.-.

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 21:43:23 GMT

Title: Mistrust
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Straylight Run/Brand New
Pairing: John/Jesse
Rating: R
Summary: Jesse assures John he can be trusted. Maybe John had something to do with it.
Author’s Notes: For the drabble contest. One word stood out to me, this is what came from it.
Archive: matchsticks

He’s not smiling, exactly.

He’s more deep in thought, his hair dark against the white pillow underneath his head. I look up at him and smile, pressing my fingers against his abdomen to coax him into doing so as well. When he meets my eyes, he sits up, biting his bottom lip nervously. I feel my stomach clench anxiously and move next to him, my bare back warm against the wooden headboard. He won’t look at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask tentatively, debating whether to touch him or not. I reach out but my hand hesitates, jerking back to sit in my lap. He notices but doesn’t comment on it, his lips pressed firmly together. “What?” I ask again, and he finally looks over to me, opening his mouth as if to start saying something.

“John,” he says, and my heart is pounding so loudly that I barely heard Jesse speak. I nod a little, encouraging him to continue, even though I’m apprehensive of what he has to say. “It’s Adam.”

I freeze, my fists clenched so tightly that I’m afraid I won’t ever be able to move them again. He’s still not smiling, but he’s not frowning, either. “I... what?”

“It’s Adam,” he repeats, “it’s about Adam.”

In shock, I shake my head. There are so many possible explanations for what Jesse is trying to say and I can’t figure out which one I’m meant to be responding to. “There’s nothing going on between me and Adam, Jesse.”

Jesse looks at me, and his arms open. Quietly, I move into them, resting my head against his neck and letting him hug me. His fingers press into the tops of my arms, his lips at my ear. “I know.”

I close my eyes, trying to forget where I am. Trying to be concerned with only his arms around me, where we were fifteen minutes ago when Jesse said he loved me like he has a hundred times before. Trying to remember what it felt like to have him over me, moving against me, holding my wrists and kissing my neck, like that.

Trying not to remember the conversation Jesse and I had two nights ago. That evening, right before I kicked him out of my house, because he told me he still loved Adam. He told me he never got over Adam, and that he did want to be with me, but he’d never forget about him.

“What are you trying to tell me?” I ask slowly, against his skin, my hands moving shakily across his arms.

“Remember when we were in that hotel in Minnesota?” Jesse says, running a hand through my hair. I can feel myself calming down, moving into his touch, letting him talk. “I told you that you could trust me.”

“I remember,” I mumble. “You said, ‘No matter what, you can always trust me. I promise.’ ”

“That’s right.”

“But,” I continue, “then I told you that no one can make promises like that. We never know what’s going to happen in the future and I didn’t want to make you feel obligated if something went wrong.” I feel my voice cracking, thick with tension, but Jesse says “shh” and I relax again.

“You did say that,” he says, nodding gently. “You were wrong.”

I move back from him, just so I can look at him. “What do you mean?”

Jesse smirks a little bit, cupping my cheek. “You were wrong. Your trust was put to the test, and I passed.” He kisses me, but I’m not coherent enough to kiss back. He pulls back but stays close.

“What happened, Jesse?” I ask firmly, not knowing quite what to feel.

“I saw Adam a couple of days ago,” he says. I watch him talk, but there’s no guilt in him. He’s speaking clearly, truthfully, so I listen as carefully as I can. “I decided to take him out.”

“Okay.”

“We got pretty drunk,” he admits, his eyebrows raising a little. Now, he does sound sorry, guilty, but I just nod for him to keep going. “And he invited me back to his apartment.”

“Oh,” I say quietly.

“I didn’t go,” Jesse tells me. He smiles, moving over me and pushing my shoulders down, straddling my hips. I put my hands on his waist by reflex and he leans down to kiss me. Now, I kiss back, pressing my tongue through his parted lips to meet his. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone and he pulls back. “I didn’t go. Even though I’d just told you I still had feelings for him, John, I didn’t go.”

“Why didn’t you go?” I ask him, my hands running up and down his sides. He kisses me again, and I can feel his smile. His pride.

“I didn’t want to,” he says. “I told him I was in love with the right person this time.”

This time I kiss him, pulling him down and holding the sides of his head, keeping him close to me. He can tell the kiss is desperate, strong, because when he says things like that I don’t know what else to do. His mouth open against mine, I close my teeth on his bottom lip and suck, running my tongue along it. Jesse sighs appreciatively, his hips falling against mine. I put my hand on his back, holding him close.

He gives me a closed kiss, firm, then pulls away. “You can always trust me,” he says. “No matter what. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I tell him. “And I’ve always trusted you.”

And that’s okay to tell him, because what Jesse doesn’t know is I had a conversation with Adam earlier that day, the day Jesse saw him. What Jesse doesn’t know is, Adam is a hundred dollars richer and a great actor. So maybe I have trust issues, but Jesse doesn’t have to know that.

Besides, what Jesse doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Shipwrecked

Mon, 18 Jun 2007 19:29:13 GMT

Title: Shipwrecked
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Straylight Run/Taking Back Sunday
Pairing: John/Adam
Rating: PG
Summary: Adam's the guy who's good with words. He loves manipulating conversations to go just the way he wants. He's not been himself lately, though, and John's determined to find out why.
Author’s Notes: It's about Adam and being in love, really.
Archive: matchsticks

He’s got three fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle, a lit cigarette sitting between the other two. While the smoke is drifting up, his beer sitting half full, I remember how he used to talk when we were out here. Rapidly, not always saying anything of importance, he’d talk and rant and shift the bottle from hand to hand. His cigarette would burn down to his knuckles without a single drag. He would talk, and I would listen.

Now, he’s quiet. He sips his drink and smokes his cigarette, but he doesn’t say anything. Sometimes he looks at me, sometimes he looks down at the ground, sometimes he looks up into the sky. His filtered Camel Wide cigarettes mix with the scent of Pabst beer, and sometimes that’s how I remember him.

Back when we were younger, that’s when he could talk so easily. Being teenagers with all this to look forward to, we had ideas and thoughts and opinions. Now we have jobs and money and relationships, and all of that to look back on. Now, we don’t have anything to talk about. He doesn’t have anything to say. He doesn’t have much to do, except take a drag of that cigarette, take a sip of that beer, then blow the smoke out.

I put my hand on his arm and he doesn’t move an inch. He keeps staring down, his tongue moving quickly over his lips before his eyes land on me. He actually smiles, the side of his mouth turning up gently.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and his breath is visible in the cold.

“Hey.” I take the burning cigarette out of his hand before it burns his knuckles, and toss it to the ground. He nods in thanks, taking the moment to intertwine our fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he replies, “yes. I am.” I know he isn’t lying, but maybe he just doesn’t know. He’s too quiet, his eyes are too clouded.

Adam likes words too much. He uses them to his full advantage; uses tones and sarcasm and implications just to draw whatever he needs out of a conversation. Adam knows me and the English language far too well to ever be misunderstood.

“What’s up?” I ask, gently knocking my knuckles against the side of his head. “What’s going on up there?”

He smirks, pressing the cold opening of the beer to his lips, taking another deep drink. The air is so still that I can still see the smoke rising from his stubbed out cigarette, and he sighs.

“I’m in love,” he tells me. It is unexpected and startling, I feel my stomach churn.

“Oh?” I say in a sad attempt at nonchalance. I shrug with one shoulder, picking absentmindedly at a loose string on the end of my shirt. I look up to him, then back down at my shoes. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s bad timing,” he says. He’s looking at me, reaching for the almost empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the table. “It’s fast.” He slips one between his lips and lights it, leaning back in his chair. He takes the cigarette between his fingers and continues to look at me.

“I’m too young to feel this old,” he says.

“Come on, Adam,” I say. “It doesn’t work like that.” I don’t know what Adam is trying to say, or why his brown eyes are so dull and sad. Love, I thought it was supposed to make you feel happy and jubilant. It was supposed to make you feel complete. Maybe that’s what scared Adam. He wasn’t ready to feel complete.

“I can’t explain it, then,” he says. When he takes the next drag of his cigarette, I make it a personal goal to get him to talk like he used to. I lean forward to grip his wrist, and his eyes snap to mine.

“Try.” I can’t tell if Adam is manipulating this conversation. I want to ask him if it’s going the way he planned or if it’s all coincidental, but instead I just listen.

He lets me continue to hold his wrist. “It’s a shipwreck.” I can see his eyes light up. “It’s knowing there’s no way home.”

I frown, pulling away from him. “That’s horrible,” I say. Adam shakes his head, smiling enough that I can see the tips of his canine teeth, and takes a sip of beer. He licks his lips and meets my eyes, darkly.

“Being in love is a surrender,” he says sagely. “You are giving yourself up, your youth, your attention, your soul, all because someone fits you in all the right ways.”

“You are so pessimistic,” I say sharply. “Love is supposed to be a happy thing.”

Adam laughs out loud, and it actually makes me smile, too. It reminds me of his fast talking rants, swinging his arms around in wild gestures and laughing, always laughing.

“It’s only happy if its reciprocated,” Adam says, “and even sometimes that doesn’t work.”

Adam had this girlfriend he was always fighting with. They’d sit for hours, arguing in circles and raising frustrations between them. Sometimes the tension was so tough that I just wanted to jump in and argue both sides for them, ease their anger. Sometimes I agreed with her, most of the time I agreed with him, but either way their bickering was completely confusing to me. They both accidentally said things they didn’t mean, let things slip, strayed off the path of what they meant to say until they were so deep into it that there was no turning back.

Their relationship lasted for two years.

They finally broke up because Adam couldn’t take it anymore, and since then, he’d sworn off relationships. He couldn’t handle the passive aggressiveness, he couldn’t take being misunderstood. She was too easy to predict, her arguments were all preplanned and formulaic. He couldn’t handle the redundancy. I kept assuring him patience was the key, but he hasn’t dated anyone since her and I always thought he’d just lost all hope in love.

“How can you be in love? You haven’t even been dating,” I point out, and Adam raises an eyebrow.

“How do you know that? I could be,” he tells me. I scoff.

“When? You’re always with me.”

Adam doesn’t reply, just finishes off his beer and taps the end off his cigarette.

We’re outside in my backyard, and there’s a sound of a party across the street. It’s loud, indiscernible voices, laughing, the clink of cups touching gently in a toast. There’s the energy of sexual attraction and fun, the salty flavor of snack food in the air. Inside, there’s only the hope of making her laugh or making him think. Outside, there’s white teeth barely visible in the darkness, voices risen just enough to carry across the street filled with haphazardly parked cars. The party sounds like small purses and wine glasses, women looking to flirt with unsuspecting, loud men. There’s so much laughter.

Adam and I, we’re sitting here. He laughs quietly, provoking one out of me, and my face heats up. I’m thankful for the broken streetlights, my blush hidden in the darkness. Adam has always been able to manipulate my moods and always been someone I’ve looked up to. Adam, he always knew what to say.

“So you’re in love,” I state, and he nods firmly. “And you feel old and unfulfilled?”

He smirks. “I feel like giving up my soul.”

“Why don’t you?”

He shakes his head suddenly, sharply. “I have to go to bed.”

“It’s only nine,” I mumble out of complete confusion, and he stands up, putting one hand on my shoulder.

“I can crash here, right? Thanks, John.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, sitting still as he makes his way back inside. I just eavesdrop on the party a bit longer, finishing my drink. What Adam said about love, I’ve felt it before, but I never knew what it was. It wasn’t identifiable. It wasn’t common.

I’d been in love, and I didn’t even know it.

I throw my beer into the recycling and go inside.

My apartment isn’t big. The living room is preposterously close to the constantly unkempt kitchen, connecting disjointedly to a pristinely tidy bedroom and a helplessly tiny bathroom. It’s beautiful in a minimalist sort of way, with room for only a few luxuries, like the coffee table and the couch. The television is set on top of a pile of books; no room for a bookshelf and I thought I might as well put them to good use.

Adam has stretched himself out on the couch, an arm pillowed under his head. He sighs dramatically, his hair stirring with his breath, eyes rolling up to meet mine when I make my entrance.

“I think we’ve known each other long enough that you’ve surpassed couch status,” I tell him, and he sits up.

“I’m not really tired,” he says with a bit of a smile, scratching his head. The smirk in his voice just amuses me, because Adam plays this game of chase with his words when he’s feeling good. He draws you in to ask questions so he can formulate his responses. Poetic, maybe. He crosses his arms over his chest and I go over to him, putting on my best concerned face. He glances at me and rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. I’m fine.”

I frown and shake my head, gathering some dirty dishes from the coffee table and heading back to the kitchen. If this is a game he feels like playing, I can gladly play along. I don’t know what conclusion it is that Adam wants to come to, how he’s going to manipulate the conversation, but I know what he wants me to do. “Fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay, but you obviously don’t need my help.”

“Come on, John,” he laughs, “don’t be like that.” Inside, he’s saying, be like that.

“Like what?” I ask innocently, and Adam projects a loud sigh.

“You know, girly. Passive aggressive.” I raise an eyebrow and Adam sighs, shaking his head. “Nevermind, I’m sorry.” He draws it out too long, lingering close to sarcasm, an attempt to arouse anger.

“What? You want me to be more aggressive?” I ask, setting the dishes in the sink and turn to face him, my hands in my pockets.

He furrows his eyebrows. I’ve caught him off guard, his game is not going according to plan. “No, Johnny, that’s not what I meant.” He’s ad-libbing, thrown off his original plan.

I don’t respond, and he’s standing up from the couch. He only calls me Johnny when he wants to distract me or apologize, because he knows the feeling the nickname holds for me. It reminds me of being young, back when we were kids, when we would skateboard all day and play music and be all right. He knows that, so he uses it. I bite my tongue before I accidentally say something I don’t mean. What Adam doesn’t know is, I can play his game to my advantage, too.

“Who is it that you’re in love with?” I ask, leaning back up against the counter with my hands still in my pockets. It sends out a casual message, like I’m not completely interested in what he has to say, just mildly curious. Adam is standing in front of me know, looking me straight in the eye, trying to hear my thoughts. I just tilt my head to the side, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“Does it matter?” Adam sighs, running his fingers through his hair and slouching his posture. “I’m already lost to it, I’m not even trying to save myself.”

“What you said before,” I prompt, still holding his gaze, “about it feeling like there’s no way home?”

Adam nods minutely.

I lower my eyes to the ground, already feeling my newfound aggressiveness fading. “What if it is home? What if you’re supposed to be in love right now?”

He purses his lips and shakes his head defiantly. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘No’?” I snap, my mood steadily declining. Maybe it’s the beer, the atmosphere, or just being fed up, but I am through with his word games. “What do you mean ever?”

Adam narrows his eyes, obviously offended, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. I’m worried for a moment that he might actually hit me, but I stand my ground and wait for an answer.

He speaks through gritted teeth, breathing evenly. “Shut up, John.”

“Ugh,” I say, rolling my eyes and pushing him out of my way so I can continue cleaning up the living room. “You’re always speaking in puzzles. You call everyone else passive aggressive when you’re probably the worst of all.”

“Shut up, John,” he says again, more loudly.

I bring some empty cans back to the kitchen, throwing them away and turning quickly to face him. “Why? Because I’m finally saying something off book? Something you don’t have a predetermined answer for?”

Adam scowls guiltily, his hands still clenched tight. “Fine, all right,” he says, “you got me. I’m boxed in a corner, I don’t know what to say.”

I stand right in front of him, not letting him look away. My courage has returned in full, fueled by the anger of being messed with for years.

“Who are you in love with, Adam?” I ask again. He doesn’t answer, so I repeat myself.

“You know who,” he says quietly, his eyebrows knit tightly, trying so hard to not meet my gaze. So guilty and embarrassed at being caught.

“Who?” I say, taking a tentative step closer to him. “Say it.”

He mumbles, and I grab his wrists. I lower my voice, make it less threatening and more soft, questioning. I look at him and say, “Who?”

“You, John,” he says, almost inaudible but completely unrehearsed.

I let my thumb rub across the inside of his wrist, where the skin is so soft I have to smile. “That’s what I thought,” I say quietly, and kiss him.

I can tell Adam didn’t think this part through, his lips parting in surprise when I slide one arm around his waist, settling my fingers on the small of his back. My lips are unmoving, resting gently over his until I feel him sigh with what feels like relief, his hands tentatively falling to my hips.

I can feel his eyelashes on my cheek, and even when we’re not kissing anymore I’m still close enough to feel his breath. His chest rises against mine, and we blink in unison. I accidentally laugh, softly, and he joins me, his head falling against my shoulder. We stay close, laughing, until he shoves me away with a grin on his face.

“You’re an asshole,” he says firmly.

“Me? Why?”

“You knew the whole time,” he accuses, and I just shake my head.

“Not the whole time. Most of it, yeah,” I admit and he rolls his eyes, still grinning.

“I hate you,” he says.

“Actually, you love me,” I correct, leaning in to kiss him again. I can feel his smile, his spark, maybe. He bites my bottom lip and I push him. “Maybe you’re not as good with words as you thought.”

“John, I swear to-”

I put my fingers to his mouth to make him shut up, then lean in, pressing my lips just under his ear. He falls quiet, leaning against me just so. I smirk, pulling at the hem of his shirt, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to need words tonight.”

The next time we’re out there in the backyard, it’s the morning after that wild party next door, the morning after the night in my kitchen. It’s a ‘morning after’ but I’m smiling, drinking coffee. I can’t hear anything going on with the party, people waking up and regretting last night, I can’t even hear the burning of Adam’s cigarette.

That’s because he’s talking, he’s telling me everything he’s wanted to say over the past few years, about me and music and politics and everything. He’s speaking with poignancy and distinction, with passion. This is the Adam I remember, we’re laughing and almost sixteen again, but really we’re just here and listening. He always knows how to speak and phrase and accentuate, and I’m always fascinated.

So I hold his hand and let him speak, watching him smoke and smile. I’m watching him be in love, shipwrecked, lost. Maybe he still feels too old, or maybe he’s all right, but either way, this is it. Here we are, old or young or quiet or stupid or manipulative, aggressive or passive or sad, but either way, it’s love.

Three of Us

Thu, 04 Jan 2007 05:29:53 GMT

Title: Three of Us
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Brand New/Straylight Run/Taking Back Sunday
Pairing: John, Jesse/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jesse and Adam are always arguing, always trying to best each other. When John witnesses Adam and Jesse kiss, the competition changes.
Author’s Notes: It's funny and sad too. I dunno.
Archive: matchsticks

I can’t find anyone that relates better to me than Jesse and Adam.

I mean, I know they can be huge asses, pretentious, conceited- but that can be overlooked. They don’t seem to work that over on me, though Jess and Adam do remain at ends over who’s “better”.

I choose to not get involved in this argument, but if I had to pick sides, I’ve been Jesse’s friend longer and Adam definitely can’t write lyrics as well as Jess can. That being said, Adam has much better hair and can pull off accessories from Limited Too without anyone taking a second glance.

There’s something about Adam that emits a confidence which Jesse has to press whenever he can. Jesse has the kind of pride where he needs to be reassured, bringing others down to make himself look better. I don’t mind this, really, because they never go after me. Always each other. To be honest, more often than not, they’re both incredibly protective of me. Adam is more physical, wrapping his arm around me and letting his head rest on mine. Jesse uses his facial expressions. He’ll smile or raise his eyebrows at me, while Adam’s fingers trail down my arms.

When they’re getting along, forgetting the competition, we actually have fun together. Going to the mall for coffee, watching Adam piss off the cops and run around the hallways to lose them. Watching Jesse flirt with the girls at Hot Topic to get us free stuff- though I didn’t like that part much. I let Adam and Jesse take the lead and I follow them closely. Us three, we’re indestructible.

Even when we’re just at my house (always my house, because no one’s ever home; though Adam enjoys making jokes about catching my sister getting out of the shower), just watching a movie in my living room. We never sit on the couch, there’s just not enough room on it for all three of us. So, we sit on the floor, my shoulder against Jesse’s with Adam’s head in my lap, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

Often, I’ll fall asleep on Jesse’s shoulder with my fingers threaded through Adam’s hair. I’m never sure what happens after that, but I always end up in my bed. Sometimes, I’ll be naked, and I usually roll my eyes and blame that on Adam.

When the three of us get drunk, fingers wrapped loosely around the necks of whiskey bottles, southern comfort, vodka for Jesse, Adam will lean over Jess and whisper in my ear, his lips tickling so bad I have to push him away. He’ll pull me with him, and soon we’re wrestling, writhing to pin the other while Jesse is trapped beneath us. We’ll end up in a laughing, panting heap of drunken limbs. Adam will be trying to push Jesse’s shirt up while Jess angrily fights him off, his hand eye coordination very off.

I’ll wriggle away and watch them touch, Adam gripping Jesse’s hips and Jesse’s head falling to the curve of Adam’s neck. Sometimes, they pass out like that, curled around each other, perfectly even in their race for perfection. Sometimes I’m left wondering if Jesse and Adam are keeping secrets from me. I don’t let myself get wrapped up in it, thought, because as many times as Adam’s lips touch Jesse’s cheek, they’re not speaking or, as many times as Jesse smiles at Adam, it’s balanced by a “fuck you”.

Neither of them treat me that way. I’m their common factor, at the very least. They need me, and I need them.

I’m waking up from a particularly rough evening of alcohol, and when I’m pressing my fingers to my temples the night comes crashing down around me in a flurry of memory. I’m in bed, wearing my boxers, because Adam left early last night. Jesse must have put me in bed last night, after he and Adam kissed.

What I remember is Adam leaning over Jesse and kissing him. Had him pinned up against the kitchen counter, his arms trapping Jesse against it. I remember swaying gently, watching Adam’s jaw move, implying the use of his tongue, and Jesse shoving him away, hard. Jesse came over to me and gripped my arm while Adam regained his balance. There was a moment while I was still trying to figure out what had happened, and then Adam was gone. Jesse murmured, c’mon, let’s get you to bed, c’mon., and I stumbled after him into the bedroom.

After that it’s fuzzy, but I can assume that I passed out and Jesse, always sober enough, helped me. I feel my stomach twist, thinking about Jesse pulling my shirt off while I’m comatose against his shoulder. I can almost feel his fingers at my jeans’ button, slipping it loose and pulling them down. My stomach lurches again when the image of my two best friends kissing comes up. I shake the feeling off, sitting up in bed, reaching for a t-shirt. I pull it over my head and yawn, startling slightly when my cell phone rings. I glance at the clock and curse when I see how late in the day it is.

I flip my cell open, and it’s Jesse, so I know I have to answer. “’Lo?”

“Hey, Johnny. Rough morning?” Jesse laughs, and I can feel myself smiling.

“Not so bad. Thanks for tucking me in,” I say, a hint of actual gratitude in my voice.

“No problem,” he tells me. “Can I come by?”

“Jess, I’m not even dressed yet,” I say sarcastically, though I am pulling on a loose pair of jeans. Jesse laughs a little bit, and I switch my phone to the other ear, cradling it against my shoulder so I can button the pants. I hear Jesse swear quietly, and I pause. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m actually a few blocks away from your place.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And you call now?”

“I thought it was better than not calling at all.”

It’s my turn to laugh, running a hand through my hair a few times. “Thanks for the thought,” I say. “Do you want me to make lunch or something?”

Jesse doesn’t say anything for a second, and I make my way into the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush. “No,” he says. “Just stay in bed, I’ll be there in a second.”

He hangs up, and I shrug, shoving the phone into my pocket. Jesse shows up when I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth, letting himself in and bounding up the stairs. He peeks into the bathroom, probably wary of Michelle, and upon seeing me he leans up against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

I would smile at him but I’ve got a toothbrush between my lips, so I finish up with that while I surreptitiously take in his appearance. He’s got his faux hawk up and the blue button up shirt, collar folded down neatly. It makes his eyes stand out. He looks apprehensive, for whatever reason, so I finish up quickly to see what’s on his mind.

“C’mon,” he says, his fingers fastening around my wrist and pulling me gently back toward my room. I follow him silently, letting him lead me up into my room and settle me down on my bed. He sits next to me and he’s biting his bottom lip. I tilt my head to the side.

“Jess, what’s up? You look worried,” I say, and I fight the urge to touch his cheek. Comfort him. “You can tell me.”

He shakes his head a little bit, smiling at me. “John,” he starts, and I pull at my jeans a little bit, nodding. “I just wanted to talk to you about what you saw last night.”

I feel my stomach twist up like a tornado, and I feel a little dizzy. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say softly. I don’t know why I try to lie to him, because Jesse can pretty much pick up on anything I’m emoting.

“Yes, you do,” he says, slightly accusing. I duck my head sheepishly, and Jesse pushes my shoulder a little. “Since you don’t want to say it, though, I’m talking about Adam and me kissing.”

I can just feel myself blushing. I shrug a bit, smiling. “It’s no big deal, Jesse. You guys were really drunk.”

Jesse’s expression doesn’t change. “We were, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t want it.”

He lets that sort of hang while I nod minutely. I said before, I’ve sort of been suspecting them for a while. It doesn’t surprise me, but it does kind of make me sad. I wish that they could have said something to me, or trusted me enough to know I wouldn’t be upset. I’m okay with it, but I do feel that sting of jealously.

“That’s cool, Jess,” I say meekly. He still looks so concerned. “I mean it. Good for you guys, right?”

“Johnny,” Jesse says, his voice so soft. He’s moving closer to me and my eyes widen, my hands pressed against his chest to keep him back.

“Jesse, what are you doing?” I ask, but now my voice is really quiet, too. I don’t sound commanding enough, I guess, because Jesse just looks at me, then kisses me pretty firmly.

There’s this second where I’m just gripping his t-shirt and my eyes are wide open with shock. His hands are on the bedspread beneath us, and his lips are fucking soft, and all that I can think of is I’m glad I brushed my teeth.

He pulls back and I’m still stuck in this position, looking at him, confused. There are a hundred questions tumbling and jerking around in my head, and I can’t figure out which one I want to ask first. I go with not saying anything and end up kissing him again, his hand moving up to curl against my cheek. This time, he’s pushing me back a little bit until I’m supporting myself with an arm behind me, even as his tongue pushes forward and into my mouth. I jerk with surprise and end up falling back, my arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him still.

Jesse kisses like I thought he would, controlling and powerful, with his hands running through my hair and his hips fitting up against mine. I’m hugging him close to me, not that Jesse would let me go if I tried to get away from him. Alarm bells are ringing in my head and I try to stop, pushing lightly against him until his mouth parts from mine.

“Jess, what about Adam?” I ask quietly, rubbing my hand up and down his arm. “I’m so confused.”

His eyes are locked on mine, and I can feel the rise and fall of his chest while he’s breathing. “Sorry,” he says. “I know, I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know,” he continues. I can’t help it, I kiss the side of his mouth and we get into it again.

I’ve always thought about Jess, and what it would be like to be with him. I just never thought he’d feel the same way, so I usually just ignored it. Right now, it just feels so sudden, like I’m missing something completely. It just feels so good, I don’t know what to do.

This time, Jesse pulls away first, even sitting up slightly. I sit up with him and keep my hand on his shoulder, even while he talks. “John, Adam and I aren’t together,” he explains. I furrow my eyebrows, but stay quiet. “I just like you.”

“Why did he kiss you?” I ask, and Jesse shakes his head.

“Ask him,” Jesse shrugs. “I think he was just drunk and horny.”

I’m still not following. I run my hands down his chest, still watching him. “Why didn’t you just say the same?”

“I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Jesse mumbles.

I duck my head, only to have Jesse move in again. He’s just about to kiss me, his lips just a breath away, when my cell phone rings. Jesse shakes his head and tells me to ignore it, but it’s Adam’s ring and I just can’t. I’m not going to forget about my other friends, even if Jesse is here in my bed with me.

I give him an apologetic look and reach into my pocket to retrieve the vibrating phone, flipping it open.

“Hey, Adam,” I say, and Jesse leans in and starts to kiss my neck. I squirm a little, forgetting that the phone is loud enough so Jesse can hear every word Adam says.

“Sup, Johnny?” Adam starts, “I really need to talk to you.”

“Shoot,” I mumble, my eyes fluttering slightly shut when Jesse rakes his teeth over the skin on my neck.

Adam clears his throat. “Look, I don’t want you to take the thing you saw with me and Jess last night the wrong way.”

My eyes shoot open and I look down at Jesse, who appears to be slightly angry.

“Oh?” I encourage suspiciously, and Adam continues.

“Yeah, hey, I’m going to stop by. I’m near anyway, so do you mind? I’ll just let myself in if you’re in bed or whatever.”

“Go for it,” I find myself saying, and Jesse sits back. I bite my bottom lip as Adam kisses into the phone and hangs up.

Jesse sighs. “If you didn’t want to be alone with me-”

“It’s okay. But I don’t want you to kiss me again,” I say, scooting back from him. Suddenly, I feel like something’s up and I’m not comfortable with that.

“Okay,” Jesse says, arching an eyebrow and leaning back from me.

When Adam walks in, he sees Jesse and I sitting on the mattress, looking up at him awkwardly. I guess I’m lucky that Adam isn’t the sharpest. He looks surprised at seeing Jesse, waving at him and smiling at me. That infamous smile of his that has always made me kind of weak. The curse of having two extremely good looking best friends who happen to be strong in different fields.

“I didn’t expect to see Jess here,” he says, and Jesse shrugs.

“I beat you,” he says flatly, and Adam just raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” he retorts, challenge in his voice. “Great.”

I’m watching them stare each other down, and I can’t help but wonder if Adam had the same idea as Jesse when he was coming over. And part of me is wondering if I should find out. Jesse’s hand is creeping up against mine, and I can feel him just gently hold it, almost protective, and it makes me shiver. There’s just something so intriguing about Adam, though, I just can’t help but wonder.

“What is it you wanted to talk about, Adam?” I say, and Adam’s attention snaps back to me.

“Oh, um, well, I didn’t know Jesse was going to be here, so maybe I’ll save it for another time,” Adam says.

“Anything you want to say to John, you can say in front of me,” Jesse says bluntly. I know these two really do love this competition they have. I can see them sort of talking with their eyes and it’s starting to freak me out a little bit.

“Jesse,” Adam starts softly, but Jesse shakes his head. They keep... staring at each other, and to my complete shock, Jess sighs and gets up to leave Adam and I alone in the room. I know he’s leaning up against the door outside, ear pressed to the oak, but Adam’s voice has dropped down to just above a whisper.

Adam looks back at me, pushing his soft brown hair back behind his ear. “Look, I just wanted to say that I really like you and maybe it should have been you I was kissing last night.”

I blush, real bad this time. So all this love from my best friends is coming out of no where, and I don’t know if I like it.

“Um-” I start, but Adam continues.

“I know Jesse got here first, but you know, I just thought I should tell you.”

“Adam,” I start, and God. He’s got his big brown eyes set on me, and he’s sitting down next to me, and this isn’t going to end well. He looks so hurt and I reach out to hug him, but he misinterprets it and decides it would be a good idea to kiss me instead.

He’s so different than Jesse. Adam is tentative and careful, keeping his hands safely in his lap. I’m drawn in to the shyness, kissing him back for a second before something clicks in my head and I pull back. He looks surprised but I stand up and glare at him.

“Jesse!” I shout, “get back in here.”

Jess opens the door immediately and grabs me protectively, but I shrug out of his grip.

“What’s going on?” I snap, and the two of them look at each other and then look at me. I wait impatiently for one of them to just say something because really, this isn’t something that comes out of no where. They have to have some faith in my intelligence, here.

Jesse speaks up. “Everything I said to you was absolutely true,” he tells me.

“Me, too,” Adam says gently.

I sigh. “I’m not another competition for the two of you,” I say, almost too sharply, and they both look a little guilty. “I don’t want to be your next prize.”

“You’re not, Johnny,” Jesse says, coming up behind me and really softly kissing the back of my neck. I close my eyes. “You’re just... our John, you know?”

“You guys have never shared anything in your lives,” I sigh, and they both laugh a little.

“We’ve always shared you,” Adam offers, swaying back and forth on his feet. The kid cannot sit still, and he’s right. They’ve always both been there for me through everything, and even when they’re fighting they keep me out of it. Like a mutual respect or something. “But I’m done sharing.”

Jesse glares at Adam, crossing his arms. “Me, too,” he says haughtily. I sigh.

“That’s sweet,” I start, “but that doesn’t change that I’m not going to choose between you two. I couldn’t, not ever.”

They both sit there, looking slightly awkward, and I don’t understand what’s going through their heads.

“I’m sorry, John. We shouldn’t have tried to make you choose,” Adam says guiltily.

“Adam’s right,” Jesse says, probably for the first time in his life. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Adam turns to look at Jesse, but he’s talking to me. “We shouldn’t even have come here.”

Jesse turns to look at Adam, but he’s talking to me. “We shouldn’t have said anything at all.

I look between them and roll my eyes. “You guys are doing it again! You’re competing at who can apologize better.”

Jesse laughs sheepishly and can’t do anything but shrug. “It’s just in our nature.”

I sigh, sitting down in a chair and looking at the two sitting on my bed. I look at the two of them, looking at me, Adam’s gorgeous hair and Jesse’s quirky smile. I try to see them more closely, but all I can see are my best friends. “So, you two have hooked up before?”

Adam looks awfully surprised, and Jesse just kind of gets stone faced. Adam starts giggling nervously like he does when he knows far too much information for his own good. He shrugs a bit and smiles lopsidedly at me.

“Well, it just happened. When we get drunk and-”

“You guys get drunk without me?” I ask incredulously, and Adam looks embarrassed.

“No...” he says softly. “We just wait until-”

“Adam!” Jesse snaps, and Adam throws his arms up.

“He’s bound to find out eventually, Jesse! Did you ever think about what would happen if he woke up to piss or something?” He says loudly. Jesse shakes his head.

“John sleeps like a log when he passes out-”

“You guys mess around after I fall asleep?” I interrupt. “Are you serious?”

Jesse sighs. “John, we both found out that we liked you. We didn’t know what to do because we knew you wouldn’t choose. We, I guess, we found solace in each other.”

I stare at them. “That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

This time, they stare at me. “What?” Adam says.

I rub my temples. “Look, you two obviously need each other. Why can’t you just be together?”

“I don’t need him!” Jesse says snidely, and Adam scoffs.

“That’s not what you said last night-”

“Shut up, Adam, you stupid whore-”

“God! I hate you so much. I can’t even have a conversation with you.”

“Me? You’re the one who starts yelling and flailing around-”

“You called me a fucking whore!”

“I thought you liked that.”

“Well, I do, but- Hey! That’s beside the point! Fuck.”

I just start laughing over their bickering, until both of them shut up. “Look, you two are being ridiculous. You, just, can’t you just admit that you like each other? With no exceptions, or reasons, or whatever?”

Adam and Jesse look at each other guiltily, and suddenly I feel really disappointed. I may be right, but it still hurts that I might become the third wheel. That maybe my best friends don’t really need me anymore. Adam stands up from the bed, running a hand through his hair and walking over to me. He grabs my hand, squeezing it, and I watch as Jesse stands up and puts his hands on Adam’s shoulders.

“Thanks, John,” Adam says really quietly, more serious than I’ve seen him in awhile. Jesse sighs, still looking at me.

“It’s going to be different,” he warns.

“It’s cool,” I say nonchalantly, but I can’t hide my apprehension, not from them. They both know I’m uncomfortable, but I don’t want to be.

“You’re still our best friend,” Adam tries, and I just shrug.

“Look, if this is going to make you guys stop fighting all the time, then I’m all for it,” I answer honestly. I don’t want them to not be together because of me. I’ll get over it. I’ll move on. It’s just like Jesse said, it’s just different. It’ll just take some... getting used to.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Adam laughs, and Jesse moves back from him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Adam?” He asks sharply.

“Oh, relax, I was just joking-”

“Well, does it seem like a good time for joking?”

“Jesus, Jesse, relax! It’s fine!”

“He’s obviously having an issue with us arguing and you just kid around about it? How do you think John feels?”

“Ahh!” I yell, standing up and covering my ears. They both fall silent, looking at me cautiously, until I start laughing. “You two are fucking impossible.”

“But we’re cute,” Adam offers. Jesse rolls his eyes and shoves Adam hard into me. I catch him, still laughing, pushing him back upright. Jesse makes some snide comment and Adam turns around and tries to tackle him, but Jess moved out of the way to stand next to me, watching Adam stumble.

Yeah, I think things are going to be just fine.

THE END.

AN: Hey guys, I'm taking drabble requests! Go request a drabble, and maybe I'll like, start writing again. :( Please?

