Date: Tue, 19 Jun 2001 00:49:16 -0500
From: Brennan Jobse <bjobse414@hotmail.com>
Subject: Running Scared - Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Hey, my little cyberbuddies! Everybody still kickin'?
Excellent.  Now, before we get started, there's a few things we have to go
over first. I know, I know. I think they're boring, too, but it's gotta be
done. Okay, if you're under 18, you probably shouldn't be here because some
person who's OVER 18 will most likely have a fit if they find out you're
here. But that's denying people literature. My advice? If you're in this
predicament and want to stay, don't get caught. Nice and simple. If the
global location of where you are has some kind of trippy law forbidding ALL
people to read this, follow the same advice for the above situation. If you
somehow wandered in here by mistake and can feel your stomach lurching at
the thought of two guys in love, I suggest you leave and maybe get yourself
some counselling to help deal with that.  Everybody else, read on!

Running Scared
Chapter Five
By Brennan Jobse

	This was it. The moment of truth. If all went well, I'd be in
shorts and kleats by the end of the day. If not, I wouldn't see them again
for another eight months.  No District Finals, no City Championships, no
Regionals, no Provincials.

	I was standing outside the Phys Ed office gathering up my courage
to go and beg for my spot on the soccer team. Inside the room, sitting at a
desk covered in papers, was Coach Haverland. A small woman with curly
orange-red hair tied back in a ponytail,
  I had always liked her. She was a great coach. Took us to Provincial
Semi-Finals the year before when we were finally beaten down by Penticton
by two goals. But she was also fair. And that was the proverbial monkey
wrench in my machinery because I had ditched soccer (along with everything
else for that matter) for a couple of weeks. And it wouldn't be fair to let
me back on the team after I did that.

	So there I stood, with Austin and Aaron by my side, faithfully
getting more and more impatient by the second. I suppose they had good
reason. We'd been standing outside that room for almost half an hour.

	"Just go do it," Austin hissed at me for the fourth time since we
had arrived.

	"What if she says no?"

	"It'll be the end of your world and you'll commit suicide. It could
be like a pot-luck supper. Someone brings the casket, someone brings the
clothes... I'll bring the rope, if you want," offered Aaron in exasperated
sarcasm.

	I shot him a glare. "You're not helping," I said shortly, and
turned my gaze back to Coach Haverland. "Really, what if she says no?"

	"Then you'll deal with it, but for fuck's sake, just go ask her."
With that, he pushed me roughly into the Phys Ed office and into Coach
Haverland's line of sight.

	"Well, well, well. Ben Ghallager. Haven't seen much of you lately,"
Coach Haverland said, eyeing me up and down suspiciously from her place at
the table.

	I nodded and shuffled my feet nervously. "Yeah. Um, that's kind of
what I wanted to talk to you about."

	"Oh?" She pushed her papers away and leaned back in her chair.

	"Yeah. Um, I know I haven't been at any practices or games in the
last little while, but I was wondering if..." I trailed off here, unable to
say the rest.

	"If you could still play?" she finished for me. I nodded and she
sighed.  "Ben, come have a seat," she said and patted the chair next to
her. My stomach sank to my feet as I walked over to the plastic chair. I
was screwed. She was going to tell me no and that would be the end of my
soccer for the rest of the year.

	"Ben," she started gently, "you know what the rules for staying on
the team are. Keep a 80% average and don't miss practice without a
legitimate excuse. You've been up and gone for 2 weeks. Everybody else met
the standards and I'm sure they had things they wanted to do rather than
practice dribbling drills for forty-five minutes." Her tone was firm, but
her eyes were sympathetic. She knew how much soccer meant to me.

	I nodded silently, my eyes on the table so as not to give away how
crushed I was. I knew the answer would probably be no, but the reality of
no more soccer still sucked.

	"However," she added, and I felt a flicker of hope come back. "I
know you're a good kid, Ben. You've never given me any trouble before and
you're the best defencemen I could have asked for. So as long as you give
me your word that it won't happen again, you can come back."

