely through to his soul, but not with malice. He
ever so slowly found himself drawn to them as they waited for him. The
concern and even love within those dimly lit faces inexorably drew his need
and rekindled hope to the fore, battering down the demons he'd set to guard
against his own nature.
        "I'm...I'm...." Philip's voice wavered again as the battle raged
anew and he found himself unable to continue. He started to collapse back
into the still warm sand as his breathing became ragged with the effort,
only to find himself supported from behind by Michael's arms.
        "You can do it, Philip." Mike held his old friend tightly as he saw
the struggle continue. The same struggle he'd buried under so many gallons
of alcohol over the years, only to have it rear its head with almost tragic
consequences. He wished he could lend Philip all his strength in the
struggle, but this wasn't a magical fantasy novel or D&D game like John
played. "Who are you?"
        "I'm...I'm Philip...." He managed to breathe out quietly. He clawed
desperately at the hope within him and from the others, finally feeling
himself break through his guards,
        "...and I...I'm G...g...ga...y!" The last came out in a wail as he
felt half his mind triumphant and the rest angrily protesting its grief in
defeat! He reached back to Michael as the others also held him now. The
iron grip his terror had over him fell away as he found himself sobbing
into his friends' arms, all eight of them. He strangely found he couldn't
tell whether his were tears of grief or tears of relief, and he felt the
joy that forced the wan, crooked smile that dimly cracked through his
features. "Th...Thank you."