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Thu, 04 Jan 2007 05:28:51 GMT

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Thu, 23 Nov 2006 20:03:18 GMT

Title: Moment
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Brand New/Straylight Run
Pairing: Jesse/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: John's been waiting for his moment with Jesse, but he's almost ready to give up.
Author’s Notes: Pure fluff & smut. No point, really.
Archive: matchsticks

“Mm, I wanna fuck,” he slurred, his hands pulling at my jacket, tugging it down, over my shoulders. I gripped his forearms to stop him, but he pressed his body up against mine with the scent of Vodka and Red Bull on his breath.

“Jesse, we’re in public,” I said quietly, his stomach held tightly against mine while I tried to still his wandering hands. I saw him smirk, tilting his head slightly and nudging his nose against mine.

“I know, Johnny. I didn’t mean here,” he said matter of factly, his hands still roaming against my body. I felt his fingers tickle at the bottom of my shirt, pushing up just slightly so that his fingertips rested softly against the skin of my stomach.

“Your hands are betraying your thoughts,” I alerted him. Jesse stopped, looking up at me through his eyelashes. It was so hot in the club, with the flashing strobe lights and the perpetually moving bodies. He laughed, so close that I could feel the vibration from his chest.

“You always speak so poetically.” I pushed him back to arm’s length, watching his eyes try to refocus on my face. He was swaying, leaning heavily against my palms as he regained his balance. He had a drink too many, perhaps, while I was full with water and diet coke.

I let him go, and he stood with surprising confidence while I put my hands into my pockets. “Only to you.”

Jesse got that look in his eyes, the one I knew would only lead to dark rooms and clumsy touching and an awkward morning. That was the drill, every Friday night. We were an unofficial friends-with-benefits sort of thing, something that just happened. Only when Jesse was drunk. Only when I couldn’t gather my proper judgment, which seemed to happen whenever Jesse’s graceless hands felt their way across my jeans.

“I’d like you to talk to me all night,” he said, almost too low for me to hear him. I rolled my eyes, because Jesse hadn’t touched me yet. Not enough for me to give into his seduction, though I know I will.

“I’ll tell you a bedtime story,” I said sarcastically, checking my watch. It was almost midnight, not quite late enough to go home, unless Jesse was eager enough. I promised myself that this would be the one week I wouldn’t give in. Just once.

Jesse knew I hated going clubbing. I hated the atmosphere, the people, the stench of alcohol and sweat and cigarettes clinging to me hours after I left. The only reason I ever went with him is because no one else ever would. He would claim that I went because I wanted to fuck him, though he’d only say that if he’d had a drink or three. When he was sober, what happened last night was just never spoken of. It was a situation that I’d gotten used to, after almost a year.

The sex wasn’t loving. It wasn’t a smooth, easy, caring experience. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like Jesse shoved me down and raped me, it was just all about pleasure. It was about who could make the other come harder. It was about who could make the other come first. It was about getting off hard and fast and in the hottest way possible. It had nothing to do with love or roughness or anything. It was just sex- and it was always good.

“Really?” Jesse murmured, and honestly, I just wanted to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll talk just the way you want,” I said softly, and Jesse ran a hand through his hair. I knew what got to him after all that time, and I knew how to manipulate him out of the club. The thing I usually did was buy him one more drink so he’d pass out on the car ride home. That was how I avoided sleeping with him. That night, though, he was wearing that tight blue t-shirt I gave him for his birthday last year and his face had just the slight sheen of sweat, and maybe I didn’t want to make any definitive choices.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbled, his fingers fastening around my wrist and dragging me through the sea of bodies toward the door. I was second guessing his speed as we sped through the door, wondering what had got him so particularly riled up. He always maneuvered a little better when he was drunk, even if he couldn’t stand up straight for his life. Jesse stopped, forgetting where I had parked the car, so I took over in leading. He followed closely behind me, his breath warm on my neck against the cool evening.

I always waited for that movie-like surprise, that moment where Jesse decided he didn’t want to just fuck around with me anymore. When he would tell me he cared about me, maybe touch my cheek or just look at me. Jesse knew, he knew that tenderness from him turned me on. He knew that when he was sweet, I’d be more eager. He often used this to his advantage, but it was something I couldn’t help.

Every time Jesse would touch me gently or look at me intently, I’d think that was the moment. The time had come for Jesse to confess his real feelings for me. Every time, though, he proved me wrong by waking up the next morning and ignoring me, leaving, and repeating it the next weekend. I had grown used to being his plaything, his weekend lush romp when he wanted me.

The sad thing was, I was okay with that because that meant I got to be with him.

I pulled the car door open for him and got him seated before moving over to my side. Inside the car, the leather was cold and Jesse shivered, so I put my hand on his arm. He shifted uncomfortably, so I rubbed his leg. Inside the car, the heater took its time so Jesse’s cold hands pushed under my shirt. We were almost there, almost to where we needed to be, and my hands were white from gripping the steering wheel.

He smelled like vodka and strawberries, and the way he was kissing my neck made me think of summer and warmth. That’s why heat spread down my back, and not from his lips on my collarbone.

“Jesse.”

“What?” He mumbled against my throat, and I could feel the vibrations.

“We’re almost there, Jesse.”

He paused and I could feel his eyelashes tickling my skin. “We’re not even close,” he said. I smiled, though he couldn’t see, and kept my foot pressed down on the gas. I tilted my chin away from him, feeling him suck in a breath on my skin while keeping his lips there. He seemed to fit perfectly against me, like the puzzle piece that falls out of the box already attached. I bit my bottom lip, maneuvering the car into my apartment garage and turning it off. I sat back against the cold seat, and Jesse hadn’t noticed that the car had stopped moving yet.

I knew this because he was still there, trying to push up against my side but the emergency brake and gear shift were blocking him from swinging his leg over me.

“Stop,” I said, fastening my fingers around his wrist. He looked up at me, eyes clouded so heavily from alcohol that he appeared confused at where he was. “Let’s go in.”

I didn’t mind the way he touched me or scraped his teeth against the back of my neck. I didn’t tell him to stop when my back was flat along the hard wood of the elevator walls and Jesse’s hips were pressed to mine, his arms fastened around my neck and his lips on mine.

Right here, with my hand tickling the small of his back and his tangled tightly in my hair, this is what the clubbing leads up to. Jesse closes his teeth around my bottom lip, biting down enough for me to grunt unappreciatively and pinch his skin. Jesse jerked with surprise, pulling back from me with his lips red and wet.

“Watch it,” I mumbled. Jesse, he stumbled slightly as he tried to back away, but I caught his elbows and kept him upright. He stopped and smiled at me, shaking his head a little as if to gain composure.

“John, you know, sometimes it’s not like that,” he stammered drunkenly, and I just smiled with amusement and nodded.

“Okay.”

“No!” He said sharply, looking at me directly. I paused, the smile dropping from my face. I reached up and put my hand on his cheek, his chest falling against mine as his lips moved. He was trying to find the words, but his brain couldn’t work out how to say anything.

We just stopped there, looking at each other, me patient and him frustrated. The elevator moved quietly and smoothly, and with my hand cupping his face Jesse leaned forward and rested his lips over mine.

Then, our eyes were open and there was something new when he wasn’t trying to coax me into a deeper kiss. He was just being close, and I watched his eyes fall shut. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was have him in my bed and fuck.

“Jesse,” I murmured, and the elevator arrived at our floor. I knew he could feel exactly what I wanted, with his body pressed so close to mine, so when the doors slid open he was dragging me, staggering, through the hallways toward my apartment door. I was grinning, still remembering that intimacy we had just shared in the elevator. I dug the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door, kicking it open and letting Jesse pull me in, and down onto the carpeted floor.

Sometimes we don’t make it to the bed because it’s down the hallway, and sometimes by the time we get to my front door it’s too late to worry about getting to the bed. That time, though, I didn’t want the carpet burn. I let him pin my arms over my head with one hand, though I could have easily fought him. I let him kiss my mouth and use his tongue and I used mine, too. We kissed and he used his free hand to rub my stomach, with less finesse than I could have hoped for.

“Shit,” I mumbled, pushing him off of me and standing, trying to fight off his hands pulling me down to the ground. “In here, Jesse.”

He managed to get himself up, his fingers going under the hem of his shirt to pull it off. I licked my lips and took in his appearance, putting my fingers on his stomach and tracing the soft contours. He just took a step closer to me, his heated body gently warming mine.

There was something different tonight, the way we were slow. Like, how it was okay for Jesse to go into the kitchen and get a glass of water, his back stretching nicely as he reached up for a cup in the top cupboard. I had to go up behind him and run my hands across those muscles. I couldn’t stop touching him, and usually it was him pressing on and on. I just didn’t feel like stopping at all tonight, so as soon as he was done with his water I pulled him back into the bedroom.

Jesse worked my shirt off and was starting to unbutton my pants when we kissed again. When his tongue met mine before our lips touched, and it was so hot and hurried that I couldn’t help but make a little surprised moan in the back of my throat. Jesse, he likes it when I’m vocal, so that made him shove me back onto the mattress.

Me, my jeans unbuttoned, shirt off and breathing shallowly, I felt like he wanted me. The way his eyes roamed over me, I felt like I might be able to give him something. Jesse smiled down at me and mumbled, “John, you’re gorgeous.”

I reached up and grabbed him around the waist, spreading my legs and pulling him down on top of me so our laps lay pressed tightly together. I started thrusting my hips against him, wrapping my legs around his waist. His breath was coming shortly because he was pressing quick kisses around my neck and mouth while we rubbed together.

“Off,” I heard him say quietly, and I wriggled out of my jeans. He did the same. I could see the hard outline of his cock through his blue boxer briefs, so I reached forward and started rubbing him through the fabric. He gasped sharply and pressed his hips forward, and I just rubbed the tip softly against the cotton.

“Come here,” I said, dragging him closer on the bed and turning him around so he was laying on his back. His legs spread and I leaned down to kiss his stomach, gently biting down on the skin below his naval before moving my mouth over his boxers and sucking on his skin through them.

“Mmm,” he sighed, his fingers pressing against the back of my neck. His hands were all over my bare back, insistently pinching and rubbing to hint at me. I fold down his boxers, pulling them gently over his cock so I can just see it. I pull them off and throw them off the side of the bed, cupping his dick in my hand and rubbing the skin, licking once at the tip because I know he likes the teasing.

My assumption was confirmed when he clenched his fist against my shoulder, mumbling my name softly, encouraging me. I opened my mouth, letting his cock slide in and rest on my tongue, and I closed my eyes. I started sucking gently, moving up and down over him. His legs knocked together against my shoulders when I wrapped my fingers around the base of his erection, rubbing and squeezing to enhance his experience.

“Stop,” he said, and I was caught off guard because this part was usually his favorite. I pulled off and sat back, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, John,” he said, sounding a little frustrated, “fuck, no.”

I couldn’t help it, I kept jerking him off, because when someone who looks like him is splayed out in front of you, you don’t just ignore them. His eyes were fluttering gently, a paler blue than usual, a little smile on his face.

“What?” I coaxed, moving forward to continue my hand movements, resting my lips on his neck while I touched him. He sighed with contentment, his fingers spreading against my shoulders.

“Your skin is so soft,” he told me, and I just licked his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark for the morning. He was being almost too tender, too soft, and all I wanted to do was get him off. His legs were starting to shake, so I took my hands off him instantly and he groaned with disappointment.

“More?” I asked softly, my lips just barely against his. He didn’t say anything, only looking right at me and I couldn’t figure out why he was being so different tonight.

“God, John,” he said. “You, you’re so perfect and, fuck, I can’t-”

I cut him off by kissing him. I didn’t want him to say something he’d regret, or something he didn’t mean. He put his hands on my chest and pushed me back.

“John, I’m trying to tell you something.”

“What, Jesse?” I said sharply. “What is so important that you’d turn down a blowjob from me? You’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning, anyway, J. You’ll either fuck me or leave, so could you just fuck me?”

Jesse was looking at me, and his forehead fell against mine. I swallowed sharply, his hand moving down to rest in my lap. He leaned forward and I tilted my head for a kiss, but he moved past my mouth and over to my ear, his lips resting gently against the lobe.

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, sending a shiver down my spine, “is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, blinking a little to regain my thoughts.

“You want me to pin you down, or do you want to be on top and, fuck, and grind your tight ass down on me?”

“Jesse,” I moaned pathetically, his hands rubbing firmly at my cock through my boxers.

“Which one?”

“I don’t, I don’t know,” I mumbled out of pure confusion. “Touch me, just, fuck-”

I grabbed his head, pulling him forward for one of those kisses that you can’t understand because there’s too much going on. Right then it was all about closeness and heat and speed. It was about me being stripped and pulled onto his lap so his erection pressed obviously against my ass.

“Jesse,” I sighed, kissing his throat.

“So, you want this?” He asked through a whisper, thrusting his hips up suggestively. I nodded, I nodded and didn’t stop until he licked my chest, pausing to suck carefully below my nipple.

“Yeah, yeah, Jess. Yeah.”

“So,” he said, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, “you want this more than me telling you I love you?”

I stopped, suddenly feeling aware. I felt my hair wet and pinned to my temples. I could hear his heart beating and taste his vodka on my tongue, I smelled his fear and saw the way his pupils dilated. I paused, I stopped, and I leaned forward.

“You, you what, Jesse?”

“I’m drunk, and I still want to fuck you,” he said. “I want to fuck you so hard you come saying my name and telling me you love me too.”

“Jesse,” I said, my voice sadder than I intended, and he just kissed me and spread my legs. I couldn’t stop looking at him, paralyzed with confusion and shock. He noticed my apprehension, he noticed my slack jaw and narrowed eyes.

“John, listen, just forget it for now, okay?” He said, frustration radiating off of him. I knew it wasn’t like him to say things like that, to talk, to really share, but what I kept thinking about was all this time, all this time I was just his one night confidential, his sure-thing for getting laid. Then, in the morning, he’d just leave and leave and leave again and all of a sudden he loves me.

“I can’t do this,” I muttered, moving away from him. “I just, I, I can’t.” Jesse’s grip on my wrist loosened and I moved away from it, running my hand through my hair as I gathered up my clothing. It was my apartment, but I couldn’t kick him out just because I didn’t understand.

“I thought you’d be happy,” he said through gritted teeth when I pull my jeans up and button them.

“I guess, well, I thought I would be too,” I said in reply.

“So, John, what’s wrong?” He said instantly, reaching forward to stop me. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he got me to stop dressing, giving me those sad blue eyes. “What’s the problem?”

I sighed, crossing my arms over my bare chest. I didn’t know. I was upset because he was lying, or he’d leave in the morning, or he was just trying to get laid, or that he was saying what I always wanted to hear when he was drunk and there were just so many reasons. I couldn’t pick one that sounded stupid, so I just sat back down on his bed and looked at him.

“Look, Jesse, it’s just hard to believe,” I told him. “After all this time...”

“But I’m sitting here right now, telling you,” he argued.

“You’re drunk.”

“John!” He snapped, and I jolted. “You know me, you...” he paused again, his eyebrows furrowed with frustration. “You know I wouldn’t just say that.”

I sighed. “I know. You’re right. I’ve just been waiting so long...”

His eyes widened. “How long?”

I snapped my mouth shut. I had given it away, embarrassing myself, and I very quietly pulled my shirt over my head. “Awhile.”

“How long, John?” His insistence intimidated me a little,

I sat back down on the bed, my hands fiddling in my lap. He was still sitting away from me, a sheet over his lap. He looked cold, and I wanted to go over and hug him, but I was afraid I made things awkward.

“A few years,” I said. I couldn’t remember the exact moment I decided I wanted Jesse, but it was long before the first time we hooked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” I shot back, and he just sighed.

“It took me longer to realize, I guess.”

We sat there in the quiet for a few minutes, awkwardly evaluating the situation. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my back to him as he sat and stared down at the sheets. I wondered what it was that was holding me back, that was keeping me away. I took a breath and turned, but he was right there, his hand on my cheek, and he kissed me. I resisted my initial urge to push him away and leaned closer, letting my lips just press against his. I could feel his intensity, and it wasn’t long before I was undressed again.

My jeans were on the floor in an instant, my shirt catching as we hurriedly attempted to get it off. Jesse’s hands were all over, touching and rubbing and soon he didn’t look as cold anymore. His cheeks were flushed bright red, eyes half lidded, and I’d never seen him look so attractive. I couldn’t stop kissing him, or being near him, because fuck it. I was in love. I was ready for this thing between us, because he was ready and he already knew how to touch me.

He was demonstrating this quite well- with his mouth fastened to my neck while he slowly rubbed against me, his fingers squeezing my hips. My arms wrapped around his neck, unable to keep from thrusting back against him, I quietly moaned in his ear.

There, it was something different because it wasn’t something he was going to forget in the morning. His mouth still tasted like alcohol but it was a different kind of kiss. He was still clumsy, but it was sweet instead of irritating. Everything had changed.

We went from me on my back to him on his knees to him on his back and me over him, grinding down on him like he had mentioned earlier. He was arching his back, fingers on my chest and around my cock, his thumb pressing over the tip of it and making my hips jerk.

“Oh, J-John, fucking hell,” he murmured, and I just shook my head. When he started swearing, that was when he was losing his coherent thought, his ability to form intelligent sentences. It meant he was too involved, so I slowed the rolling of my hips and just sat for a moment with him looking up at me, his blue eyes sharp and clear.

“Jess,” I mumbled, too absorbed with his hands on me to think of anything better.

“I’m going to- just- Johnny-” he stuttered, and I nodded, pressing my hands down on his chest. I leaned down to kiss him and there were times like that, when he rubbed my hip or kissed me or made sure I came before him, that I understood what love was supposed to be like.

After, we lay there on my bed just looking at each other, but his eyes were falling and I told him it was okay if he wanted to go to sleep. He told me no, he wasn’t ready yet, so I closed my eyes and slept for him. I felt him move closer to me in the dark, draping an arm over me, his breath hot against my cheek but I didn’t mind. I tucked myself against him and slept soundly.

I woke up slowly, warm, and Jesse wasn’t in bed. I sat up quickly, furrowing my eyebrows. The apartment was cold and felt empty but Jesse hadn’t left, because I could hear him in the living room. I got up, pulling on a pair of boxers, and peeked out the door. Jesse was holding a cup of water and downing some aspirin, and I tentatively took a step out of the bedroom, because this was the first time he’d ever stayed and I didn’t want to scare him off.

“Morning,” I said quietly, and he turned to look at me. His eyes were wide, but they softened, and I felt my anxiety lessen.

“Morning,” he said, coming up to me, running his fingers through my tousled hair. “I have such a headache.”

“I’ll make you some coffee,” I offered, and he actually leans down and kisses me, tight lipped.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling.

He had no idea, really, that I was thanking him over and over again in my head. Thanking him for being honest, for not leaving, for anything. All that mattered was that he was still here when I woke up.

The next weekend, Jesse asked to go clubbing again but for the first time I said no. I said no because I hated clubbing, and I knew I didn’t have to go with him to have him. He’d be back in my bed that night, even without alcohol or seduction. We might even just sleep together, next to one another, only touching above the clothes.

It may not seem perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It’s fine with me.

the end.

Fri, 25 Aug 2006 19:50:27 GMT

Title: Medication and Black Coffee
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Brand New/Straylight Run
Pairing: Jesse/John
Rating: R
Summary: High school is over and it's their last summer together. John reflects on his best friend's medicated past, and tries to help Jesse grow up.
Author’s Notes: Haha it took me like 10 minutes to figure out a summary. Just give it a chance?
Archive: matchsticks

The sixth grade doesn’t call for medication and black coffee.

When you’re twelve, there’s no time to be depressed. You’re spending your life playing truth or dare, putting up posters, making your first real friends. You’re the older innocent, almost-but-not-quite teenage.

I met him in eighth grade and I was introduced to sadness. His pill box labeled Monday through Sunday with three shaped pills in each section- powder blue, pastel yellow, and chalk white-, he’d bring it out every day at lunch. With his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he swallowed Zoloft and chased it with 2% milk. He’d talk on like it was routine, like he had being doing this every day of his life. When he walked, the shake of the pills would echo in the school hallways. They were ambient to him but people talked.

Being thirteen and crazy was something that barely even occurred to him. I’d seen him clutch that medication close to his chest as he ran for the missed bus, organizing it in a shrine of seratonin balancers on his bedside table. In his room, with the smooth blue walls and posters of bands I had never heard of, he told me what each pill was for. The disorders were over my head, but I was fascinated with how his fingers curled around the orange bottles and shook them like nothing.

I wanted to know what he was like without them. One sleepover we had, months after we decided to be best friends, I took all of those bottles and hid them in his house. When he woke up the next morning, reaching for them, his hand hit nothing and he shot up. He clutched at me, asking me where I put them, and I just said I hadn’t touched them.

He started to cry. He gripped me and his shoulders shook against the palms of my hands. I could feel his hands curl into my t-shirt and he tugged and pulled at it until I noticed he wasn’t crying anymore. He was clenching his teeth and he looked so angry, pulling back with this look I had never seen before. He drew his fist back, clenched tight, and drove it hard against my cheek.

I fell back, my palm against my jaw, and he sat on my hips and drove his elbow into my stomach, screaming, where are they, where are they. He stopped suddenly, his palms on my neck, then fell against me and cried again. The tears soaked into my collar and I just said very softly, they’re under your bed.

After that, he and I promised each other that we’d never keep a secret from one another again. We shook on it, and I’ve been faithful to it ever since. I don’t know about Jesse, it’s possible he’s forgotten about that promise entirely, but I’ll keep it no matter what.

Now, I’m old enough to know better, and Jesse’s old enough to down his medication with black coffee.

“You need to pay for that,” I point out, leaning over the counter as he licks his lips.

“Aw, give me a break. You get it for free,” he whines, taking another sip. “Can’t you just say it’s yours?”

I mock glare at him. “Fine. Only because I love you so much.”

“Damn fucking straight,” he says sagely.

Jesse and I just graduated from high school a month ago. It’s the hottest time of year and he’s my best friend. The best friend I’ve ever had, sitting inside this empty coffee shop with me when the air conditioner is broken and no one is coming through. He’s sitting on the counter at this point, leaning back against my chest and fanning himself. I let him rest there while I continue to inventory silently, knowing I’ll never get him off of me anyway.

In two months we’ll be leaving one another. He’s staying here, I’m going West, and we’re not sure if we’ll ever see each other again. We’ve been spending so much time together that I can’t even imagine leaving him behind, but he’s trying to make our last months the best, so he won’t leave my side.

It’s always been expected of me to get out of this state. I’m supposed to be the ambitious one in the family, and I need to go make the money we deserve. The problem is, it’s not what I want to do. I’m in the typical teenage household wherein the parent decides everything for their kin, which has never been a problem for me. I don’t mind having to leave for school, I just like the security of right here, in the coffee shop, with Jesse.

Part of me knows I belong here, but I also know I have a duty to a normal, healthy college life. For that, I have to start from scratch. I want to meet new people and start over and do what those kids on TV do. It always looked too perfect, but maybe that’s the lifestyle I want.

My shift is over soon, and afterward I think he and I are going to drink tonight. It’s almost five, and I pass off at five thirty. If my alternate shows up, that is. There’s a bottles of Schnapps in Jesse’s backpack, on the floor under his feet. I see him peek at his half empty coffee cup, then give me a sidelong glance.

“You’re not getting more,” I say snidely, and he grunts.

“You’re such a tool.”

I make a face at him and he raises his eyebrows, emptying his cup and tossing it at my head. I catch it and make a shot for the garbage can, but miss by a mile for Jesse’s amusement.

He seems a bit distracted already, and I start to wonder if he remembered to take that one small blue pill, I forget what it’s called but it’s what keeps him focused. I ask him if he remembered, even though I know he hates it.

Jesse smiles. “Johnny, your concern is flattering. Don’t worry about me.” He leans down on the counter again, looking up at me through his eyelashes. “It’s like clockwork.”

I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with that statement. I glance at the clock and decide that another half hour of waiting won’t be so bad, and Jesse will loosen up slightly between now and then, anyway.

He does have the courtesy to stop having so much energy, but he keeps reaching over to poke and pull at me, and it’s distracting. When Jesse gets too hot he gets affectionate, physical, and when I’m trying to inventory, it’s just not the right time. Luckily, my coworker shows up early and she completely understands the desperate look I give her.

“Yeah, go on,” she says. “I brought a fan, so at least I’ll be better off than you.”

After trying thanking her profusely, I get dragged out by an impatient Jesse who pretty much tosses me into the driver’s seat of my car and jogs around to his side. I give him a sidelong glance when he fastens his seatbelt. “Why are you so eager tonight?” I ask curiously, and Jesse looks sheepish.

“Not any more than usual,” he says nonchalantly, but that’s a blatant lie. I shrug it off, though, letting him direct me to his apartment, because I can never remember where it is. He’s had it for weeks, and it’s just in the most difficult area. Sometimes I wonder how Jesse can remember what floor he lives on, so it’s surprising he can actually get to this place.

He’s clutching my wrist and pulling me up the stairs, to my bewilderment. “Jesse, slow down.”

“Sorry. I’m excited. Sorry.”

I just arch an eyebrow as he fits his key into the apartment door, watching him kick it open and look at me over his shoulder. The first thing I notice when I walk in is that it’s completely cleaned, every inch fairly spotless. I laugh and he’s smirking, going over to the fridge. Jess and I have a long term thing, I say the only thing he can ever keep organized is his pill box, and that’s only because it’s labeled. He cleaned his apartment just for me.

I look back over to him and he’s got this fucking cake in his hands, a gorgeous chocolate frosted cake that just looks so good right now. I stare at him and he looks at me, shaking his head a little.

“It’s not for anything. It just looked good, and I know you love chocolate.”

“Jesse,” I say, for lack of anything better coming to mind. “I love you, man.”

“You too.” He says it, but it’s a little quieter than usual, and I’m thinking maybe he’s coming down from his medication. I yank him down onto his little couch and smack a big kiss on his cheek just to piss him off, then dig my fork into the cake.

It’s like the best thing I’ve ever tasted, perfect after a hard, hot day at work. I savor it. It may be grocery store, premade crappy chocolate cake, but it’s perfect.

“You got somethin’,” Jesse alerts me, reaching up to thumb away the frosting next to my mouth. I roll my eyes at the baby treatment and just keep eating. He follows my lead until it’s got a good chunk of it gone, and our stomachs are resting heavy.

“Schnapps,” Jesse says firmly, and I still think there’s something weird going on with him. He produces the bottle and I watch him unscrew it, hungry for the alcohol myself. “You still have a little frosting on your face.”

He sips the drink while I try to clean myself up, and then he passes the bottle to me. He’s looking at me, differently, so I take a cautious swig and pass it back to him.

“What’s wrong with you, Jesse?” I ask him, and he shakes his head a little.

“Nothing, John.”

Later that night, Jesse is licking his lips and sitting on the coffee table, facing me. He’s swaying, and I know he’s worse off than I am. He’s just looking at me, and he’s been acting strangely all evening. We’re talking about something, school, summer, and his fingers are on my wrist, rubbing, tugging a little bit. His eyes are down, not meeting mine, and the way he slurs his words give him away.

I’m blinking, my head swimming slightly as my unfocused eyes slip all over Jesse while we talk. I’m laughing at something, I can’t remember what, tangling my fingers with his and playing with them.

“C’mon,” he mumbles, standing up and jerking slightly as he tries to regain his balance. He’s still holding my wrist, pulling me up with him, so I’m following him through his apartment. I’m blinking, trying to gather some sort of composure, but all I can do is put one foot after the other and let him lead me.

We stop suddenly, and I note that Jesse’s bedroom door is shut and my back is pressed up against it. Jesse is close to me, his fingers curled around mine, and Jesse does get physical when he’s drunk but never like this. I’m still trying to get some sense of what’s going on when Jesse moves up closer, leaning over to whisper in my ear.

“You know how we promised we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other?” He says softly, and his breath makes me shiver. I bite my bottom lip.

“Yeah, sure,” I reply, and he hiccups quietly.

“I have a secret,” he says. I put my hands on his chest and push him back a little, just so I can see him. His eyes are half lidded and his lips are parted, shiny with saliva after he runs his tongue over them.

“Did you have to get drunk to tell me?” I ask him, and he nods, which makes him sway a little. I grip his t-shirt so he doesn’t fall over, and he holds my forearms for balance. “Okay.”

“Promise not to hate me, Johnny,” he whines, but his voice is so quiet. My eyes wide, I agree, because I don’t think I could ever hate him. “How drunk are you?”

“Really, really drunk,” I mumble back.

“Will you remember this tomorrow?”

“Probably not,” I tell him. He keeps looking at me, his hand drifting up from my forearm to rest on my cheek. His palm is warm and I lean into it, but it moves again, his fingers curling through my hair. “Jess...”

“Just,” he says, but he doesn’t continue. He leans in a little further, and his breath is right there across my lips. I try to move back, away from him, but the door stops me. I furrow my brows, shaking my head just a little, but he’s got me pinned.

“It’s okay, Johnny, it’s okay,” he says, and I mumble his name just before he kisses me. His lips just stay there, over mine, and my arms go around his neck and pull him close. He tips his head to the side, his mouth opening, and I’m pressing my hips forward against his. His tongue is there with his teeth and lips and I’m meeting him just the same, letting his hands cup my cheeks and keep me there.

“Jesse,” I say into his mouth, and he’s still kissing me. Taking my breath away. He won’t back off, and I can feel my lungs burning for air and my muscles burning from gripping him so hard.

So, maybe this is a long time coming. We’re both kissing each other and pushing each other away, terrified and intrigued as our drunks minds confuse with our common sense. His fingers are fumbling with the doorknob behind me, and he pushes it open. I stumble backwards, my movements slow and uncoordinated. Off-balance. He’s holding me up, pulling me back, and the next thing I notice, I’m on my back on his bed and he’s holding me down against the mattress.

I blink a few times and try to register the wetness on my neck and the warmth below my waist. His hand is pressed against the front of my pants and I’m holding onto him so tightly as the heat spikes with his added pressure.

“Jesse,” I whine, and he puts his mouth back over mine, to shut me up.

His medication should be wearing off. The time on the bedside clock blinks, but goes blurry as Jesse takes my glasses off. I know he’s supposed to be taking another one right now, but he’s drunk and I wouldn’t let him, anyway. It’s only the third or fourth time he’s missed it in all the years I’ve known him, and I’ve never been around to see the effects of it, except that first time.

I’m being really wary and gentle with him, not too drunk to remember the way he’d hit me when he sat above me. He’s in the same position, there on my hips, leaning down to kiss me over and over again as he lightly rubs his hips against me. I’m holding onto his hips, trying to kiss him back, but letting my anxiety take over.

“Jesse, we should stop-”

“No,” he says, sounding hurt, affected. I hold him.

“We’re drunk,” I rationalize. “Really, really drunk.”

Jesse stops, sitting up to look down at me. He’s swaying gently, really studying me. I lick my lips, still wet with his spit, and give him a little smile. he groans and shakes his head.

“John, how am I supposed to resist you when you smirk all sexy like that?” He mumbles, and that’s the real Jesse. He’s not too drunk, anyway, and the medication is still affecting him a little bit. I know if I can just get him to fall asleep, it won’t be a problem.

“Try,” I say. “How about sleeping?”

Jesse hiccups. “Johnny, I want to kiss you.”

“I know, Jesse,” I say quietly, guiding him off of me and against the mattress next to me. He instantly curls up against my side, wriggling out of his jeans and pressing his face into my neck. I kick my pants off, too, running my hand down his arm and listening to his breathing get deep and even. “I want to kiss you, too.”

“John?” He asks to my back, and I nod slightly.

“Yeah, Jesse?”

“I wouldn’t regret it or anything.”

“It was a little fast, that’s all,” I mumble. I can feel myself getting tired, too. Alcohol always takes everything out of me. Jess mumbles something against me that I don’t hear, and I let him fall asleep. Once I’m sure he’s dead asleep, not going to get up and accidentally take his medication, I let myself sleep, too.

I dream about him, not for the first time. It’s not sexual. We’re just together, doing whatever it is that people do in dreams. Forgetting class schedules, being lost in the middle of the forest, driving a car with black paint over the windshield. Run of the mill.

Jesse hasn’t dreamt for years. He has a pill to stop those. He gets night terrors, and he’s too old for them. Usually people who get night terrors are kids, and Jesse just isn’t a kid anymore. Still, if he doesn’t take that medication he’ll be laying in bed with his eyes wide open, fingers gripping the sheets too tightly and screaming at the top of his lungs at something only he can see.

I wake up, half expecting Jesse to be gone from next to me. I see the smooth skin of his back, curving gently and ending just before the sheet. He must have pulled his shirt off at one point during the evening. I resist the urge to run my fingers down the bare skin and check the clock, before quietly saying his name.

He mumbles, his lips moving before any sound is produced. I know he’ll probably have a headache but I don’t want to get up, even to fetch him water. Instead I just repeat his name until his eyes open.

“Johnny,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, Jesse, it’s me,. Do you want anything? Water?” I ask, still keeping myself from rubbing the pale skin of his back. He shifts subtly, his cheek pressed up against this cotton pillowcase. He shuts his eyes again, and I don’t know what’s running through his mind; about last night or anything at all.

“No,” he says quietly, “Please, stay here.” I nod even though his eyes are closed, and I lay back down next to him. Jesse, he doesn’t go too long without taking some sort of mood stabilizer or another. We slept through his seven AM Ativan. His late night Lunesta went forgotten. His body is shaking a little, so I pull the blanket up over his shoulders. He clutches it against himself, weakly, looking almost pathetic with his eyes squeezed shut so tightly. I can’t look at him like this.

“Should I get you your medication?”

His body jerks and he shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s too late.”

“You’re just going to skip it?” I ask incredulously, watching him break down in front of me. With my arms under the blanket I touch his bare hips, and in a split second he turns and presses his face into my collarbone, holding onto me in a vice like grip. It happened so suddenly that all I can do is pat his head and tell him he’s okay. He’s starting to cry, his body huddled up against my chest, and I hate seeing this. I’m saying shh gently into his ear, holding him close and letting him find his release.

“John, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“For what?” I ask, letting my hands roam all over his skin.

“Last night,” he says quietly. “Everything. Me. John, I don’t feel good.”

“No, no, Jess, it’s okay,” I assure him, calmly. “Honestly. It’s okay. It’s good.”

Jesse’s sobs slow down, his tremors lessening dramatically. “Don’t touch me,” he whispers. I frown.

“What?”

It’s then when he starts to jerk away from me, his movements quickly changing to violent thrashing. He kicks against me until I fall back from him. He’s screaming, I hate you, get out, get OUT. My first instinct is to hug him and calm him down but he looks so angry, wild-eyed, and coming at me with raised fists.

“Jesse!” I shout, backing away from him. He corners me against his bedroom door and I can see that look in his eye that’s actually terrifying. I reach behind me, fumbling for the doorknob to shove it open so I escape. I manage to grasp it and open the door, stumbling back for a second. Before I fall Jesse snatches my forearm, squeezing it too tightly, far too tightly.

“I fucking hate you, John Nolan,” he says. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I pause, the tension descending thickly between us. We’ve never exchanged such harsh words, not seriously. I just stare at him, and he’s storming back into his room, leaving me stunned and alone in the hallway.

I remember to remind myself that he doesn’t mean it. I remember to convince myself that it’s just his insanity talking. But then there’s the part of me that remembers that this is the real Jesse. The Jesse on all those pills, he’s fake and medicated. I don’t know if I even love the right person. I’m just leaning up against his wall in confusion, my mind tumbling and scrambling to find a semblance of an idea of what to do next.

Jesse comes out of his room and tosses my clothes at me, and I catch them just barely before he throws my glasses out. I manage to grab them midair and breathe a light sigh of relief as Jesse stands in his doorway with his arms crossed over his bare chest.

“I don’t care if I never see you again,” he says gently. I nod a little, pulling my t-shirt over my head.

“Okay.” Being in shock, it messes with your mind. I put my glasses on, and my stomach is at my feet. My heart is in my throat. In between, I’m just nothing.

Suddenly, his arms drop and his eyes are wide. He’s done the half circle and he’s coming back around.

“Oh my God,” he mumbles, and I look at him. He’s staring hard at me, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips parted. “I don’t want to be like this.”

I slump back against the wall, and Jesse takes a cautious step toward me. I don’t say anything. I’m just watching him, because I don’t know if he’s going to clock me or kiss me or what, so I just watch him.

Jesse, he always refused to go to therapy. It was the one thing he would never agree to. He hadn’t the patience or character for a psychiatrist, and I don’t think he ever wanted to better himself.