	My mouth dropped open and I gaped for a few seconds before I
remembered how to talk. "I...  I can play again? Really?"

	Coach Haverland laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I might as well take you
back.  After all, we have that big game against Westington in a little over
a month. I need someone on the field who can guard my guys."

	"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I jumped up out of my seat and
hugged her tightly from behind, then pulled away, embarrassed at my display
of gratitude.

	Coach Haverland just laughed some more. "You're welcome, Ben," she
said, through a wide smile. "Remember, practice today at four!"

	I nodded and grinned again. "Thank you so much, Coach Haverland!
Guys! I can play again!"  I cried, flying out of the office to tell my
cheering squad the good news.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

	"Ben, man! Where you been?" yelled Tommy Chung happily, as he
dribbled the ball towards me after practice that day.

	"Family stuff, Tom, you know how it is," I replied with a smile,
and stuffed my kleats into my bag.

	"Yeah? Everything okay?" he asked now that he was closer. It wasn't
like Tommy was being nosy or anything. I had gone to school with Tommy
since we were nine years old and we were good friends. Maybe not as good as
some of my other friends, but good friends nonetheless.

	"Yeah, things are back to normal now," I told him as the team
started to walk home.

	"Excellent. We missed you something awful, man. I mean, your boy
here," he said, draping his arm over Aaron's shoulders, "he's a great
forward, but he can't defend worth shit."

	"Look who's talkin', Chung. As I recall, my defending slaughtered
yours in that scrimmage game on Tuesday. Or were you too busy checking out
Kristen Haver to notice?"  Aaron retorted with a smile. Tommy was notorious
for being somewhat of a player.

	"What kind of a shallow, inconsiderate cretin do you think I am? To
sacrifice the hard work of my fellow practicing teammates to ask out some
girl??" He scoffed lightly.

	Aaron, however, was not fooled. "What'd she say?"

	Tommy grinned. "Oh, she said yes. We're going out this weekend."

	The parade of people had broken off into smaller groups, but
Tommy's loud voice carried over our small area and a ripple of laughter
went through us. I laughed with the rest of them. It felt good to be back
in the swing of things.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

	"Tell me again why you agreed to do this?" I asked Austin as the
sweat poured off my face.

	It was Saturday afternoon and while it wasn't terribly hot (only
about 10 C), the snow we usually had around this time was gone, due to some
weird heat wave the Vancouver area was going through. Soon, though, the
rains would start and we wouldn't have more than two sunny days in a row
for at least two months. It was my favorite time of year. Rain always made
me feel... sedated.  Being at home was easiest when there was a
thunderstorm going on outside.

	Austin and I were washing Michael's car. A nice, shiny, new red
Convertible. Michael's pride and joy. Austin told me he had saved all his
four years in high school for that car. And he was VERY particular about
it. Which was why I had no idea why we were washing it. I mean, I wasn't
exactly what you'd call a car guy. If it moved, great. If not, walk.  Who
cared what it looked like as long as it ran?

	"I didn't AGREE to it, per se," he said, taking a quick swipe at
the side panels on the other side of the car with his rag. "It was forced
upon me."

	"How?"

	"Michael and my parents are going to some party tonight so they
went shopping and for hair cuts, which means I get to wash the car because
I'm the only one who's not going out tonight." He wiggled his eyebrows and
grinned. "Wanna come over?"

	I shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a smile. "Not really. Laundry
to take care of, math to do. Important stuff, you understand, of course."

	Austin made a face and threw his rag at me. I tried to dodge it,
but it hit me in the shoulder. I soaked it in the bucket by my feet and
threw it back. Whap! It hit him in the forehead and he looked stunned. But
only for a second. Then he got this look in his eyes like the Grinch when
he decided to steal Christmas. Before I could even think of running, he had
lifted his own bucket of water, darted around to my side of the car, and
dumped the whole thing over my head.

	I gasped as the icy water hit and stood there in shock, staring at
Austin, who was laughing like crazy. I blinked and saw the hose lying by my
feet. Payback's a bitch, ain't it?  Austin was still in peals of laughter,
but he managed to get his eyes open long enough to catch me looking at the
hose and took off in a stumbling run, all the while cackling madly.