        The five youths remained close to each other as the night slowly
passed overhead. The silence was sporadically interrupted by quiet chuckles
and barely audible conversation between them as a damp, slight fog started
rolling gently around them in the cool sea air. The moon, which had
provided them with her warm light, was now hidden by a bank of clouds. The
smell of a promised rain wafted around them as well.
        "Did that hurt?" Mike slowly traced his fingers along the two dark
intertwined, stylized snakes that circled Philip's upper left arm, their
heads separated by a shield emblazoned with a Maltese cross.
        "Like hell." Philip smiled at the memory. "I had trouble holding
still at first. It felt like he was sawing through it."
        "Anything else?" Mike grinned back and lifted the waist of Philip's
jeans away from his flat belly, as if he could actually see something. "No
piercings?"
        "God, no," Philip grinned back and shook his hips in an attempt to
shake Mike's grip. "I can see an earring,...but down there? Get real."
        "Wimp," Trent stage-whispered, the mirth evident in his voice as he
laughed internally. "I'll have to show you mine someday."
        "I'll pass." Philip felt his legs instinctively tighten against his
groin as one of his hands provided extra cover. "Thanks anyway." He felt
like he was having sympathetic pains down there as he tried to clear his
mind of the idea of actually shoving a needle through his....
        "Oh, God." Philip shivered for a second, his eyes growing wide. He
thought that the ring in Trent's ear and eyebrow were all that was there.
Well, there was the tongue as well. He couldn't help but giggle a little as
he thought of Trent going through a metal detector at an airport.
        "So, Flip?" Mike renewed his grin, looking like a cat after the
canary. "What are your teachers going to think about a Jesus with a
tattoo?"
        "Oh, shit!" Philip felt his smile fade; "I didn't think of that."
        "They'll just cover it with makeup." Trent came back nonchalantly.
"It's no big deal. Stop teasing him about it!"
        "Yes, mother," Mike retorted, ducking his head from the evil eye
Trent threw his way. "I promise I'll be good."
        "They're probably going to have to cover me in that shit anyway,"
Philip sighed. "My choir director said I'm too white." He shrugged his
shoulders for effect. "Anyway, I don't tan...I burn."
        "Well, you've got two days left to burn then." Mike turned away for
a second, in thought. "John? You have a spare suit Flip can wear? You're
about the same waist."
        "I...I d...don't know if it wo...would fit." John grimaced again as
everyone made a point of not noticing his degenerated speech. At least he
hoped it was getting better. "M...Mine are d...double ex...ex...extra
la...large, b...but only in fr...front." He grinned, whether from his
statement or relief, he couldn't tell.
        "That's what I'd call `delusions of grandeur'..." Mike continued to
grin, evilly, as he turned back to Philip. "...Pencil dick over there will
loan you one of his suits so you can `burn' more than your nipples and
knees."
        He ignored the squawk of protest, blocking out John's good natured
comeback. He reached for the back of Philip's head as he leaned forward and
his lips found their target. He soon pulled back and looked at Philip's
uncertain face. "It helps if you open your mouth."
        "Open my...?" Philip glanced nervously around the group before
settling back on Mike. "Then what do I do?"
        "Jeeze, Philip!" Mike couldn't help but chuckle. Talk about a babe
in the woods! "Just relax and follow my lead. I think you'll learn soon
enough." He leaned back into Philip and this time got past his teeth. He
was soon rewarded when he felt his old friend's muscles slacken as he tried
to copy what Mike was doing. Mike did his best to suppress his laugh of joy
as their tongues began to duel; he didn't want to spoil the moment by
blowing Philip's cheeks out.
        Philip felt his embarrassment and nervousness fade away as he held
onto Mike's arm and the rest of his body began to respond as well. He let
his free hand drift over his jeans to rearrange himself and provide more
room to grow before it got too uncomfortable. His muscles jerked back to
attention briefly when he heard the others giggle at his obvious state, but
he found he couldn't stay that way as the burning in his ears also quickly
faded into the kiss he shared with Michael.
        "What the fuck...?" Philip pulled away quickly as the unfamiliar,
hostile voice slurred at them. He looked up, instantly on edge, to see six
older guys looking unsteadily down at them. "Hey, come look at the fags
we've got here!" the one who'd spoken first yelled back over his
shoulder. Philip saw a huge group of people silently moving along the beach
in the dim fog- shrouded light. It must have been someone's party
relocating to another location.
        "Come on, Brett!" a voice called out from the group behind them.
"Leave 'em alone! We've got more party to go to!"
        "Yeah! See if they want to join us!" Another voice, female this
time, called out from the group of partyers as they stumbled along.
        "Sorry, guys." Mike glanced nervously from the group to the six
towering over them. They'd obviously been at the alcohol for a while
already. He was all too familiar with its effects, how it made some people
mean. His heart was pounding as he studied the stragglers that confronted
them. He could only hope these guys weren't looking for a fight, but now
that was a dim hope when faced with irrational mean drunks. He smiled,
hoping to diffuse the situation. "We don't drink."
        "Hey! This fuckin' pansy won't drink with us! Who the fuck you
smiling at?" Mike looked at the ringleader. His heart fell. No matter what
he said or did, it would be wrong!
        "It's OK, Philip. Let it go." He steeled himself for the assault as
he slowly rose to his feet and defensively began herding Philip and his
other friends back away from the drunken group. He glanced at his redheaded
friend and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Flip's eyes seemed to
glow with a deep internal fire at this sudden intrusion.
        Mike never saw the first blow land as his head snapped to one side
and he crumpled to the sand, the sharp pain from the blow fogging his
brain. He barely saw the glimpse of red flash over him and into the group
of attackers as he tried to clear his head. His fogged brain brought his
thought of his favorite books to the fore as he continued to watch the
ensuing battle take place. Philip was at once Beowulf facing Grendel, and
then his hair and shirt seemed to flow into a red cloak of a Spartan
warrior at Thermopylae. He could only hope the outcome would be different
this time as his thoughts of Robert Pressman's 'Gates Of Fire' gave way to
unconsciousness.
        Philip felt his rage give way to a strange elation as he gladly
accepted the staggering blows he received. He'd been in many fights before,
but this was different. Now he fought, not for himself, but for his
friends. He kept himself interposed, teeth bared, between Mike's fallen
form and his much larger attackers. Thankfully, John and Trent did their
best to keep his back clear as Nick struggled to move Mike to safety. All
that mattered to him was Mike and his other friends alongside of him!
        He quickly ducked a badly aimed blow at his head and swung as hard
as he could, connecting with his opponent's nose and spraying them with
blood. The others backed off as their ringleader collapsed at Philip's
feet. Philip watched silently, his breathing ragged and panting, as he
stood his ground. His eyes continued to flash his challenge. If they wanted
to hurt his friends, they would have to go through him first! They would
have to kill him first!
        "Hey! we're sorry." Philip quickly glanced at the voice he
recognized from the group that had passed them by. Philip slowly became
aware of the audience that had returned to the commotion and was able to
single out the figure that cautiously approached him, arms outspread. "I
didn't think he'd actually attack you. Are you all OK?"
        Philip glanced back to see Mike sitting up, shaking his head and
rubbing the side of his face gingerly. He let out a huge sigh and stepped
back to his friends while the others tended to their own wounded.
        "Yeah, we're OK." Philip gasped out. His rush of adrenaline was
being replaced by pain. "What about him?" He indicated his primary
opponent.
        "Him?" The leader of the partygoers waved his hand, dismissive at
the other would-be combatant, who was also now shaking off his own cobwebs.
"He'll be OK. It's not the first time somebody broke his nose for him,
although in the past it was usually on the ball field." He let out his own
sigh and turned back to Philip, holding out his hand. "My name's Edward,
Eddy. Can we make it up to you? Maybe you can meet us for breakfast?"
        Philip cautiously took the proffered hand gingerly and winced. It
felt like he might have broken something. He started to open his mouth to
decline.
        "We'd be happy to," Mike spoke up from behind him. "Just tell us
when and where."

