Date: Sat, 16 Apr 2005 16:17:46 +0000
From: M Williams <kollegekid54321@hotmail.com>
Subject: Living with a Past - Chapter 3

- DISCLAIMER - The following story, novel, or chapter
contains homosexual themes and is not intended for anyone
under the legal viewing age - If depictions of homosexual
activities disturb you - Do Not Continue To Read This Story
- Feedback appreciated
Copyright - 2005 - Max Williams
(Kollegekid54321@hotmail.com)
******************************************************
Chapter 3
     "Jase!  What happened man?!"  Sean started talking the
second that he saw Jason enter the locker room.  "I heard
you blacked out this yesterday and had a seizure or - I
dunno, or something.  What was it buddy?"  Jason's habitual
smile flickered a bit.  The rest the of the day before had
gone as badly as a Thursday could; first he had gone home
early, then his mother had come home early from work because
of the message the nurse had let for her, and she'd let him
have it for skipping school for such a ridiculous thing.
Pam Colby held no room for weaklings, and she wasn't used to
seeing her tall, muscular son lying in bed at 2 pm, drifting
in and out of sleep.  His father had come home and been
mildly supportive, not saying much at all, and then patted
Jason quietly on the shoulder, went down the stairs and
after a few minutes Jason heard some muffled shouts, a bang
of a door slamming, and the car backing out of the driveway.
Before long, Pam was on top of him again, slamming him for
his still dirty room, his unfinished homework, for
embarrassing her at her work, and all the while reminding
him how stupid it was to miss school over a little headache
like that.  Jason had just closed his eyes, and, feeling a
little woozy, fell asleep, worried and sick, at 8 o'clock.
He woke up at 5 am, still feeling pretty groggy and achey,
but an hour jogging before the sun came up cured him of his
lethargy, and he returned to school to all kinds of
questions.  He'd been hoping that his best friend would let
him off the hook and let him not explain it for the 1000th
time, but no such luck.  Sean was standing there in his Nike
shorts, holding his shirt in his hand, clearly paused in
expectancy of Jason's answer.  Sean's tall, elegantly lean
build was accentuated by the lines of lean but tough
swimmer's muscle.  His hairless abs and chest were almost as
brown as Jason's, except for a trail from his navel downward
that was as blonde as Sean's head full of medium length,
straight hair.  Jason realized he was looking around to
avoid answering the question, so he shook himself, brushed
by Sean, and went to his locker.
    "It was . . . it wasn't much of anything, I mean - I
dunno . . . it sucked", he lamely said, trying
unsuccessfully to keep his pleasant smile.  He put his bag
in his locker and started unbuttoning the two buttons of his
polo shirt.  "I just fell asleep in class and kinda rolled
forward.  I mean . . . people need to stop treating me like
I'm retarded and shit."  Jason pulled off his shirt, and
wadded it up in his locker.  He ripped off his t-shirt as
well stood there for a moment, enjoying the cool air in the
locker room on his well-proportioned body.
     "Yeah, I heard.  But what happened?  Like, are you
okay?  Sometimes people have seizures and shit, and you
don't fuckin' know until you go to the doctor, I mean, are
you all right man?  You might have something wrong - like
permanently and you should find out -"
     "Sean -"
     "I mean, especially if you want to keep
playing soccer and all - we don't want you like
falling down in the field or nothing -"
     "Sean!"
     "Look dude, I want to help you, I just don't know why
you're not letting me.  I mean, c'mon, I know it's a faggy
class and everything and I think that maybe something got to
ya -"
     "SEAN!!"  Jason was breathing fairly
heavily and his hands trembled as he tried to unfasten his
belt.  "Dude, thanks for helping, but I DON'T WANT TO TALK
ABOUT IT."
Sean looked crushed for a second, then defiant. "Fine man,
     whatever.  I just wish you'd
talk about this kinda shit sometimes."  Jason started
pulling his belt off through the loops, and looked up at his
friend.  Sean was finally stretching his shirt over his
head, but still giving Jason that defiant, know-it-all look
that irked Jason so much.
     "What shit?  What do you mean?"
     "You know.  I mean - well . . . c'mon man, you know."
Jason gave Sean a confused, annoyed look that clearly didn't
know.  "All right look - you come into school all the time
with this big smile, and you're all happy and shit . . . and
. . . I dunno - you're not."  Jason crossed his arms over
his hard chest and felt his soft arm hair tickle the rougher
stuff on his torso.  He looked hard at Sean.
     "What?"