I think Jesse is one of those people who defines himself by his disorders. His list of them, in the bedside drawer under the pill box, it’s like a resumé. You know what you’re getting into, now. I didn’t. When I first met him, I had no idea. So, here I’m left wondering, what he’s going to do next. I’ve read the list, I know the possibilities. So I watch him.

What he does is fall down on his knees. His hands are on my hips and he presses his cheek against my stomach. “John, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” I say, and I wonder if my stomach rumbles against his cheek when I talk.

“Don’t go away to college. Stay here, with me,” he mutters. My hand lands on his shoulder, and I slide down the wall until I’m sitting in front of him, our legs sort of tangled up uncomfortably.

“Jesse, I can’t handle this,” I say after a second. I’m so close that I can feel my own breath hitting his skin. “What if something really bad happens, like a bad combination of pills and you really hurt yourself? Or someone else?”

“So you’re just going to give up on me?” He says, his eyes wide, full of hurt, and terror.

“I, I just,” I stutter, letting my forehead fall forward against his. “You’re always going to be my best friend.”

“Stay here,” he murmurs pathetically. “Stay here, live here, and I’ll go to therapy.”

Jesse, he’s never offered to go to therapy. He likes those pills. The chalk yellow, the red and blue capsule. They balance him. And Jesse, he doesn’t want to be unbalanced. If he’s in therapy, they may take away some of those pills. Maybe even all of them.

“You’ll do that?” I ask quietly. His eyes are opening and closing really fast.

“I’ll do anything,” he says weakly. “Don’t leave me.”

I wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his neck. He’s not okay right now, but maybe he can be. His lips are pressing against my ear and he says, “you told me you wouldn’t remember last night.”

I laugh a little, through a slight catch in my throat, and swat his shoulder. I lean back and he sees my smile, and I watch him match it.

It’s like magic, watching this array of emotions use my friend as a canvas. They spread and detail themselves over his expressions. His anger swirls delicately with the panic, which dots deliberately over the sorrow, spreading across his terror and happiness.

“I love you most,” I tell him, “like this.”

“Like this it is,” he sighs, leaning in, “because I love you, too.”

So when he kisses me, it’s like that kid who used the cafeteria milk to help swallow his Zoloft grew up. It’s like, that boy who drinks just to get drunk became someone who loves and wants to be loved. It’s as if that friend who bought me chocolate cake for no reason at all, the same one who beat me senseless years prior, he figured it out.

It’s a process.

For Jesse, trying to better himself is what worked. He wasn’t accomplishing anything being so set in his misery, wallowing in his own hysteria. He had a reason, a want to change, and he did it. If there’s anything more respectable than that, I’ve yet to see it.

Weeks later, and Jesse takes his black coffee plain, with no little white pill. That’s because he’s learning to control his anger disorder. Jesse, he doesn’t walk with his head down anymore. That’s because his depression lifted, and he doesn’t need those either. Jesse, he doesn’t wake up in a fit of terror anymore. That’s because I’m there, with him, next to him, to keep him safe.

THE END.

Midnight Phone Calls

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 19:14:15 GMT

Title: Midnight Phone Calls
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Mest
Pairing: Matt/Jere
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He gets the phone call and it changes everything.
Author’s Notes: This is, most likely, the last Mest fic I will ever write.
Archive: matchsticks

Matt knew when it was time to say goodbye.

A midnight phone call is something like a hospital on your caller ID, because it’s never good news. In this case it was both, a hospital calling at midnight. Matt’s cell phone vibrated on the bedside table and when he picked up hastily, he tried his best not to drop it.

Next to him, Jeremiah mumbled gently into the cotton of his pillow, eyes drearily blinking open. As his sight adjusted to the dark, Matt’s concerned face registered. “Matt?” He whispered quietly, quiet enough so that the person on the line wouldn’t know he was there.

Matt didn’t even hear him, until he hung up. Jere put a hand on Matt’s stomach, over his t-shirt, but even then he didn’t move. Jere just kept asking: what’s wrong, what happened, is everyone okay? And Matt, he stared.

“Come on, answer me,” Jere said quietly, sitting up a little.

Matt reacts differently to every situation. Jere had tried to carefully gauge him in certain instances, but he could never quite figure out Matt’s thought process. Right then, all he knew something was that something was terribly wrong. “Matt?”

“She’s pregnant,” Matt said. Jere, he knew it was almost time to say goodbye.

Shortly after, Matt wasn’t around. He was there, physically, but his mind was elsewhere. Making decisions, evaluating choices, that’s where Matt’s head was at. He could pluck his bass but it didn’t have any of the heart. He’d play his shows but he couldn’t muster the energy. He was happy, just distant. Jeremiah noticed that he would light up when she showed up unannounced. He sat gingerly next to her when they all went out to dinner, at her beck and call.

Jere noticed Matt drifting away from him. He stopped sleeping in Jere’s bed soon after he got the news. After that, it was no more stage banter. After that, no more kissing in private. From there, no goofy touching in public. Soon, Matt was barely even a friend to Jere anymore.

Jere, though, he understood. He got it. It was almost time to say goodbye.

So, he wasn’t surprised when Matt said he had to leave the band. Tony was silent through the announcement, as though he saw it coming but still couldn’t believe it. He got up and left without saying a word. Jere, he rubbed Matt’s back while Matt rubbed his eyebrows, wondering if he had done the right things. Jere, he assured Matt that he was doing the right thing.

Her due date was circled on the calendar in a month with snow. Just when it started to sprinkle outside, Matt stopped coming to the studio. Tony laid down his tracks for him and Jere didn’t talk to anyone. There was a quiet tension in the recording studio from then on. Tony’s lyrics got darker, Jere’s tunes became more minor. It was a mood switch in the band that no one could pin point, except Jere.

It’s the midnight phone calls he always blames it on. That’s why he can’t touch Matt anymore, or think about his future. That’s why he lost his best friend. He knew Matt was happy, he knew Matt loved his baby and maybe even his girlfriend, but it wasn’t something Jere was ready to accept.

“I miss you,” he mumbled into the receiver of his cell phone one day. There was silence on the other end, because he was leaving a message on Matt’s answering machine. “Fuck, I miss you. Just call me, dude.” He paused, then let out a little sigh. “Just call me.” He flipped his phone shut and leaned back on his bed, kicking at the loose empty sheets around his ankles. He wonders if he’ll have to wait until midnight before Matt will pay attention to his calls.

A week later, no one has seen Matt and Jere’s phone vibrates. He picks it up and sits down on his bed, glancing at the clock. 11:47 PM. He rolls his eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” Matt says softly. “Hi.”

Jere closes his eyes, putting his arm behind his head. “Matt,” he says. “What’s up? How are you?”

“We’re great,” Matt replies, and Jere hears that smile. “I’m great.”

“Well, great.”

Now, he can hear the frown. “Why are you being sarcastic?”

Jeremiah, he shakes his head and yawns a little. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I miss you, man.” Matt doesn’t answer, so Jere fills the silence. “Well, we all miss you. It sucks not having you around to keep Nick and Tony in line.”

He laughs a little, sending a flutter into Jere’s stomach. “I’m sure you got them handled.”

“I’m workin’ on it,” Jere mutters. His breathing is evening out. “What-, um, what have you been up to?”

This awkwardness is something Jere never expected to have to deal with. The, not quite knowing what to say. The, wanting to spill your guts but the words aren’t coming to your tongue. The, knowing he wants to say something as well but not being able to get him to say it.

“Buying stuff,” Matt sighs. “Baby shit. Well, not shit, like clothes and books and... shit.”

Jere wonders if she’ll let Matt cuss in front of the baby. He was always reprimanded as a child for swearing, because his parents brought him up so clean. She and Matt, though, were different. Tattooed and pierced with a little girl who will probably have a mohawk until she’s 7, they’ll probably allow their little girl to say ‘shit.’

Jere hmms softly, running his fingers up and down his stomach. “That sounds kind of nice,” he says apprehensively. “Don’t you like it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Matt says. “I just didn’t know what you would think if I said I liked it.”

“Since when do you care what I think?” Jeremiah says incredulously, sliding down a little in bed. “I don’t care if you like baby shopping.”

“Oh,” Matt murmured.

“Even if it does make you just one big estrogen hormone.”

“You asshole,” Matt laughs, “you’re just jealous because you haven’t found someone to knock up and marry yet.”

“A trying deed,” Jere drawls, “as I can neither knock up nor marry anyone I prefer.”

“Lucky me,” Matt says flatly. Jere can almost feel a sense of sincerity in that.

“I thought you liked all this?” He said.

Matt said nothing, breathing gently into the headset. “I just miss you sometimes.” Jere presses his head back into the pillow, sleepily bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t know what to say, so he sits silently on the phone in hopes Matt will continue.

He does. “Sometimes I miss just being able to shove you around and kiss and make up. With her, it’s just different. I don’t know. I love her, and I’m ready for this, I just-”

“-Know when it’s time to say goodbye. Matt, it’s all right,” Jere says quietly. “It’s okay to move on.”

“Jeremiah, I love you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then you aren’t pissed at me?”

Jere laughs a little. “Of course not. This is what you always deserved.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Matt said, half joking. Jere smiles even if Matt can’t see it.

“Remember when we first kissed?” Jere asks. Matt does.

It was something drunken and unromantic, hasty teeth and tongues. It was something they both sheepishly avoided talking about. They didn’t want to bring up the words they spoke between each other.

“C’mon,” spoken against closed lips and fingers pushing wrists back. “Come on, we’ve both been waiting for this.”

“No, no,” half groaned while trying to kiss back and pull clothes off, “no.”

It was a kiss that erupted something between them, something that had always been there but neither of them ever realized before. Thick with tension, the two of them decided to get just tipsy enough to be able to talk about. The conversation lasted about five minutes of Matt saying he had a girlfriend and Jere saying he knew, and it was no big deal. It ended, though, with Jere in Matt’s lap and Matt’s tongue in Jere’s mouth. From there, Jere pulled back, smiling and rested his head against Matt’s forehead.

He said, “I’ll always be here, even when you say goodbye.”

There’s a quiet sound on the other end of the phone, and Jere wonders if Matt is alone.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I remember that.”

“Are you in bed with her?”

“... Yeah,” Matt mumbles, guilt barely evident in his voice.

“Look, Matt it’s okay,” Jere says, finally. He yawns a little. “It’s over.”

“Over...” Matt says, almost dreamily. “I never thought it would be over.”

“No one ever does.”

Jere doesn’t want it to be over. It’s a sense of that knot in your stomach being from guilt of guilting someone else. Guilting Matt into staying with him would be simple, but unfair. He knows what’s best for his best friend. The one guy that will always be number one in his heart doesn’t deserve any less than a normal life. Normal.

Matt is still on the other line, and Jere thinks that maybe he’s watching her sleep just like he used to watch Jere sleep. Well, pretend to sleep. Jere liked the feeling of being so protected, Matt’s knuckles grazing his cheekbones every so often while he let himself breathe evenly.

His daydreaming made him sleepy, giving him a warm comfort in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll always be here, even though you’re saying goodbye.”

Jeremiah can feel him nod, even miles away. “Jere.”

“Mm?” He answers, feeling himself drift more into sleep.

“Thank you for everything. I owe you so much, but I’ll never be able to repay you,” Matt says. Jere says nothing, so Matt continues.

“Goodnight.”

Jere, he’s already asleep and his bedside clock is blinking midnight.

“I love you.”

Jere’s face pressed against the phone, Matt can hear him breathing.

“Goodbye.”

THE END.

Bare

Mon, 20 Feb 2006 23:54:44 GMT

Title: Bare
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Taking Back Sunday/Brand New
Pairing: Adam/Jesse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Adam and Jesse find each other at John's funeral.
Author’s Notes: I wasn't going to post this, but, meh.
Archive: matchsticks

Cold and dimly lit, the funeral home is like a hotel lobby with its pistachio green carpet, striped with bright orange flowers, seemingly ignorant of the cheap red and green sofas that squeak when you sit on them. There are mediocre landscape paintings on the walls and a sign outside a door that says his name.

The place is deadly quiet, and I think I’m one of the first to arrive. I haven’t dressed up this much in years. The last time I wore this suit was to a wedding. A suit of celebration and suit of mourning, or maybe that’s just my skin. In here, it smells like lysol and Cascade dishwashing detergent. There are plastic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that sparkle inexpensively and struggle to light this room.

I shake the snow from my coat and when I look up, I see Mr. Nolan leaning up against the wall by an open door. His suit is pressed and handsome, so I shift uncomfortably in my own faded, wrinkled jacket. He look sup to me and his eyebrows furrow in recognition. He gives me a sad nod which I hesitantly return. Here, I don’t know where to smile or frown at people. I walk up to him and shake his hand, wincing at the weak grip. His eyes look so pained and hurt.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay, Jesse,” he clearly lies, and I can’t look at him anymore. He lets go of my hand and after a moment of awkward silence I make my way into the room next to him.

The first thing I notice is that someone neglected to mention that this is an open casket funeral. My hand flies up to my mouth and I take a quick step back because it just catches me off guard. I’m looking at the floor, trying to regain my composure when I feel light fingertips on my back. Thankful for reason to turn away from the casket, I turn and meet Michelle’s eyes. My face easily falls into a smile despite how wrecked she looks. Her arms slide around my shoulders and I gently put one hand on her thin waist.

“Oh, Jesse, I’m so glad you’re here,” she breathes, and I don’t know what to say to her. I just nod. She’s sort of staring over my shoulder, and I take my hand away from her and put it in my pocket. She snaps back to attention and when she looks at me her eyes are glassy. She apologizes and excuses herself, her black skirt kicking up behind her when she runs out of the room, her feet pat-pat-patting against the carpet.

So now I’m standing here, and I am hyper aware of him laying behind me. My skin is tingling and I can feel my heartbeat in my skull. I can feel my body willing me to turn around, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to. I can feel people passing me, going to pay their respects, going to look at this significantly non breathing kid who was just not ready to lay in that coffin.

I take a deep breath and turn around, taking the mile long walk down the carpeted, makeshift aisle, lined with metal fold out chairs. The couple staring in my way bow their heads and part like the red sea, bringing John’s face into view. I have to stop myself again, physically forcing my legs to take the three steps forward and stand next to him. I carefully place my hands on the polished wooden rim, my face set in stone while I look down to him.

People always say that dead people never look like themselves. Well, with John, he looks just like himself, except so, so pale. I’m remembering jokes between us about his complexion, and I clench my teeth. They’ve got him in his black, think rimmed glasses, and I wonder why he needs them when his eyes are so shut and sunk, his arms crossed over his grey Smiths shirt that I gave him years ago.

Every time I expect him to take a breath, or his eyes to open, every second that passes where he’s still dead, my heart speeds up. Every moment that he’s not smiling or frowning, I’m more on edge. Up here, it smells so heavily of flowers that it makes me sick to my stomach. These roses and lilacs and Lily of Valley, they’re just as beautiful as he is. Incidentally, floating in their clear glass vases, they’re just as dead.

My knuckles are white from gripping the coffin, my tie snug around my neck as a remind that I should have come in a t-shirt and jeans. That maybe I should have brought my guitar so once everyone had left I could play him a song. Or maybe it’s just reminding me to hang myself when I get home.

“John,” I murmur, and even I’m surprised at how my voice sounds. I’m beyond crying now. “Johnny.” I sound so devastated and lost, something that I wasn’t sure of until I spoke. He doesn’t reply. I almost expected him to.

A moment passes where nothing happens. It seems like the whole world is frozen and all that exists is just me and him. That half second is just pulled away from me when I feel that someone is behind me. Thinking it’s Michelle again, I sigh and move to the side so I’m not in her way. I glance over and instead of long, black hair it’s short, shaggy and brown. My lips part in surprise when Adam looks back at me, and I’m sure I look absolutely dumbstruck.

He’s wearing tight black jeans and a coat like mine; he looks trendy and scene. His hands are deep in his pockets and his eyes are swollen and bloodshot, like he’s been crying for days. He and I, we just look at each other, not smiling or frowning or anything. Just looking. Drinking in his appearance just as he’s evaluating mine.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes darting down away from me and to John. I clench my fists. He doesn’t deserve to look at him. I don’t reply, just watch him brush his knuckles across John’s cheek. I can feel my fingernails digging into my palms.

“I don’t know why they put those glasses on him,” Adam continues, and his voice is airy. “He hates them.”

Without thinking about it, it spills from my mouth, “he hates you.”

Adam doesn’t even flinch, just keeps looking down at him. After a second he smiles, but there’s nothing happy behind it. “I know,” he says. “I know, he hated me.”

Using the past tense, Adam might as well have killed John himself.

“Why are you here?” I ask him, and more than ever I wish I could slip my hand into John’s and know that he’s on my side.

“Are you serious?” Adam replies, and he sounds slightly hurt. I just nod minutely. “John was my best friend.”

“I was your best friend, too,” I say quietly. “You wouldn’t be here if that was me.”

His face drops and he looks very stern. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

It may be the last thing I ever want to admit, but Adam is right. Arguing here, when the only person that we both loved is still between us. I nod again, but don’t withdraw my statement. I suppose I was expecting him to deny it, tell me he would be here if I was in John’s place, but he didn’t.

“Jesse, please,” Adam says, gently placing his hand on my crossed arms. I don’t flinch away from him, but I physically feel the glare drop from my face and transform into something more vulnerable. No one else here could feel like I do right now, except for Adam. He and I knew John better than even his sister. So, maybe I should give him a chance.

I look up at him, and he’s giving an inviting smile smile. I try to return it, and next time we look at John, his fingers brush against mine.

Classified

Wed, 08 Feb 2006 01:29:32 GMT

Title: Classified
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Fall Out Boy/Bright Eyes
Pairing: Pete Wentz/Conor Oberst
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: He meets him at a bar, full of secrets and lacking smiles.
Author’s Notes: Weird pairing.
Archive: matchsticks

The thing about Pete is that even when he doesn’t feel like smiling, he’s doing it anyway. He’s got his big flashy pearly whites and the crinkle in the corner of his eyes, his smile emitting a charm to everyone who happens to see it. His smile draws others into their own grins, makes them comfortable. He is so self confident that even strangers are smirking slightly. That’s the atmosphere, wherever he is, the light buzz of cheerfulness and intrigue.

Tonight felt different, with a ginger ale and a firmly set smile, the club still seemed a bit dismal. Pete had Patrick, who had wandered off somewhere, and his never-ending throng of girls nipping at his heels. He was polite to them, strongly advised against by the rest of the band, but Pete concluded that they were just jealous. He had absolutely no interest in one of the girls around him, except perhaps the dark haired one who seemed to shy to speak. His friends used words like “tease” but Pete preferred “gentleman.”

He had managed to sneak away from the gaggle of women and disappear into the bathroom, empty and dismal with the lights half burnt out. Pete gets his hands wet, rubs them against his cheeks and checks his perfect smile in the mirror. It’s funny, he tells himself, how the smile can be so bright and cheerful and emulate absolutely nothing of how he feels.

So just as he’s brushing a dark strand away from his forehead, he turns around and suffers his first major surprise of the night. There’s a guy standing there, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking firmly displeased.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Pete laughs gently, taking in the boy’s appearance. Dark hair, dark circles under the eyes, dark expression, dark clothes, dark dark dark. Pete smiles at him, trying to bring out the comfort and light but the guy just raises an eyebrow.

“Why are you smiling?”

Pete’s expression changes to one of mild confusion. “I guess I don’t know,” he answers, laughing a little nervously.

“You shouldn’t smile if there’s nothing to be happy about,” the other man points out. Pete nods a little bit, edging away from the stranger and toward the door.

“Thanks for the tip,” Pete says, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I followed you in here,” he says. “My name is Conor.”

“I’m Pete,” Pete answers because he realizes that he’s making conversation with a stalker. “Why did you follow me?”

“I like your hair,” Conor states, and Pete isn’t sure whether it’s a compliment, or a reply to his previous question.

“Um, thank you,” he answers. He finds himself inching back into the bathroom, letting the door swoosh shut behind him. He leans up against one of the sinks.

Conor’s hands go into the pockets at the front of his black hoodie. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asks flatly. Pete wrinkles his nose.

“Who said anything’s wrong?” He answers. Conor is just looking at him, deadpan, and maybe he shouldn’t be flirting right now.

“You said you didn’t know why you were smiling. Something is wrong,” Conor explains, taking a small step closer to Pete. “What’s wrong?”

Pete shakes his head a little, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re a liar, too,” Conor says, and Pete wonders what else Conor has listed up in his head. He sighs a little, searching for the right words to express himself.

“Sometimes you just feel like you don’t belong,” Pete says, and Conor’s frown deepens.

“You and the rest of the world,” he says bitterly. “What makes you so special?”

Pete’s eyes narrow. “You asked.”

“I was expecting a decent answer,” he says, looking miffed. “You should be able to think up something better than that.”

This time, Pete softens. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all month, anyway, so maybe he should take it and run. It could be chance to spill his guts without having to pay a therapist, even if this guy is a stranger, slightly creepy, leering at him.

“I meant what I said before,” Pete says after a moment. Conor just stares at him, blankly. “I mean, I do feel alone. I have a lot of secrets, they weigh me down.”

“What secrets?”

“If I told you,” Pete smiles, “they wouldn’t be secrets.”

Conor rolls his eyes. “You’re doing it again. Smiling.”

Pete is starting to catch on, reaching up to brush a hand through his hair. “Big secrets.”

Conor lets his arms drop to his sides, his eyes locked on Pete’s fingers. “Are you here with someone?” Pete nods, brows furrowing lightly at the quick change of subject. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Conor, I don’t even know you,” Pete says, kind of by default. He knows he’ll probably end up following the guy, and maybe getting to know him a little too well.

Conor shrugs slightly, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Your call. I’m heading out.”

Pete stands. He’s debating, vacillating, his head bringing him all around and back and forth and upside down. He wants to go with Conor. He’s intrigued, he’s curious, and moreover, he’s desperate. Here is this total stranger that wants to spill secrets. Here’s someone who’ll never tell Patrick about Pete’s quiet desires. This is an out, as far as he’s concerned.

“I’m coming,” he says quietly, and he thinks that Conor might smile, but he doesn’t. He just turns around and walks out of the bathroom, leaving Pete standing, slightly confused. He blinks and scrambles forward, pulling the bathroom door open and squinting as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the club.

He looks around, not initially seeing Conor, feeling momentarily that he might have just been tricked. He feels a hand on his hip and jumps, turning a little to meet Conor’s brown eyes. Over the music, Conor mouths ‘follow me’, and Pete does.

He follows Conor, weaving through the crowd, his mind drifting to the friends he’s leaving behind. He makes a note to text them as soon as he gets a chance, staying close to Conor’s body so he won’t get lost. He’s really taking in how Conor looks, how he’s slightly shorter, mussed hair sticking up, his clothes clinging tightly to his lithe body.

Pete bites his bottom lip, trying to ignore the attractiveness that Conor emits- how his hips are brushing up against the smaller man, pressed closely into him through the tightly-knit crowd. He’s trying to ignore how Conor got into his head, why he’s following a stranger out into the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Pete asks gently, the warm summer air gripping him tightly.

“Up,” Conor says shortly. Pete follows him back around the building, noting the fire escape stairs curling up to the top. Conor gestures to them, grabbing onto the ladder and climbing to the first landing. Pete, he’s watching carefully, edging toward the ladder. Conor frowns impatiently. “I’m going regardless of whether you follow me.”

As Conor starts to climb the metal stairs, his dirty black shoes clanging lightly against them, Pete grabs onto the ladder and starts to pull himself up. His curiosity always managed to get the better of him. He starts to climb the stairs, always just one flight behind Conor. He’s glance up and see the slight flare of Conor’s jeans, the white t-shirt riding up the slightest bit.

By the time Pete is at the top, Conor is leaning up against a smoke stack, looking toward the sky. Pete tries to mumble something to alert Conor to his arrival, but he’s distracted with the way his black hair is falling around his face, the hoodie so close to his body that it doesn’t ruffle with the warm wind.

“Come here,” Conor says, and Pete smiles just a bit, taking a cautious step closer. “Stop.” Pete freezes, and Conor’s dark eyes fall on his own. “Not one more step until you wipe that stupid, fake smile off your face.”

Pete frowns.

“That’s more like it,” Conor says gently, reaching out and pinching the front of Pete’s t-shirt, tugging him forward. Pete stumbles, tripping into the slighter boy, his body falling against Conor’s and pushing him up against the brick behind him.

Pete doesn’t move, with Conor’s hands on his hips and his own pressed against the other boy’s chest. Conor doesn’t move, but lifts an eyebrow, looking almost bored. Pete steps back, apologizing quietly, and Conor just shrugs.

“You smoke?” He asks, and Pete shakes his head. Conor looks slightly miffed, turning around and grabbing Pete’s forearm. He drags him over to the edge of the building, resting his arms on the protective railing, bent slightly at the waist. Pete wants to run his hand down the curve of boy’s back, but he shoves them both in his pockets to avoid doing something he may regret.

“Up here,” Conor starts, “you can say all your secrets and no one will hear you but me.”

Pete doesn’t say anything.

“Want me to go first?” Conor asks the sky. Pete shifts uncomfortably, leaning up against the railing as well.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

“One of my secrets is that I like to see people smile,” Conor says. Pete gives him a sidelong glance. Conor closes his eyes. “Your turn.”

“I hate my friends,” Pete says really quietly.

Conor nods. “Why?”

“I didn’t think we were allowed to ask why,” Pete says, slightly discouraged. Conor turns to look at him.

“I don’t remember saying there were rules,” he says flatly. Pete looks down, laughing a little bit, and when he glances up, Conor is looking intently at him. “That’s a real one,” he adds.

“Sometimes I forget what it’s like to really smile,” Pete admits. Conor uncrosses his arms and stands up straight, adjusting his hoodie.

“Why do you hate your friends?” Conor asks again.

Pete pauses. “In the past ten minutes, I get the impression that you care more about me than all of them put together.”

Conor doesn’t say anything, but Pete holds his gaze this time. Pete isn’t planning on actually looking away, this time, and it’s Conor that breaks the stare this time.

“My secret,” he says, “is that I think I could really like you.”

“You don’t generally like people,” Pete says, and it’s not a question. Conor rolls his eyes.

“You’re conceited,” he accuses, and Pete doesn’t know how to reply to that. “It’s okay. At least you aren’t a self-pitying little brat like most of the world.”

“Secret: I am a self-pitying little brat.”

Conor looks up. “Me, too.”

Pete laughs a little bit, moving closer toward Conor. “I think I could really like you too,” he says, and the statement just kind of hangs there for a second. Conor sighs.

“I want to lie down.”

Pete scuffs his shoe against the ground. “We could go back to my apartment,” he suggests, fully expecting the answer he receives.

“Okay.”

It’s only half an hour later, and really, they hardly make it through the door before Conor is pushing Pete up against it, clutching the fabric of Pete’s t-shirt and kissing him.

Pete’s arms go around Conor’s body, pulling him close as they kiss. He’s unzipping the black hoodie, his hands pushing inside to rub up against Conor’s chest, their mouths moving fluidly together. Conor’s tongue is between his lips, licking and teasing and sucking while their bodies rub together.

Pete’s hands frantically push up Conor’s thin t-shirt as the other boy shrugs his hoodie off, letting it fall to the polished wooden floor even as he and Pete trip over each other to get to the nearest soft surface. What they find is the couch, soft and giving under Conor’s bare back, Pete’s knees pressing down on either side of his hips.

Pete’s lips dip to Conor’s neck, pushing them up against the pale skin as Conor’s hands go to the sides of his face, fingers sliding against his ears.

“No, no, no,” Conor mumbles, his eyes shut while his hips roll up against Pete’s. “Kiss me, goddamnit.” He pulls Pete’s face back up and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his thumbs brushing Pete’s cheeks, smearing the eyeliner under his eyes. Pete is sliding his hands up and down Conor’s chest, just touching and experiencing, breathing in the scent of cigarettes.

Pete’s shirt is off the same time as Conor is unbuttoning his tight pants, his waist tight against Conor’s as he wriggles out of them. Pete pauses for a moment with his eyes shut as Conor rubs against him, struggling to get his own clothes off while Conor kisses him. He’s not in control, but he doesn’t care- he just shoves his hands between Conor’s legs and gropes, squeezes, massaging against the softest skin he can find.

Conor’s hips are rolling up against Pete’s touch, his bottom lip clutched between his teeth. He breathes soft moans, his fingers gripping at Pete’s shoulders, holding him down close. They’re kissing more gently than before, just a quick pecking every so often as they move together.

Pete has to regain his composure when Conor whimpers into his mouth, the other boy’s fingers sliding up his bare back. “C’mon,” Conor mumbles, spreading his legs and letting Pete fit between them. “C’mon.”

“Okay,” Pete sighs, and Conor won’t let him go. He’s being held so tightly, so close to Conor’s body. He can feel the heat between them, the sweat on their skin and the intense attraction between them. He becomes slightly overwhelmed as Conor bites down on his lip, the pain spiking through him just as Conor thrusts up against him. “Mm, fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Conor sighs against Pete’s ear. “Fuck me.”

Pete shivers, his body jerking forward against Conor. He’s not given a choice, with Conor’s hands holding his hips and pulling them together, his legs hooked around Pete’s waist and his mouth resting on Pete’s collarbone. It’s slow and it’s raw, with Pete’s erratic movement, Conor clutching against him and murmuring in his ear.

Pete rolling his hips forward and Conor grinding back against him, they’re a sight with dark hair sticking to their temples, pale versus tanned skin sliding and pressed together as close as can be. Their eyes are locked and half lidded, Conor’s back arching up against Pete’s current particularly deep thrusts. He groans, writhes, and clings to him, kissing Pete’s shoulder.

It’s not until Pete wraps his hand around Conor and starts to jerk him off that Conor starts to mumble his name. It rolls off his tongue fluidly, his hips thrusting erratically, his muscles tightening and making Pete gasp. When they come their eyes shut, their lips meet and Conor is holding Pete so closely, their bodies shuddering in unison.

They move apart, short of breath, not looking at each other. Conor’s hands are roaming, rubbing and squeezing and gently scraping his nails against Pete’s skin. Pete sighs, gathering his wits, keeping his mind straight as he cautiously raises his eyes to meet Conor’s.

They don’t say anything, but move together, letting their lips touch again. Conor keeps his arms circled around Pete’s waist, not letting go until Pete sits back slightly, taking in Conor’s disheveled appearance.

“You can’t even smile now?” He asks, his voice just a little rough. Conor just stares at him, his chest moving slowly with each breath.

“Well, how about another secret?” Pete tries. He slides his hands up Conor’s hips, up over his arms, cups his cheek for a moment before combing his fingers through Conor’s hair. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for Conor to speak.

“I pick up guys at bars and mess with their heads to get them to sleep with me,” he says monotonously.

Pete laughs quietly, meeting Conor’s eyes. His last secret of the night. He tucks a section of Conor’s hair back, dipping his head and pressing his lips against his ear.

“I know,” he murmurs.

So, Conor, he smiles.

the end.

Oh, Inhibition

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 01:27:48 GMT

Title: Oh, Inhibition
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Taking Back Sunday/My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Adam Lazzara/Frank Iero
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: PWP, smut. Fluffy. No angst in this one.
Author’s Notes: Uh. Seriously, it’s just sex. Light use of handcuffs, dirty talk, and other various sexual acts.
Archive: matchsticks

“The handcuffs were a gag gift,” Frank says offhand, “and they kind of hurt.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, running a finger down his chest. He shivers, and I smirk. “You like it.”

“That’s beside the point, Adam,” he mutters. “They’re still too tight.”

I shake my head. “I think you look hot, you baby.” He sighs, biting his bottom lip. He’s splayed out on top of the sheets, his clothes in a rumpled pile beside the bed. He complained for a moment about them getting wrinkles or something, but with his wrists locked to the headboard by those shiny handcuffs, he doesn’t have much of a choice as to what his clothes look like.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles apprehensively. “I’m not really into... this.”

I lean down, kissing his cheek and sliding my hand along his tummy. “Don’t worry. You’ll get into it.”

It’s not like Frank is particularly quiet, but he’s definitely got this shyness that shows up, especially when fans want to talk to him and stuff. When Gerard and I were hanging out a lot, I watched Frank and how he interacted with people, and it was so much different from how he reacted to the guys in his band. I made it a mission to draw his real personality out, and I got a few surprises along the way- like him, for example. I wasn’t really expecting getting caught up in a relationship, but it happened, and I’m not complaining.

He’s glancing up at me, still looking hesitant. I kiss his lips and squeeze his hip a little bit. He’s already hard, and I don’t know what he’s worried about.

“I need you to tell me what turns you on,” I say gently, and his hips jerk just the slightest bit. He opens his eyes, shifting on top of the sheets, his breath coming in short little puffs.

“What do you mean?” He asks quietly. I see his legs minutely edge apart, his eyes half lidded. His tongue swipes against his bottom lip and the shine catches my eye. I slide my hand up his thigh to rest on his hipbone, rubbing gentle circles while I lean down and press my lips to his. I hear him whimper, the handcuffs jingling as he tries to move his hands down.

“I mean,” I murmur against his mouth, kissing his cheek and jaw and neck, “you get off when you tell me what you want.”

“Oh,” he whispers. “Oh.” I smirk and keep rubbing his hips, my mouth hovering against his collarbone. I glance up at him, and he has his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes shut completely now.

“Come on, Frank,” I sigh, curving my fingers over his erection and sliding my fingers against the tip. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat, pulling tight against the handcuffs.

He starts shaking his head, his lips parting just the slightest bit. “Please,” he mutters, and I bring my hand away. He lets out a long sigh and looks so frustrated, I almost feel bad.

“Just use your words,” I mumble into his ear, biting the lobe the slightest bit while my hands roam up his chest.

“All right,” he says. I trail my fingers over his skin, noticing that his wrists a little red from pulling at the cuffs. I drag my fingers up his arms and rub the sore spots gently, watching a small smile appear on his face.

“I like this,” he tells me. I nod a little, pulling on the handcuffs. He laughs a bit, but the blush spreads across his cheeks. “I like when you tease me.” His voice dropped to a low whisper, but I want to convince him that he doesn’t need to be shy.

“Hmm,” I murmur, bowing my head down to kiss his chest. I can feel the rise and fall of his breaths under my lips, his naked hips sliding accidentally against mine. I rub my thumb over his nipple while I close my mouth over the other one, sucking gently enough for him to let out just the quietest gasp. His hips roll upward, but I’ve moved out of his way, so he just thrusts against air. I rub my tongue over his skin, watching his eyes squeeze so tightly shut, his hands fisting in the sheets.

“Like that, I’m guessing?” I say against his chest, and he nods.

“Feels good,” he mumbles, “um, good.”

He’s so sensitive to my touch. I can run my fingers up his back and he’ll shiver, or just breathe against his neck to turn him on. Right now, our skin so close and our bodies moving together, he’s almost a mess, and we’ve barely started.

I keep touching him, feeling him squirm and jerk beneath me, arching against my fingers. His skin is warming up, his breath shortening. My tongue on his chest and tummy and hips, it’s influencing the soft twitching in his legs. I smile at his reactions and move back up to his neck, kissing his collarbone gently while I gently scratch my fingers down his chest.

“Oh my God,” he grunts, and I laugh a little bit.

I pull back, letting my hands keep up the work while I fit my legs in between his. He wraps his ankles around my waist, trying to tug me forward. I cock my head to the side and lick my lips.

“I like when you rub against me,” he sighs. “It’s so hot.”

I bite my lip hard, stroking myself for just a second to ride the feeling I got when he said that. He whimpers a little bit, thrusting his hips up, and I lean over him and let our laps press together. He moans quietly and pouts his lips, so I kiss him.

His mouth opens against mine with a gasp when I push my hips forward into his. His arms start to thrash a little against his bonds, but that seems to just drive him more as he thrusts back toward me. I breathe his name, and he just kisses me over and over again, desperately.

“Harder, Adam,” he mumbles into my mouth, and at this point I’m inclined to comply. I speed up, until my hands are on either side of the bed next to his shoulders and I’m grinding against him. “I wish I could touch you.”

“You are touching me,” I tell him, but he doesn’t reply. He just spreads his legs further, giving me a little more room.

There’s this heat between us, and it just feels so good to do this to him. I can’t think of another way to describe the sensation we share, now with our heads bowed together, our hips rubbing and sliding and jerking, his breath against my ear. I tilt my head and press my mouth up against his, letting him push his tongue against mine while we move together.

