Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 19:53:12 EDT
From: JuilianJ@aol.com
Subject: a long way home chap 3

A LONG WAY HOME
By: Julien
Chapter 3

This story is 100% fictional and is by no means depictive of the life of
any person, place or thing.  It contains sexual activities between males
and should only be read if it is legal to do so in your area.  Read at your
own risk and enjoy.  Comments are welcomed and would be very much
appreciated.  ENJOY!  I would also like to thank my editor for his honest
opinion on this, it means alot man.  Thanks.

DANNY

	I had awakened the day after the incident feeling worse than I had
the night before.  I couldn't get the image of what had gone down out of my
head, and every time I thought about it, I felt the urge to throw up.  Greg
wasn't making it any easier for me by constantly asking me what was wrong.
Fuck!  If I wanted to talk about it, I would.  But I didn't tell him that.
All I did was tell him that I needed some down time to think about what had
gone down, and that I would eventually fill him in on all the details when
I was ready.  He seemed to accept that and left that morning, supposedly to
meet a friend for a morning jog, but I knew better.  He was probably going
to meet his morning trick from last night.  That thought alone had my
stomach turning.  At one in the afternoon, I had finally dragged myself out
of bed and made my way into the shower.  The piping hot water did me a
world of good as I closed my eyes and successfully managed to block out
some of my thoughts.  Those that remained, I tried to ignore the best I
could, but no matter how hard I tried, my mind refused to cooperate, and I
found myself thinking; thinking about my past, my problems, and of George.
As soon as I arrived home last night, I found myself wanting to pick up the
phone and call him, tell him what had happened.  And as strange as it may
have seemed, especially after everything that's happened, I wanted to feel
his arms around me, telling me that everything was going to be ok, that I
was going to be ok.  But that was not to be the case.  I couldn't call on
him at the drop of a hat anymore.  He could never be that person for me,
ever again.

"Shit!"  I cried, frustration filling me as I half-heartedly forced myself
to shake away all thoughts connected with George and my past life.  I never
expected this to be an easy task, to forget about him at the drop of a hat,
but I didn't expect this either, this feeling of dread in the pit of my
stomach, present whenever I thought of him.  It was a feeling of guilt, one
of remorse and, even though I tried to tell myself I was doing the right
thing, I quickly realized that telling myself something and believing it
were two very different things.  With the events of last night still very
fresh in my mind, I realized that I still had a long way to go before I
could finally come to terms with my actions.



"That's it?  Are you sure nothing else happened?  Cause if I find out that
asshole did something that you didn't want done, I'll fuck him up and ..."
Greg said, his apparent anger coming in loud and clear through his actions.
His fist curled and uncurled, and his usual calmness was stripped away in
favor of a more sinister look.

I had finally told him about the incident, as I had come to call it, and
his reaction had somewhat put me off guard.  I never, in a lifetime,
expected this degree of anger from him over something that was obviously
consensual sex.

"Yeah, I'm sure.  I guess I just...I over reacted.  I'm not used to that
kinda thing.  I guess I just panicked after it was over."  I said, my voice
barely above a whisper.  It was embarrassing enough having to retell the
sordid details of the night before, but not having the strength to retell
it confidently was something that just made it all the worse.  It was sex
for gods' sake.  A simple fuck and I was behaving like I was raped or
something.

I finally was able to calm down after my morning shower and think
everything over, put everything into context, and I came to the realization
that I was being naïve about the whole situation.  Too much time spent
sheltered with George had done that to me.  It made me soft, unaware,
ridiculously unprepared for what real life entailed: sex without
attachment, disposable partners, bills, etc, etc, etc.  And if I ever
expected to live my life the way I wanted to, I had to be realistic about
what to expect.

I snapped out of thought as Greg's hand grasped my shoulder.

"Ok.  I'm gonna have to take your word for it but if anyone tries to fuck
with you, make you do something you not comfortable with, you let me know
ok."

"Ok."

"And Danny."

"Yeah."

"Just 'cause the opportunity is there, don't mean you got to take it. Okay?
I know you out to prove that you can survive without George and all, but
you don't gotta fuck around with every cat to prove it, ok."

I was about to argue that he did that all the time, but held back.  Greg
had been living like that for a long time, so he probably knew what he was
talking about.  And if I were to admit it to myself, I wasn't ready yet to
start wearing that scarlet letter on my chest.  It was gonna take time to
get used to sleeping with someone new.

"Ok," I replied.

After that, the conversation turned to my living arrangements, and all the
sentimental shenanigans that Greg was throwing my way disappeared into thin
air.

"Now that that's out of the way, we get down to business.  I know I told
you that I wouldn't mind you staying here and all, but I got some house
rules that you gots to follow, you get me?"  He questioned, his eyes
burning into mine.

"Yeah, I get you." I stated.

"Good.  First off, you keep your hands off my shit.  That includes all my
porn, my stash of condoms, and my dildos, ok?"

I cringed on that last count but nodded.

"Secondly. Don't answer the phone.  If I'm not here, the machine will pick
up.  And thirdly, no fucking in the house.  I don't bring no one back here,
and you can't either.  You keep your shit outside and that includes the
hubby."

"He's not my hubby."  I started to protest, but he cut me off.

"Whatever he is, just keep it out here.  I like you, Danny, which is why
I'm not gonna charge you rent or any shit like that, but I expect you to
contribute to what you eat, and keep my shit tight, just like how I have
it.  Other than that, we'll get along just fine."  And with that, he pulled
me into an embrace, something that I hadn't expected.