          "Dude - I know you have shit going on.  I
don't know why I can't ever come over to your house, or why
you always stay at mine, or at school till 8 every night,
but I can guess. There's something going on man - you're so
fuckin' secretive about everything that I don't know what to
tell you.  And then Meghan comes bitching to me that she
can't ever come over either - she's never been to your house
in three years?! - and I don't know what to say.  And then
some shit like this happens, and you won't even try to lie
about it.  What the fuck is up?! I think you've got
something going on.  I think you're sick, or you're a spy,
or you're getting beat every night or something.  I don't
know, and you're making it really fuckin' hard to care,
Jase."  Sean's defiant look had softened some, but there was
still resentment there from having been rebuffed so many
times by the browned athletic young man standing in front of
him. Jason's crossed arms faltered, but he struggled to keep
them in their rigid position.
     Sean had touched on something that had
bothered Jason his whole life - the fact that he couldn't
take anyone home. While his parents were openly supportive
of his having friends, he knew enough to keep anyone he
wanted to keep as a friend from such an unhealthy influence.
If his parents saw nothing wrong with shooting Jason down,
there was no way they'd be courteous in a long-term way to
someone of an equally subservient age that wasn't even
related to them. Jason had often longed to bring Meghan
home, but always used the complaint of the long drive to
Capetown as his excuse. He had always done the same with
Sean and Trevor, given that most of the population of Cape
City High was, in
fact, from Cape City.  And even though he longed to tell
Sean what kind of hell it was like to subject someone to his
home, Jason just looked at the floor until his tears were
successfully blinked back, and then breathed deeply and
looked Sean straight in the face with his characteristic
smile.
"Because I live too far away dude, you fuckin' know
that.  Look, I'm not unhappy, I'm fine.  Just because other
people have fuckin' drama going on doesn't mean that I'm
gonna go around bitching at everyone because something in my
life sucks.  I got tired the other day and fell asleep in
class, and fuckin' fell over.  It's funny, dude.  I mean
c'mon, shit like that happens all the time, oh but if it
happens to me, then it fuckin' means something.  Look man, I
love you like a brother, but fuck the hell
off.  Seriously, go - Ill be out in a minute and Ill kick
your ass, and then you'll see how much of a fuckin' sick,
abused spy I am."  He laughed and playfully punched Sean on
the shoulder, and went back to unzipping his pants.  He
pulled them off, revealing his long muscular legs and
ridiculously bright yellow boxers, and started pulling his
running shorts out of the locker. Sean, not sated, but aware
the conversation was over, relaxed and smiled a little.
     "Kay, I guess . . . hey, nice shorts, fag!" he said as
he quickly pulled Jason's boxers down, then laughed like a
madman and ran out of the locker room.  Jason was startled
and quickly pulled them back up, then shouted after his
friend.
     "FAGGOT!" he said, laughing and pulling on his running
shorts and tight sleeveless shirt over his taut young torso
as he ran out of the locker room for a long relaxing game of
soccer with his best friends.


  In another part of the state, a pair of eyes were
blinking open for the fifth time in two days. They had
opened earlier, and been able to stand it for a few minutes
before closing again.  Over the next few hours, they had
opened three more times and each time had been able to look
around for increasing amounts of time.  Now they were open,
and the skin around them began to twitch. The pupils
themselves were tiny black pinpricks, lost in a sea of steel
blue that seemed as big as quarters.  The formerly white
eyeball itself was the dull yellow of rotted cream,
crisscrossed with lines of bloodshot red.  Heavy dark lashes
kept the scant sunlight from hitting the eyes directly, and
crackled, heavily jaundiced skin seemed to emanate dust
whenever the cracked skin blinked.
But despite the relative movement that the eyes were
having, they still had a dumb, empty, dead look to anyone
that might have seen them then.  They were seeing, but for
all the creature that controlled the eyes knew, they
weren't.  So the
body was waking up, but the mind still slept. But that was
soon to change, and had the mind known, it was about to wake
up to an adventure that it had never prepared for.
     Jason spent Friday night in his room.  His parents were
downstairs, his mother was cleaning up the dishes from
dinner and his father was preparing to go out bowling with
his friends from the factory, and Jason himself was sitting
at his desk.  In front of him was the crumpled drawing that
he had been working on in Braun's class the day before, and
as he looked at it and tried to figure out who he had been
in the middle of drawing, his mind couldn't help but drift
from the soccer defense to the class itself . . . Jason
remembered Fredo, and parts of their conversation . . .
something about Fredo making up, or - or something . . .