He bites down on my bottom lip almost absentmindedly, and I grunt, grabbing his hips. He pulls his mouth away and takes a second to pant against my cheek.

He’s looking up at me through glazed eyes and he’s just so pretty. I brush his cheek with my knuckles and put my fingers at his lips, watching his tongue poke out and curl around them. I let him draw my fingers into his mouth, sucking gently on them.

I feel myself getting a little dizzy, watching and feeling his tongue move around my fingertips, so I have to pull them away. He arches an eyebrow at me and purses his lips. I lean down, spreading my legs over him- It’s an awkward position, but neither of us care, because he’s getting touched and I’m getting kissed.

“Are you going to finger me?” He asks into my mouth, and I just keep kissing him, scooting back on his hips a little.

“Christ,” I breathe, accidentally speeding up the movements between us, brushing his hair away from his eyes. I thread my fingers through it and hold him close while I rub up against him.

“Oh, oh God, stop,” he says. “Stop, I don’t want to come like this.”

I have to catch my breath, so I slow my hips to a stop and he actually maneuvers himself away from me. I nod, licking my lips, wondering how even though he’s the one tied up, he still has control over me.

“Will you just touch yourself?” His voice is so gentle and quiet, I lean back and grasp hold of my erection. He licks his lips and he’s looking right at my eyes. I hold his gaze, trying to keep myself under control while I almost languidly stroke myself. He keeps nodding to himself, his hands clenched tightly. I accidentally start to lose myself in my own touch, rubbing my thumb over the tip and catching the moisture there. I feel the warmth prickling up my spine, and he’s still looking right at me.

“Your expression,” he says. “It turns me on so much.”

“You, mmm, sure got into this quickly,” I mumble, “nngh, fuck.”

“Well, you sure got into that quickly,” he accuses, and I smile a little bit. I use my other hand to rub my thighs, dragging my fingers against the more sensitive parts of my body. He’s watching so intently and his eyes just make it that much hotter. I squeeze the shaft of my dick and let out a quiet groan, which he matches, just a little softer. I realize I’m probably getting a little too caught up, so I take my hand away from my cock before I accidentally go too far. “I wasn’t telling you to stop-”

“I’d rather touch you,” I say to him, and he shifts against the soft mattress. He keeps accidentally pulling against the handcuffs, but I think he likes it. I haven’t heard him complain once since I fastened him up.

His breathing is so fast, and he looks like his carefully contemplating what he wants to tell me to do next. I can’t wait to get him into that state just before he comes, it’s the definite pay off. “Touch me, then.”

“With what?”

“Oh, God. Your mouth, Adam,” he asks, and I smile a little. I dip my head and lick his tummy, just because I know he’s a little ticklish, and I feel him jump. “Ah,” he murmurs, and I bite his hipbone.

“Hm?” I say, and his hips jerk a little bit.

“You’re teasing me,” he says, his stomach fluttering under my fingertips. I kiss the crease of his hip and glance up at him.

“I thought you said you liked being teased,” I murmur, and he sighs.

“You know I do,” he mumbles. I smile and grasp his erection, stroking it slowly for a second, just to make him squirm. He does, and I take that moment to put my lips over the tip of his cock. “Oh, shit.”

I hold back a smirk and curve my hand around the base, squeezing softly while I lower my mouth. I let him rest against my tongue for a moment, and I can feel him taking deep, shuddering breaths. My fingers creep down to rub against his balls, his hips jerking up against my mouth. I start to slide my tongue around on his skin, sucking gently enough to draw out noises from his throat.

“Oh God, oh God, fuck,” he’s murmuring, pulling hard against the handcuffs. I can tell that he really wishes he could be using his hands right now, to thread through my hair or press against the back of my neck. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a little of that right now, either.

Not that I mind the moans and writhing, not in the slightest. I keep playing between his legs while lowering my mouth further, keeping the suction steady on his cock. He’s groaning my name, his legs snapping together. I decide that I don’t want to get too into this, either, so I pull back and just suck on the very tip.

“Uh, uh, why do you always do this to me?” He whimpers, and I just laugh. I pull back from him and kiss his inner thighs, rubbing my hands up and down his chest.

“Because you’re just so hot when you’re wanting it,” I tell him. He shakes his head at me, taking a second to regain his composure. I don’t intend for him to have it for long. I push his legs a little further apart, licking the inside of his thigh just to make him twitch.

“Now are you going to finger me?” He asks again. I laugh a little bit, pushing his hips up and rubbing my hands against his ass.

“Want me to?”

“Please.”

“Mmm,” I mutter. With my head still in between his legs, I quickly lick over my fingers and press them up against his entrance. He inhales really sharply, and I can tell he’s biting his tongue inside his mouth. I just smile and rub him up, watching the expressions his face makes.

“Fuck, come on,” he grunts, and I take mercy on him. Maybe I really have teased him too much. I don’t want him to get too pissed off at me, so I stop rubbing him and just slide my fingers into him.

He lets out a long sigh, and seems to relax just a little bit. I smile, going back to kissing at his thighs while I move my wrist. I glance up at him, seeing him biting down hard on his lip, making these little grunting noises low in his throat every time I push my fingers up inside of him. He’s sort of rocking his hips down against my touch, and fuck. It’s almost too much for me.

I start to move my body, sliding my cock up against the soft sheets, because having him like this... it’s just everything I could ask for. “Shit, you’re hot,” I mumble along his skin, and his hips jerk toward me.

“Add another,” he says breathily, and I comply. I would be insane not to. I drag my tongue up the length of his cock as I push in a third finger, just to watch his legs shake.

“How’s that?” I ask him, twisting my fingers, scissoring them, just trying to make him squirm.

“Unngh,” he replies. “Mmm, fuck, just-”

He cuts himself off with a quiet moan, probably caused by the quick swipes of my tongue against his dick. I couple that with curling my fingers into his prostate, getting lost in his soft whimpers and moans.

“Good?” I ask, sucking gently on whatever skin is front of my mouth. I rub my tongue against it, getting kind of distracted with all the motions before I realize that I’m tonguing the soft skin just behind his balls, and he’s shouting my name. “Whoa, what?”

“Holy shit, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he’s saying, over and over again. I dip my head back down and continue to lick his perineum, listening to the clang of the handcuffs banging against the headboard. I continue to manipulate his body, but he’s turning me on so bad that I don’t think I can hold off anymore.

I pull away, slipping my fingers from his body and sitting up. He’s shaking his head, his lip swollen from where he was biting it too hard. I lean down and lick across it quickly, sucking it gently and just feeling him pant against me.

“Get me out of these, please,” he says, and he sounds so desperate. I keep kissing him, blindly reaching for the key on the side table. I snatch it up and unlock him, grabbing his wrists and rubbing them gently where they look a little sore. He didn’t give me much time, pushing his hands down and grabbing my hips, yanking me toward himself.

I yelp a little as his hands travel over my hips, his legs wrapping around my waist as he drags me close to him. Once we’re pressed up together, his hands go up and down my chest, squeezing and rubbing and just touching me really frantically.

“Fuck,” I breathe, and he’s rocking his hips up against me.

“Fuck me,” he shoots back, and I moan into his neck. He arches his back as I kiss his collarbone, letting the tip of my cock press against his ass. He moans quietly, and I can feel the vibrations when I kiss his throat. I nod a little, feeling his hands roam up and down my back.

I push his legs apart, feeling his ankles hook around my back, urgently tugging me forward. “Okay,” I whisper into his ear as I push into him, “you okay?”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m great,” he sighs with a smile. I squeeze his thigh, watching his head toss back and forth. His hands are on his chest, pinching and rubbing his own skin. I lick my lips and roll my hips forward into him. He groans and I see his hands fist into the bedsheets.

“Nnn, shit, Frank,” I breathe quietly, and he looks like a mess. His eyes are squeezed shut, his eyelashes brushing gently against his flushed cheeks. His hair is sticking to his temples, wet with sweat, his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He’s so fucking gorgeous.

I drag my fingers across his stomach and curl them around his cock, starting to slowly jerk him off while I fuck him. He’s almost panting, his breaths coming short and sharp, hips rocking back against me every time.

“Faster,” he mumbles, and I start to move my hand more quickly over his cock, but keep the speed of my thrusts steady. He groans in protest and I hear him mumbling my name under his breath, his hands sporadically grabbing my wrists and arms and shoulders.

“Ohh, fuck.” I’m clenching my teeth, my hips speeding up of their own accord as I feel him tighten around me. I look at him and his eyes are half lidded, and he’s looking right at me with his lust clouded eyes, his lips parted just a little bit. I lean down, grinding into his body as I press my mouth up against his.

We start to make out a little, letting our tongues rub against each other’s, getting our teeth involved just bit when he bites my tongue. My stomach is pressed right up against his dick and he’s shaking a little bit. His arms wrap around my shoulders and before I even inhale, he’s flipped us over hard and he’s sitting on my hips with his hands on my chest.

“Fuck!” I shout, my hands flying up to grasp his hips. He’s not even giving himself a chance to adjust, just fucking pounding down onto me with his eyes shut. “Fuck, oh, God, oh-”

“I couldn’t resist,” he mumbles, riding down hard. “Mmm, fuck me, Adam.”

I think I’m going numb. I’m grabbing him really tightly, trying to push myself up into him every time he drops down. He looks like his having trouble breathing, but he’s got this slight smirk on his face that makes me just want to hold him close to me forever.

“I love you,” I mumble and he nods, sliding his hand down his stomach to grasp at his cock.

“You too,” he moans, his hand moving so fast over himself. “Oh...”

“That’s so hot, that’s-” I start to grunt incoherently, babbling like an idiot while he masturbates up on top of me. He’s squeezing the tip of his cock, rubbing his fingers over the head, collecting the precome. I watch him jerk off, squeezing his balls and rubbing his own thighs while he grinds down onto me. I can’t even think straight, I’m just lost in sensation and sight and I don’t know what to do.

“I’m already so close,” he whimpers. “You turn me on too fucking much.”

My tongue feels like it’s tied up in knots, with his body just moving against me perfectly, and the words coming out of his mouth. Our roles have changed and now I’m at his mercy, under his full control, and maybe this is what he was planning all along.

“This- I, Frank, ohh,” I mumble, grasping him too tightly and feeling my body seize up and the heat spiking in my stomach when I come inside of him. He moans, his legs shaking a little as he keeps riding down on me, making me shiver, his hand bringing himself closer and closer.

“Uh, uh,” he sighs, “oh my God.”

I see him freeze up and he gets that look on his face, that expression of pure want, his lips parted just enough for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip as he hits his climax.

He’s still rocking his hips, touching his cock gently, and I’m fucking spent. I don’t think I can move an inch. He pulls himself up and off of me, laying down softly to my side and pressing his lips immediately to my neck. I’m still trying to catch my breath, my body tingling faintly. I can feel his smile against my throat, and I touch his shoulder.

“Um,” I start, before realizing I just have nothing to say. He laughs a little bit, sliding himself back on top of me and kissing my lips. I rest one hand on his hip while the other cups his cheek, kissing him back really softly while I’m just trying to regain my composure.

“I’m glad you took those damn things off of me,” he mumbles against my ear, biting down on the lobe. “I don’t think I could live down the reputation of a bondage freak.”

I love how during or after sex, he always loosens up a little and just says whatever comes to his mind. I know that in five minutes he’ll be back to his shy and silly mindset, but right now he’s pushing his tongue against my neck and I’m not going to complain.

“Some gag gift,” I say offhand. He laughs against me and I can almost sense him rolling his eyes.

“Maybe next time, I’ll get to shackle you up.”

I arch an eyebrow, dragging my hand up and down his back. “Uh, maybe,” I mumble, making a mental note to hide them later.

“Mm,” he mumbles, I know he’s falling asleep. He’s waking up early to meet with his band tomorrow morning and he probably needs his sleep. “Hey, what should I tell the guys when they notice the red marks on my wrists?”

“The truth,” I smirk. “That you’re a bondage freak.”

He smacks me gently and pulls me up against him. I listen to him fall asleep before I let myself do the same.

end.

On The Frontline

Tue, 27 Dec 2005 21:23:26 GMT

Title: On the Frontline
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Frank Iero/Joel Madden
Rating: Hard R
Summary: War can change you. But you don't have to lose everything.
Author’s Notes: after watching a documentary on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Archive: matchsticks

“I sh, sh, sh, sh-”

The thing about it all is, we’re meant to ignore it. We’re meant to forget and detach and ignore. We’re meant to desensitize, block out, and ignore.

“I, I, I sh-”

Sometimes, people can’t handle that. It all catches up to them.

“I sh, sh, shot her.”

“So, Joel? We shoot a lot of people.”

“I killed her. I killed her.”

“We kill lots of people, Joel.”

“I’m a murderer.”

“You’re a soldier.”

The thing about Joel is, when he first started camp he was eighteen years old. He was fresh out of high school, broke, and stupid. Joel, he didn’t have anywhere to go but here. He didn’t have anything but the service. I don’t think it’s exactly what Joel wanted. It’s not what any of us want, you know, it’s just what we expect. He trained so well, that kid, he just ate everything right up. He’s damn fine at blindly following orders, and really, that’s all we gotta be. Silent, emotionless, expressionless machines. Joel, he was a better machine than all the others. So, he got put with us.

When I first met him it was like nothing phased him. He was cocky and crude. He would form his fingers like a gun, cock it and pull it right at your head, and murmur, ‘bang.’ This is the kid who was so ready, and so prepared, and so good at what he did.

I met Joel because he was put in my troop. Not only was he put in my troop, but I had Joel in my tent, I had Joel’s cot across from mine. Joel was forced on me in a way that no one had ever been before. Joel had never had a real friend before, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about being his first. This wasn’t a kid who knew who he was just yet, but I decided that maybe I had something to do with helping him figure it out.

Before Joel was a nervous wreck, shaking in my arms, stuttering “I shu-shu-shu-shot her,” he was a top sniper. He loved to talk about the best ways to get a head-shot, where to aim and how to get away without getting noticed. He was the kid who shouted at his fellow soldiers to get the hell in there and be men. This is the kid who would sit on the end of my bed in the middle of the night, after lights out, and just talk.

He’d sit there and tell me stories about the mission that day, while the rest of us were trying to shove all the details to the back of our minds. While I’m trying to forget, Joel’s doing everything he can to make sure he’ll always remember. I used to tell him that he would drive himself crazy working that way, but the guy just wouldn’t listen to me.

But me, I’m the only one who gave a flying fuck about that kid. Here, we’re taught not care. We’re trained to be neutral. Something about Joel, though, worked it’s way through my barrier and I couldn’t help but worry about him. When he’d sit at the end of my bed, squeezing my ankles with excitement when he relayed this story or that story, I would grunt or ‘hmm’ at the appropriate times, but I really was listening.

Then there was one night, when Joel didn’t come over to my bed after lights out. I looked over at his bunk, where he lay with his back to me with his blanket pulled up tight around his shoulders.

“Hey, Joel, aren't you gonna come over here and tell me about your best shot today?” I asked carefully, quietly.

“No, Frank. I can’t sit with you anymore.”

“What? Well, why not?” I mumbled, feeling a little outraged.

“I just can’t, okay? I just can’t,” he said sharply, and after a moment I just sat up.

“No, I won’t let it go. C’mere, Joel,” I said softly. He didn’t move.

“Nah, Frank, come on. It’s lights out.”

I frown. “That hasn’t ever stopped you before, kid. C’mere.”

“Would you drop it?” Joel snapped, catching me off guard. He had never shouted one thing at me that wasn’t from excitement. I could feel my frown increase as I tried to make out his figure in the dark.

“Boy, you had better get your ass over here before I do something about it,” I said as harsh as I could, and I heard him rustling about in his bed, throwing the covers off of his body.

“You sound like my dad,” he murmured, then sat on the end of my bed. His hands rested gently on my ankles, but that time he didn’t say anything.

“So talk, Joel,” I prodded, putting my arms up behind my head. Joel shook his head at me like I was crazy.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Yes, you do. Tell me, come on, tell me ‘bout the best shot of the day,” I said, and Joel shifted uncomfortably. It was then when I started to feel bad, asking this of him, but I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t talk to me. I had seen soldiers get really messed up from not talking, keeping things all bottled up. I didn’t want that to happen to Joel.

So, Joel went into this story, but it didn’t have that usual tone to it. His voice was flat and distracted, so I kicked him in the stomach. “Oof, Frank, what the hell was that for?”

“For lyin’ to me, kid,” I told him.

“You’re insane,” he said to me, but as he was crawling out of my bed, I caught his wrist in my hand.

To be honest, I felt like my hand had shot out right on its own, and my brain sure didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t think it was my brain that pulled him back down toward me, even easing away from him when he lost his balance and toppled down onto the small mattress.

His face hit the bed next to my neck, and he put out his hand over my shoulder to push himself back up. Maybe his arm got stiff because he didn’t go up all the way, his elbow bent so his face was just that close to mine. I raised my eyebrows, and Joel sat up just a little bit more. His stomach was heavy against mine, his bare legs all stretched out against the mattress, and I guess that was the beginning of it all.

I wouldn’t say we kissed then because either of us wanted to. It felt like we had to, otherwise we’d never be able to look each other in the face again. It was dead silent but I could have had a thousand grenades going off at once and I would not have moved away from Joel. Here was this kid who needed me, giving me a kiss that I needed.

His lips were young but so skilled, and when he pulled away with his forehead against mine I just couldn’t help but ask him why he was so damn good at everything he did.

Joel just grinned and rolled away from me.

I’m not that much older than him, only a few years his senior, but the nickname ‘kid’ evolved into this term of endearment that only the two of us understood. It grew with this connection that both of us were terrified of. There’s this thing about getting emotionally attached, they tell us not to do it. Because if Joel died up on the frontline, I don’t know what the hell I’d do. I tried not to get attached, to keep myself away from him, but he had proudly walked into my life and I knew he was too determined. I couldn’t get rid of him, even if I wanted to.

There are those things that you need to hide from the other soldiers. One of them is Joel, or the soldier you get your rocks off with. That happens a lot over here; it’s the part of it that no one wants to talk about. It’s there, though, the only difference with me and Joel is that we actually like each other. The other things you hide are cowardice, or caring about anything in general. Your religion, your race. These are things everyone has to be blind to, including yourself. These are the taboos and the secrets that you keep bottled up.

You can’t talk about your God, but you can talk about what this guy’s expression was right before you shot him square in the face.

The things Joel likes to talk about are the people he’s killed and his family back home. In his mind, he’s got the best parents in the world. His family is the only thing Joel has got and he’s just fine with that. The people he’s killed, it’s nothing compared to his mom’s apple pie.

I loved watching him grow. The nights spent with him crawling into my bunk, or sneaking into the bathrooms after hours, they had nothing to do with the way his fingers brushed against my neck or the feeling I’d get every single time he’d return from a mission. The intense relief, that was better than anything Joel could offer me. Cigarettes, sex, it was nothing compared to being able to hug him just one more time. Even when his demeanor changed from being excited about combat to accepting it to dreading it, I loved it. I could see him maturing before my eyes.

Maybe I shouldn’t be proud knowing that I had everything to do with him loathing what he used to love. The truth is, I am. It feels wonderful to know that I could have played a part in helping this kid realize that the situation he’s in just isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. It feels wonderful to be there to support him when he’s feeling apprehensive. It feels wonderful to just lightly touch the small of his back and have him smile appreciatively.

What we had, though, it wasn’t about power. It was about helping each other. It was about him sitting up next to me with his arm draped around my stomach while he reminded me, three months, three months. Three months and we could go home and be gone from this. Maybe even forever. It was about me gently reminding him that we weren’t going to get caught on our way back behind the tents. That I could kiss him at least a few times before we had to pretend we were drinking buddies again.

We were both pretty sure that every single soldier knew about us. The thing is, we knew about them, too, so this silence is kept. We don’t talk about what they do, and they don’t talk about what we do. It’s being blind. We talk about death and explosives. We don’t talk about love or sex. But, we still have to pretend. Keep it silent, keep a secret. It worked. We didn’t once get caught or talked to or even stared at.

Even when times like the Fourth of July, when the troops had the benefit show. Except, instead of watching some blonde bombshell trip over her stilettos on stage, Joel and I were in our tent. Instead of getting horny watching the Rockettes do their high kicks, I was getting hot from Joel’s hands in my lap and his lips on my neck.

We have our thing here in the tent. His tongue and mouth and lips versus my hands and fingers and dick, we use these tools to forget about everything but each other. When Joel Madden panted into my ear, I didn’t even remember what I was trying to forget.

Joel and I had just three weeks. Three weeks and then we were sent home for six months and we could live like human beings for a while. We didn’t even talk about what was going to happen, we both knew that I was going to stay with him and his parents at his house. He wouldn’t let me argue that I could just rent an apartment, he just wouldn’t have it. It was settled, and that was that.

So, we have three weeks. Three weeks, I’m just marking the day off on my calendar when Joel comes in shaking. I look up to him, concerned, and ask him what’s wrong.

“I sh, sh, sh, sh-”

“Joel?” I mumble, standing up. He’s got the thousand yard stare, looking right past me, off into the distance. I touch his shoulder gently and he flinches away and wraps his arms around himself.
“I, I, I sh-” He stutters violently. I gently guide him over to his bunk and sit him down on it, but he’s still just staring off into space. I can see the way his eyes are tearing up, and I don’t know what to do. Soldiers come in like this all the time, and we’re meant to ignore them. I’m not doing that with him.

“I sh, sh, shot her,” he confesses. I furrow my eyebrows.

“So, Joel?” I say gently. “We shoot a lot of people.”

“I killed her. I killed her.” He keeps saying it, over and over again.

“We kill lots of people, Joel,” I remind him. I rub his back a little bit, but he’s not here with me. He’s still out in the field staring down into the eyes of the woman he shot.

“I’m a murderer.”

“You’re a soldier.”

Now he’s here with me, his eyes narrow and voice sharp. “Soldiers kill the enemy. Soldiers kill other soldiers. I killed her, I killed an innocent woman, I, I-” He breaks off into these short sobs.

Soldiers aren’t meant to show this emotion. This cowardice. I want to back away and leave him alone like I’ve been trained to do, but I can’t, because I became emotionally attached and this is it. This is why I should have listened to the training, because I want to stand up and leave him.

“Mistakes happen,” I try to soothe, but his shoulders start to shake even more.

“Y-you don’t know, Frank, you don’t know-”

I shake my head. “I’ve been there, Joel.”

His face goes into the crook of my neck, and I can feel his tears running down my throat. “I walked into h-her house, and th-there were soldiers- American soldiers- they h-had her pinned down, Frankie, they were going to-” He cuts off to catch his breath, but I know exactly what he’s going to say. “They were, I swear. They were us, Frank, they were Americans. I sh-shouted at them to get off of her but they i-ignored me, they just kept going.”

I’m stroking his dark hair, feeling his fists clenching my t-shirt. I hold him close to me, and I feel like I’m about to start getting all upset with him. I shove all that to the back of my mind and keep listening to what he’s got to convey.

“Then her s-son, I think, came down the stairs, and he had explosives. A round.”

I freeze, hugging him tightly.

“I a-aimed for the kid, I was going to kill him. I was going to sh-shoot him right there,” Joel mumbles. I clutch onto him and he’s shaking so hard. “B-but the woman ran up in front and took it. All the other soldiers, they went for the kid but I was just staring at th-this woman on the floor, dead.”

I kiss the top of his head.

“It turns out, the explosives were duds,” Joel says quietly. “The kid was just playing with them. He d-didn’t know what they were.”

I can’t let him cry anymore. I bring him close to me and tilt his chin up, kissing his wet cheeks and his lips and neck. Joel closes his eyes and I can feel his fingertips flexing on my wrists.

“It’s war, Joel,” I mumble against his skin. “We have three weeks left, just three weeks. Keep that in your head, focus on that. Remember it, kid.”

Joel nods against me, finding my mouth with his and just resting it there for comfort. I hold him close and I want to leave him here, but I won’t let him go.

Three weeks later, Joel and I are on an airplane and we’re laughing. We didn’t talk about that incident again, and now we’re here in public. Talking, smiling, being close. He falls asleep on my shoulder, and he’s just mine. I feel like I raised him into the person he is, and I’m so proud of him. I always want him to be here with me, and I want to keep helping him mold himself. I want to keep helping him live.

Meeting his parents, I feel like I know them back to front already. They are exactly how Joel described them, down to the tones of their skin. His mother is so happy to see him that she leaves me and his dad to shake hands awkwardly while she hugs her son for a good ten minutes. It makes me wish I had my own parents to come home to. I’m amazed at how quickly they begin to treat me like their own, making sure I’m one hundred percent comfortable in their guest room.

Being with Joel in his own environment is fascinating. Gone is the boy who was engrossed with the sound of his rifle cocking, and instead is this person who wants nothing more than to make his mother smile. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

The guest room is large, with soft colors on the wallpapers and perfectly matched sheets. The bed is a queen, with a fluffy down comforter and just enough room for Joel to curl up next to me and put his head on my shoulder. Some nights, Joel comes in and sleeps next to me. His breath against my neck, it just gets me like nothing else.

“Joel,” I say to him, his arm thrown around my stomach. It’s near midnight at this point, and I’ve been here for a good three weeks. The soft mattress of this bed has already memorized the shape of my body and Joel is pressed up against me.

“Yeah?” He says, his lips resting gently against my neck.

“You still think about it, right?” I ask quietly, stroking his back with my fingertips. I feel his muscles tense.

“Yeah,” he says regretfully, “I think about it every day.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Me either, Frank,” he says. “I’d rather die than go back there.”

I hug him a little closer to me but he’s pulling back, sitting up. I look at him, his silhouette in the darkness. I can just make out his frown, so I give him a sidelong glance. He wraps his arms around himself, the blanket pooling in his lap. His face is so distressed, pulled tight and distraught.

“Joel,” I say, running my hand up his arm. He’s staring past me, his eyes hollow. That thousand-yard stare of his, where he just can’t pay attention to anything. I frown and pull him down, feeling him curl up against my body, his shoulders shaking. “It’s okay, Joel.”

“I can’t believe I killed her,” he mumbles against me. I rub his back until he stops trembling, then listen to him slowly fall asleep.

When I wake up he’s not in bed with me, and I feel my stomach twist. I glance over to the clock and note that it’s five in the morning. I roll out of the bed, stretching a little, before quietly making my way down the hallway to see if Joel’s in the bathroom. When I don’t see him there, I can feel my body sort of shut down. Worry sets in, and my heart speeds up, so I shiver a little.

It’s that feeling you get when you just know something isn’t right. It’s hovering and taunting and drawing me into the kitchen, with my arms wrapped around myself to keep the shivering away. “Joel?” I say really quietly.

I’m overreacting, I tell myself. I have to tell myself that, or I may have a heart attack. It’s dark and silent in the house, so I close my eyes for a second and just take a deep breath. I debate calling his name again, but decide that maybe I should just go back to bed. I turn to leave the kitchen when a quiet noise grasps my attention. It came from the basement door. I bite my bottom lip and pull the door open, taking the careful descent down the stairs.

I don’t bother to turn the light on, because my eyes have adjusted by now. I squint just a little bit, looking around the messy, unorganized room before a slight movement catches my eye. I turn quickly and don’t think for even a second.

Joel has the garden hose around his neck and he’s crying, too short to reach the high beam on the ceiling. I grab him and he shoves me away, sending me tumbling back. He looks frantic, dragging a cardboard box over to himself. I stand up and quickly go back at him, wrapping my arms around him so tightly I feel like I might choke him myself. He struggles for a moment, but I’m not budging. Finally, he lets go of the hose, letting me gently unravel it from his throat, when he just collapses into me.

“I can’t take it anymore, Frankie, I just can’t,” he sobs, and I’m just holding him, wondering what could have happened if I didn’t wake up. He starts apologizing, over and over again, and soon I’m tearing up, too. There’s his hollow, empty feeling against the tight imprints the hose left on Joel’s neck. I run my fingers across them and he starts to shake harder, his crying just increasing as he chokes out apologizes.

“Stop,” I say weakly. “Don’t apologize anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, “Frank, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Joel Madden.”

“I killed her.”

I shake my head, just keep shaking it while I keep holding him. He’s crying and I’m crying and we’re here in this mess on the floor as the sun is rising quietly outside.

A week later, Joel is in therapy for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. His parents take it hard but I’m here for him, trying to keep an even balance between he and his parents. The therapy goes really well for a while, until we’re on to return back. A week before we’re meant to return, Joel has another breakdown and they decide not to reinstate him.

Of course, that means nothing for me.

When I’m leaving, my bags all packed up and Joel’s sad, sad face watching me, I squeeze his hand gently. I don’t know how to say goodbye to someone I might not ever see again.

“Joel, I’ll be back,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t tell me that, I don’t know that,” he disagrees, and I just shrug a little bit.

“It’ll be okay,” I reassure him, and he just looks so scared. He grabs me tight and for a second I don’t think he’s going to let me go. He knows that I’m using all these techniques that we learn for saying goodbye to loved ones. The assurance and the ‘see you soon’s.

Joel Madden, always so damn good at what he did. He’s good at fighting, good at killing, good at making me laugh. He’s even good at going crazy. I cup his cheek with my hand for a second, just looking at him, and think about how good he is at making me fall in love.

“I’d better go.”

“Be careful,” Joel says in a small voice. I nod a little.

“I’ll be back,” I tell him. He smiles.

“I know,” he replies. “I know.”

The next time a boy is sobbing against me, his arms around my neck, crying out ‘I k-k-killed him,’ I just pat his back and say ‘that’s war, kid.’ I don’t know where I went wrong with Joel. I don’t know if I fucked him up or this fucked him up or whatever, but all I know is that I gotta get back to him in one piece.

Every time I see an innocent civilian, I see that woman’s face. The one Joel has described to me again and again, every time he couldn’t sleep. I see her in everyone. In the other soldiers, in our enemies, in the mirror. I just see someone who sacrifice themselves for someone they care about. This is me sitting in on Joel’s therapy sessions. This is the soldier in the bunk next to mine who’s paying for his college tuition, that his mom can’t afford. This is the enemy who’s just trying to protect themselves.

This is human nature.

This is war, this is peace, this is Joel and dynamite and strict orders. This is me, every night, just waiting until I get home.

The End.

Westbound - Chapter 9. The end.

Sat, 26 Nov 2005 07:03:23 GMT

Title: Westbound
Chapter: Nine
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: MEST
Pairing: Jeremiah/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeremiah, he only wanted to travel. So, he gets kicked out and hops on a train - he never thought it would be like this.
Author’s Notes: The end.
Archive: matchsticks

1;2;3;4;5;6;7; 8

With Josh getting out, my whole mood seems to have morphed. I went from this boy who was just in love and couldn’t wait to go on another adventure, to someone who was maybe just starting to realize that life was more than just fun and love. This brother, this man of my blood who I haven’t seen in years, maybe he needs me. I can’t help but wonder if he remembers back before he got into the drugs, back when we were best friends.

There’s the Josh that I love, and the Josh that I hate - and I don’t know which one of them I want to walk out of those prison doors. The one I hate, I can just leave him behind. I don’t need him. If it’s that old Josh, though, I just don’t know if I can go anywhere. Even if it is with Tony.

At this point, I don’t even know if I’m going to see him. Both Matt and Tony have encouraged me to, but I’m just not sure. I don’t think I’ll recognize him. There are all these things that go on in jail that can change a person, and I don’t want to see my brother like that. I just don’t know what to do.

When Matt got home from school today he found me on the floor, crying, with Tony standing tentatively above me. He instantly started to lay into Tony, who just stood there with wide eyes until I managed to choke out that it wasn’t his fault. Once I explained everything, Matt did apologize, and I just don’t know what he’s feeling anymore. It sucks to have a best friend that hates you.

No matter how many times Tony tells me that Matt doesn’t hate me, I just can’t believe him. I would hate me. I treated him horribly, no one deserves what I did to him. Tony can tell me over and over again that it’s not my fault or whatever, but I don’t know. I could have handled it differently. I do miss being close to Matt, just as friends. I kind of betrayed our trust, as soon as Tony came back, and maybe I shouldn’t have.

That night, I pull Matt aside to apologize and he’s just looking at me like I’m insane, the whole time I’m talking. I finally decide to just stop and look at him the same way. “What?” I snap and he just shakes his head.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asks me, and I just stare incredulously.

“Matt, I was terrible to you!” I insist, and he rolls his eyes.

“Jeremiah, you were not,” he says, cupping my cheek. “We don’t belong together. You and Tony, you’re really in love.”

I frown. “Matt, if you think that, why are you so mean to him?” I ask, blushing just a little bit. “I mean, do you really not like him or something?”

Matt sighs, rocking back and forth on his heels a little bit. I furrow my eyebrows, waiting for an answer, but he seems to be working it out in his head. “Jere,” he starts, “I don’t want to lose you. Tony wants to take you away to the trains, and, I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I feel like I’ll never see you again.”

My heart just breaks. “Oh, Matt,” I shake my head, “that’ll never happen. I love Tony, but you and I are best friends. I’m not just going to forget about you.”

Matt gives me a little smile, but he still looks kind of sad. “I wish I could believe you. Every time you talk about those trains you get that look in your eye like you just want to leave as soon as possible.”

“I fell in love on the trains, Matt,” I try to explain. “It gives me a good feeling. But I don’t intend to live there for the rest of my life.”

“What if you can’t come home?” Matt says, catching me off guard. I just look at him, my stomach twisting up a little bit.

“What do you mean?”

Matt sighs. “Like if you get caught and arrested. Or you don’t go to school, so you can’t get a job or whatever.”

I bite my bottom lip. “I think about that kind of thing a lot, actually,” I admit softly, and his hands go to my shoulders. I look up at him, and he’s smiling really genuinely. I love this kid like nothing else, and I know he only wants me to be happy.

“Stay here, Jere. Get back in school, rebuild your reputation. I know you can do it,” he encourages, and I just feel so warm when he talks to me like this.

Staying here, in Matt’s house, going back to school, that means that Tony and I will have to be apart. That makes me want to shy away from the idea, but Matt’s right. I need a future, if I want to support myself, or Tony, too. I can’t do it as a high school dropout. I need to take charge and do something with my life. I know it, and Tony will understand. Maybe he’ll even stick around.

The next morning, I wake up with my legs entangled with my boyfriend’s, his lips pressed up against my neck as he breathes evenly with sleep. I let a smile set in, before I realize what today is. I have to make a decision, and quickly. I know I can’t do this alone, so I turn around in Tony’s arms and shake him awake. He jerks and blinks a couple of times before yawning and cuddling closer to me.

I fight a grin and nuzzle his cheek, then just try not to laugh at how sick and cute we are. “Wake up, Tone,” I say and he grumbles a little.

“How come?”

“I need you to come down to the jail with me,” I tell him, and he nods a little.

“Okay, babe,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Are you sure?”

I pause, biting my bottom lip, and consider. Am I sure? I guess I don’t know. He sits up, the blanket draping off of his shoulder as his fingers brush through my hair.

“Nevermind,” he says. “Let’s get dressed.”

*
“I don’t want to,” I say.

“J, get out of the fucking car!” Tony says for the millionth time, but I shake my head. I’m gripping the steering wheel tightly, my seat belt firmly locked. Matt’s car keys jingle as I bounce my leg, and I just don’t know what to do. We’re parked outside the jail and if I want to greet him I’ve got to go inside, but I just can’t.

“No,” I say stubbornly, and Tony sighs, leaning back against his seat.

“If you don’t go in, Jere, you’re not going to see him,” Tony says, and I nod.

“I know.”

Tony rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He may think this isn’t a big deal and that’s all right, but I’m too overwhelmed. He was supposed to be released half an hour ago and we’ve been sitting here in the parking lot for an hour. He’s probably waiting for someone to get him. Or something. I look at Tony, feeling some sort of emotion welling up inside of me, and he looks back.

“Oh, Jere,” he sighs, reaching over the emergency parking break to wrap his arms around my shoulders. I hug him back, burying my face in his shoulder and gripping him maybe a little too tightly. He just holds me for a second before pulling back and kissing me really gently on the lips. I rest my forehead against his and just try to lose myself in that smile of his.

“Tony, I just, oh- fuck! That’s him!” I shout, pointing through the windshield.

He’s got his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, a baggy white t-shirt hanging over them as he swaggers through the parking lot. There’s a girl on his arm, short, blonde, and I’m just staring. I can’t believe it. He looks aged, his hair grown out all long, and he looks like he’s been through Hell and back.

But, he looks like he enjoyed it.