        "Ahhh, Fuck!" Philip jerked his hand back, scattering the remains
of Mike's first aid kit all over the bathroom counter as the iodine
solution splattered into the sink. "Fuck...fuck...that hurts!"
        "I can't believe you two." Jenny grabbed Philip's forearm to direct
it back over the sink and retrieved the bottle. Steve was out filling up
their ice bucket to dump into more towels. She smiled evilly as she
examined the numerous scrapes and small lacerations that covered the
knuckles. That was the word for it, all right! "You two knuckleheads get in
some stupid fight, then you tell me you had breakfast with those guys?" She
just shook her head and evilly poured more of the bottle over the wounds,
satisfied to hear the sharp intake of breath. "Next time just skip the
fight part."
        "We tried," Mike mumbled through his ice pack they'd only now
applied. He couldn't help but smirk at the looks they'd all attracted when
they entered the IHOP. Their group consisted of fifteen unblemished and
eight walking wounded. At least he didn't think he'd have to go to his
dentist. He managed his food well, without it being followed by any of his
teeth, anyway. "They swung first."
        `Well, whatever." She quickly proceeded to wrap Philip's hand like
she had so many other team members, as a trainer. Satisfied with the hand,
she grabbed one of their impromptu cold packs and shoved it against the
worst looking of Philip's bruised ribs. He flinched hard.  "I'm glad you're
having fun. Go lie down! You probably broke it!" She silently watched
Philip collapse onto his bed, pretending his body wasn't screaming at him,
and smirked inwardly. `Boys!' She was glad Steven at least seemed
different, but then she did have him by the short hairs, not counting his
`other leash'!
        "So, who won?" Steve shut the door and crossed to the dresser with
his load of fresh ice. "I ought to dump this down both your shorts! Maybe
that will cool you off."
        "Flip did!" Mike glanced at his old friend lying in the next
bed. Philip looked like he was blushing again, although it was hard to
tell. "In fact, I think that Brett guy is already telling everybody that
Philip was six, six and three hundred pounds!" He let his smile fade a
little. "I was out of it quick. Philip had to take up my end."
        "I'm not surprised." Steve couldn't help but grin at the two of
them. "Old glass jaw strikes again!"
        "Hey, Steve?" Mike broke into a decidedly lopsided grin. "About
what you said about the ice,...I haven't tried that yet. Could be fun!"
        "Here! You pervert!" Steve regarded them with his own grin as he
threw another ice filled cloth at Mike's groin. "I don't want to hear any
more!"