Jason remembered  Braun coming in . . . oh yeah, he remember
arguing with Fredo, that was right . . . his mind
unexpectedly jumped to arguing with a half-naked Sean in the
locker room, and he replayed Sean's words in his head.  You
come into school all the time with this big smile, and
you're all happy and shit . . . and  . . . you're not . . .
some shit like this happens, and you won't even try to lie
about it . . . I think you've got something going on . . . I
don't know, and you're making it really fuckin' hard to
care, Jase . . . you're making it really hard to care . . .
Jason shook his head.  Whatever, he thought, so maybe I do
have some shit going on - if anybody had my life, they would
too.  Fuckin' Sean, fuckin' Fredo . . .
Jason went back to his drawing, and this time tried to cut
people out and just focus on the music that he'd heard. He
closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to piece together
the various notes that he'd heard the day before. Why had it
affected him like that?  For that matter, how had it
affected him?  What had actually happened?  He concentrated,
squeezing his eyes and scrunching up his face, curling his
hands into fists on his desk and straining to remember just
one piece of that ridiculous song - it was was it . . . no .
. . was it - was it no . . . not that either.  Wait . . .
Jason
waited for a second and thought he could hear a note in his
mind.  He played it in his head again, and found that he
remembered the next one after it. He redoubled his efforts,
and straining even more than before, played those two notes
again -and - and . . . almost . . . had . . . the . . . next
. . .
     "JASON!"  Jason's eyes snapped open and he flew almost
straight up out of his chair.
     "What!  What!" he yelled almost involuntarily, as he
looked wildly around and found that his father was standing
in the doorway in his winter parka, holding a Michelob in
one hand and the cordless phone in the other. Phil Colby had
the oddest expression on his face as he looked at his son.
     "Its for you, its that Meghan girl.  What . . .?
Nevermind . . ." Phil said disdainfully as he handed Jason
the telephone, and left the room, aware the whole time that
Jason's eyes were on him.  He took a swig of his beer.
           Jason was glad his father had left.  He
felt extremely on edge about having been caught in the
middle of that by his father.  Wait, he thought, the middle
of   . . . what? What am I
doing?  He shook his head for the innumerable time that day.
     "Hello?"
     "Hi honey!"  Meghan's ringing voice never failed to
cheer him up.  He got up from his desk and threw himself on
his bed, his familiar pleasant old smile thankfully
plastered across his face.
     "Hey babe.  What's up?"
          "Well, mom and dad are going out to have
dinner tonight.  Melissa and I gave them a surprise party
this afternoon, and they were so happy about it.  I gave
them that bottle of wine that your parents sent over, they
loved it!" Jason's smile flickered - if his parents ever
found that bottle missing, his nuts were theirs. Still - it
was worth it; after three years of dating their daughter,
Jason had a lot of gift giving to do to placate her
otherwise curious parents that knew Jason like a son, but
had never met his family.  He came back midway through one
of Meghan's sentences.  "- so I think that the wine glasses
would be good, because they clean easier, they could go
through the dishwasher.  Right?  Honey, what do you think?"
           "Oh, sorry.  I was . . . thinking about
something.  For soccer.  On Monday.  What?"
     "I said if you came over now we could have a nice
evening to ourselves.  If we used my bed my parents would
never notice, and if we used the cheap wine glasses this
time, we could clean them out before they even got home,
right?"
"Oh, oh, yeah, yeah.  Oh yeah baby, that would be
great.  What about your sister?"
     "Melissa's already at her boyfriend's.  She says
Danny's really good, so we can plan on her being there for a
while."
     "Oh, cool."
     "So . . . are you coming over . . . ?"
                       "Oh, yeah, yeah!  Ill be right over.
                       Love you." She
giggled in her funny way.
     "Aww, thanks hon.  See you soon.  Bye." Jason heard the
     click of her phone, and
smiled to himself, genuinely this time.  He jumped up off
his bed and ran downstairs.  His parents were sitting in the
living room, his mother firmly panted on the couch with arms
and legs crossed, sternly watching the television, and his
father precariously on the arm of the big easy chair next to
the couch.  His hand had a fresh drink in it, and his open
mouth and glazed eyes made Jason think that the beer must be
the last of a pack.  He still had on his jacket and Jason
feared that he was still, even
in this condition, on his way out.
     "Hey mom, dad?" he started carefully, from behind them.
     "Mmm?" said his mother, barely turning from the nightly
news.