He’s got this little smirk on his face, his hand resting on his girlfriend’s ass and I’m just staring. Tony clicks his tongue.

“Are you going to say something?”

Me, I just start the car. “No,” I say softly.

I don’t think Tony understood, but seeing Josh like that, like he didn’t need me, that was hard. I don’t know what I expected, and maybe it was that, but I thought this might be something pivotal. Life changing. Like, maybe seeing him would give me a revelation of this or that and I could suddenly do something I couldn’t before.

A moment for the autobiography.

Instead, I’m just sad, now. I lean against Tony and sulk all night, not eating and not listening to Matt when he tries to talk. I’m just so out of it, and I feel awful but I just don’t want to be with anyone. I even end up leaving Matt and Tony alone together for a bit while I take a forever long shower.

I’m slouched against the shower wall, the water pounding against my back, when the curtain is pulled open. I jump in surprise but it’s just Tony, his clothes still on and everything, with his eyebrow arched.

“You’ve been in here for an hour and a half, love,” he says, his hand reaching out to touch the stream. “The water is cold.”

I didn’t even notice.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh, and Tony grabs a towel for me. I turn the water off and step out of the shower, letting him wrap me up in the big fluffy towel. He hugs me into him, and I just don’t know what to do. I put my wet head on his shoulder, soaking his t-shirt, and his hands rub up and down my back, over the towel.

“I love you, Jeremiah,” he murmurs, and I shake my head. I feel like crying.

“I love you, too,” I tell him quietly. He releases me from the hug, and I sit down on the edge of the bathtub. He sits on the closed toilet, a little smile on his face.

“You need a change,” he says. “We should go back to the trains, sometime soon.”

I hang my head. “Tony,” I say, “about that. I just, I don’t think I can go back.”

The smile drops from his face and he looks at me, and he’s so shocked. I feel sick. “What? Jere-”

“Tony, I’ve got to make a life for myself. I have to get a job, and go back to school,” I say. It made sense when Matt and I were talking about it, so why does it just sound cruel, now?

“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” I reassure him. He glances back up. “I just have to be stable, and make a living, you know?”

Tony nods, very minutely. I feel like I’m not saying this in the right way.

“Maybe you could stay here, with us,” I offer, and Tony bites his bottom lip, worrying it for a moment before speaking.

“Jeremiah, I can’t give up my life and my home because you want to be rich again,” he says sharply. My eyes widen.

“Tony,” I say weakly.

“I belong there, you belong here,” he says, standing up. His eyes are red rimmed and I don’t know what to say or anything. I always manage to fuck things up and I have no idea how.

“Hey, it’s cool,” he continues, and I can hear the pain in his voice. He sounds like he’s about to cry. “I know I could never really fit in, here. Have my perfect ending or whatever.”

“I’m not, Tony, it’s not...” I’m stammering, because I’m so lost. I just thought that I could maybe get a job, and some money, and have my boyfriend with me or something. I didn’t expect him to react this way.

“It just sucks that you feel like that’s more important than us,” he says, finally, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Tony!” I shout, and he jerks with surprise. “I love you so much it hurts. I’m just worried about my future, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, a little sadly. “Your success is more important than anything we could have, anyway.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I guess my silence triggered something in him, because he moves back away toward the door.

“Jere, I’m going back,” he says softly. “I love you, but this is your future and you belong here. I can understand that.”

I start to cry. I can’t help it. Today has just been everything it shouldn’t have been. “Tony, please...”

He hesitates a moment, but when I look up at him, he looks like he’s too sad to try to comfort me. I put my head in my hands and listen to the bathroom door open and close, and just feel this incoming headache.

I don’t even know what just happened. It always goes by so quickly, my fights with Tony, and they always seem to end with us apart.

That night, I don’t cry anymore. Matt just holds me tightly while I stare off into space, and I’m glad I have him. He reassures me that my decision to stay wasn’t terrible, and that Tony will come to his senses and realize what he lost. I don’t believe him one single bit but it’s nice to hear.

I wish Tony had gotten more angry. Or shouted, or something. Instead of sounding so betrayed and sad and hurt. I know this is all my fault, again, and I just don’t know. I love him so much. I don’t understand what he thinks I’m supposed to do without him. I can’t even eat or move, let alone make a future for myself. Or get a job. Or go to school.

I can’t do anything if he’s not here with me. That’s kind of scary, but at the same time, it’s just true. It’s just what I need to function. His smile or his arms or his smell. I don’t know. It feels so awful without him in the same house as me. Even with Matt and the money and the fireplace.

Days pass and before I know it, it’s Christmas Eve. Time flies, I suppose, when you’re curled up in your best friend’s bed doing crossword puzzles and reading the same books over and over again. This time of year is so haunting when you’re sad. Everyone around you is so happy and joyful. All the songs are about celebration and loving. Even Matt’s parents, who are never around, show some festivity through decorating the house or just telling Matt how much they love him and stuff. It’s just me, now.

Matt tries to get me to do things, but I’m just not in the mood. I don’t want to go sledding, or caroling, or Christmas shopping. I just want to help myself try to get over this before I sink so far down that I can’t get out. It’s just so hard without him by my side.

“Jeremiah Rangel, get the fuck out of bed.”

I arch an eyebrow and look up from my book at Matt, who’s standing there with his hands on his hips, looking so upset that I furrow my eyebrows.

“Matt-”

He shakes his head, cutting me off. “No, Jere! No excuses!” He snaps, grabbing my feet. I kick at him but he’s dragging me out from under the covers and I’m flailing the best I can. He’s got me halfway off the mattress by now and I’m glaring at him.

“Matt, are you fucking crazy? Let me go!”

“Not until you come downstairs and eat something, or laugh, or fucking, I don’t know,” he sighs with exasperation, pulling until I hit the floor.

“Ow, fuck!” I snap. He lets go of my feet and I stand up, brushing myself off. I try to glare at him, but he’s looking pretty ridiculous in a bright yellow pullover, so it’s hard not to laugh.

“Come on,” he says, pulling me after him out of his room and down the stairs.

“I don’t want to,” I whine, trying to yank myself out of his grip but he’s just not letting me go. Finally, I just sit down on the stairs and he’s stuck, so he turns around and hovers over me.

“What’s your problem?” He asks me, and I just gaze at him.

“I can’t believe you just asked me that,” I say.

He sits down on the stair below me and puts his hand on my leg. “I mean it, Jeremiah. Tell me what the main problem is.”

I pause for a moment before hanging my head, feeling that same sadness wash over me. “I’m not with him.”

“Did you hear what you just said?” Matt snaps, squeezing my thigh. “Did you hear that? Say it again.”

“I’m not with him,” I mumble, and I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“See?” He says. “You’re not saying the problem is that he’s not here, Jeremiah. You don’t care where you are with him as long as you’re together.”

I nod just a little bit, starting to catch on to what he’s saying. “Oh, Matt, you’re right!”

Matt smiles a little at me. “Why don’t you just go fix the goddamn problem, you idiot,” he says affectionately.

I stand up and bolt up the stairs, darting into Matt’s room and quickly throwing on some sort of clothing. I can hear him laughing, but I don’t care, straightening my hair quickly in a mirror before going back down and finding him standing at the bottom of the staircase. I grab his cheeks and kiss him on the lips, over and over again, just telling him thank you. He laughs and shoves me away, shaking his head.

“Anything to get you out of my bed. The couch sucks,” he mumbles. I roll my eyes at him. “Go!”

So, I go to the front door and grab one of Matt’s big jackets, because I know it’s snowing outside. It’s Christmas Eve, and I remember Tony telling me that the trains run until midnight at the earliest. I may be able to find him. I just have to retrace steps, I think.

I pull the door open wide and before I have a chance to register anything, there are cold hands on my cheeks and familiar lips kissing me. I blink a few times and it’s Tony, and he’s pushing me back into Matt’s house and kicking the door shut. After a moment he pulls away from me, giving me a chance to take in his appearance. His cheeks are bright red from the cold and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Jeremiah, this is your future and you belong here,” he says.

I don’t say anything. I’m just staring at him because I can’t believe he’s really here, standing with me with his arms around me.

“J, you’re my future. I belong with you,” he tells me, squeezing me tightly.

I bite my bottom lip.

“I don’t care where it is. I just need you.”

I can’t find words, I just can’t. I look over to Matt for help, but he looks just as damn surprised as I do. I look back at Tony and he’s smiling very slightly, resting his forehead against mine. I kiss him but I’m still lost for words. A moment passes, and I put my hands on his hips.

“Tony Lovato, don’t you ever leave like that again,” I snap, and he shakes his head. Matt laughs a little awkwardly, behind us.

“I won’t, J.”

“I need you, too,” I tell him quietly. “More than anything else, all right? More than money or a job or school. None of that means anything if you’re not here.”

“See,” Tony sighs, “why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

I roll my eyes and kiss him again, then turn around and meet Matt’s eyes. “You planned this.”

He holds his hands up defensively, not looking at me. “Hey, I couldn’t have planned it. Total surprise, I swear.”

I look between the two boys in the front hall and I just feel so lucky. I found someone I love, and I rediscovered my best friend. I have all of these new stories to tell and this new way of approaching life. I’ve seen someone I haven’t seen in years. I’ve felt every single array of emotion I could have possibly felt. I’ve been through so much in the past few months.

But you’d never guess, just by looking at me.

Looking at me, you’d see a kid in this house with his best friend and his boyfriend. Drinking hot chocolate, maybe smiling when he sees those two getting along. You see a funny looking bright orange pull over sweater, and you see him finding the humor in it. You’d see someone looking forward to Christmas for the first time since he was six years old. You’d see someone happy.

Well, that’s what you’d see- and this time, you’d be right.

THE END.

DRABBLES

Sat, 26 Nov 2005 03:50:26 GMT

Title: Drabbles.
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Mest, Fall Out Boy, Taking Back Sunday, Brand New, Panic!At The Disco, My Chemical Romance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Seven different drabbles written by prompts given to me in my journal.
Author’s Notes: It wasn't until after I started writing these that I realized... writing drabbles is hard and I'm not good at it. Each one is about 200-300 words or so.
Archive: matchsticks

01. for jillb_13spfan.

Pairing: Matt/Jere
Adjective: Fluffy
Emotion: Regret
Location: Swing on a front porch
Word of choice: Nostalgia

There isn't one single day that goes by, not one, where Matt isn't thinking of Jeremiah.

There is not a minute when Matt is feeding his daughter, or kissing his girlfriend that he can't remember what Jere's mouth tastes like. The way Jere's hair felt under his fingers, or the gentle calloused touch of a guitarist's hands.

When Matt can't shake that feeling, the one where he's just sitting and wondering what if?, he closes his eyes. He remembers that day on Tony's front porch, the swing gently swaying back and forth. He remembers his beer quietly sloshing in the can and Jere's tentative fingers on his knee.

This was a day so long ago that Matt can't even remember what kind of beer he was drinking, or what Jere's hair looked like. He distinctly remembers the chapped lips against his mouth and the jingling of the swing's chains as Jere got up and ran. He remembers that feeling, the one of complete and utter shock.

He remembers never feeling anything like it before.

It's that night that makes Matt's stomach churn with regret. If he hadn't ran after Jeremiah that evening, maybe he would have never fallen in love. And, if he hadn't fallen in love, maybe it wouldn't have been so painful to leave that behind.

When his band is on tour, sometimes Jeremiah wears the same hoodie he was wearing that night. The soft and fluffy black hoodie that smelled like pot, Matt thinks Jere puts in on just to make him feel awful.

The thing that bothers Matt the most is it works.

He’s not sure if that aching will ever go away. That regret, or that question, every night he’s laying in bed. When he starts losing sleep, can’t concentrate on playing, everyone notices. No one says anything, because it’s Matt’s to deal with. His mistake, and he has to accept the karma, at least, that’s what Matt says.

Jere, he knows things will never be like they used to. The difference between Matt and Jere is, Jere’s moved on. Jere has someone new. Matt, he has a girlfriend, but he’ll never find someone new.

02.for applejaxie.

Pairing:: Pete Wentz/Brenden (Panic! At The Disco)
Adjective: Muffled
Emotion: Thrilled
Location: Backseat of a car
Word of choice: Friction

His left hand closes over my mouth at the exact same time his right hand is unzipping my jeans, and all I can think is that I can’t believe this is Pete Wentz.

I’m fighting a grin and resisting the urge to lick his palm and while he rubs at the front of my boxers, I can’t help but hum a few lines of his music. He smirks matter-of-factly, even as my quiet moan makes its way through his cupped hand.

This boy situated between my legs: he’s older than me, but he has so much to learn.

The reason he doesn’t want to make noise is, he’s scared that someone might notice. Because now that he’s Pete Wentz, and no longer ‘that kid from Fall Out Boy’, people can’t see him making out with some boy in the back seat of a van. The show ended hours ago and the parking lot is barren, but Pete gets paranoid.

He pulls his hand away after a moment from distraction, and I take that chance to lean in and kiss him. Pete, he’s a sucker for these wet, close lipped kisses that last half a second and leave him wanting more.

The press, the news, myspace and livejournal and music, it doesn’t matter to me, at this point, with his palm and my breaths against his neck. Right now, I’m only aware of him at this moment, on this tour, in this van. I can feel the seat belt digging into my back and Pete’s knees tight against my hips. I know the band is coming back soon, but I don’t say anything.

Sometimes, he and I, we just look at each other and don’t say a word. I open my mouth to murmur his name, but he puts his mouth over mine to silence me. Maybe he’s scared, or maybe he just likes it better this way. It doesn’t matter to me. Sometimes, I wish he’d just snap out of it and realize that no one, no one means anything when we’re together.

It’s just him and me and the slow rock of his hips against mine. It’s his tongue and my lips, the way we slide and move together. I pull back away from him, putting one hand on his chest, and I look at him. His lips parted, gelled hair mussed slightly, his cheeks just barely flushed. I look at him and I smile. Slowly, after a moment, he smiles, too.

Sometimes, words aren’t necessary.

03. for plad_sama

Pairing:: Pete/Patrick
Adjective: Endangered
Emotion: Cowardice
Location: Vatican
Word of choice: Platypus

“I’m telling you, the platypus is a mammal.”

“It can’t be a mammal, Patrick, it lays eggs,” he says matter-of-factly. I shake my head.

“But it has fur!”

“Beavers have fur-”

“Beavers are mammals, Pete!”

“So?”

“So? Are you kidding me?”

“Why are we even talking about this?”

“You started it.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead pull the map out of my back pocket. “Um, do you remember where we’re going?” Pete stops, looking at me a little strangely.

“I thought you were keeping track.”

I gape at him. “I was too busy trying to convince you that platypi are mammals.”

“Actually, it’s ‘platypuses’-”

I groan, leaning against him and trying to work out where we are in accordance to the map. Wandering around southern Italy, I knew something like this would happen. Adventure does just happen upon us, sometimes. It makes me wonder why we aren’t dead. We are an endangered species, he and I.

“Let’s visit the Vatican!” Pete exclaims, his finger landing somewhere on the map.

“I don’t think you can visit the Vatican,” I say slowly, and Pete just rolls his eyes.

“Of course you can visit the Vatican, it’s like the Eiffel Tower or something,” he tells me.

“Peter, the Vatican is nothing like the Eiffel Tower.” I keep looking down at the map, and I feel his fingertips on my hips.

“Come on, don’t you want to just go look at it?” He asks me, pouting his lower lip out.

“Not really,” I say, offhand. Right now, I just want to get back to the hotel.

“Coward!” He shouts, catching me completely off guard. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I’m assuming the three cans of Red Bull have something do to with his attitude.

“What? Pete-”

“Blaspheme!” He yells, and the tourists turn to look at us while they mill around. I give them all awkward smiles while managing to glare at Pete at the same time. It’s a good skill I’ve picked up over time. Pete rolls his eyes, laughing softly and he leans in to kiss my cheek.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just love being here with you,” he says quietly. I feel all of that tension melt out of me, because Pete really does have a way with words.

04.for skrinkle

Pairing:: Adam/Frank
Adjective: Secretive
Emotion: Envy
Location: Rooftop
Word of choice: Aesthetic

When Adam smokes a cigarette I wonder what it is that he hides. Maybe it's the way his lips wrap around it or the smokes he breathes out, but just watching him, I wish I knew what went on in his head. Why he likes to sit up here and watch all those people walking down below, the tops of their blonde and brunette and red heads, perfectly styled, move fluidly. I can ask him as many times as I want, but he'll never give me the answer I'm looking for. A maybe, a yes, a nod.

"Is it because you feel bigger?"

"No," he says.

"You like the fresh air."

"Nope," he smirks, and takes another drag of his cigarette. I narrow my eyes, and watch him, his delicate fingers and grown-in beard. He always tells me he wishes he had my complexion, my lips. I wish I had his hair, or his thin hips.

I pause, playing with the frayed holes on the knees of my pants. "Because if you fall off, you'll die."

Adam, he flicks his finished cigarette off the roof of the building and stands up. His lithe body, the tight black and white shirt that he tells me he got from prison riding up on his hips, it twists to the side and I hear the bones in his back crack. I close my eyes and feel his hands on my shoulders.

"With my luck," he murmurs into my ear, "I probably would."

It isn't until I see Adam perform that I know why he likes sitting up there. Why he bought a small apartment in the middle of nowhere just to sit on the roof and watch people walk by. It makes him feel powerful. To know which way she's going or how fast he's running.

“Is that it?” I ask him, and his fingers slide against the bare skin just under my t-shirt.

"But besides that," he says, "up there, you're only mine."

05. for shadowstohidein

Pairing:: Adam/Jesse
Adjective: Beautiful
Emotion: Frustration
Location: Beach
Word of choice: Hate

“I hate you.”

“You do not,” he tells me firmly, continuing to push sand onto my feet. I muster up a glare and kick the sand up at him, smirking as he reels back and lands on his ass.

The water is calmly lapping at the sand, and Adam is having far too much fun trying to bury various parts of my body. The sand is warm and not entirely unpleasant, but I can’t let him know that.

“No, I mean it,” I say again. “I really hate you.”

“Jesse Lacey, if you hate me, then I’m leaving,” he says, standing up and brushing the sand off his jeans. I will never understand why he insists on wearing those girls’ jeans, even when we’re on the beach in the summertime. Granted, it isn’t as hot as it could be, but it’s still ridiculous.

“Okay. See you,” I say nonchalantly, turning my gaze back out toward the ocean. The sun is going down. It’s arched above the horizon, spilling across the water and tinting it orange. I grab my hoodie and pull it over my head, watching the sun dip down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Adam hesitate for a moment before turning and walking away across the sand. I can see his footprints, and the way his hands fit into his back pockets as he walks. I can see him slow down a little, turning a bit to look back at me, and bite my lip. When he continues to leave, I realize that I can’t just let him go.

“Oh, for the love of God, Adam, get back here!” I snap, and he turns around and bounds back over to me. He sits down next to me and puts his head on my shoulder.

“I knew you’d call me back, Jess,” he says, and I shrug him off of me.

“Whatever, Adam. I just didn’t want you sulking.”

“You don’t hate me,” he teases, and I turn to look at him. His soft brown hair and big doe eyes, I sneer a little bit.

“I sure do,” I say again, but this time, Adam just laughs.

His head falls back against my shoulder and I put my arm around his waist, wondering why I don’t take these opportunities to tell Adam I think he’s beautiful.

06. for felixfallsagain

Pairing:: Matt/Tony
Adjective: Hard
Emotion: Horny
Location: Hood of a car
Word of choice:

“Matt, Jesus fucking Christ.”

Matt takes his hand off my leg, putting it safely in his lap and giving me an innocent look. “What?”

I frown a little, shifting closer to him and leaning back against the windshield of the car. On warm nights, Matt and I drive up here and just sit on the hood. We look at the sky or each other, depending on how we’re feeling. Tonight, it looks like the sky might not be getting too much attention.

“No, just,” I try, shifting and throwing my legs over his so I’m straddling him against the hood of the car. He puts his hands on my hips and quirks a grin. I sigh and press myself closer to him, feeling his fingers trail up my back.

“I knew I could get some tonight,” he tells me, and I pull back a little to glare at him.

“It’s not my fault you turn me on,” I tell him, and his hands push up my shirt, rubbing my chest. I lick my lips, leaning down to lick his as well. He catches my tongue and kisses me for a while while his fingers slide along the skin under my shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss first, arching an eyebrow at me. I just roll my eyes, because by now we should both know each other well enough to forget being coy. I start to subtly rock my hips into his lap, really gently, just to work him up a little bit. I feel his fingers pause against my body and I duck my head to gently suck on the spot underneath his ear.

“Fuck, Tone,” he mumbles, and it’s my turn to smirk. With Matt, I know just where to touch and lick and kiss to get him all hot and bothered. It’s something we’ve just learned about each other over time.

Like, the way he’s pressing his thumbs against my hipbones, he knows that makes me want to press my hips against his a little harder. The same way I gently squeeze his upper arm, or make little noises in his ear, he moves his hand to my lower back and sucks on my bottom lip. It’s these small ways that we touch each other that we know will drive the other one wild.

It’s that little thing called lust, the thing that helps us memorize each other’s bodies. Love has something do with it, too, but honestly, when he’s pushing his hands into my boxers, I’m not thinking about love. I’m just thinking about how fast we can get each other off.

Pretty damn fast, if I do say so myself.

07. for beckzzz

Pairing:: Pete/Patrick
Adjective: Kaleidoscopic
Emotion: Euphoria
Location: Empty stage
Word of choice: Zodiac

Pete is a Gemini.

According to numerous online quizzes and one real life psychic star reader, Pete and I shouldn’t get along at all. Taurus and Gemini are different, she said. Gemini, he likes to talk and is full of energy and adventure. Taurus, he’s quiet and likes to think. She’s just not sure it would work out.

What she doesn’t know is that Pete and I don’t really fit the descriptions of our astrological signs. Pete may look easy to label on the outside; his tight blue pants and his tight earth colored shirts. His tan skin, black eyeliner and black hair. They’re al repeats, those colors, and it just seems like anyone could know Pete Wentz.

What I do know is that Pete is a flurry of emotions deep down inside of him. I can tell his fake smile from his blissful smile, and I know he isn’t always smiling. Pete, he’s this rainbow, this kaleidoscope of expressions and feelings. You look at his eyes, and you can see his envy or his hurt or his fury. He’s just stock full of so much emotion that it can spill out at any moment.

After a show, Pete and I wait until all of the kids leave and we go and sit on the edge of the stage. We look at each other, we talk about what we liked and didn’t like. We evaluate, we relive. It’s a ritual we’ve had forever, and it’s something we’re not about to break.

This show, though, I’m waiting out on the stage, and Pete’s not here. I’m looking out across the dimly lit floor, the flyers, the gum and plastic bottles. The shoes and wallets that the security guards collect. I’m getting a little anxious, sitting out here alone, all the screams and sweat from the crowd just a quiet memory.

I’m caught off guard when two strong arms latch themselves around my neck and I’m pushed forward so hard that I almost fall off the stage. I smile and put my hand on Pete’s forearm, rocking to keep my balance, and I feel him press his cheek against mine.

“That show was the best yet,” he says, a light laugh in his voice. I can feel the euphoria pouring off of him, enveloping me. I push back and manage to stand up, turning around to face him. He has his all-however-many-teeth grin on his face, and his fingers are running up and down my bare arms.

I lean in, letting our foreheads rest together. His smile drops to a gentle smirk that I kiss, just to share some of that glee between us. Sometimes, I wish I could express myself like he does. But when we’re alone like this, up on stage, I know I can.

“I love you.”

Hallelu

Thu, 17 Nov 2005 23:36:41 GMT

Title: Hallelu
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Brand New/Taking Back Sunday
Pairing: Jesse/Adam
Rating: R
Summary: Jesse decides to take Adam for a ride, to talk - but all of his lines are prewritten.
Author’s Notes: Angst. Psycho!Jesse. Kinda weird.
Archive: matchsticks

You know those days, the ones where you wake up wondering what it is that’s going to make today memorable? The ones that are so mundane that you just can’t help but know that you’re going to forget it by next week. The days where you follow your routine to the mark, do this and that. Go here and there. Talk to him, to her. You’ve got it all so memorized that it’s so easily forgotten.

Well, today is one of those days.

So, just when I’m wondering if anything out of the ordinary is going to happen to me, this car, old and unremarkable, drives up next to me.

I’m on the sidewalk, walking home from the studio. We’re just finishing up our last touches on the album. I really think this one is something great. Innovative. Maybe, for once, one hundred percent Taking Back Sunday. This is our sound.

I’m happy with it.

But, this car, it’s following me. Slowly, along the sidewalk, creeping up along next to me. I shove my hands in my pockets and just assume it’s a fan who’ll speak up if they really want something. After a few blocks I feel my cheeks heat up, and I don’t want this person to follow me home. I pause and turn around, squinting to see if I can recognize whoever’s in the car.

The windshield is tinted and there’s a slight glare obscuring my vision. I bite my bottom lip and give a little wave, hoping for I don’t know what, and then I notice the window unrolling. I take a cautious step closer.

I don’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or run away when I see Jesse lean out the window. I decide to do neither and just stare, until Jesse raises his eyebrow at me.

It’s been years.

“Hey, Jesse, you scared the crap out of me,” I say, running a hand through my hair. He doesn’t smile. I shift a little, keeping my hands behind my back. Jesse always made me so nervous. “So, why were you following me?”

“We stalk the idle kind,” he tells me. I don’t bother to mask my confusion, so I just look around a little awkwardly.

“Well, what’s up?” I prompt, hoping he’ll have a little mercy and just make it easier for both of us.

He jerks his head toward the passenger seat of the car, and I contemplate this. I guess I have no where to go, and maybe talking to Jesse won’t be such a bad thing. It’ll be good to rekindle the friendship. Maybe I can talk him into getting John down here, too.

I tap my fingers on the hood of the car, feeling slightly put off as Jesse carefully watches me walk over to the door and pull it open. Something seems a little bit off about him, but I can’t really place it so I just put it to the back of my mind and slide my seat belt on.

“Where are we going?” I ask conversationally, and Jesse locks the doors and starts off down the road. He doesn’t answer me for a moment, like he’s carefully planning out his answer.

“Send out the S.O.S. call,” he replies, and this is so surreal. I have no idea what he’s talking about, so I just fold my hands in my lap. I glance back up at him, just a little lost.

“Jess, really, what’s going on?”

“I think I’m crazy, baby,” he answers. I don’t know what to think anymore.

“What are you talking about?” I ask sharply, because I don’t think Jesse has good intentions. Either he’s just messing with me or there’s something deeper going on, and judging by his expression, this isn’t something that should be taken too lightly.

“No more songs about you,” he says.

I shrug a bit, looking at him helplessly.

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t appreciate Brand New.”

I pause a moment, letting his words ring a bell. “Oh,” I say, laughing a little. He’s quoting his own lyrics. Leave it to Jesse Lacey to bring me into a car with him so he can brag about his writing. I shake my head. “Funny, Jess. So, what are we doing?”

“It all comes down to you,” Jesse says. I tilt my head to the side. I can hum along with every word he’s saying. I wonder what Jesse is really thinking.

“What about me?” I ask, deciding to play along. Whatever Jesse is up to, it can’t be that bad. Besides, he’s too full of himself to let his guard down or anything, so I’m assuming this is going to be a pretty tame car ride. Hopefully.

“It’s only you, beautiful,” he says softly. My eyes widen a little, because now he’s not just quoting lyrics, but himself from years before that record ever came out. The mood gets a little heavier, because all these memories are crashing down around us and I wish I could straighten them out. I don’t know what to say.

“Jesse,” I mumble.

“I never meant to sound like this,” he interrupts.

“Okay, the game is over. It was fun,” I try, reaching over and touching his knee lightly. He jerks away from me and kicks something under his seat, the clinking noise of glass against class filling the quiet car. I furrow my eyebrows and glance down, seeing an empty bottle. “Whoa, Jesse, are you drunk?”

“Whatever poison’s in this bottle leaves me broken, sore, and stiff,” he says quietly, and my heart starts to beat a little faster.

“How much have you had?” I ask carefully, my hand inching toward the door. I notice that we’ve pulled onto a highway, and he’s speeding up.

“A sip for every second hand tick.”

I shake my head. “Jesse, you should pull over.” He doesn’t look at me. “Really, dude, I mean it. Pull over.”

Jesse actually turns to look at me, leaning forward against the steering wheel. Now I can see the glazed look in his eye, bringing me back to high school. I touch his arm, really gently, and tell him to watch the road, please.

“It used to be the reason I breathed, but now it’s choking me up,” he says, his voice cracking a little bit. I sit back, watching him speed along the highway, and maybe he’s not as drunk as I think he is. Maybe he’s just nervous. Like me.

“What did, Jesse?”

“You constantly make it impossible to make conversation,” he says, switching lanes, his foot pressing down hard on the acceleration.

“Jess!” I shout, and he jerks to attention and slows down a little bit. I sigh, glancing out the window, wondering what I can possibly say to snap him back to reality. “Okay, Jesse, why don’t you stop this... lyric, thing, and just tell me what’s going on.”

He stares hard at the road ahead of us, and I’m clutching my knee a little too hard. “I am hellbent on extracting all of my revenge,” he says slowly. I shake my head.

“Jesse, please. I want to help you, just pull over.”

“I will hold the past over your head,” he says through gritted teeth.

I don’t know what to say. I can hear my heart beating in my chest, and in the back of my mind I just know Jesse wants to kill me - like only a best friend could. I almost roll my eyes at my inner monologue, because I can’t start doing it, too. I have to keep trying to calm Jesse down.

“Okay, listen,” I start, “I’m sorry. I swear it. Just pull over, and we can work this out, all right?”

Jesse, he doesn’t answer for a while. We’re just sitting there, listening to the sound of the wheels against the concrete and the grind of the engine, and I’m just waiting. Right now, my life, it’s in Jesse’s hands, and I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.

He turns his head and glances at me, smirking. “What say we go and crash your car?”

I freeze. “Jess. No, Jesse-”

“Do you understand?”

“Jesse,” and I know I’m panicking. My hands are shaking and I’m pressed up against the seat, and Jesse takes an exit. I look at him. “Where are we going, Jesse?”

“I need you like water in my lungs.”

I quickly look out the window, and I’m remembering this road. We’re headed toward the ocean, and he keeps speeding up. I bite my lip and debate just opening my door and jumping out, but we’re going so fast right now that it wouldn’t be a much better option.

“Jesse, you don’t want to do this.”

“You left the frays from the ties you severed when you said best friends means friends forever,” he sings gently, and I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do or say or think, but I can’t give up. At this point, Jesse just seems angry, drunk, and maybe I can get him to calm down if I just give him what he wants.

“Jesse, I love you, too,” I mumble, and it’s a response to what he said forever ago. He slams on the breaks and I clutch onto my seat belt as he swerves over to the side of the road. I let out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding and Jesse is staring at me so intensely, I have to reach over and put my hand on his shoulder.

“I begin to hate you for your face, not just the things you do,” he says, and he grabs my wrist. I try to jerk away from him but he’s far too strong for me. He twists my arm behind my back and I wince in pain, even as he snatches up my other wrist and loops something around them. I struggle against him, trying to use my legs, but I’m strapped down by the seat belt and before I know it my wrists are bound together and I can’t move. I sit back up in my seat and glare at him.

“Are you fucking insane?” I snap, and Jesse pulls back onto the road.

“Hey angel, I think your halo’s got a screw loose,” he snaps.

“Let me out of this car, right now, Jesse, please,” I say, and even I’m unsure of the tone of my voice. I’ve tried begging, I’ve tried being sharp, I’ve tried everything. I don’t know what to do.

“If I kissed your neck, would you slit my throat?” He asks me, and I shake my head.

“No, Jesse, no, I wouldn’t,” I mutter. I can see the water, dark blue and stretched out forever. That salt water of the Pacific with the moon’s pale reflection is just another image of the Grim Reaper.

“If it makes you less sad, we’ll start talking again,” Jesse says. “You can tell me how vile I already know that I am.”

I shake my head. “Stop it!” I say harshly. “I don’t think you’re vile!”

“This doesn’t suit you now,” he tells me. I clench my teeth.

“Tell me, Jesse, how should I be acting?”

He pauses. “You fall for every empty word I say.”

I bite my lip. Jesse, I used to challenge him. I would be his opponent. I’d question everything he did, everything he said. Now, he’s got a gut full of alcohol and this body full of bad intentions and I’m just scared.

“Jesse, this isn’t like before. That’s all over, now.”

“Your using all your looks that you’ve thrown from the start,” he accuses. I shrug helplessly.

“Jess,” I mumble weakly. “Jess, just stop the car.”

He’s leaning on the acceleration and the car jerks. I close my eyes, and I can feel our speed. I can predict which turns he’s going to take, because all those times we used to drive up here to the ocean to watch the tide come in. I’m starting to wish I’d done all these things I haven’t done. I’m starting to wonder how John is. My wrists are chafing against whatever is wrapped around them and I bite my tongue.

“Will you talk to me once we get to the water?” I ask carefully.

“Or drowning at the bottom of the sea,” he mumbles against the leather of his steering wheel. I watch his eyes go a little half lidded and I can almost feel myself shutting down from shock. The beach, I can see it just ahead and I’m not sure what I can do anymore. Maybe it really is just time to give up.

“Jesse, I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you,” I say, slipping down in my seat. He doesn’t look at me, he just keeps driving forward. Forward, up across the curb and against the beach. The sand curls under the tires, but apparently Jesse prepared for this. We blaze across the sand, and I’m shaking, feeling the bile rising in the back of my throat.

“Oh, it hurts to always have to be honest with the one that you love,” he says acidly. I snap my mouth shut, because I just don’t know what to say to that.

I feel the car jerk and we’re up on the wooden pier. I gape, my eyes wide and filling with tears. “Fuck, Jess, stop! Stop!”

“I submit no excuse,” Jesse tells me. I’m shaking so bad I think I’m going to have a seizure, and he’s just driving. The wooden planks are creaking under the weight of the car, and I can feel the pier sway underneath us. I feel sick. I’m struggling against those bonds, trying to turn and kick at anything. I can hardly move, I’m so scared.

“Call me a safe bet,” he says. “I’m betting I’m not.”

The car hits the end of the pier and there’s this moment, this point where Jesse and I are suspended in the air above the water. It’s this point where I can see everything so vividly and I can smell and taste and hear everything around me. It’s that moment that yanked away as soon as the car hits the water.

We’re sinking fast, and I’m just shaking my head, leaning back in the seat. I’m biting my lip and I can feel the tears just pouring down my cheeks, and I don’t think I can say anything. I turn toward Jesse, who’s clutching the steering wheel and watching the water bubble up around us. He turns to me, and I know we’re breathing recycled air. I know the water is seeping in. I know I’m just looking at Jesse and he’s just looking at me.

“Why, Jesse? Come on, why?” I say weakly, and he puts his hand on my wet cheek.

“I kill myself because I’m so frustrated.”

I shake my head. This can’t be happening. I just can’t believe it. The edges of my vision are black just from severe disbelief and I think my body is going into shock. His thumb is brushing against my cheek and he mumbles, “one more day on the verge of tears.”

“Jesse,” I say, because what else can I say, at this point?

“If I could, I would shrink myself... sink through your skin to your blood cells, and remove whatever makes you hurt.”

“But I am too weak to be your cure,” I mumble with him. Now we’re both just looking at each other, and the windshield might be cracking. I don’t know. I’m not looking over at it and Jesse isn’t, either. This moment, this day, we’re experiencing it together.

“Calm me and let me taste the salt you breathe,” Jesse says, leaning forward and up against me.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent,” he warns. I tilt my head and let him press his mouth up against mine, and maybe we’re saving oxygen, but I kiss him back. There was that moment, where I could see and hear and taste everything, and Jesse’s hand was tightly around my arm. Now, it’s on my hip and slipping the rope off my wrists. I rub them a little, and all this time, we’re not looking away from each other.

“I wish for one more day to give my love, and repay debts,” Jesse mumbles, and my chest heaves a little with a dry sob. I his palm rests against my chest, and I bet he can feel each individual beat of my heart.

“Me, too,” I say, but at this point, I’m not sure it’s true.

“And we’ll never have to listen,” he starts, kissing me again. I sigh and mumble the next part against his mouth.

“To anyone, about anything.”

“Because it’s all been done, and it’s all been said,” Jesse murmurs, sliding his hand along my stomach.

I just close my eyes. He took me with him. And I'm still sick with disbelief, but maybe it's okay with his fingers curled around mine.

“We’re the coolest kids, and we take what we can get.”