__________________________________________________________________________

        Philip sat uncomfortably back behind the seat of Mike's truck. He
looked at his red arms and squirmed to try to relieve the pressure on his
back. The guys had insisted he get out for some sun and of course he
burned, no matter how much lotion Mike had applied. All he probably did was
make his freckles stand out even more than they already did.
        It was also bad that he'd burned places that had never seen the
sun. His upper thighs itched terribly, he'd probably peel like a snake!
Everybody had gotten a good laugh when John had loaned him a suit. His
first question had been where the rest of it was. About the only relief he
and Mike had was one last mutual jerk-off last night. He smirked at
himself. They were both too sore for anything else. He felt like he was a
complete mess. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his back hurt....But It had
been fun. He couldn't deny that...well, some of it, anyway.
        The only thing he didn't want to face, but was forced to, was that
it was over. Michael had to go home and he had to face a return, to what?
It was like after the feast, all he had was a famine to look forward to. He
could only hope that Jeff and the others would forgive him and let him back
into their circle, but deep down still felt that it was too late.
        Then there was Marty. Philip guiltily hung his head to hide from
Mike's eyes. He'd been so caught up in himself, that he'd forgotten to even
call him until Mike had told him to that morning. Marty was back at PT, so
he'd left a message with his younger brother and left it at that. His
stomach gnawed at him when he thought about it. Would Marty even still want
to be friends any more? They really didn't know each other. Why did he want
to pin his hopes on the kid like that?
        "Earth to Flip! Earth to Fl... Hey, you zoned out again." Mike
smiled as he glanced back in the mirror. "You gon'a be OK?" Philip still
reminded him of a rabbit emerging into the light of a new day, ready to
bolt back into its hole.
        "Yeah, I'm OK." Philip smiled back. "I just wish...." He let the
thought trail away. All his wishing would get him nowhere.
        "I know how you feel." Mike's smile faded a little. "You sure you
don't want to do anything else when you get home? I'll be happy to help you
with it."
        "No." Philip let their eyes meet briefly. He knew he'd have to face
it sooner or later. "I can't tell her. Not now. Maybe later, when I'm forty
or something."
        "OK," Mike sighed as he guided his truck effortlessly through the
streets toward Philip's house, "although she might figure it out on her own
by then." He let a slight grin cross his features. "I really don't think
you'll have any problem with it. She accepted me OK. Hell, she let you come
with me and didn't once think I'd rape you...Not that I wouldn't mind...."
        "You're not her son!" Philip closed his eyes. They were almost
there. "Why should she care if you're gay? Fuck!"
        "All right." Mike felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He'd really
wanted to be there to support his old friend, but wouldn't say anything. It
wasn't his place. He decided to change the subject. "Just remember the
tickets for your opening night."
        "Are you sure you want ten?" Philip breathed out the air he'd been
holding in. This was a safer subject. "It's just a stupid high school,
after all! Who are you bringing?"
        "Me, Nick, Steve and Jenny..." Mike counted each finger to
punctuate the names. "Trent wants to come, plus I've talked to a couple of
other friends back home who said they'd like to come and meet you as
well. You can't get rid of me that easy!"
        "That's crazy." Philip shook his head. "Why would your friends want
to drive half a day just for that?"
        "Who said anything about driving?" Mike cast a sidelong glance at
Steve, who he suspected of feigning sleep. "We're gon'a fly. One of my
friends is a pilot. In fact, he's already agreed."
        "You can count me out," Steve replied through his half-lidded
eyes. "I'm not getting near anything that crazy sonofabitch has control of
ever again!"
        "Hey! Kelvin gave you a barf bag, didn't he?" Mike enjoyed sharing
the private joke. He only wished he'd been there to see Steve's `birthday
flight'. "Besides, his dad will probably be in charge."
        "He'd better be." Steve swallowed as if remembering his
nausea. "All I remember is I'd have thrown up, if I knew which way was up!"
        "OK, I'll make sure to send you the tickets." Philip looked at the
interplay in confusion. He was still trying to place Mike's friends in some
context and failed miserably. He'd need a scorecard to keep them straight
in his mind if Mike insisted he meet them someday. He really didn't think
it would happen, but if Michael wanted the damn tickets, he'd send them.
        He felt his throat tighten as he recognized the familiar streets
pass by all too rapidly and soon they pulled up at his house. He waited
silently as Steve and Mike exited to make room for him to get out. This was
it. His tightness gave way to a lump that wouldn't quit as he slowly
climbed out of his cocoon for the last seven hours.
        "Can you come in for a while?" He couldn't help but shudder at the
thought of the fourteen hours Mike and Steve had left before they finally
got home.
        "What? And have your mom blame me for the bruises?" Mike smiled
through his own emotions. He felt like he'd just rediscovered his old
friend only to have to leave behind the fierce loyalty they'd shown. He
knew now that they didn't love each other the way they had, but it was
still impossibly difficult to say goodbye to such a `new' old friend.
"Sure, we'll stop for a while. Just...keep your shirt on. I don't want to
get blamed for that!"