	I, needless to say, was considerably more focused. After all, the
bastard had just soaked me from head to toe. I wanted vengeance! In no time
at all, I had tackled him to the ground and carried him back to the car,
kicking and laughing and screaming, and turned the hose on him.

	"No, Ben! Stop! It's too cold! Aaahh!!" he yelped.

	We wrestled with the hose for a while, both of us getting even more
wet from the splashback. Somehow, a kink got in the hose and caused the
water to slow to a trickle. We let the hose fall to the ground and I got a
good look at him.

	He was soaked. Flat out sopping wet. There wasn't a dry spot on
him. It reminded me of how he looked on our first night and I felt myself
getting hard in my now drenched shorts. Like that night, his clothes clung
to him like a second skin, and I was once again struck by how unbelievably
gorgeous this boy was. I ran my eyes up and down his body and noticed that
he was getting a little stiff, as well. Water dripped off his hair and down
his face, and he was breathing hard from our scuffle.

	My eyes met his and he stepped close to me. Despite myself, I felt
a twinge of fear. We were in his driveway, out in the open, and it was
Saturday. There was no way we could do anything out here; we'd be seen for
sure. He put his hands up close to my ear the way you do when you're a
little kid telling someone a secret.

	"Let's go upstairs," he whispered and licked the ridge of my ear. I
closed my eyes and sighed. He took his hands away and I followed him into
his house. No sooner had he kicked off his sandals when I shoved him
against the wall of his living room and kissed him fiercely. He responded
eagerly, probing his tongue deep into my mouth. I moaned and sucked on it,
relishing in its flavor and texture.

	We stumbled up the stairs, lips locked, hands clutching at each
other's wet shirts. How we made it to his room with our eyes closed, I'll
never know. He pushed my back up against his door and started grinding into
me slowly. I could feel his cock rub against mine and I moaned loudly. I
fumbled for the door knob and turned it, almost losing my balance when the
door opened.

	I spun around, never allowing more than a centimeter of space
between our lips, and pushed Austin down on the bed face up. He kissed me
hungrily and ran his hands over my chest, tweeking my nipples playfully as
he did. His hands found their way under my shirt and he pulled it off. I
let my guard slip and he flipped me over on my back. He shucked his own
shirt and kissed me again, lowering himself onto my chest.

	His lips travelled from mine up my jawline and to my ear where he
nibbled and sucked on it gently. I moaned into his neck and let my hands
run up and down his back and into the hem of his wet shorts. My fingers
kneaded his ass cheeks and he let out a soft moan near my ear.

	"Mmmm... Ben, that feels so fucking good..." he whispered, grinding
his hard cock against mine.

	I pulled his head from my ear and kissed him hard, thrusting my
tongue into his mouth. I loved the way Austin tasted. It was as erotic as
any other part of him and it drove me fucking wild.

	He kissed me again and moved slowly down to my chest to suck on my
nipples.  Always the tease, he flicked his tongue lightly over each one a
few times before actually going to work on them. When he broad-tongued me,
my whole body stiffened and I balled up the sheets in my fists.

	"Oh, fuck, Austin..." I moaned through clenched teeth.

	Austin made his way down my chest, planting little kisses as he
went, until he hit the waistband of my shorts.  I was so hard by now, I was
sure that if he touched me, I would shoot in his face. Slowly and
deliberately, he pulled off my shorts and boxers. He stuck out his tongue
and licked up the side of my shaft, sending a tremor through my whole body.
My hands wandered down to his head and started playing with his hair.

	I was in heaven. Total and complete paradise, like I was
floating. But it was nothing in comparison to what I felt when Austin took
all of my 7 inches in his mouth.  Sensations I had never before felt in my
life coursed through my veins like electricity.

	He bobbed up and down on my dick and it was almost more than I
could stand.  My breathing was loud even in my ears. My eyes were closed
and I could see every color in existence swirling around in kaleidoscopic
madness on the backs of my lids.