     "Can I borrow the car tonight?  Some of the guys are
getting together at Sean's place and I want to . . . think I
should go."
     "Mmm?  Hmm?  Why "should" you go?  Why aren't you just
going?"  She turned a little to hear his response but was
still obviously involved with the show.
     "Umm, well, Sean's been having a hard time lately, and
. . . er, I think we're getting together to help him out
with his . . . aunt. Dying."  If there was anything that his
mother might approve of, it was flocking to the scene of
drama.  But he had apparently caught her on a good night, as
she dumbly nodded and waved her hand a little in a "do what
you want kind of gesture".  Jason evilly grinned to himself
this was easy.
     "But take your father."
     Crap.
  "What?!"  For the first time his mother fully turned
and looked at him.
          "Your father", she started, "cant make it
to the bowling alley on his own - you need to take him
there.  Its right by - whatshisname's. Sean's."  Crap!
Meghan and Sean lived half an hour from each other.  "And
pick him up again at 11:30 - you're not embarrassing me
again, ass." The last comment was directed at Phil, who
looked at her, swayed vaguely, tried to say something but
just quit and looked back at the television.
     "Um . . . fine.  Sure - I'll be back in a few minutes."
It was better than nothing at all, Jason reasoned.  Still,
he didn't understand why everything he wanted to do came
with such ridiculous stipulations.  He ran into his room
quickly and ripped off his shirt.  The muscles in his back
rippled in the dull evening light as he quickly sorted
through the piles of clothes on the floor, found the
tightfitting black shirt he wanted, and ran to the bathroom.
He reminded himself of the time that he had been invited to
Meghan's for her mother's birthday and wound up showing up
two hours late because Pam refused to let him borrow the car
until she knew what she was doing.  Once she found out that
she was staying home, he still couldn't use it because it
was after 6 o'clock, which had been their rule at the time.
But rules in the Colby household changed with the wind,
although more specifically, they changed with what would or
would not help out Pam the most at that particular time.
Jason felt the temperature of the running water in the
shower, and then looked at himself closely in the mirror.
Not pleased, he quickly dodged into the bathroom cabinet and
pulled out his mother's tweezers, and began systematically
pulling out the errant eyebrow hairs.  Once he finished, he
looked at himself in the mirror.
Not bad, he thought, not bad at all.  Except for this - and
he plucked one long hair on his chest.  He smiled at
himself, and his warm smile made him happy.  He had a great
smile and a tan, square face, with a firm jaw line and
masculine chin.  His straight brown hair was beginning to
lighten from his time spent in the sun, and his mildly
stubbled face helped to outline the broad, handsome shape of
his face.  Just for fun, he flexed his chest and arms and
was thrilled to see the taut muscles tighten up with
tension, and the eight rectangular sections of his stomach
come out and define themselves.  He had a little fat, but it
was sexy, he decided, as was the light dusting of swirling
straight brown hairs on his chest, and the line of similar
hairs under his navel.  It's no wonder Meghan wants to fuck
this, he thought, smiling again.  Wow, I'm pretty vain, he
added, almost laughing at himself.  For some reason, he
began taking off his pants in the mirror as well, and was
equally happy with the tan and enormously proportioned
muscle that he saw there.  My saving grace, he thought.  It
really is no wonder, hahaha . . .
     Ten minutes later he was downstairs, shirt clinging to
his masculine chest holding his jacket and smiling at his
father.
     "Lets go dad, I don't want to keep Sean waiting."  His
father looked at him numbly, back at the television, and
then got up.  Phil went briefly to Pam, who gave him one
look and sneered, put her hand on his face and pushed him
away, and then he vaguely got it, sauntered back to Jason
and let his son lead him the rest of the way.  Jason sighed
at this: the average state of his household.  They left.
     The car trip was uneventful.  His father tried getting
into the driver's seat, but Jason quickly reasoned with the
mentally numb man and pushed his father to the passenger
side of the car.  Phil got scared and in his stupor started
lashing out at what had apparently occurred to his brain was
an attacker, and Jason wound up receiving a fairly nasty
blow to the right side of his mouth before subduing the man
and getting him into the car.  As Jason walked back around
to the driver's side, he felt his aching face and thought he
detected a trace of blood.  He sighed into the nighttime and
looked regretfully back up at his house - his mother was in
the window, and she was shaking her head.  He raised his
hand in a wave, but she turned her head and missed it - it
looked like - on purpose.  He groaned into the night this
time, and got in the car.