THE END.

Westbound - 8

Thu, 17 Nov 2005 03:41:36 GMT

Title: Westbound
Chapter: Eight
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: MEST
Pairing: Jeremiah/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeremiah, he only wanted to travel. So, he gets kicked out and hops on a train - he never thought it would be like this.
Author’s Notes: In which the author gives sex in exchange for late-ness? & there is only one chapter left after this.
Archive: matchsticks

1;2;3;4;5;6;7

I’ve always loved those winter days when it’s snowing like crazy outside, but you’re cuddled up inside with a blanket and a fire and just watching it be cold. Matt’s at school and Tony and I are sitting in his living room. The one with the big window to our right and the fireplace to our left, and that huge flatscreen TV which is off right now, because there’s just something that much more entrancing with the fluffy white flakes falling outside.

Tony’s arm is tight around my shoulders, my head against his chest. He’s wearing Matt’s grey hoodie, the one that Matt was wearing the first time we found that little clearing behind the football field. I’m walking my fingers against his stomach, under the sweatshirt, and Tony’s gently rubbing my upper arm.

I lay my palm flat against his skin, sliding it lower and resting it just above his pants, letting my fingertips tickle under his navel. He shifts, pressing his hips up and squeezing my arm. I tilt my head up to look at him, and he smirks.

Tony leans down, resting his mouth over mine for a second, but when he tries to pull away I put my hand at the back of my head to keep him there. I can feel him smile with surprise, but I just thread my fingers through his blonde hair and open my mouth against him.

After a moment, Tony pulls back and keeps his hand on my shoulder, giving me a sideways glance. “What’s gotten into you?”

I shrug slightly, moving closer to him. “I just like touching you,” I say sheepishly, and he laughs a little, putting his hand on my cheek and kissing me again. I sit up a little so I can get a better angle, tilting my head and gently sliding my tongue between his lips. His mouth opens, his fingers trailing down to rest on my hips. The way his tongue is moving so fluidly against mine, teasing, drawing me in closer, it’s just intoxicating.

We both break the kiss at the same time, but we don’t move away. The mood has deepened a little. We’re just looking at each other, Tony’s blue eyes just staring right into mine. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but I move in and close my teeth over his bottom lip. I feel his fingers tighten against my waist, so I move up and swing my legs around his hips so I’m sitting on his lap, facing him.

His back is pressed up against the soft cushions of the couch, his eyes a little more wide than usual. I just smile at him, letting my hips rest over his as I lean in and start to kiss his neck. I brush my lips across his throat, opening them over the skin and leaving little wet marks all the way down to the base of it. I pull the hoodie aside so I can get a good expanse of skin, then I lean down to suck on it.

“J,” Tony sighs, his hands going up the back of my shirt. I smile and continue to lap at his skin, just adding enough suction to get to him.

I’m forced to stop when Tony pulls my shirt over my head, leaving me half naked on his lap and I think I know where this might be going. I rest our foreheads together and brush my lips up against his, feeling his tongue slide along my lower lip. I sigh against him and arch my back when his cold fingers trail up my chest.

“Jeremiah,” Tony says again. I pause, shifting my hips forward a little. I bite my lip.

“Yeah, Tony?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I love you.”

I smile at him, pushing my hips forward to press tightly against his. I can feel the bulge through his jeans, brushing against mine own. He presses his mouth against my throat and I sigh, moving my waist a little so there’s a little friction between us. I feel his breath catch at the movement, and his hands are on my hips, keeping the motion going.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, kissing a path back up to my lips and letting his tongue mimic the movement of our hips. I kiss him back, feeling heat prickle up my spine as we start to get just slightly more fevered with the thrust of our hips. I manage to slow to a stop until he’s almost whimpering, jerking up against me. “Don’t stop,” he sighs.

I lean forward so my lips are pressed up against his ear, shifting myself back on his thighs and letting my fingers tease the button of his pants. “Don’t you want to get more comfortable?” I ask him, and his hands start to work magic. I feel like a bystander as he undresses us both, leaving us in our boxers. He grabs me and switches our position so I’m laying along the couch and he’s fitted between my legs, rocking our hips together while we kiss.

Making out like this, Tony and I have perfected it. As long as we’ve both lived here at Matt’s, we’ve tried to respect the fact that Matt probably doesn’t want to walk in on us doing whatever, but it’s just gotten too cold to mess around outside. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would sneak out into of the guest room just so we could be together for a little while.

I know Tony probably isn’t too happy with sneaking around, but I don’t want to throw our relationship in Matt’s face, because I really do still care about him. I do want to show Tony how much I care about him, though, and maybe I had this revelation overnight, but I just can’t hold back from him any longer.

“I love you, too,” I mutter, when he pulls back, for air or whatever, and he doesn’t stop rubbing our hips together. His cock is pressed up hard against mine and every time he rocks forward, my breathing quickens a little. He’s just looking down at me, intensely, and he kisses my mouth a little before sitting back and pulling my boxers down.

I shift so he can get them off, then snap my eyes shut when his hands curl around my erection. “Oh, fuck,” I groan, trying to keep my hips still as he slowly jerks me off.

Once I fall into the sensation I open my eyes, my lips parted a little, and I move my hands down underneath his boxers to do the same to him. He lets out a deep breath and moves down, kissing the side of my mouth, flicking his tongue against my parted lips. He presses his thumb against the tip of my cock and I grunt, my hips thrusting up of their own accord.

I rub my fingers against his balls, keeping them between his legs and avoiding his erection. Tony can tell I’m teasing, but I’m just enjoying touching him. It’s not something we get to do too much so I really want to take advantage of it in the best way I can. I slip my fingers a little further back and he keeps moving up in my lap, almost subconsciously, and I’m sliding my fingers against his ass.

“Jere,” he mumbles against my mouth, and I withdraw my touch and just let my fingers rest on his thighs. He grunts with disappointment and I smile, kissing him a few times really quickly. I meet his eyes and he’s scooting back, and I just can’t close my eyes this time. I watch him kneel and spread my legs, and I watch his lips close over the tip of my erection.

“Ssh, ugh, Tony,” I pant, my hands going up to grip his shoulders. His tongue is playing underneath the ridge, and he’s just sucking on the tip. I’m almost shaking with frustration, trying to keep my hips still, but he seems to have no intention of going any further.

I can feel him licking at the slit, sucking up the precome and gripping the shaft with his hand, somehow lubricated. I give him a questioning glance, and he tosses up the bottle of lotion that was kicked under the couch, I guess. I roll my eyes, just because Tony is always that deft. I lose my train of thought as his hands speeds up and his lips brush up against the sensitive part of my cock. I grit my teeth.

“Mmmgh, uh, yeah,” I mumble, then blush, trying to watch him. He takes his lips off me, continuing to jack me off, his hand gaining speed. I sigh and he kisses my tummy, then a little bit higher, and I’m just feeling. I’m feeling his tongue slide up along my chest and I’m feeling him start to play with my nipples. I grunt a little when he rubs them with his free hand, his tongue just adding to the sensation.

Suddenly, I just can’t stand not touching him anymore. I pull him up and slide my tongue past his lips, lapping up any taste of me he still might have on his tongue. This action brings his dick right up against mine, and we both wince a little at the contact. He tries to keep grinding against me and I let him for a moment, but I need to make him stop.

“J, please,” he whimpers, trying to push himself up against me. “I, just, ahh...”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” I mutter helplessly, because I don’t really know what else I can say. I just think he’s everything I’d ever need in someone. The way he feels, and looks, and touches me, I don’t know. It just feels so perfect sometimes.

I spread my legs and wrap them around his hips so his cock presses up against my ass. He looks down at me, his eyes so clear and his lips just barely parted, and I really do love him. He asks me if I’m sure and I roll my eyes, sticking my tongue out just a little bit. He laughs and leans down, closing his lips over my tongue and drawing me into a deeper kiss.

“I want to finger you first,” he says, and my hips jerk up.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “I can take you, though, you don’t need to.”

I can feel his slick fingers start to rub up against my entrance. I can feel him slip just the tips inside, spreading me. I take a deep breath, and my eyes are half shut.

“Look at what it does to you,” he says softly. “I want to do this.”

“It feel so good,” I moan a little, my legs opening. He presses his lips against my collarbone and works his fingers inside, scissoring them, starting to move them in and out of my body. I try to regulate my breathing.

“You look fucking gorgeous like this,” he tells me. I moan in reply, trying to push my hips down against his fingers. I hear him grunt a little, and when I open my eyes, his free hand is wrapped tightly around his cock. He’s masturbating, and I’m just gone.

“That is so sexy,” I groan quietly, and he just leans down and kisses me again, but this one doesn’t last long. I feel his fingers curl up against my prostate and my body seizes up, my jaw snapping shut as the sensation washes over me. “Oh, oh fuck, Tony.”

He does it one more time and I’m pulling him against me desperately. His fingers leave my body and I feel his cock pressing into me. I sigh with content and he rocks himself into me slowly, giving me time, and it just feels so good.

“Ugh, shit,” Tony mumbles into my neck, his hips just rolling very slowly against mine. I can feel him pull out just a little, then push in, just being so gentle and careful with me when he knows he doesn’t need to.

“Mmm, Tony,” I sigh, keeping my arms tightly around him. “Oh, it just, ahh.”

He’s nodding, his bottom lip closed between his teeth while he really starts to move. His hips, they’re moving against mine just as I’m pushing up against him and it’s just this sensation that I’ve never felt before. This feeling between us, it really is something. It’s something I don’t want to let go.

“J, oh, God,” he murmurs, and he’s pressing himself hard up into me. I groan and slide my hands up and down his chest, while his rest steadily on my hips, gripping them tightly. Him, inside of me like this, it feels amazing. My legs tighten around his waist, and I need to move one hand to start jerking myself off.

“Ah, yeah, fuck-” I mumble, not bothering to keep my hand moving slowly because it just feels too good. Tony’s watching my hand move so intently, and his hips just start going. He’s fucking me now, and I can feel the couch pillows against my bare back, supporting my neck as he pushes forward so hard.

“Jere,” he breathes, “you, uhhh, you...” he can’t seem to spit out whatever it is he wants to say, so I drag his lips down to mine and just start to kiss him. I rub my thumb against the tip of my cock as his tongue presses up against mine, his thrusts slowing to almost a deep grind. I have to pull away and pant, clutching onto him probably a little too hard.

“That feels amazing,” I tell him, licking the ridge of his ear. He keeps it up, just fluidly moving in and out of me. I can see the curve of his back and his slender fingers on my hips, and it’s just gorgeous. I don’t know if I can ever take my eyes off of him. I move my fingers down to rub my balls, leaving my erection for a moment. I inhale sharply at all the sensations around me, the way one of his hands moves from my hip to grab mine that was resting on his chest. He curls his fingers around mine and squeezes my hand tightly.

“Oh, just, mmmn, yeah,” I try, and it’s almost funny how neither of us can work out what we want to tell the other. Tony and I share a smile together, and then his cock presses hard up against that spot inside me. “Shit! Oh, God, Tony - there, please-”

I don’t even finish my sentence before Tony releases my hand and starts to fucking pound into me. My mouth is moving with silent moans and he’s just striking my prostate almost every time he thrusts against me. I shake my head, my hair starting to stick to my temples a little as his hand brushes up against my cock. I bat it away and curl my fingers around it, starting to masturbate quickly, trying to cling to this heat around me.

“Fuck, fuck, Jeremiah, I’m close,” he mutters, and I just nod my head, afraid that if I open my mouth I’ll just never be able to stop saying his name. His mouth is up against my cheek and I can hear him whimpering, his body tensing and pushing as he gets closer. I’m fucking done. I grit my teeth tightly and let myself give into the heated feeling.

“Mmm, Tony, ah- I’m coming,” I tell him and my body seizes up, freezing as I hit my climax and tighten myself around his cock. He shakes his head, continuing to thrust up into me, his hand going up to rub against my sensitive dick. I rub his chest and kiss him while I’m still on the high, encouraging him to get off as well.

“I’m gonna, uh,- inside you, Jere-”

“I don’t care, fuck me, Tony,” I tell him, thrusting my hips back up against him. I see his eyebrows furrow and he presses his mouth against mine, his tongue drawing my own into his mouth. I feel his hips jerk to a stop and he comes inside of me, his movements slowing to a tense stop. We’re still kissing, rocking together, and there’s just something there that feels whole.

* * *

“What’s the date, Tony?”

I’m almost frantic, trying to find a calendar. It’s after a shower, after a few hours, and something has just occurred to me. I don’t think it’s possible but I just really need to find a calendar.

“It’s December 16th,” he tells me. “Why?”

My heart is stopped, my blood is cold. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, taking a tentative step closer to me. I’m hardly even watching him. “Are you okay, babe?”

“No,” I mumble, and his brows furrow in confusion. He puts a hand on my shoulder, leaning into kiss me. I don’t kiss him back, and I feel really bad so I look up at him and smile a bit. “Sorry, no, it’s not you,” I assure him.

He seems to relax a little but I know he’s still worried about me. This is something that I just never expected. I didn’t think I’d ever actually experience today. I wasn’t sure if it would ever really happen upon me, or if I’d even care.

“Do you want to let me in on what’s going on?” Tony asks me, hugging me comfortingly. I can already feel the tears rising up, and I don’t know if I’m going to cry. I didn’t expect to cry.

“It’s just that, um,” I mumble, and Tony nods a little. He deserves to know. Maybe he can help me. Help me forget, or something. I don’t know.

“Jere,” he says, cupping my cheek. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I do, though, I do, it’s just hard,” I tell him. He nods slightly and I just take a deep breath.

“Well, my brother Josh,” I start, and shake my head a little in disbelief at what I’m saying. “He gets out of jail today.”

Tony pauses. “Oh.”

tbc. one more chapter.

Illusion.

Tue, 08 Nov 2005 01:12:16 GMT

Title: Illusion.
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: Brand New/Straylight Run
Pairing: Jesse Lacey/John Nolan, essentially. alludes to Jesse/Adam and John/Adam.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jesse tries to get an apology, make things better, but maybe it’s all his fault in the first place. Sometimes, a falling out can be a good thing.
Author’s Notes: My sad excuse for descriptive emotion and making John Nolan look like a bad guy.
Archive: matchsticks

It’s the day after Halloween. This day is the same every year, stepping out onto your porch and seeing your pumpkins slightly sunk in, twisting grins sagging after a long night. Walking down the sidewalk, bright candy wrappers are frozen against the frosted grass. There’s a rip of silky pink material from a princess costume, or a yellow feather fallen from a boa. It’s the wet smell of a morning after, a lingering reminder of October nights.

Then, there’s this: November. The beginning of this new month. The month when snow falls and Thanksgiving comes. This is a month of warmth and happiness and friends and family, accented by desolate grey skies. This is a month of fires in the hearth and pumpkin pie, surrounded by bare, spindly trees and brown grass. November is the month that’s just a wait until December.

This bleak morning after Halloween, I’m fingering a Kit-Kat bar in my pocket. At first I’m just walking, twirling the wrapped chocolate between my fingers, but then I’m walking by his house. There’s a whole different feeling, following this familiar route down memory lane, this right and that left to the apartment building on Fifth. I’m ignoring the fact that I’m walking this way, keeping it on the back burners of my subconscious. Even when I’m on the block, seeing the cement steps where we used to skateboard off of, it’s not until I’m standing in front of the building, staring at “Nolan, 2B” that I let myself realize I’m in John’s neighborhood.

It’s funny, friendship. When you’re in it, you feel like it’s infinite. It will always be there. It’s an ambient experience, just there and waiting for you to utilize it. It’s always something that feels permanent. There’s no fathomable instance that you can imagine when you’d never see this person again.

Most friendships, they end slowly, so slowly that the people involved hardly notice it’s happening until there’s nothing left. Just a falling out that’s thought of, but not spoken of. Then there are those that end through a fight, a sharp exchange of words or punches that just can’t be apologized for, not this time. Those are the times when things so personal and deep resurface in the form of insults, things you say that are instantly regretted, but not taken back.

I’m holding the bar of chocolate tentatively, my finger hovering over this buzzer that will call John to attention. 2B, Nolan.

John and I, our friendship ended with a mixture of both.

It was so long ago, years, before Brand New and Taking Back Sunday and Straylight Run. It was the morning after Halloween and it was the end of John and Jesse. It was this fight, this falling out, and neither of us saw it coming.

My finger is resting over the buzzer and I feel eighteen years old again. It feels like that morning with my dirty vans and the eyeliner in my pocket, that flip-flop-flipping feeling I got in my gut no matter how many times I’d been here.

So, it’s this time of year when John goes home, Adam said. It’s time you talked to him, Adam said. Not that Adam is talking to him, but, he says that’s beside the point. John and Adam, they saw it coming with them. Brothers sneaky and conniving and deceitful. A marriage falling apart. That was John and Adam for years. But, Adam says, that’s not reason for John and Jesse to remain at ends.

I press the buzzer and instantly withdraw my hand like it’s been burned. I debate just running, but breathe in, gain my composure, and wait. Over the intercom, that voice. That motherly voice of matron, the woman who brought us enchiladas home for dinner and rented us movies, she answers.

“Hello?”

“Mrs., uh,” I start, then clear my thoughts. “Mrs. Nolan? It’s Jesse.” I’m squeezing my eyes shut, memorizing adjectives to jot down later. There’s a pregnant pause, so long I consider just walking away.

“Jess?” I hear, but this time, it’s John. “Jesse?”

I roll my eyes at his dramatic answer. “Yeah, John, hi.”

“Oh, um. Do you want to come up?” He asks, his voice quiet, and we’re back to this. We would never open ourselves up to vulnerability with each other. Never give a chance to the other to reject us. I can play our game.

“Do you want me to?” I ask, leaning against the wall. If I know John at all, this will last a while.

“Oh, Jesse, don’t be stupid,” John says, “I’m buzzing you in.”

So, I don’t know him too well.

I pull the door open and follow the familiar pathway down the hallway. I pause in front of this big, oak door, resting my hand against the wood. I jerk forward when someone opens it, guiltily dropping my arm to my side. Mrs. Nolan, ever the same save for a few frosted grey hairs around her temples. I look deep inside myself for a smile, but I can’t find one.

“Ah, Jesse,” she says, looking sad and flustered. I wonder if I’ve dropped in at an inconvenient time. I turn a little, ready to excuse myself, but she moves past me first.

“He’s in the kitchen, I,” she pauses, clutching onto her faded black purse with the embezzled Prada P stamped on the front. John’s money. John’s obsidian Prada purse, catalog number 336A. “It’s good to see you.”

I lower my eyes to the ground. “You, too.”

She hesitates a moment, as if she may say something more. Instead, she gives me a quick smiles and turns around, leaving through the same door that I just arrived. My fingers are closed around a brass doorknob, a sliver of bright light splayed across the floor from inside. So, maybe I feel like hyperventilating but I pull the door open anyway.

Stepping inside this apartment, I don’t know what to feel. Writing songs, it’s always this living room I pictured, on this day, years ago. It’s been my fuel, my fame, and there’s John with his hand on his hip.

I raise my hand up in an acknowledging wave. “Hey,” I say. John, with his short brown hair and thick rimmed glasses. His button up plaid shirt and little half smile, it just brings all this tension crashing down around us.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” It’s quiet, but I think he gets what I mean, this time.

He pauses, dropping his arm to his side and clenching his fists. “Why are you here, Jesse?”

I open my mouth to reply but for some reason I don’t think he wants to know that this was Adam’s idea. I don’t want to be here. It wasn’t my choice. Apparently, not my legs that walked me over here or my finger that pushed the buzzer or my voice that asked to come in.

So, I say, “I don’t know.”

“Do you just want more ideas for songs?” John says. “If that’s the case, then you should probably just go, because I don’t really have anything to say to you.”

My eyes narrow. “Hey!” I snap, surprising both of us, I’m sure. “Come on,” I say a little softer, “can’t we just...”

“Jesse, listen. I don’t want you coming here and telling me you want this,” he gestures between us, “to be okay. It can’t be.”

“Maybe not right away,” I argue, “but if we try-”

“Try?” He says incredulously. “Try. Is that what you were doing, then, when you told me you never wanted to see me again? Trying?”

My body tenses up. “You slept with him!” I shout, and I’m feeling all this come back. I’m feeling this rage and this betrayal and this disappointment, all coming back ten fold because he’s still not claiming responsibility.

“It was five years ago, Jesse,” John continues. “For five years I sat around waiting for you to decide you forgave me.”

“John Nolan,” I start, wondering what’s going to come out of my mouth because right now, my lips are ten steps ahead of my brain. “You were my best friend. Adam, I loved him more than anything else- and you two just took everything away from me.”

The tension is building between us, and it feels like we’re having that same conversation we had five years ago. Before the music and the poetry and the changed phone numbers, before Adam came to me with an apology and a plea for forgiveness. Adam, I could forgive him because he doesn’t know any better. A pretty face, a pretty voice, not much else is going for him.

John, though. John knew what he was doing. He knew what he was getting himself into, and how I would react and how it would feel like the two people I was closest to just kicked me out of their lives. And John, he didn’t say sorry. He never did.

“He wasn’t happy with you, Jesse,” John continues. I shake my head.

“That had nothing to do with you! That was between me and Adam,” I say sharply. John just shrugs.

“Even so, it’s over now. It has been for years.”

This John, this shrugging, careless, stuck up John; I don’t know what to say. Or think. Or feel. This is the person I’ve desensitized myself from. This is not the John that told me Adam liked me or helped me write songs or did my math homework for me. This is the John that stole my boyfriend and made a fortune and then broke Adam’s heart, too.

“So, I came here, and you’re still not sorry?” I ask, and John doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. “You’re fine with how everything turned out. You think, sure, Adam and Jesse aren’t around anymore so good fucking deal?” I’ve taken three steps closer to him and maybe John looks a little scared.

“Of course I’m not happy with how things are, Jesse,” John defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest. I remember that’s the stance he took before I told him I hated him and he clocked me in the jaw. “But you are.”

“How fucking dare you,” I say, taking just one more step closer to him. “You know how much just thinking about it kills me.”

John shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the ground and refusing to meet mine. “Your entire song writing career is based on that,” he says. “You’d be nowhere, and you know that.”

This silence, this one following that admission and my realization that he’s right. I wouldn’t be known as this sharp, sarcastic, bitter band member and I do know that. I do owe all of that to him and maybe I am selfish and cold and maybe I am a bad person.

“That doesn’t matter,” I decide. “I still want an apology.”

“Jesse!” John snaps, catching me off guard. “Do you ever wonder why it happened?”

“Every second of my life, John.”

“No, I mean, really,” he continues. “You ever think that maybe Adam and I both wanted to get back at you?”

I don’t know what to say.

John frowns. “You really don’t remember.”

I really don’t.

John sighs, stepping past me and back into the living room. He sits down on the recliner and I guess I’m supposed to follow him in, but I feel so confused right now that I just don’t know what to say. I sit down on the couch and arch an eyebrow, somehow forgetting that we’re both men and not awkward, teenage boys anymore.

“You know that night, where you and Adam and I got really drunk on the overpass?” He says, and I roll my eyes.

“No, John, but I did write a song about it.”

He glares at me and I nod a little, showing that I’m sorry. He sighs and shifts a little. “Well, do you remember the whole night?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Nah, I don’t think so. We were pretty out of it.”

“Well, you were,” he corrects, and it’s now when I start to feel my heart beating a little faster. It’s now when I know that maybe something I’ve poured my whole life into is some sort of mistake.

“What happened, John?” I say quietly. He looks back to me and maybe he’s having trouble figuring out what to say, but I’m not okay with that. This is my life and my past and my pain he’s dealing with, so he’d better hurry up.

“Adam passed out first,” John starts, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. He was in your lap, and you had your arms around his shoulders.” With John describing it, I can almost taste the alcohol in my mouth. I can feel the cars rumbling below me. I don’t know what to say.

“He passed out and you shifted and looked at me, and you were so drunk,” he continues. “Your eyes were glazed over, and you were smiling. I asked you what was up, and you said that just looking at me made you smile.”

Oh.

“You got up, and really carefully laid Adam out so he wasn’t on broken glass or anything. You were on your knees and you put your hand on my cheek.”

And snap, all of sudden, it’s just like that when I can remember that John’s lips are feather soft and the taste of gin mixing with wine isn’t pleasing. It’s me sitting there on this couch with my hands in my lap and my eyes half shut when I can remember pulling John closer to me while Adam snored softly next to us. It’s then on this day after Halloween with the Kit-Kat in my pocket and John just looking at me that I know, this is all my fault.

“Oh,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says.

So, maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea. Remembering to thank Adam later, I look back at John and see that he looks so sad.

“Hope you come down with something they can’t diagnose,” he says. “Don’t have the cure for.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.”

“I never wanted to apologize,” John says, wrapping his arms around himself. “I never could, because I knew that it wasn’t my fault.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

“When I told Adam he was just sad,” John tells me. “He was just hurt, and I was there, I was ready to get you back for not remembering.”

“Not remembering?” I ask, but I’m dazed, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. I can feel the bottle of wine in my hand and John’s thigh pressed up against mine, but he’s so far away from me.

“Maybe I wanted you to,” John mutters. “And maybe I wanted you to tell Adam, first.”

“John,” I say, but he shakes his head.

“So, maybe this,” he gestures between us, “just isn’t going to be okay.”

“John.”

“Because, I don’t know, maybe I just don’t want it to be okay.”

I don’t know how I’m ever going to look Adam in the eyes again. My hands are back in my hoodie pocket, gently holding the Kit-Kat bar, and I shake my head. This hatred, this nostalgia and this feeling, I can’t use it anymore. I don’t own it. It’s not mine. It’s John and Adam’s.

Because I betrayed them first.

“John,” I say, looking back up to him.

“You should go,” he tells me.

So, this heroic feeling that I had, this idea of patching things up with my long lost best friend, they didn’t mean anything. We let love get in the way. Nothing, I guess, can ruin a friendship like love can.

Maybe I’m at fault or maybe he’s at fault, and maybe he should have never told me what really happened. Maybe this emotion of hatred and nostalgia, it should still be mine, because they kept that secret from me. Or, maybe it just belongs to all of us because we’re all so fucked up. Maybe Jesse, John and Adam just can’t ever be Jesse, John and Adam anymore.

Maybe, sometimes, a falling out can be a good thing.

Because now I can finish the album. I can go back to my band with this new material and write about how I just don’t know anything anymore. And kids will buy and idolize and hypothesize, so Adam and John can write lyrics about me and just keep this legacy going.

Outside of John’s building, I’m sitting on the concrete steps and smoking a cigarette and I think he’s watching me out the window. I sigh and close my eyes, stubbing out the cigarette and shoving my hands in my hoodie pocket. I wait for a moment, breathing in this scent and this expression from a neighborhood that I’ll probably never see again.

I peel back the plastic from the chocolate bar, and bite into it. This day after Halloween is the beginning of another five years of feeling alone.

But maybe I deserve it, and maybe they do, too.

the end.

Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - 03

Sun, 06 Nov 2005 18:13:48 GMT

Title: Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - Part 3/3
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Frank Iero/Joel Madden
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Joel is just a good little Catholic boy, at his good little Catholic boarding school. He doesn't think he needs corrupting, but Frank has other ideas.
Author’s Notes: Campy, fluffy, and smutty. Did I mention campy? Oh, man.
Archive: matchsticks

Part 1
Part 2

PART III.

“I’m so glad Benji is okay,” Joel says, snuggling closer into Frank’s embrace.

“I am, too,” Frank says, kissing Joel’s neck a little. “Really happy.” He shifts his hips, so his erection is pressed up right against Joel’s hip. Joel raises an eyebrow, squeezing Frank’s shoulder.

“Is that what they’re calling ‘happy’ nowadays?” He says cheekily.

They’re laid on Frank’s bed, curled up with each other after Sunday mass. The pews had given Joel a stiff neck, so Frank massaged it a little before they both accidentally fell asleep. The comfort that Frank gives Joel is something he’s never felt before, and he wonders if Frank has ever felt like this with anyone else, either.

“How’d you get your reputation as a... slut,” Joel asks quietly.

Frank pauses for a moment, fiddling with Joel’s tie. “I used to make a lot of mistakes, hey?” He starts, deciding that maybe it’s just best to be honest with Joel. “My brother, the one in jail, he used to peddle drugs sometimes.”

Joel nods a bit against Frank’s chest.

“Well, I was fifteen, and girls are a lot easier to hook up with when they’re strung out,” Frank continues, shifting uncomfortably. Joel, he’s not sure what that means, but he stays quiet. “Guys, too.” Joel’s just listening, keeping his mouth shut. “I tried to stop after a while, ‘cause it just didn’t feel right, yeah? But I was already established as a whore in that community, so they always came looking for it.”

“Oh, Frank,” Joel breathes, and Frank just shrugs.

“It just happened that way. I brought on myself, yeah?” Joel frowns.

“You did not. It wasn’t your fault,” he protests, and Frank hugs Joel close.

“All of that is over now, though,” he reassures the younger boy, “it’s just you.”

Joel takes a deep breath, looking up and meeting Frank’s eyes. “Are you, um, my boyfriend?” Joel asks tentatively, squeezing Frank’s arm a little.

“If you want me to be,” he replies. Frank, he’s never had a boyfriend before.

“I think that’d be all right,” Joel says quietly. Frank smirks.

“What does God think?”

Joel stays quiet for moment, running his fingers up and down the inside of Frank’s arm. “I think that even God can understand love.”

Frank’s smirk fades into a smile, and he grips Joel’s upper arm.

“Next week is Christmas,” Joel says, taking Frank by surprise.

“I’m guessing that’s a big deal around here,” he replies, and Joel laughs. He curls his fingers against Frank’s, and sighs.

“You’re kidding, right?” Joel says. “It’s the biggest event at this school.”

“How do you give gifts?” Frank asks, and Joel shakes his head.

“We don’t. It’s not about presents, here, it’s about the spirituality.”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “That’s...”

“It’s okay, you can say it,” Joel mumbles. “It sucks. Benj and I used to love Christmas before we came here.”

Frank doesn’t say anything as Joel shifts against him. He thinks that this is all pretty messed up, but he doesn’t want to insult Joel’s religion or anything. He’s not religious himself, so Christmas was always about presents and being together with his brother, at least until last year. He never used to mind the holiday, even if he didn’t have too much money to offer, but he liked the feeling, the enjoyment. He’s disappointed that they won’t have that here.

“It’s not like Catholicism is destroying what we love or anything,” he says, “it’s just this school, really. It’s strict.”

“No shit,” Frank sighs. “Well, I have a present for you, anyway.”

Joel sits up, looking a little too excited. “Really? Frank, wow!” Joel moves so he’s sitting over Frank’s hips, straddling him on the bed. Frank puts his hands on Joel’s hips, fingers sliding over the coarse material of Joel’s pants.

“It’s nothing huge,” he assures, toying with Joel’s belt loop.

“It doesn’t matter. Usually, I only get a present from Benji, and sometimes from home,” Joel says, and Frank feels his heart wrench a little. Not even getting gifts from your parents, especially in a religion so widely celebrated, that’s just harsh.

“Well, hopefully you’ll like it, hey?” Frank smiles, and Joel is just looking down at him with a faint blush, grinning widely. Frank, he feels good being the one that put that grin there. He cups Joel’s cheek and rubs over the boy’s lips with his thumb, pulling him down for a gentle kiss.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this way.

*

“Joel, are you losing weight?” Benji asks as his eyes drift over his brother’s torso.

Joel pauses in buttoning up his shirt, looking over at his brother. He had become a lot more comfortable with his body ever since he and Frank had been getting more intimate, so he didn’t feel odd being bare chested in front of his brother. He looks down and pinches his tummy.

“Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t been eating lunch,” he says offhand, continuing to get dressed. He notices his brother worried stare and he rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, Benj, really.”

Benji nods, sighing a little bit as he watches his brother dress. He’s been a little more protective of Joel, especially since he found out about Frank. He’s done his best to make sure the pair were discreet around other people, because Benji’s greatest fear at this point is his brother getting caught. He knows that their parents won’t react the way he did. He knows if anyone at school finds out, both Joel and Frank will be expelled. He doesn’t want that.

Benji, he’s still a little freaked out about the whole thing. He’d never tell Joel, but he’s still wishing it’s just a phase. That one day Joel will snap out of it. Inside, he doesn’t approve, not yet. He doesn’t want his brother to ruin his life. He loves Joel, and wants him to be happy, but Benji still prays for him every night.

“Benj?” Joel says, sitting on his brother’s bed. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate how supportive you’ve been lately.”

Benji gives Joel a sad smile. “No problem, bro. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I mean it,” Joel continues, pulling his shoes on. “Frank is really grateful, too.”

“G-good,” Benji mumbles, grabbing his books. “Are you ready to go?”

Joel nods quickly, gathering up his stuff and following his brother out the door. They head over to the classrooms, and Joel smiles at his twin. “Frank got me something for Christmas.”

“What?” Benji says incredulously. “What could he have possibly gotten you?”

Joel shrugs. “I don’t know, he says I don’t get to find out until tonight.”

Benji lowers his head, biting his bottom lip. “Cool,” he manages, then turns off down a separate hallway. “I’ll talk to you later, Joel.”

“Bye, Benj!”

Joel hardly makes it through the school day, almost too anxious for what the night will bring. He has considered the fact that Frank’s gift may be something sexual, which freaks him out, but on the other hand he knows that Frank won’t do anything that he isn’t ready for. His knuckles are red from getting caught day dreaming in class, but he almost doesn’t care. He’s just looking forward to seeing Frank after school.

At lunch, he and Frank retreat back to his dorm, because it’s too cold to eat outside. He interrogates Frank, trying to guess what his present could possibly be. Frank stays silent though, keeping the secret to himself. Once Joel gets frustrated, Frank licks his lips and decides to take the younger boy’s mind off of it.

Joel, he had never even heard the word ‘blow job’, and he was slightly dazed in his fourth hour. Benji was concerned; Joel had this smirk on his face throughout the entire class. He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want to know.

His last class couldn’t end soon enough. When the bell rung, Joel grabbed all of his stuff and all but bolted out the door to meet Frank in the courtyard. He shoves the doors open and Frank’s leaning up against the wall, smoking, arching an eyebrow at Joel.

“Hey,” he says, and Joel smiles, a blush creeping onto his cheeks when he remembers what happened during lunch today. He bites his bottom lip, looking down at the ground, and Frank laughs. “Nah, not yet.”

“Frank!” Joel protests, stomping once, and Frank cups the boy’s cheek.

“We have to wait until it’s dark,” he explains. “Why don’t you go do Bible study with your brother, and come up to my dorm in a couple of hours?”

“Because I’ve been waiting all day to see you,” Joel pouts, and Frank shakes his head.

“Just a little longer, hey? Time flies.”

Joel concedes, hugging Frank close and walking off toward his room while Frank finishes his cigarette. Frank, he’s looking forward to tonight just as much as Joel is, but he’s got to be safe about it. He doesn’t want to get caught.

Sometimes, Frank gets a little scared by how he feels about Joel. Just this innocent little Catholic boy, initially just a prospect, a way to get laid, now Frank’s a different person. He’s going to class, he’s even cutting down on smoking, and it’s all because of this kid. He doesn’t know what this weird feeling is, but he knows that Joel is more than just an easy lay for him. After all, he’d only gotten off once when being intimate with the boy, and it was by his own hand. He does seem to be a little too concerned with making Joel happy.

He sighs, stubbing out his cigarette, and pushing his hands into his pockets and moving to leave the foyer. He pulls the door open and is brought face to face with a very angry looking nun. His physics teacher. He arches an eyebrow.

“Hello,” he says suspiciously, and she latches her fingers around his wrist.

“Come with me,” she says sharply, dragging him behind her as she stops toward the main office.

“Hey, is this about the smoking?” He says, looking over his shoulder. “’Cause I’m trying to cut down, I swear-”

“This is something more serious, I’m afraid,” she says, and Frank’s eyes widen. He can’t be in trouble. Not now. Not when he has to meet Joel in just a few hours. He curses quietly under his breath, as he’s ushered into a room he’s never seen before.

Joel is having a hard time concentrating on his work. Benji is focusing studiously and Joel rolls his eyes, shifting on his comfortable mattress. Maybe it’ll be okay if he heads over to Frank’s early. He could think of a few ways to pass the time until dark, with him...

Those thoughts are cut short when he feels his stomach turn, shocking him out of the day dream. He shakes himself out of it and looks back down at his book with a sigh. He shuts it, resting his chin on his hands.