	"Austin," I murmured. He either ignored me or didn't hear me
because he didn't stop what he was doing for a second. "Austin," I said a
little more clearly.

	He looked up with a mix of surprise and hurt in his bright blue
eyes. I guess he was worried he wasn't doing a good job. What a silly
boy. "What? What's wrong?"

	"C'mere." I grabbed him by the hips and swiveled him around so his
crotch was in front of my face. Without wasting a moment, I pulled off his
shorts and freed his cock. It was swollen and oozing pre-cum like a leaky
faucet. I smiled to myself and flicked my tongue over the head, emitting a
moan from Austin, who was down by my crotch, propping himself up with his
arms.

	"I never would've figured you for a 69 guy," he said once he had
regained a little control. He sounded amused.

	I grinned and responded by taking his hard dick deep into my
throat. He sucked in a deep breath and collapsed onto me. He took me back
into his mouth immediately.  The colors behind my eyes came back with a
vengeance. I moaned around his dick, tracing my fingers lightly up the back
of his thighs and up to his ass. When I accidently brushed against his
hole, his whole body shuddered and shook with pleasure.

	He began sucking me in earnest now, giving it everything he had and
more. I had to consciously remind myself to be VERY careful with my teeth.
As the suction increased, the colors swirled faster and faster until all I
could see was the blur of a spinning spectrum. I never wanted it to end.

	It was more than I could handle, though. And evidently, more than
Austin could handle as well. His hips were pumping against my face in a
desperate plea for release.  It was almost a surprise for me to realize
that mine were as well. I felt Austin's cock expand in my mouth and I
pulled him closer to my mouth, digging my fingernails into his ass. Shot
after powerful shot of hot cum flew down my throat, and I felt the
vibrations from Austin's moans travel up my dick and into the length of my
spinal column, making every square inch of my body tingle. I could feel my
orgasm rushing up at me from my toes like a tidal wave. Barely holding back
a scream, I thrust my hips at Austin's face one more time and blew my load
with such a fury, I thought I was going to pass out.

	Austin let my now sensitive cock slip from his lips and turned
himself around so he could kiss me. His lips met mine and I could taste
myself on his tongue. He pulled back and this time it was me whose eyes
stayed closed, playing everything over in my head, trying to burn it into
my memory. When I finally opened them, the first thing I saw were his eyes;
those twin pools of bright blue that caught the light just right so it
looked like they were glowing.

	I lifted my hand up to caress his cheek. Despite the fact that it
was mid-afternoon, the whole thing had an ethereal feel to it, like
everything was slowed down.  Austin took my hand from his cheek and kissed
my fingertips, smiled, and lay down beside me, his head on my chest.

	We were quiet for a long time. Words were unnecessary. So we just
lie there in comfortable silence, letting our breathing slow and our
heartbeats return to normal.

	I was thinking about something Aaron had told me. He'd had to do
this project on ideas that weren't found in mainstream society for his
Philosophy class and was researching a place called Shangri-La. It was an
Eastern thing, this one guy's idea of heaven.  Supposedly, it was a city at
the highest point of the Himalayan Mountains where everything was perfect.
I was about a thousand times higher than that place. In my own Shangri-La.
It was better than perfect. It was peaceful.

	After a while, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and I began to
doze off.

	"Ben?"

	I kept my eyes closed. "Hmm."

	"What are all these bruises from?"

	Well, let me tell you, that was enough to wake me up pretty damn
quick. My eyes snapped open and I saw that Austin was playing his
fingertips gingerly over my stomach. Angry purple bruises were all that was
left my most recent pummeling from my dad. I remembered that night
vividly... I had forgotten to lock the garage door after putting away the
vacuum and had gotten kneed in the gut a few times before I finally threw
up and was left to my own devices.

	"Maybe you'll remember next time, faggot!"