        "So what else did you bring back from Mexico?" Philip's mom had
quietly listened to the boys' tales with a mixture of disbelief and
amusement as they went on and on; at least her horror at Mike and Philip's
appearance was fading. The first thing she'd done upon answering the door
was glance at Mike's truck for damage. She was in a quandary about her son
being involved in another fight, though. She shrugged her shoulders at that
news; he was defending Mike, after all.
        "Just a few other things." Mike shifted uncomfortably, trying to
find a middle ground. He didn't want to lie to her, and Philip's silence
wasn't helping him one bit. "Nothing major." He glanced at his watch and
slumped in his seat. At this rate they'd arrive just in time to leave for
school. "We need to be going."
        "You're certain?" She glanced at Mike with concern. "You're both
welcome to stay the night. It's a long drive...."
        "We'll be OK." Mike glanced at Philip, his emotions bubbling up
again. "Steve's gon'a do most of the driving. He slept on the way up."
        "Well I don't like it,..." she rose with the others to see them to
the door. She hugged them both tightly, "...just promise you'll be careful
and stop if you get too tired."
        "We will." Mike turned and walked with Philip out to the truck,
stopping at the passenger side while Steve climbed behind the wheel. "You'd
better call me this time, otherwise I'll break your fingers myself!" He
reached out to his friend and grabbed him around his chest, pulling him
close.
        "I will," Philip managed to croak through his tight chest. He threw
caution to the wind and kissed Michael's cheek, tasting the salty wetness
flowing from his eyes. "I promise."
        "You'd better..." Mike's voice broke in the quiet of the moment as
he forced a smile. "I'd hate to have to come back and beat the shit out of
you."
        Philip could only smile himself at the statement of enduring
friendship they shared. He leaned back into Mike and briefly kissed him
again before he turned and stepped back to watch them leave. He felt his
heart settle heavily into his stomach as the taillights drifted from his
sight. The last week was at once the worst and best of his brief life. He
vowed to make the best of Michael's efforts. He owed him that and much
more!

        "What the fuck?" Jeff quickly pulled his car into a U-turn and
pulled up to the intersection to confirm what he thought he saw in the dim
light of the sunset, when he passed Flip's street. "I don't fuckin' believe
it!" Maybe Peter was right!

End of Part 6

My thanks to Ed for his patient assistance with this story. My thanks to
all the readers for their responses, both positive and negative. Philip has
certainly generated some strong reactions!

As usual, I look forward to your responses. Let me know what you think.
		   Thanks. Willy B.    (haztech@msn.com)