“Are you okay?” Benji asks, glancing up.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Joel mumbles. “I think I’m going to head over to Frank’s.”

Benji frowns. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

The older twin senses his brother’s distress, closing his book, too. “Can I come with you?” He asks softly. Joel looks at him, and gives him a small smile.

“Please. It’s probably nothing, but...”

“It’s fine,” Benji assures him, standing up and grabbing his sweater. “Come on.”

When the twins get to Frank’s dorm, Joel’s knocking, but no one is answering. Benji bounces on his heels anxiously as Joel tries to get the other boy’s attention.

“Frank? Are you in there? Frank!” Joel says, knuckles rapping at the door.

“Joel? Maybe he’s not around here,” Benji says. Joel turns around, looking upset.

“Benj, something’s wrong,” he mumbles. “I don’t feel right.”

“Come on,” Benji says, lightly touching his brother’s arm. “Let’s go look for him.”

The twins look all over the campus for Frank, even ask a few people, but they can’t find him anywhere. They look in the bathrooms and in the library, they even go to the swimming pool which is locked up and off limits at this time of year. Joel is growing more anxious by the second, and Benji is trying to keep him calm.

“It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “We’re probably just missing him, or something.”

“A-all right,” Joel frowns, trudging behind his brother as they make their way back across the grounds to Frank’s dorm. When they get there, the door is ajar, and Joel stops in his tracks.

Benji breathes a sigh of relief. “See? There he is.”

Joel jogs up to the door and pushes it open a little, seeing Frank bent over at his bed. “Frank!” He says sharply, “You scared me half to death, I’ve been looking all-”

But Frank turns around, a finger pressed firmly against his own lips, telling Joel to be quiet. Joel snaps his mouth shut and pushes the door open a little more, seeing Frank’s open and half packed suitcase.

Joel feels his heart drop into his stomach. “What’s going on?”

Benji comes up behind his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve been expelled,” Frank says quietly, packing up this, packing up that. Joel shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly, “why?” Benji squeezes his shoulder for comfort.

“They,” Frank starts, but has to pause a moment to gather his thoughts. Everything happened very fast and he’s just not sure what’s going on anymore. “They told me that while being a homosexual is out of my power, and not sinful, that they’ve discovered that I may be corrupting the other students, and they can’t take that chance.”

Joel turns toward Benji with a questioning look on his face. Benji shakes his head. “I’d never tell, Joel.”

“Frank,” Joel says, going up to the boy and grabbing his wrist. “No, it’s Christmas. They can’t.”

“It’s all right,” Frank says, zipping his bag up. “I’ve been homeless on Christmas before, hey? Nothing new. They’re even giving me a cab back to the neighborhood.”

Joel frowns, firmly glaring at the floor. “Frankie, stop packing.”

Frank looks down at his things, then back toward Joel. “What’s up?” He asks carefully, and Joel just looks so mad.

Benji watches as his brother goes over to the older boy, grabbing Frank’s wrist tightly.

“Come on,” he says, pulling Frank behind him, through the corridor. Benji follows, wondering what his brother is up to and hoping it’s not too dangerous. He really doesn’t want to get in trouble.

As Joel is dragging Frank, the bell for dinner rings and Benji’s eyes widen. He thinks he knows what his brother is up to, and he knows there is no way in Hell that he’s going to be able to stop him. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very worst. They all walk into the common room, where everyone is gathered, and Joel stands firmly.

“Frank, there’s nothing to lose, right?”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “What?”

Joel smirks a little, meeting Frank’s eyes before climbing on top of one of the mahogany tables, pulling the other boy up with him.

“Hey!” He shouts, and everyone continues to talk and mill around, not paying attention. He frowns, taking a deep breath, and shouts, “HEY!”

The general buzz dies as people turn to look at Joel, disheveled and standing up on the stupid table with that boy next to him.

“Hey, is everyone listening?” He shouts again, and the nuns are all aflutter as they try to get over to him, the headmaster of the school in tow.

“Joel Madden, get down from there right now!” One of them shouts, and Joel turns to glare at them.

“You want to expel Frank, ‘cause he’s gay?” Joel shouts, and the nuns look like they’ve got murder on their minds. “Listen, if you’re going to do that, you had better expel me, too.”

The whispers start, and the headmaster stops, looking distressed. “Homosexuality is not a sin, Joel, it’s engaging in sexual acts before marriage,” he explains quickly, “it is the same for heterosexual couples.”

“Gay couples can’t get married!” Joel snaps, his hand creeping down to grasp Frank’s. Frank is smirking, slightly amused at this show of pride, but a little worried at what will happen to his little Catholic boy.

“Joel, what are you trying to say?” A boy from below shouts.

Joel growls with frustration, turning toward Frank and wrapping his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders. He takes a deep breath and kisses him firmly, ignoring the gasps and shouts from below. Frank smiles with surprise, putting his hands on Joel’s hips and kissing him back, trying to keep the kiss a little more moderate than Joel is making it be. He lets their tongues play for a moment before pulling away, because he knows Joel is trying to make a statement, but he doesn’t want to be vulgar.

Joel turns back toward his slowly growing audience and shouts, “listen, we all have secrets, things that we hide, okay?” He starts, and people are really listening to him. “Maybe this, what Frank and I are doing, isn’t okay to some people, but I know I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore. If you’re expelling Frankie, expel me, too.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Joel feels his other hand being tugged as Benji pulls himself up onto the table. He looks at his brother with surprise, and Benji smiles, looking out toward the kids.

“Me, too,” he says, a little more quietly. “I knew about it and didn’t tell anyone.”

The headmaster is stopped in shock, though some of the nuns are still trying to push their way over. It seems as if the mood in the room has shifted, and Joel’s suspicions are confirmed when a boy raises his hand over on the other side of the room.

“Me, too,” he says to the silence. “I steal wine from the chapel.”

“And me!” A girl says, over to the left. “I’m a lesbian.”

“Expel me,” says the girl next to her. “I’m her girlfriend.”

“I’ve had sex over five times!”

“I masturbate in Church.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

Joel and Frank and Benji watch as hands go up all over the room, and kids spill their deepest, sinful secrets. Frank squeezes Joel’s hand tightly, turning and giving him a proud smile. He can’t believe that Joel spurred something like this, this revelation of kids smiling and laughing while confessing to the crowd. The adults look overwhelmed and upset, like they would do anything to forget this moment. Frank almost feels bad for them, until he remembers what they were about to do to him.

“So, expel us,” Joel says firmly. “For stealing or lying or having sex, or being in love.” His eyes briefly flit up and meet Frank’s. “But expelling us won’t make us go away. We’ll still be here in every new student you enroll.”

Someone starts to clap, and soon the majority of the student body is cheering, and Joel feels a little faint. He’s grinning, and Frank’s grinning, even Benji is smiling a little. Benji, he’s proud of Joel. Maybe things won’t be so hard after all.

Frank leans down and pecks Joel on the lips, lightly touching the boy’s back. He wonders how all of this will play out.

*

“I can’t believe they actually expelled all of us,” Joel grumbles, shoving his clothes into his suitcase.

Frank laughs, rubbing the boy’s back. “Don’t worry about it. You did great, hey?”

“Thanks,” Joel says through a small smile, turning around to Frank. “Hey, do I get my present now?”

Frank smirks, shaking his head. “Well, I was just going to sneak you off campus, but now I don’t need to.”

Joel’s eyes widen. “You snuck off campus?”

“Where do you think I got my cigarettes?” Frank asks. Joel blushes, shrugging a little, and Frank hugs him close, leaning down to press their lips together.

“Do you want to head back to my room for a little?” Frank asks. “I still have sheets on my bed.”

It doesn’t take long for Joel to register what Frank said, and soon they’re both up against Frank’s door, pressed flush together, while Frank is fumbling for the door knob. Joel’s face is ducked against Frank’s neck, pressing kisses just below the white fold of his collar, their hips moving together. Frank pushes the door open, kicking it behind him and pausing a little once they’re alone.

He runs his fingers through Joel’s hair, down the side of his neck, making Joel shiver a little. He slowly unbuttons the white shirt, helping Joel shrug it off. His hands rub at Joel’s chest a little bit, before Frank smirks.

“So, you liked what I did during lunch today, right?” He asks softly, and Joel nods, eyes fluttering when Frank’s hand drifts over his crotch. “Want it again?”

Joel pauses, feeling himself harden under the light touch of Frank’s palm, but shakes his head. “No,” he says, “I want to do it to you.”

Frank smirks. He never expected that to come out of the boy’s lips, but then, Joel is just full of surprises. He pulls Joel over to the bed and kisses him firmly, letting Joel’s soft lips push up against his while he pulls their clothes off. He remembers Joel being clumsy and awkward, the first couple of times they made out, but he caught on so fast. Now, Joel’s tongue can curl around his as the younger boy strokes Frank’s thigh.

Frank pulls away from the kiss first, hand sliding down Joel’s chest. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Joel smiles, kissing up the side of Frank’s neck. “Sure, nothing like a little blasphemy.”

Frank feels Joel’s fingers curve tentatively around his cock, stroking it a few times. Frank sighs, scooting back on the bed and letting himself get more comfortable as Joel does the same. Joel continues to rub at Frank’s erection while he leans down, pressing a light kiss to the boy’s stomach.

“Don’t hate me if I mess up,” Joel says softly, and Frank shakes his head.

“I couldn’t hate you, and you won’t mess up, yeah?” He says, and Joel meets his eyes with a smile. He leans over Frank’s lap, lightly touching his lips to the head of Frank’s dick and pausing.

“Tell me what to do,” he breathes, and Frank struggles to keep his hips still.

“Hmm, use your tongue,” Frank manages, biting his bottom lip when Joel’s tongue darts out and slides along the underside, then flattens against the tip. Frank’s eyes slip shut and he concentrates on the feeling of Joel’s warm mouth, the way his lips brush up against the sensitive parts while his soft tongue moves across the skin.

“That way?” Joel mumbles, and Frank just nods. “I think I can take it from here.”

Frank’s eyes squeeze shut even more tightly as Joel’s lips close over his cock, and the boy applies a light suction. His lips part, and his legs spread a little bit when Joel puts his hands on Frank’s hips. Frank can feel Joel’s tongue pressed up against his dick while the boy lightly bobs his head, and he just can’t help thinking that Joel is a natural.

“That feels so good,” he murmurs, and Joel is encouraged, his hand coming up to rub against what he can’t fit in his mouth. His eyes are shut with concentration, and Frank is trying so hard not to buck his hips up into Joel’s mouth. It’s a little sloppy, sometimes Joel’s teeth scrape and it catches Frank off guard, but he’s good for a first timer. He must have been paying attention earlier today. He rubs the back of Joel’s head, his breath speeding up a little.

“Hey,” he says, and his breath catches. “Hey, c’mon.”

Joel pulls up off of Frank, sitting back on his heels. “What?” he asks, sounding a little worried. Frank smiles, and Joel feels himself melt a little. Sometimes he forgets what effect that smile has on him.

“Do you want to try something new?” Frank asks.

Joel frowns, biting his bottom lip. “Um, I don’t know,” he says softly.

“I promise you’ll like it,” Frank nods, leaning up to press a light kiss to Joel’s chin. “Think of it as a Christmas present to me.”

Joel, he knows Frank won’t hurt him. “Okay,” he says. Frank lights up, kissing him a few times, flicking his tongue against the younger boy’s lips before leaning over the side of the bed, giving Joel a good view of his body. Joel blushes a little, reaching out and rubbing Frank’s hip. Frank sits up again, holding a bottle of lotion and a smirk. He sees Joel’s discomfort, and he shakes his head.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re not doing anything major,” he says, and Joel relaxes. He smiles and wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulders, drawing him into a kiss that Frank isn’t sure he wants to end. He trails it off with a series of quick pecks and licks, then squirts some of the lotion into the palm of his hand. He rubs it a little before sitting up and pulling Joel into his lap.

“Here, spread your legs,” he mumbles into Joel’s neck, and the boy follows the instructions, putting a knee on either side of Frank’s hips. Their erections accidentally brush together and they both pause, then meet each other’s eyes with a smile. Frank starts to jerk the younger boy off, touching him lightly, trailing his fingers down across his balls and a little lower. Joel shivers from the cool lotion on his skin, his hands tightening on Frank’s shoulders when he feels the boy’s fingers brush up between his legs.

“Mm,” he murmurs against Franks mouth, kissing him gently, his brow furrowing while Frank just rubs his fingers there. He tries to spread his legs a little further, sort of pushing back, trying to get a less tickling feeling from the touch.

Frank lightly sucks on Joel’s bottom lip, flicking his tongue against it as he presses one finger into Joel’s body. The boy shifts a little, keeping the kiss going strong, not giving Frank a chance to ask if he’s okay. He slowly works it in and out, just rubbing and stretching, letting Joel get used to the feeling. Joel’s nodding a little, breaking the kiss, his body tensing up.

“Is that okay?” Frank asks, and Joel sighs, rocking his hips a little.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “yeah, um, add another.” Frank brings his free hand off of Joel’s hip and wraps it around the boy’s cock, stroking it while he works in the second finger. Joel’s body is shaking a little, like he’s having trouble relaxing, and Frank presses his lips to Joel’s collar bone and tries to soothe him.

Frank is scissoring his fingers inside Joel’s body, curling and stroking, searching for that spot that’ll make Joel melt. He jerks with surprise when Joel’s hands drop to his lap, starting to quickly jerk him off while he does the same to Joel. His eyes slip shut and he tries to focus on moving his fingers, to find Joel’s prostate, but he’s having trouble with the boy’s hands touching him so well.

“Uh, fuck, Joel,” Frank mutters, his hips thrusting up into the light grip.

Joel is panting a little, mainly from the kisses he keeps pressing against Frank’s mouth, and concentrating on getting the older boy off when he has this dual sensation distracting him. He whimpers a little when Frank’s thumb slides against the tip of his cock, spreading the precome lightly against it. He tries to keep his composure against the feelings, but he’s quickly falling into it.

Frank shifts a little under Joel, spreading his legs and pulling Joel further up into his lap so their chests are pressed together, and their fists knock and bump as they jack each other off. He can feel Joel’s breath on his neck and he notes the light sheen of sweat on them both. His teeth close around the lobe of Joel’s ear, biting gently, his eyes widening when Joel whimpers loudly.

“Ohh,” Joel murmurs, “oh, keep doing that, ah...”

Frank runs his tongue along the ridge, then back down to suck softly at the lobe, noticing that Joel’s hips jerk. He kisses the spot just underneath it, licking a little bit at the skin and curling his fingers inside Joel’s body.

Joel suddenly tenses and pushes his hips forward hard, a low groan emitting from his throat. Frank knows he’s found Joel’s prostate. He lets his fingers tease around it, making Joel’s legs shake gently, his breath coming in light pants.

“Frank, oh God, do that again,” Joel asks, grinding his hips down against Frank’s fingers. He indulges the boy, pressing his fingers up against Joel’s prostate while lightly squeezing the tip of his cock, drawing out a moan from the boy’s throat. He kisses Joel’s lips, over and over again while trying to bring him even closer.

Joel plays back, his hand become a little sore from the speed he’s using on Frank’s cock. He slips his tongue between Frank’s lips and switches hands, moving his free one down to jerk him off, while the other one dips down and rolls Frank’s balls in his palm. He squeezes and rubs lightly, just trying to make Frank feel as good as Frank is making him feel.

“Uhh, fuck,” Frank breathes, fucking Joel a little harder with his fingers. Joel furrows his eyebrows, rolling his hips down hard against the touch. He can feel that familiar warmth building in his stomach, but he doesn’t want to come yet, he wants this to last. Frank is pushing his hips up against Joel’s hand, also feeling that impending orgasm, but he doesn’t quite want to get off yet.

“F-frank, I don’t think I can, I mean, I’m,” Joel stutters, pressing himself as close to the other boy as he can be. “Just don’t stop, I’m coming.”

Frank nods, leaning over to kiss Joel’s ear, nibbling gently on it as he strokes Joel’s prostate and rubs his dick, knowing that that’s all he’ll need to do to get the other boy off. Joel moans softly, right into Frank’s ear, as his hips buck and he feels his orgasm strike through him. His body tenses up and he hugs Frank close, his grip on the other boy’s erection drawing his orgasm out as well. They both cling to each other for a moment, before the little tremors subside and they take a breath.

Frank slips his fingers out of Joel’s body and he pulls him close for a light kiss, then pulling back to let him catch his breath. They just watch each other, breathing heavily, fingers running over skin gently. Frank ducks his head and kisses the juncture between Joel’s shoulder and neck, licking at it a little. Joel falls back against the soft mattress, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh my God,” he groans, and Frank laughs. He runs his hands up and down Joel’s chest, never wanting to stop touching the boy. They take a while to come down from the high, just talking to each other until the humming of their bodies fade and they can get dressed.

“Aren’t you going to smoke?” Joel asks, looking at Frank. Usually the older boy lights up after they fool around, but Frank is just slowly getting dressed without reaching for his lighter. Frank looks up, biting his bottom lip.

“Uh, I’m tryin’ to quit,” he says, and Joel smiles. “It’s bad for you, hey?”

“Yeah,” Joel mumbles.

“What are you going to do when you get back home?” Frank asks, buttoning up Joel’s shirt for him. Joel shrugs a little. “Are your parents going to be mad?”

“Yeah,” Joel mumbles. “But I’ve got Benji, and you,” he says, “and God on my side.”

Frank smiles, clutching Joel’s hand, rubbing his thumb against the boy’s knuckles and matching his smile.

“Want to play truth or dare?” He asks, and Joel rolls his eyes, smoothing out his shirt.

“I guess,” he says softly, his lips quirking into a smile. Frank grins and wraps his arms around the boy’s shoulders.

“Truth or dare?”

Joel shrugs a little, his eyes drifting off to the side. “Truth,” he says after a moment, because he’s not sure what Frank could possibly dare him at this point.

“Do you regret anything?” He asks, taking Joel off guard. Joel stops, considering, playing with the hem of his shirt. After a while, he firmly shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Not really. Not from this, anyway.”

Frank smiles, biting down on his bottom lip. “Dare me, yeah?” He says. Joel pauses, trying to think over what he’s going to say, but he just can’t think of anything. He looks up into Frank’s eyes, then smiles, hugging himself closer to the older boy.

“I dare you to come home with me and Benj,” Joel says. “And never leave me.”

It’s Frank’s turn to be surprised, now, and a little apprehensive. He’s made hasty commitments before and he’s not sure if he wants to get into that again. Joel’s smile fades a little when Frank doesn’t answer right away, and Frank, he snaps back to reality.

“It’s a dare, hey?” Frank says, quirking an eyebrow. “Can’t go back on it.”

Joel thwaps Frank on the chest, laughing a little. “Don’t scare me like that,” he mumbles, and Frank just leans over and rests his lips over Joel’s.

“Guess I did a good job of corrupting you,” he says offhand, tilting his head to the side. Joel laughs, shaking his head.

“I had as much to do with it as you,” he tells Frank.

“Maybe your brother is next on the list, hey?” Frank teases, poking Joel’s stomach. Joel, he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’d better not,” he says, and Frank just has to roll his eyes.

“I’m kidding,” he says reassuringly. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

Joel sighs, looking around Frank’s dorm room. He’s going to miss it, but maybe this is just the beginning of something new and kind of scary, and he has a feeling it’ll be worth it. He leans up against the older boy, feeling his arms wrap around him, and he can’t think of anything to say. He wants to, to maybe be able to tell Frank how he feels, but he says the only thing that’s running through his mind, hoping that it just might be enough.

“Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, yeah?” Frank says, not really knowing what he's being thanked for. He kisses Joel again, squeezing his waist.

Joel, he smiles. “Yeah,” he says. "Anytime."

THE END.

Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - 02

Wed, 02 Nov 2005 02:30:34 GMT

Title: Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - Part 2/3
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Frank Iero/Joel Madden
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Joel is just a good little Catholic boy, at his good little Catholic boarding school. He doesn't think he needs corrupting, but Frank has other ideas.
Author’s Notes: Campy, fluffy, and smutty. Did I mention campy? Oh, man.
Archive: matchsticks

Part 1

PART II.

Joel easily avoids Frank for the next two days. He knows exactly where not to go at exactly what times - He actually eats in the cafeteria at lunch, sitting with his brother. Benji seems to be pleased that Joel isn’t hanging around with ‘that boy’ anymore, even though his brother appears to be miserable. He’s not eating lunch, just staring off into space most of the time until Benji just snaps.

“What is wrong with you?” He asks pointedly during lunch, poking Joel’s shoulder with his fork. Joel jerks to awareness, squeaking a little bit and rubbing at the sore spot.

“Ouch...” he mumbles, looking hurt. “Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Benji sighs, putting his fork down. “That’s so unhealthy.”

“He’s my friend, Benji,” Joel protests weakly, not meeting his brother’s eyes.

Benji scoffs. “Then why are you here with me instead of sitting outside with him?” He asks. Joel blinks.

“You’re right,” he says, and Benji’s jaw drops as Joel stands up. He just stares when Joel walks away, heading toward the doors that lead outside to where Frank undoubtedly is.

“That’s not what I meant,” Benji mumbles, slumping back down in his seat.

Joel pushes the doors open to outside, and smiles as he sees Frank leant up against the wall, smoking what looks to be his fourth cigarette, by the butts on the ground around him.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, and Frank looks up from the ground.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, stubbing out his cigarette and crossing his arms over his chest. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Joel says softly, toeing the ground a little. “I mean, I just, Benji, and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank interrupts, giving Joel a little smirk. “It was my fault, yeah?”

Joel furrows his eyebrows. “What? No, of course not,” he says, and Frank is suddenly really close to him. He swallows heavily.

“Does that mean it’s okay if I do this?” Frank asks, sliding his hand up Joel’s arm. Joel notices the scars on Frank’s knuckles and bites his bottom lip. He almost forgets that Frank is all but stroking his arm out here where anyone could see.

“Knock it off,” he says weakly, taking a step back. Frank just grins, putting his hands in his pockets. Joel sort of rubs the spot that Frank was touching, trying to get his mind straight. Maybe coming back out here wasn’t such a good idea.

“My bad,” Frank says, giving a half shrug. “Listen, you want to go back to my dorm? We got fifteen minutes left, yeah?”

“We have fifteen minutes,” Joel corrects, and Frank rolls his eyes, wrapping his fingers delicately around the other boy’s wrist. Before Joel has a chance to blink he’s sitting on that bed he’d actually kind of missed over the past few days.

“What do you want?” Joel says, and he doesn’t realize how accusing it sounds until after it comes out of his mouth. “I’m sorry...”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Frank says with a little smile. “Did anyone ever tell you that you apologize too much?”

“I’m sorry,” Joel says automatically as Frank sits down next to him on the bed.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s cute.”

Joel starts to blush again, his cheeks heating up, and he’s just so embarrassed around Frank all the time. He wishes he could be more comfortable, even joke and laugh with the older boy, but he’s just so nervous. All of this is so new.

Joel is suddenly all too aware of Frank’s hand on his knee, and he’s looking everywhere but Frank’s face. He shifts awkwardly but doesn’t move away from Frank’s touch, but he’s surprised that no one else can hear how loud his heart is beating. He’s definitely not comfortable with Frank hitting on him all the time, but he’s not so sure that he doesn’t appreciate the attention.

“Listen,” Frank says softly, noticing Joel’s jitters. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief, giving Frank a thankful smile. “I’m sorry, you just make me so nervous,” he admits, and Frank takes the initiative to cup Joel’s cheek.

“You aren’t the first,” Frank says, “maybe it’s something I should work on, hey?”

“Maybe,” Joel squeaks, Frank’s fingers dangerously close to his lips.

“Or maybe I should just work on you,” he continues, and Joel clenches his fists. Frank is more close to him than anyone has ever been, physically, and Joel just doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. Those butterflies of nervousness in his stomach, are those meant to be there?

“What do you mean?” Joel asks bravely, even when Frank’s hand lands on his chest.

“I’m not done with you yet, Joel,” he explains. “I still have a lot more corrupting to do.”

With that, he pulls away, and Joel lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Frank sits back and observes Joel’s reaction, letting himself smile. Joel looks up at the older boy, hugging himself a little bit as he tries to work out what he wants to say.

“Frank,” he starts slowly. Frankie tilts his head to the side, curiously listening to Joel, wondering what the boy could possibly want to say. “Frank, I just, this... I don’t know. It’s hard.”

Frank nods a little, not fully understanding.

“I mean,” Joel continues, “it’s so different, and all these new feelings are just overwhelming!” He lets out in a rush, and Frank blinks.

“New feelings?” He questions, and Joel growls with frustration, taking Frank off guard.

“This, wanting to be in here with you and questioning my religion, and my sexuality...” Frank’s eyes widen and his lips curve into a smile. He moves closer to Joel, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulling him close.

“I’m here for you, hey? I know it’s confusing, but I’ll help you,” Frank says, and Joel carefully puts his hand on Frank’s thigh, just for comfort.

“I think I want to kiss you,” Joel says weakly. Frank arches an eyebrow, but manages to keep it quiet. He’s just so surprised at Joel’s admission. It’s almost as if the good little Catholic boy had retreated to the back of Joel’s mind.

“I’m up for it if you are,” Frank says smoothly, playing with the dark hair at the back of Joel’s neck. The younger boy sits there for a moment, as if working out some inner battle which Frank’s pretty sure is the case.

“Okay,” Joel says, and Frank grins.

“Great.” He leans forward, and Joel stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Wait!” He says, “are you just going to kiss me?”

Frank looks a little confused. “Yeah,” he says.

“Okay.”

Frank leans in again, but Joel manages to stop him. “Are you going to use your tongue?”

Frank sighs. “Do you want me to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I won’t.”

“... Okay.”

The third time, Frank closes his eyes, resting his hands on Joel’s hips. He leans in, until his lips are just a breath away from Joel’s.

“Wait!” Joel says, and Frank rolls his eyes.

“Listen, don’t over think it,” Frank says, squeezing Joel’s hips. “You just gotta go with it, okay?”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

Frank takes a deep breath, leaning in for the last time, so help him God. Joel tilts his head a little, his hands pressed to Frank’s chest, tensed up. Frank closes the distance, lightly resting his lips over Joel’s and pulling away after just a few seconds.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Frank says, not moving back from Joel quite yet.

Joel’s eyes open. “That’s it?”

Frank narrows his eyes. “Not technically.”

Joel pauses a moment, then curls his fingers against Frank’s shirt. “Show me,” he says quietly.

Frank lets himself smirk, rubbing Joel’s hip a little. “Are you sure?” Joel pauses a moment, shifting against Frank’s soft mattress. He nods once, sharply, because he knows by now that there’s no turning back.

Frank moves forward, nudging Joel’s nose with his before closing the distance between them. He keeps it chaste, moving his mouth but leaving his tongue safely behind his teeth while trying to manipulate Joel into kissing back. He knows it’ll take a little work, but if everything goes the way he’s planning, then Joel will be in the palm of his hand in no time.

Joel still isn’t relaxed. He’s letting Frank’s lips push up against his over and over, but he can’t find the will to kiss back, yet. He’s nervous, but the way Frank’s mouth feels on his is inviting. He shyly moves his hand up to cup Frank’s cheek, minimally moving his lips against the other boy’s, feeling his heart start to beat a little faster. He tries to tell himself that it’s just a kiss, and when Frank’s fingers slide underneath his shirt, just at the hem, he actually has a little surge of confidence.

He’s opening his mouth, letting it close over Frank’s bottom lip. The older boy kind of sighs with surprise, and Joel tries not to smile. Maybe this isn’t so hard, after all. Frank decides that he’s feeling enough of a response from Joel to deepen the kiss, so he pulls away for just a second to let them both catch their breath, but he can still feel Joel breathing against his face. Joel’s eyes are still shut, and Frank gives a little smile before moving back against him.

This time, Frank is pleased to note that Joel seems eager, pressing his body closer to Frank’s while they kiss. The older boy takes this as a hint, gently placing his hand on the back of Joel’s head as he eases his tongue into Joel’s mouth. Having done this before, he knows just what to do to make Joel melt.

He teases the other boy’s tongue a little, rubbing against it, before pulling it away and drawing Joel’s with it. He smiles as Joel takes the bait, pushing his tongue softly against Frank’s lips. The kiss gets deep quickly, with Joel’s sudden confidence and Frank’s control, by the time they pull away, they’re both panting just the slightest bit.

“Oh,” Joel says, then clears his throat. He had never thought that kissing could be so satisfying. He gives Frank a shy, awkward smile and Frank just ruffles his hair up.

“Not bad for a beginner, hey?” He says, and Joel blushes a little, shaking his head.

“I,” he starts, then bites his bottom lip. Frank rubs the boy’s arm a little, coaxing him into speaking. “I guess, I just know that felt right, so how come people think it’s wrong?”

Frank gives a half shrug and tells Joel to just not worry about that. “Sometimes people think shit is bad,” he says, rolling his eyes when Joel winces at the cuss word, “even stuff you like. It’s just how the world works, yeah?”

“I guess,” Joel says softly, then looks back up to Frank. He keeps licking his lips, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed. Frank walks his fingers up Joel’s chest and neck, resting them lightly on the other boy’s lips.

“Are you going to confess?” Frank asks, tilting his head to the side. Joel shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Frank is fairly shocked, really having expected Joel to bolt off in the middle of it like last time. He’s constantly surprised by this boy. “Why not?”

Joel laughs a little, looking back up to Frank. “Well, they’ll know it’s you, won’t they?” Frank smirks. “I guess, I, um, just don’t want you to get kicked out.”

“Hey, that’d be nice,” Frank says. “Don’t go around talking about this, yeah? I’d like to stick around.”

Joel nods a little, though the first thing he thinks of is Benji. He shares everything with his brother, and this is a pretty big thing. He sighs, really not wanting to keep a secret from his twin, but knowing that it may just be for the better in the long run. Benji would definitely tell someone and Frank would be punished... Joel knows he doesn’t want anything like that to happen.

“If we were anywhere else, Joel, I’d be showing you off like crazy, all right?” Frank says, running his fingers through Joel’s hair. “I’m not ashamed or anything, hey?”

Joel smiles a little, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Me either,” he says, but he’s not so sure.

“Hey, it’s okay for you to be a little ashamed,” Frank tells him, “I understand.”

Joel just looks at the older boy for a moment, not easily finding what he wants to say. “Can we kiss some more?”

Frank quirks a grin. “Hey, sure.”

*

After that, Joel and Frank were nearly inseparable. Frank was willing to show Joel a few new things, while Joel tried to coax Frank into behaving himself around the school. Soon, Frank was at least attempting to attend class, and Joel was sometimes begging to spend the lunch hour in Frank’s dorm.

It didn’t take long for Joel to master the art of kissing. Frank was surprised at what a fast learner the boy was, and eager to boot. Joel soon became the more aggressive of the two, if only in that respect. He learned all the nips, sucks and licks that made Frank a little hot under the collar.

Every time Frank tried to take that next step, subtly shifting his hips so Joel could feel how much he liked kissing, or even pushing his hand slightly up the younger boy’s shirt, Joel would back off and blush, so Frank would just tone it down. It was frustrating for him, though, considering how willing and eager Joel always seemed to be. He understood that he had to take it slow, considering Joel’s adjustment, but sometimes it just became too much.

Frank is just finishing up his cigarette when he feels two arms slide around his waist. He smirks, turning around to come nose to nose with Joel, who arches an eyebrow.

Frank takes a quick glance around and pecks Joel lightly on the lips, smirking when the lunch bell rings.

“Skip the end of third period?” Frank asks, clearing his throat a little. Joel pouts.

“I just wanted to get here a little earlier today,” he explains. “Let’s go back to your room.”

“Always so anxious,” Frank sighs, feigning exasperation, and Joel laughs as he tugs the older boy toward the stairs.

Once Frank has locked the door, Joel’s hands slide onto his hips and he initiates the kiss. Frank is used to this, this kissing back and getting a little worked up. He always hopes it’ll go further someday, but his patience is beginning to wear a little thin. Back where he came from, he had this reputation that was less than flattering, but some people were dying to get fucked by him. Having this one, this kid, keeping him at bay... it’s just something he isn’t used to.

Joel pulls away, pressing light pecks to the side of Frank’s mouth before taking a moment to breathe. “I love kissing you,” he says, rubbing Frank’s cheek. “It feels so good.”

“You know,” Frank murmurs, his hands slipping a little on Joel’s hips to rest on his thighs. “There are a lot of other things that feel good, too.”

Joel swallows, putting his hands on Frank’s wrists and taking a step back. “Yeah, u-um, I’m sure,” he says, and Frank sighs.

“Joel, when are you going to trust me?” He asks. It sounds so alien coming out of his mouth, but once he thinks about it, he does want Joel to trust him. And maybe it’s not just for the sex.

“It’s not you,” Joel says quietly. “I just, I don’t know. I’m nervous.”

Frank licks his lips, thinking for a moment. He pulls Joel over to the bed and sits him down on it, staying in front of him. He kneels a little, kissing the boy quickly before sitting down next to him and meeting his eyes.

“I have an idea,” he says. Joel nods.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“How about I don’t touch you,” Frank murmurs, “but you get yourself off?” Joel’s eyes widen. “It’s a way for you to be comfortable in front of me, but you don’t have to worry about fucking it up or anything.”

“Um, I don’t know,” Joel says hesitantly, and Frank tries to give him a comforting smile.

“Come on, we’ll kiss, you jerk off, hey?” He says, rubbing Joel’s leg.

Joel takes a minute to think about it, before giving a shaky grin. “Okay.”

“That’s the spirit, baby.”

Joel toes off his shoes and sits back a little on the bed, so his back is up against the wall behind him, and he parts his legs. Frank smirks to himself, kicking his shoes off as well before crawling up onto the bed with Joel. He slides up next to him, lightly kissing his cheek and resting one hand on Joel’s tummy, murmuring encouragement into the younger boy’s ear.

Joel tilts his head and meets Frank’s eyes, looking at him while he undoes the button on his slacks and unzips them, letting his hand drift inside. Frank bites his lip, wishing he could maybe see him do this without clothes, but he restrains those thoughts and settles for praising Joel to move on. He kisses Joel’s ear, then meets his lips lightly, keeping his eyes just slightly open to watch the slight movement of Joel’s hand.

While Joel is rubbing himself slowly, he’s trying to focus on kissing Frank as well as he can. He can feel himself getting harder under his hand, and he can remember Benji’s expression when he confided what he had done. He tries to shove that thought away and just make Frank happy, because that’s all he really wants to do. He closes his teeth around Frank’s bottom lip, maybe accidentally biting too hard when his thumb brushes across the sensitive tip of his cock through the cotton of his underwear.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but Frank just laughs, cupping Joel’s cheek.

“It’s fine,” he says, then drags Joel back into a kiss. He watches as Joel shifts his hips, and he can just guess that the boy slid his hand under the material and now has skin on skin contact. He hears Joel’s breath catch, so he moves a little closer and deepens the kiss a little further. Joel furrows his eyebrows, because he’s starting to feel really good, but his heart is pounding.

“Um, this is, ah,” Joel tries to explain, glancing down at his lap. Frank smirks, rubbing Joel’s arm.

“Take them off,” he says, tugging a little on the material. Joel takes a deep breath, sliding his pants and underwear down over his hips, resisting the urge to cover himself up. He blushes, even as Frank folds down his collar to kiss his neck. Frank is trying not to stare at this boy he’s got in here with him, because he knows that’ll most likely make him feel a little uncomfortable.

Joel has a little more room now, and on instinct his legs part to give himself more access. He’s still rubbing at the shaft, fingers drifting up to brush the tip every so often. Frank notices the frustration on the boy’s face, and he bites his lip.

“Joel,” he says, and the younger boy opens his eyes to look at him. “Try this.”

Frank wraps his fingers around Joel’s arm, sliding it up and down, to convey to Joel what to do. Joel catches on, curling his fingers around his cock and moving his hand in a similar motion to Frank’s. His lips part, and Frank smiles with success.

“How does that feel?” He asks, loosening Joel’s tie. Joel licks his lips, nodding a bit, his hand speeding up just the slightest. Frank notices how his eyes are closed, and draws Joel back into the kiss. He’s surprised by Joel’s fervor, the light pecks and quick swipes of the tongue across his own. Joel’s hips are circling gently into his own touch, finally letting go of his nervousness in favor of reaching that next height of sensation.

“Oh,” he mutters, adding a light pressure to his grip. “Oh, oh, mmm...”