	The words rang in my ears even now. I wondered why my dad hated me
so much.  Sometimes late at night, I would creep up to the attic where all
my mom's old books were. Every book she ever owned was in our attic,
including photo albums. There was this one picture of the three of us at
Niagara Falls. I was five and my dad had me up on his shoulders, with his
arm around my mom's waist and we were all smiling, like there was nothing
in the world that could possible hurt us. Once upon a time, I would think
to myself, my dad didn't hate me.

	"Ben?" Austin's voice brought me back to the here and now with a
start.

	"What?" Maybe if I pretended I didn't hear the question, he'd
forget it.  Not bloody likely.

	"Where'd all these bruises come from?" he asked again.

	"I fell down the stairs," I said, deciding to use a reliable
excuse. "Right into some boxes that were at the bottom. Hurt like a bitch."
I laughed nervously, praying that Austin didn't pick up on it, and tried to
keep my tone normal.

	I hated lying to him, especially about this, but my home life was
something I had to keep to myself. No matter how much people liked me now,
no one would hang around me if they found out what my life was really
like. Not Austin, not Aaron, nobody. And I didn't expect them to. It was
complicated. Why should they be burdened with my problems?

	After what seemed like ages, he smiled and shook his head. "Klutz,"
he muttered, and kissed the purple marks gently. A wave of relief washed
over me and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding in. "Get
dressed," Austin said, sitting up and pulling me with him.  "We've still
got to wax Michael's car."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

	We finished the car and when Austin's family came home, Michael
told us what a bang-up job we'd done.

	"Excellent, chaps, really smashing," he commented in a thick
British accent as he walked round the car. "No scratches, no missed
spots..." He glanced up at Austin with a smile. "I think Ben's a keeper,
little brother. If he wasn't already yours, I'd snatch him up myself." With
that, he gave me a wink, and, satisfied with his car, went into the house.

	Austin saw the look on my face and shrugged helplessly. I took a
breath and reminded myself that Michael was just being Michael. Oh, yeah.
This whole 'Funny Brother Syndrome' would take a little getting used to.

	I went home after that and did what little homework I had that
weekend.  Some stupid English questions on the difference between a subject
and a predicate. Yawn.

	But they had taken longer than I had anticipated and I was late in
getting supper ready for my dad. He came home from work at 5:00, and
pitched a snit about having to wait for dinner.  My dad always worked
Saturdays. Said it was because he didn't like to be around me any longer
than was necessary. I used to be amazed at how casually he could tell me
things like that. Now, however, I was usually just glad he wasn't walloping
me while he said it.

	Thankfully, dinner wasn't as late as I thought it would be and we
managed to have a fairly civilized meal for a change. We didn't talk to
each other; that was out of the question.  But we did make it through
dinner without coming to blows, so it was a relatively quiet night.

	When my dad was finished eating, he got up from his seat and went
to the cabinet to get himself a glass and a bottle of brandy. He came back
for ice as I was cleaning up and smacked me across the back of the head so
unexpectedly that I nearly dropped the plates I was carrying.

	"Get these dishes done," he said to me, and then retired to his
office without another word.

	I rubbed the back of my head and scowled to myself. I was going to
do them anyway, what'd he have to smack me for? But I knew the answer to
that. Because he felt like it. Besides, I reasoned, a non-committal smack
on the head was better than a full out fist fight.

	As I washed the dishes (we didn't have a dishwasher; my dad said
people nowadays were too soft, having machines do even the simplest of
tasks) I looked out the window at the sky, which had grown dark yet again,
and threatened to dump buckets of water everywhere. The radio behind me was
playing quietly, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I was thinking
about Austin.

	I knew he was disappointed because I couldn't come over that night.
I really had wanted to, but I couldn't risk asking my dad and getting
beaten for it. Not now.  Not so soon after Austin had noticed my bruises
from the last time we'd gotten into a fight. I knew it was best, in the
long run. But it didn't change the fact that Austin was home, alone and
bored. He couldn't even call me because his dad wanted him to keep the line
open for an important call. Something about new stock.

	I sighed as I finished the dishes and went to resign myself to an
evening of miscellaneous chores when I heard the radio announcer.