"I appreciate you putting out for me, Greg, I really do, and I'm gonna find
some way to make it up to you..."  At that, I could feel my eyes begin to
get moist.

"Uh, man, don't start with that shit, please.  I know you appreciate this,
Danny, and I'm happy to help out, but I'll put your ass out if you start
any of that emotional shit with me," he stated, pulling away from me and
straightening up to his full 6ft, 2inch stature.

I just let my hands fall to my sides and tried to compose myself without
much success.  I could still feel that lump in the middle of my throat, and
every five seconds I had to wipe away imaginary sweat beads from my eyes.

"I'm gonna go out later, same place we went last night, and you're welcome
to join me if you want."

Even though he sounded sincere enough, I got the distinctive feeling that
he was hoping I would say no, so I did.

"I think I'll pass.  He's probably going to be there and I'm just not ready
to see him, not right now.  Maybe another time," I offered half-heartedly,
to which Greg shook his head in agreement.

"Ok, there's a couple of menus in the kitchen drawer if you get hungry, and
I'll put out a couple of tapes for you."

"Tapes?"  I inquired, not quite understanding where this was going,

"It's a private collection I think you'll like.  Your kinda guys, too..."

"Oh," I said, finally realizing what he was referring to.  The last thing
on my mind was sex, so I politely declined, to which he replied,

"Your loss.  Have fun with your good ol' right hand and imagination."

I watched as he then gathered up his wallet, keys and cell, and walked
towards the door.  Each step he took represented another notch in my state
of depression.  I didn't want to go out with him, but the idea of staying
home alone was not something that I relished either.  But I couldn't tell
Greg any of that.  He might think I was being 'emotional and shit', and the
last thing I wanted to do was piss him off to the point where he would ask
me to leave.  So, instead of saying anything, I let him walk out the door
while I stayed in, staring at an invisible spot on the wall.  What a life.





GEORGE

As I went through our photo album, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of
animosity rise up in my chest.  The thoughts that ran through my head about
him made me want to go straight to church, throw myself at the altar and
beg for forgiveness.  I was never the type of man to hold a grudge against
everyone, but seeing our memories being distorted and destroyed like this
made a piece of my heart break.  I just couldn't understand it, I couldn't
understand him.  What was the logic behind all of this?  Why was this
necessary?  More importantly, why was it my fault that he was unhappy?  I
had done for that boy as if he were my own son, and I had opened my home
and my heart to him without expecting anything but love in return.  I had
given him my all, and for what.  I was bitter, I admit that, but I had
every right to be.  I had taken my load of shit from him over the years,
more than most people could bear, but I did it out of love.  What was so
wrong about that?  Of course, I seemed to be the only one surprised by this
turn of events.  Everyone else around seemed neither shocked nor felt sorry
for me.

It wasn't what anyone said in particular, no, it was all in their actions.
The neighbors staring at me as if I were some child molester, and shaking
their heads.  I could hear the snide remarks too, "he's only a kid.  What's
a man that old doing with a kid?  I'm glad it's stopped."

I was never one to allow public opinion to rule my life, but it hurt to
know that I put my respectability on the line for a relationship that was
ending faster than it had begun.  A relationship that I did everything to
preserve, keep alive.  And, for the first time in my life, I wished that I
had never allowed him to kiss me, never allowed that fine line to be
crossed.  I wished that I had never met Daniel, and God, forgive me for
saying this, but I wish that I had never met Dale.  It all started with
him, through him.  If Dale and I had never met, then I wouldn't have been
the one Daniel turned to when his father died.  He would have been forced
to cry on someone else's shoulder, mess with someone else's head.  Fuck
with someone else's life - NOT MINE.  But I couldn't turn back the hands of
time.  I couldn't change the past and I couldn't erase three years of
memories.  That was just the reality of things.

I slammed the album shut and threw it across the room, narrowly missing a
glass perched on the counter.  And the thing was, I really could have cared
less.  I could have broken all the glasses in the house and I wouldn't have
cared.  Nothing seemed to matter at that moment, and to think, it had only
been a day.  It made me wonder if in a week or two, a month, maybe two
months down the line, if I would be a nutcase.  Would I be tearing my hair
out just because this relationship fell apart?  'It was possible', was my
only thought.  And that thought scared me.  I wondered how I could ever let
myself get to the point where I had to rely on another person for my
happiness.  Was I that desperate for affection?  I guess I was.  Loneliness
is a disease of its own making.  It can eat you from inside out and make
you hollow.  That was how I felt before Daniel, hollow, empty, sad.  That's
how I felt now, right at that moment - hollow, empty, sad.  The story of my
life.  'Come on, George, you're better than that.  Don't allow him to do
this to you.  Be a man, take a stand.  Don't let this be it.'  And even
though it was what I was thinking, I knew that was all it would ever be,
just thoughts in my head.  I knew I could 'think hate' him all that I
wanted, but if he needed me, I knew I would be there.  There was no other
life I knew outside of him.  Three years of happiness had made me forget
how my life was before him.  I knew I could never go back to that, and I
resolved at that moment I would do anything to get him back.  I would be
any man he wanted me to be if it made him come home, come back to me with
open arms.  I would make him love me again if it was the last thing I did.


A VERY SHORY CHAPTER BUT MORE IS ON THE WAY.  LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE WANTS
ME TO CONTINUE OR IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU LIKE/DISLIKE ABOUT THIS
CHAPTER.