	"Next up, we've got a tune going to Ben from Your Secret Admirer.
It's Incubus, with I Miss You, on STAR 93.3, Vancouver's hottest radio
station."

"To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn't think could be real.  To know
that you feel the same as I do Is a three-fold utopian dream.

You do something to me that I can't explain So would I be out of line If I
said I miss you?

I see your picture, I smell your skin on The empty pillow next to mine.
You have only been gone ten days, But already, I'm wasting away.

I know I'll see you again, whether far or soon.  But I need you to know
that I care And I miss you."

	The end notes of the song died away and I switched the radio off. I
stood in the kitchen for a while, not really thinking anything, just
standing. The thought of Austin calling those irritatingly happy radio
people and sending out a song to a guy from Your Secret Admirer jumped into
my head and a small smile formed on my lips. I could just imagine the DJ's
face.

	A year before my mom died, she took me to the park one day and
there was this little old man sitting on a bench. He was wearing a short
sleeved shirt and little hat and was running his fingers over some blue
numbers on his arm looking like he was about to cry.  My mom and I sat on
the bench across from him and I asked her what was wrong with the man.

	"That man is a Jew, honey," she told me. "A long time ago, Jewish
people were treated very badly because they acted different from other
people. People hurt them a lot and took everything they owned just because
they weren't like everybody else. But," she said, "if you are nice to
people and help them along their way when they get tired, the world is a
much happier place, Ben." Then she smiled and pointed behind me. "Look,
there's Aaron.  Why don't you two go play in the sandbox?"

	I nodded and went to join Aaron. When it was time to go, the man on
the bench still hadn't moved and still looked like he wanted to cry. I felt
so bad for him, I went over to him, climbed up on the bench, wrapped my
little arms around him, and gave him a big hug. I don't even think he
noticed I was there until he felt me squeezing him.

	"Don't be sad, mister," I said to him. "The world will be happy
again."

	He looked at me in surprise for a few seconds. My mom came rushing
over and took my hand, apologizing to the man for me bothering him. "No
bother, my dear," he said to my mom, holding up a hand. "No bother at all."
Then he looked at me and smiled big. "Thank you, son. I think you're
right." With that, he got up off the bench and walked off, whistling a tune
I didn't know.

	That was the first time I had ever really been proud of anything in
my life. I was so happy that I had made that man smile. And I didn't even
do anything, really.  I just gave him a hug. It didn't occur to me until
much later that compassion might be all that was necessary in some cases.
As 1960's as it sounded, if everyone could just show a little love, the
world would indeed be happy again. For everyone.

	Not feeling so beaten down now, I started in on my chores with
renewed energy. When I finally decided to leave the rest for tomorrow, I
changed into some sweats and crawled into bed, and for the first time in a
long time, I welcomed what tomorrow would bring.


Brennan's Ramblings: Hey, peeps! How's every little thing? Boy, another
long one. Yeah, well, enjoy it, because it might be the last one for a
little while. Calm down!  I'm just going camping for a few days. I leave on
the 22, though, so who knows? I might be able to squeeze in another by
Thursday, but I'm not making any promises. Super mondo thank yous to all my
friends, particularly Mark for his incredible support during a hectic few
weeks. And for being so damn funny. You're the coolest, man!! And a million
thanks to Stone, my brother in the weird.  And if you guys are, you know,
just kinda kickin around with nothing better to do, my email address is
bjobse414@hotmail.com if you feel like dropping me a line.

The Recs: Alright, let's see... a rec... Today's recommendation is a
series.  Three stories, actually. The first is called Bleeding Hearts,
which is right here at our very own Nifty. The last date it was updated was
August 2, 2000. The second, Reap the Whirlwind, is in the College Section
of Nifty, last posted on January 27, 2001. And the third, All Lost Things,
isn't finished yet, so it should be somewhere near the top of the College
Section. Or if you want, you can read them at the author's website:
http://bleedinghearts.nav.to They're written by a guy named Josh Aterovis,
who, as it turns out, has got a publishing contract for Bleeding Hearts.
Anyway, they're great books. Check them out. Enjoy, mon amies!