Frank’s eyes widen. He hadn’t expected Joel to be vocal, let alone this inviting. He’s struggling to keep his hands to himself, but he knows that this one is for Joel and he’s got to play it safe. He subtly shifts himself, just to relieve himself of a little pain, and he continues to kiss the boy.

Joel suddenly moves his hand away from his lap, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes still shut tightly. Frank frowns with a little confusion, kissing Joel’s cheek. “What’s wrong?” He asks softly.

Joel shakes his head. “I, um, I don’t know,” he stutters, “I’m...”

“Close?” Frank says, and Joel nods a little.

“I don’t think I can do it,” he mumbles, and Frank tentatively lowers his hand to Joel’s tummy.

“I could help,” he says gently, and Joel nods minutely.

“Please.”

Frank moves over Joel’s lap, sitting back on his legs a little, just happy that he finally gets a chance to touch him. Now face to face with him, Frank gently curls his fingers around Joel’s erection just as he lets their lips touch. Joel makes a little noise in the back of his throat, hips jerking up on instinct, fueling Frank’s desire to make Joel feel good.

“Okay?” Frank asks, increasing his speed. Joel nods over and over again, continually licking his lips while Frank touches him.

“Mmhmm, yeah,” he mumbles, and Frank quirks a grin. He presses tickling kisses to Joel’s neck, smiling as he feels Joel’s panting breaths next to his ear. He decides that maybe this time isn’t the best for something drawn out, so he licks at Joel’s bottom lip and starts to move his hand quickly, jerking him off with an acquired expertise.

Joel whimpers and throws an arm over his eyes, his hips thrusting up into Frank’s grip. Frank bites his lip, rubbing his thumb across the tip of Joel’s dick and actually getting a little too turned on for his own good. He tries to hurry it up before he does something he may regret, squeezing Joel’s cock a bit and continuing to touch all the places he knows will make Joel squirm.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to grip Frank’s arm hard, letting out a low moan as he hits his orgasm. He collapses back down against the mattress, sighing heavily as Frank continues to rub his sensitive dick. Once he regains his composure, he sits up a little, unabashed by his nudity and wraps his arms around Frank’s neck. He pulls the other boy close and presses their lips up against each other, kissing him over and over again until they’re both breathless again.

“You all right?” Frank mumbles against Joel’s mouth, and the other boy flops down against the pillow and laughs.

“All right would be an understatement,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow, and Frank smiles. He continues stroking Joel’s bare skin until they hear the end of lunch bell ring, and jerk out of their stupor.

“Fourth period,” Joel sighs, sitting up. He’s suddenly very aware of his nakedness and he blushes, pulling up his underwear and pants. He looks down at his shirt, completely ruined. He bites his bottom lip. “Um, Frank-”

“Ten steps ahead of you,” the other boy says, tossing a shirt to Joel, who smiles gratefully and pulls it on. It’s obviously too big for him, but he tucks it in and redoes his tie, so it doesn’t look too bad.

“Thanks,” he says breathlessly, and he cups Frank’s cheeks. “Really, thank you.”

Frank just grins, coaxing Joel into a filthy kiss before pinching his ass. “Go on to fourth, hey? I’ll catch you after.”

“During Mass?” Joel says skeptically, and Frank shrugs.

“Nothing like a little blasphemy.”

When Joel walks into fourth period, Benji raises an eyebrow. His brother slides into the seat next to him, drawing out his book before the teacher begins speaking.

“Joel, who’s shirt is that?” Benji snaps through a whisper, and Joel looks over to his brother, smiling vaguely.

“It’s Frank’s,” he says, and Benji wrinkles his nose.

“Why are you wearing his clothes?”

“I spilled paint on my shirt.”

“Why didn’t you just go back to our dorm and change into one of yours?”

“None of mine are clean. Besides, Frank had the short sleeved ones, it’s hot outside.”

“It’s December, Joel.”

“Benji, what’s with the interrogation?”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Well, stop it. I’m fine. Frank’s fine.”

“He is not and you know it.”

“Benjamin and Joel, if you two are quite finished, I’m ready to begin the lesson,” the teacher says, and both the twins blush and quiet down. Benji decides to wait until after the lesson to talk to his brother again, but Joel seems distant and dreaming.

“What is wrong with you?” Benji says once the bell rings. Joel turns a glare on his twin.

“Shut up, Benji! Just because I’m making friends, ugh, you’re so jealous!” Joel growls, catching his brother off guard. Benji watches in astonishment as Joel stomps off to his next class, feeling pretty hurt. He didn’t want to offend Joel, he’s really just trying to look out for his little brother. He wants to make sure he’s okay, and from what he knows, Frank is not okay.

He waits outside Joel’s last period for five minutes before realizing that he’d already left. Usually, Joel waits for him and they walk back to their dorm together. He sighs, trudging back alone, finding it empty. He sits down on his bed, putting his head in his hands and wondering what he can do to fix this.

He saw less and less of Joel after that, until it was only just after lunch. Sometimes his brother would walk in with such a dazed look on his face. Benji was starting to worry. Joel’s grades were dropping and he knew Joel was skipping classes. After a while, Joel even stopped sleeping in the same dorm as him.

Benji was losing his brother, and it hurt.

A few days like this went by before Benji couldn’t stand it anymore. Instead of staying at his lunch table as usual, he seeked out his brother where he knew he’d be: the terrace. He said goodbye to his friends and checked his watch, giving himself a good five minutes to go up there.

It just happened to be one of the days where Joel and Frank didn’t retreat to Frank’s room.

He opens the doors, and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Joel holding a burning cigarette. He watches a little bit as his brother laughs at something Frank said, then drops the cig to where the rest of the butts are. Benji furrows his eyebrow, feeling his gut wrench a little. He coughs, taking another step out and just walking over to Joel, a little less confidence in his stride.

Frank notices him first and gives him a tight lipped smile, and Benji notes that at least he’s trying to be polite. Joel turns and catches sight of him, smiling just a little bit.

“Hey Benj,” Joel says, and Benji waves.

“Hi, um, can I talk to him for a moment?” He says, and Frank shrugs.

“Hey, sure. I’ll just go admire the snow, yeah?” He smirks and walks away, over to the bench on the far end of the courtyard. Benji sees the way Joel is watching Frank, and he sighs a little.

“What’s up, Benjamin?” Joel asks, and Benji just looks so sad that his brother actually winces.

“I never see you anymore, Joel,” Benji starts, then suddenly can’t stop himself. “You don’t even sleep in our dorm! Can’t you feel that strain on our connection?”

Joel blushes, glancing down. “I’m sorry, Benj, I guess I just got caught up.”

“In what?” Benji asks, truly curious. “A friendship?”

Joel’s eyes slide to the side, and he nods a little. “Yeah. I mean, I really wanted to impress Frank.”

“By smoking?” Benji says incredulously. Joel’s eyes widen.

“I was just holding Frank’s for him, Benji, I don’t smoke,” he assures his brother, looking down at the ground. “I wouldn’t do that to impress him.”

“I think you’ve impressed him,” Benji says dryly. “You haven’t spent a minute out of his company in days.”

Joel nods again, feeling kind of bad for how he’s been treating his brother. The truth is, he’s just scared of how Benji will react. It’s killing him that his brother doesn’t know, but he just can’t figure out the right way to tell him. Maybe there is no better time than the present.

“Well, Benji, there’s a reason for that,” Joel starts, and Benji arches an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Joel sighs. There’s no turning back, now. “Benj, you know I love you, right?”

“Sure, Joel. I love you, too.” Benji sounds a little scared.

“Promise not to tell anyone,” Joel mumbles.

“I promise.”

“Swear to God,” Joel continues, and now Benji’s really freaked out.

“I swear,” he says quietly.

“I guess, I’m just, well, I’m, uh. I like boys,” he says after a second, and Benji just stands there.

“What?”

“I-I’m, um, gay,” Joel says softly, looking up at Benji for a reaction. Benji is just looking at him. They both stand there in silence before Benji ducks his head a little.

“Oh,” he says simply.

Joel bites his lip. “Don’t hate me,” he asks, hugging himself. “Please.”

“I don’t,” Benji answers automatically, then meets Joel’s eyes again. “Is Frank your boyfriend?”

Joel nods a little bit. "I think so."

“Did he, like, force you-”

“No, Benjamin,” Joel says gently. “This is all me.”

Benji feels a little dumbstruck. He just looks at his brother, and all these bible verses and sermons and things are running through his head, but he just keeps his mouth shut. All that stuff that was said, that can’t apply to Joel. Joel is his brother. He might be gay, but, he was still Joel, right?

“Are you okay?” Joel asks, and Benji shakes his head.

“I don’t know, Joel.”

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, and Benji shakes his head again.

“No.”

A little smile breaks onto Joel’s face, but Benji can’t find the heart to match it. The younger twin leans forward, wrapping his arms around Benji’s body and hugging him close. Benji carefully hugs his brother back, but quickly melts into it, just like they used to hug so long ago.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Joel mumbles into Benji’s shoulder, and Benji just sighs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could.”

Frank appears back next to the twins, waving a little. “Sorry to interrupt this little moment, I’m sure it’s beautiful, but the bell just rang and I know you two don’t want to be late to fourth, hey?”

Benji looks Frank up and down, before glancing back at Joel. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you.”

Joel looks between Frank and Benji for a moment, then smiles, before waving and dashing off toward the doors.

Benji looks up to Frank. “Listen, I know my brother really likes you, so just, don’t hurt him, okay?”

Frank gives Benji a sidelong glance and says, “Don’t worry about it, hey? I may have a bad reputation, but I like your brother, too.”

Benji reaches out his hand, which Frank takes, and they give each other a firm handshake. Benji, he’s still not used to the whole thing yet, but he knows he might be. After he and Joel talk some more, maybe he can start hanging out with Frank some more and get to know him. Look out for Joel, too. He shakes his head as he walks to fourth period, wondering what world he was thrown into so suddenly.

tbc

Westbound - 7

Sun, 30 Oct 2005 03:25:34 GMT

Title: Westbound
Chapter: Seven
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: MEST
Pairing: Jeremiah/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeremiah, he only wanted to travel. So, he gets kicked out and hops on a train - he never thought it would be like this.
Author’s Notes: In which the author just gives up.
Archive: matchsticks

1;2;3;4;5;6

There seems to be this awkwardness between Matt and Tony, and even though I keep trying to get rid of it, neither of them seem too receptive. We’re sitting in Matt’s kitchen, gently interrogating Tony.

“Why’d you come?” I ask, and Tony seems kind of jittery. His knee is bouncing when he meets my eyes.

“You forgot your bag,” he tells me. I just look at him. “Okay, I missed the company.”

He blushes with his admission, even over Matt’s annoyed cough. I glare a little at him before moving my gaze back to Tony. “I missed you, too,” I say, and he smiles a little. “How’d you find me, though?”

Tony laughs. “I knew you lived in Larchmont,” he says, and the bounce of his knee slows. “I guessed you’d probably head to Matt’s, so I just asked around.”

I’m impressed, but Matt looks a little freaked out. Like Tony’s a psycho killer or something.

“I’m flattered,” I say. Tony shrugs, slightly bashful, and an awkward silence befalls the kitchen. I’m smiling at Tony, but I know that last night we had is running through both of our minds. I think, maybe, that Tony is ready to forget it. I know that I was ready to forget before it even happened. Tony still looks really down, sad. I wish I knew what was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, and his eyes flicker up to Matt, then back to me.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

I bite my bottom lip and turn around, meeting his suspicious eyes. Matt looks back at me, and I can’t read him. I haven’t been able to read him, not since that first kiss. I sigh.

“Matt, could we have some privacy?” I ask him, and he looks surprised.

“Are you serious?” He says incredulously. I nod a little, trying to show him that I feel bad, but I just really need to talk to Tony right now. I don’t think he understands, instead stomping off angrily, leaving Tony and I alone in the kitchen. I’m embarrassed for both of us, smiling apologetically at Tony. He shrugs a little.

“I’m sorry about him,” I mumble. “He’s protective.”

“I seem to remember you saying something about he and I getting along,” he says, amused.

“Yeah,” I laugh, “Well, that was before-” I cut off, snapping my mouth shut. Tony arches an eyebrow, rapping his fingers against the table.

“What?” He asks. “Before what?”

“Um,” I say quietly, “before he was my boyfriend.” Tony’s eyes narrow.

“Jeremiah, that is so... fucked,” he snaps. I hang my head. We just sit there, this looming silence overtaking the room. I look back up to him and his eyes are red rimmed, wet. I’m in shock.

“Tony...”

“Don’t you care about me at all?” He asks softly.

“Of course I do,” I tell him. “I was torn up, because I missed you. I don’t know, it all happened really fast.”

Tony wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, clenching his teeth. “I meant it when I said I loved you,” he says. I draw my bottom lip into my mouth and wonder if I’m going to start crying, too.

“I know, Tony.”

He sighs. “I still mean it.”

I’m just remembering how I felt when I wasn’t with him. When Matt had his arms around me, I was just remembering how it felt when Tony held my hand. Tony’s looking at me, his crystal clear blue eyes just boring into me. I suck on my bottom lip and clench my fists hard.

“There’s a reason I broke up with Matt,” I tell him, and his eyes narrow.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

I stand up from my chair and put my hands on his shoulders, a little surprised by how warm he is. He tilts his head up to look at me, and I just don’t know. How I could ever have left him, how I could ever have yelled at him. I mean, here’s this boy putting his hands on my hips, and I just can’t help thinking that there must be something severely wrong with me.

I kneel down a little and nudge our foreheads together, and he gives me a shy smile, his cheeks still wet from his tears. I hold onto his shoulders gently when I tilt my head to the side and press our lips together. I feel his grip tighten and I smile against him, but he pulls away first.

It took a while to convince Matt to let Tony stay with us. He’s still pretty strictly against it, but I asked him as a best friend for this one personal favor and he begrudgingly gave in. As long as he doesn’t have to actually spend time with Tony, he seems to be okay. I can tell he’s jealous, the way he touches my hip or smiles at me whenever we’re with Tony, but he doesn’t treat me the same way when we’re alone. I don’t know what to think about him right now, but I owe him so much - including my happiness over the past few weeks - so I can’t just leave him behind.

Matt started school again, and Tony and I would spend our days down at the park. It was just like before, the way Tony would speak and move and smirk. The way he taught me how to train hop back on the rails, I taught him how to do a cartwheel and that not everyone is out to get him. It was interesting to watch ourselves, the way we’d just sit out there in the cold, near each other to keep warm.

December was happening upon us, and but the snow seemed hesitant to fall. I love snow. Tony told me he’d never really had the chance to really experience it, which just killed me. We never got too much snow in New York, at least not around Larchmont, but it was this year when I was just hoping for a major snowfall. Sometimes, I consider moving to Minnesota or Canada just so I can have the snow as often as possible.

Today it’s definitely below zero, but when Matt was at school, Tony still wanted to take a walk. He dragged me out of bed and helped me get all put together, but I was a little hesitant. There’s something just bitter about cold without snow. Taunting, maybe. But Tony seemed pretty insistent and I knew I owed it to him to treat him better.

We borrowed winter stuff out of Matt’s closet, some mittens and coats, and we set out toward the little clearing, the park. Tony’s gloved hand fit pretty perfectly into mine, and now we’re just kind of sitting, watching the breath hang in front of our mouths. Tony has his lips against my neck, and I start to wonder if I have some sort of hormone that makes it so guys just can’t keep their mitts off me. I smirk a little to myself, because I am certainly not complaining.

Tony sighs, keeping his head against my shoulder. “J, where are you going?”

I arch an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”

Tony shakes his head, his fingers playing against my wrist. “I mean, after all this. After Matt kicks us out and you have to get a job, or whatever.”

I pause for a little while, trying to sort out my thoughts. “Matt’s going to college in the summer,” I tell him. “I didn’t finish high school, so I won’t be able to.”

“Are you going to stay here?” He asks me. I sigh.

“I don’t know,” I say, biting my bottom lip. I really don’t have any plans for my future. “Why are you asking me this?”

Tony’s warm breath brushes against my cheek before he kisses me gently on the lips. “I just want to make sure you’re, you know, okay.” I feel my stomach drop, because he just... cares.

“Thanks, Tony,” I say quietly. He starts to kiss me again, moving his mouth against mine and drawing me into it a little deeper. His mitten is soft against my cheek, and his tongue is gentle against my lips. I pull back first, ducking my head against his neck and playing with the skin there, just a little. He rubs his hand against my back.

“I also wanted you to come back to the trains with me,” he says. I stop in my ministrations and look back up to him, and he’s just smiling really softly. “That’s where I belong, not here. I want you there with me.”

“I want to be there,” I tell him, and I can almost feel a weight lifted off both of our shoulders. Suddenly, there’s this lightened mood and I just don’t know what to think. Tony’s grin is pressed right up against mine, and it almost feels like he asked me to marry him or something, the way we’re kissing each other.

His hands are tugging and roaming, the soft wool of his gloves sliding against the bare skin of my neck and pushing up my shirt. I’m taken aback by his enthusiasm but I keep my thoughts to myself and just leave my hands at his hips while he touches me, kissing him back as much as I can manage. He has my back pressed up against a thick tree trunk, the grass below us soft and brown. His hands are squeezing my hips, moving over to rub against me through my jeans.

I yelp in surprise and pull out of the kiss, and Tony’s just grinning, looking at me while his fingers slide over my crotch. I swallow, my legs spreading a little bit. He bites his bottom lip, moving in to kiss me at the side of my mouth. I relax against the tree trunk and his hand is resting on my stomach while he rubs at me through my pants. My breathing is coming a little more shakily, and I have to close my eyes to regain my composure.

“Tony,” I say quietly, and my breath hangs in the air between us. He smiles at me and stops, moving his hand away. Out of their own accord, my hips thrust up a little when he removes the touch. I blush a little, but Tony just puts his hands on my chest and presses our lips together.

I cup his cheeks and kiss him, letting our tongues slide together for a moment before pulling back. His cheeks are red, either from the cold or what, and when I look at him now I just don’t know what to think. My mind is racing, and for the first time, I just tell it to shut up and try to go with what Tony is starting.

I feel his fingers at my pants’ button, and I have to stifle some sort of protest, because I know that I do want this. It’s too cold, and I’m too lost in how he’s feeling. I shiver a little when he unzips my jeans, and his clear blue eyes meet mine. I smile, giving my consent, and he pulls his gloves off, putting them on the ground next to my hips.

His fingers are still warm when they dip into my boxers, and I accidentally let out a little noise when he actually goes as far as to press the tips of his fingers right up against my skin. We’re still looking right at each other, even as his hand curls around me, squeezing gently. He kisses me quickly but doesn’t linger, though I don’t particularly notice because my attentions are focused elsewhere.

I’m not a virgin, especially to the way he’s touching me, but it has been a while. My hips are jerkily pushing up into his gradually tightening grip, and my breathing is a little uneven. He seems pleased with my response, the way my back is arching and pushing against him. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he has one hand on my hip, rubbing gently.

The air is so cold, so I’m shivering all over from the two different sensations. I lick at his neck, closing my lips around the skin and sucking gently, just so I have something to do with my mouth. He sighs against me and his hand speeds up, pressing his thumb against the tip and eliciting a little noise from me. He slowly moves his hand down, pulling my pants down a little further over my hips, and starts teasing my balls with the pads of his fingers. My legs fall open and he moves away from where I’m slowly giving him a hickey, but my eyes are shut.

The wind blows over us and my bare skin is stinging, but I don’t care, because his breath is warming my thighs. I throw my arm over my eyes, clenching my teeth as his hot, hot mouth closes over the tip of my erection. I take a sharp breath in, his cold fingers running up and down my thighs and hips. I can feel his tongue against the underside of my erection, his fingers still cupping and rolling my balls.

“Uhh,” I breathe softly, “Tony, where did, mmm, you learn this?”

I’m glad he doesn’t answer, because he would have had to take his mouth off of me. Instead, he’s pulling my hips up so I’m pressing further into his mouth, the tip of my cock hitting his soft pallet at the back of his throat. He starts to apply a suction and I’m lost in this heat against the sharp cold of the air. I don’t have a voice anymore, having been reduced to a succession of moans and grunts. The way his head is moving in my lap, his blonde hair brushing against my stomach, I’m just enthralled.

When my hips start rolling up against him, he pulls away, ignoring my disappointed groan. I feel my body tense up as his hand wraps around my erection and he strokes me off, hard and fast. I’m shaking, whimpering and holding onto him so tightly. He leans in and kisses me, his fingers working magic between my legs, making these flashes of heat strike across my body despite the cold.

“Oh, oh- Tony, I’m, just, don’t stop,” I murmur against his mouth, my hips bucking up against his grip, and it all just comes crashing down at once when I come against his hand. His mouth is against mine and he keeps stroking me through it, helping me ride out the sensation as long as possible. My body relaxes back against the tree trunk, and my eyes are shut while Tony gently zips me back up and kisses me on the lips.

I feel drops of water landing against my face, so I open my eyes curiously. Tony’s pulling his gloves back on, and it’s snowing. The big sticky flakes are falling all around us, heavily, brushing against my skin and clinging to Tony’s blonde hair. It covers the ground beneath us, clumping against the grass and giving it a dotted white blanket. I sit there against the tree, breathing quietly, and Tony slips his hand back into mine and we let ourselves get covered in it.

I think I’m falling in love with him.

After a while, it gets too cold and too wet to stay outside without getting pneumonia, so we opt to head back to Matt’s house. It’s so comfortable between us, I just can’t explain it. It should be maybe a little awkward, but it’s just not. We’re laughing and talking and teasing just like we normally do, but there’s something deeper and just... sweeter in how we’re treating one another. It feels good.

We change out of our wet clothes and grab some of Matt’s after we dry off. I make us hot chocolate while Tony watches me closely, but instead of feeling scrutinized I just feel like he cares. It’s such a weird feeling, being this close to someone. I wonder why I couldn’t have done this with Matt, while I’m dropping marshmallows into Tony’s drink. It just feels different with Tony.

He smiles at me over his steaming mug. “Were you serious about coming with me, back to the rails?”

I nod. “I think I belong there.”

“On the trains?” He asks.

“With you,” I confirm. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. It’s just...” I trail off, and Tony laughs a little.

“I know what you mean, but I’ve got to say, I’ve never felt anything like this either,” he says, gesturing around himself at Matt’s lavish household. “After being in a train compartment for so long, being on solid ground is hard to get used to.”

I trail my fingers up his arm, his body swimming in Matt’s baggy clothes. “I can understand that,” I tell him. “It’s like getting land legs.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like it. I guess I never knew how much I really loved to be out there.”

I lean over and kiss his mouth before sitting back down, holding my warm cup. “Me, too. Not until I left.”

“Jere, I want to go back,” Tony says quietly. “Please.”

I bite my bottom lip, looking around me. “Matt’s been so nice to me,” I protest quietly. “I can’t just leave him behind, not yet.”

Tony looks frustrated for a moment, but his expression softens. “Okay. I understand,” he says, smiling up at me. I feel like hugging him forever.

“Thank you, Tony. Soon, okay?” I tell him, cupping his cheek. “I promise.”

Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - 01

Sun, 23 Oct 2005 18:59:57 GMT

Title: Nothing Like a Little Blasphemy - Part 1/3
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/Good Charlotte
Pairing: Frank Iero/Joel Madden
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Joel is just a good little Catholic boy, at his good little Catholic boarding school. He doesn't think he needs corrupting, but Frank has other ideas.
Author’s Notes: Campy, fluffy, and smutty. Did I mention campy? Oh, man.
Archive: matchsticks

PART I.

Joel always likes going outside to the courtyard during lunch, because no one ever does. He likes that it’s always warm, and quiet. He likes the perfectly neat, dark green grass, each blade cut to the same height as the last. He likes the cobblestone pathway that weaves around under the trees.

Joel, he doesn’t think it’s so bad, here. At school, sure, but when he gets to sit out on the grass for a half hour each day, he’s not thinking about school.

Mary Catherine’s is the name, and when Joel heard the words ‘Catholic School’ he didn’t know what to think. He’d paid attention in Sunday school all his life, and he was always alert and listening during church. He knew the Bible back to front, all the adaptations.

This was because Joel and his family never had anything better to do.

When Joel’s mother suggested boarding for high school, he didn’t want to do it. It was his twin brother who convinced him that hey, it’d be all right. They’d have each other, and it’s only for four years, anyway. Joel ended up reluctantly agreeing, and now, a few months into his sophomore year, he thinks that it’s not so bad.

Though he can’t help but have this underlying suspicion that he’s really missing out on something.

Today is a Friday and the courtyard is empty, as per usual. Normally the student body would rather eat in the cafeteria, where the music plays and you get seconds. Joel, he just can’t stand being in such a huge crowd of people for that long.

He sits down on a bench by the door today, because he’s been feeling weird. Joel’s trying to figure out what this knot in his stomach is trying to tell him, and why he can’t just feel as happy or carefree as his brother does most of the time. He doesn’t even have a lunch today, because he’s just not up for eating.

He sighs, closing his eyes, just breathing in the fresh air of the courtyard. He likes it here. He hears someone walking by, but he doesn’t think anything of it. That’s normal. But when he takes a deep breath, he breathes in cigarette smoke and the scent of grease.

His eyes slide open and there’s someone leaning up against the wall next to Joel, a cigarette at his mouth. His tie is undone, his plain white shirt looking slightly disheveled. Joel looks up at the guy’s face, and notes extremely dark brown eyes, and a weird haircut. It’s shaved short on the sides, but the top is long and relaxed off to the right. Joel searches his mind and comes up with the word ‘mohawk’.

Joel wrinkles his nose. “Smoking is really bad for you, dude. You could-”

“Hey, save your breath, all right?” The kid presses his cigarette against the wall, putting out the ashes, then tosses it into the waste bin. “I know they’re fucking deadly. Cancer, right?”

Joel’s frown increases. “You had better not swear around the nuns.” He doesn’t know what this kid’s problem is, but he knows it’s not going to last long. Especially with some of the harshest nuns around, ready with rulers at all times.

“What, those nuns?” The kid asks. Joel nods solemnly. “They’d slap me around, right?” Joel nods again. “Yeah, fuck ‘em. Nothing I haven’t been through.”

Joel’s eyes widen. He’s not sure if he should ask but he figures, nothing too bad can come from it. “Did your mother hit you?”

The guy laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “My mother, hey, my father, my uncle. How old are you?”

Joel’s caught off guard. He’d say this guy looks like a junior, in his third year, maybe around seventeen. “... Sixteen,” Joel says.

“Fifteen, yeah?” The guy smirks, raising an eyebrow.

Joel lowers his head in slight shame. “How’d you know?”

“Psychic,” he says, digging in his pocket for another cigarette. He lights it with a book of matches that Joel knows this kid is not allowed to have. “Nah, I met your twin brother earlier. Lying is a sin, you know.”

Joel ducks his head, blushing a little bit. “I was planning on repenting.”

The kid arches an eyebrow, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he takes a step forward, his chest almost right up against Joel’s. “So, you’re the bad twin?”

Joel’s head is swimming, his heart pounding so hard he’s surprised this guy can’t hear it. “I-... I guess.”

He steps back, breathing out the smoke and grinning. “Hah, I’m just messin’ with you. I’m Frank.” He sticks out his hand, and Joel takes it tentatively.

“Joel.”

“How long have you been here, Joel?” Frank asks, and Joel wonders where the easy nickname comes from. He shrugs, meeting Frank’s eyes.

“I’m a sophomore. I turn sixteen in two weeks,” he says, this time being completely honest. He bites his lip. He doesn’t know how he feels about this new kid, not yet.

“Hey, that’s cool,” Frank says, stubbing out his cigarette and flinching as the bell rings. “Back to the rooms, huh?”

Joel nods a little bit. “Bible study.”

Frank pulls the door open, sweeping his arm forward, allowing Joel to go first. Joel smiles, genuinely, deciding this guy isn’t so bad. He’s polite, and just a few things are off. Like the way his eyes linger a little too long on Joel’s body, and the swearing and stuff.

“What room are you in?” Frank asks, and Joel snaps back to attention.

“28, on the second floor,” he says.

“Hey, I’m 38. Up the stairs,” Frank says, tilting his head to the slide as they start to climb up the steps.

Joel nods, smiling over at his new friend. “Who’s your roommate?” He asks carefully, trying not to get out of breath on the stairs. That would just be embarrassing.

Frank rolls his eyes, shoving one hand in his pocket. “I don’t have one. They’ll afraid I’ll corrupt someone.” They stop on the landing of the second floor, and start walking toward Joel’s room. Frank raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I’ll corrupt you?”

Joel does that blush where his ears turn pink, refusing to meet Frank’s eyes all of a sudden.

“Depends on what you mean,” he says quietly. Frank stops and Joel blinks, before realizing that they’re right in front of door 28.

“Here’s your room. I’ll get back to the corruption later, hey?” He grins, and Joel finds himself a little weak in the knees at that smile.

“Okay, Frank. Bye,” Joel says politely, waving a little bit and pulling his door open. He’s halfway in when Frank speaks again.

“Joel?” He looks up, and Frank’s got one hand on his hip, eyes darting up and down his body. “You’re fuckin’ hot. That outfit don’t hurt, either.” He winks, then turns around and disappears down the hallway.

Joel blinks a few times, shutting the door and leaning up against it, unable to wipe the fairly stupid smile off his face. His brother is sitting on his bunk, looking up from his book. The Bible.

“Who was that?” He asks suspiciously. Joel shrugs.

“New kid, Frank. With the black hair?” Joel says, toeing off his shoes and stretching a little bit.

Benji sits up, frowning a little. “He’s bad news, Joel. You should stay away from him,” he says seriously. Joel wrinkles his nose up. For once, he doesn’t really want to listen to his brother.

“How come?”

“He smokes,” Benji says, as if it were completely obvious. Joel sighs softly, sitting down on his bed.

“I think he’s gay,” he confides, the words being slightly foreign on his lips. He doesn’t know what to think.

Benji gives Joel a completely disgusted look. “Not for long, if he sticks around here. The Sisters will take care of it,” he says placidly.

“I wish they wouldn’t,” Joel mumbles, then winces over the little slip. Benji narrows his eyes at his brother.

“Joel!”

“Oh,” Joel says, “I just mean I wish they wouldn’t hit him!”

Benji huffs. “He deserves it.”

Joel frowns. He knows what he’s been taught, but Frank was so kind to him. Frank was the only person who had ever shown any interest in really being Joel’s friend. “He’s nice, Benji.”

Benji shivers a little bit, sticking his tongue out. “He’s probably only nice to you because he wants to... you know, hook up with you.”

“Benji...” Joel starts, and Frank’s words run through his head. Frank had said that he thinks Joel’s... ‘hot’, as he put it. That twists Joel’s stomach into knots and he just can’t think of anything to say.

Benji turns his gaze back to his Bible. “Joel, I mean it. Stay away from him.”

Joel doesn’t see Frank again until the next day, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been thinking about him. He may have trouble admitting it to himself, but Frank’s been occupying the majority of his thoughts lately. He tells himself, it’s just because he doesn’t really have any friends here except for Frank. He doesn’t tell himself that he gets a little twisted in the stomach when he starts to think about him.

Joel has his Geometry book tucked under his left arm as he makes his way to his math class, eyes focused heavily on the ground. Thinking about Frank so much makes his cheeks flush pink, and he has a hard time meeting eyes with anyone around him. He doesn’t know why.

He stops abruptly when someone steps in front of him, and when he looks up he meets the eyes of his new friend.

“Frank, hey,” he says casually, smiling a little bit. Frank’s tie is done up, and his relaxed mohawk is sort of brushed over so it looks neater. Frank, he just looks miserable.

“Joel, what’s up? Let’s head to the courtyard, yeah?” He says, showing that grin.

Joel sputters. “Frank, it’s second period!” He says, waving his Geometry book for emphasis. Frank rolls his eyes.

“Ditch,” he says, as if it were obvious. Joel laughs, shakes his head.

“I’m not ditching,” he says firmly. Frank smiles.

“Good little Catholic boy, huh?” Joel blushes. “Someday, I’ll get you to ditch class with me.”

“Maybe,” Joel says softly. He lowers his gaze and catches sight of Frank’s hands, and his eyes widen. “What happened?” He asks, taking Frank’s hand and examining it closely.

It’s bruised along the knuckles, just a little bit swollen, and Frank rolls his eyes. “I skipped first - got caught.”

Joel winces. “Those rulers hurt, don’t they?” He says gently, absently rubbing his thumb over the bruising. Frank gives Joel a funny look, one that makes Joel feel just a little too uncomfortable.

“Nah,” Frank says, “not too bad. I’ll show you someday.”

Joel, he shivers. Only a little. Because it’s drafty in the hall ways. “I’ve got to get to class,” he says, dropping Frank’s hand and hurrying past him.

Frank crosses his arms over his chest. “Lunch in the courtyard, hey?” He calls after the boy.

Joel nods, calling back, “sure.”

“It’s a date,” he hears, his face flushing bright red as he disappears into his math class.

By the time lunch arrives, Joel had almost forgotten that Frank would meet him here. After a year and a half of just sitting out here alone every day, Joel’s not sure how he feels about the sudden company. For the second day in a row, Joel skipped eating.

“’Sup?” Frank greets, grinning a little. Joel waves, watching his friend dig a cigarette out of his pocket. Here we go again, Joel thinks. He jumps a little when Frank taps the cigarette against his cheek, as if the tobacco would seep into his skin.

“Quit,” he says feebly, batting Frank’s hand away. The other boy winces and draws his arm back, and Joel claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh, I forgot, Frank, I’m sorry-”

“It’s cool, no worries,” Frank says, giving Joel a half smile. Joel sighs in relief and sits down on the bench next to Frank, folding his hands in his lap a little awkwardly. He notes that he feels very comfortable around this boy that he just met, and he wonders what Frank’s got that makes him feel so at ease.

He glances back at his friend and tries not to jump when he sees that Frank’s been staring at him. He smiles a bit, blushes, drops his gaze again. “So,” Joel starts slowly, “how’ve your classes been?”

Frank blows out a puff of smoke, and Joel licks his lips. He fights off the sudden urge to ask Frank for a drag, and shakes his head before the brunette answers. “Boring,” he decides. “I’ve had other things on my mind.” Joel bites his bottom lip as Frank’s gaze burns up and down his body.

“Oh,” he says weakly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He should not want to rest his head on Frank’s shoulder or feel the other boy’s arm around him. He hesitantly scoots a little closer to Frank on the bench, feeling their thighs press tightly together. He ignores Frank’s smile.

Frank’s arching an eyebrow, his left hand falling to brush through Joel’s brown hair while the right delicately holds the burning cigarette. Joel blinks rapidly, trying not to look too uncomfortable as Frank touches him. His conscience screaming at him, Joel jerks away from the touch and lowers his head.

“Don’t,” he mumbles. Frank smirks.

“All right, kid, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he says. Joel just blushes harder, his frown deepening as he glares at Frank.

“What are you talking about?” Joel snaps suddenly, surprising himself. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”

Frank looks a little bit taken aback, stubbing out his cigarette. “Sorry, hey. Didn’t mean to mess with your head or anything.”

“You’re not!” Joel says defensively, standing up.

“Hey, okay,” Frank says soothingly, holding his hands up in front of him. The cigarette is dangling from his lips and Joel almost growls with frustration.

“You’re trying to do this, aren’t you?” He accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. He knows he’s being touchy, but he’s already in over his head, he assumes.

“Do what?” Frank asks, looking completely bewildered.

“Confuse me!”

“Oh, you caught me...” he replies slowly, still appearing a bit abashed. “Um, is it working?”

“Yes!” Joel says, exasperated, then looks horrified. “No!”

Frank tilts his head to the side, stubbing out his cigarette. “Okay, then.”

“D-darn it,” Joel mumbles, and Frank cracks a grin. Joel meets his eyes, then feels himself smiling too. Before long they’re both laughing, Frank at his complete confusion, and Joel at his own utter ridiculousness. He sits back down on the bench and Frank punches his arm.

“That’s for thinking I have ulterior motives,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

Joel smiles softly. “You do though, don’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Frank asks.

“You said I was f-, um, hot,” Joel says, “’And that outfit don’t hurt, neither’.” He uses his fingers as quotation marks. Frank laughs.

“I was only telling the truth, Joel,” Frank says calmly. “Just an observation, hey?”

Joel nods a little, fiddling with his tie. “Yeah, okay.” He’s silent for a few moments, his mind running in circles, when Frank breaks the quietness.

“What’s going on in there?” He asks, tapping Joel’s skull. The boy bites his bottom lip, feet kicking against the ground.

“Just thinking,” he says vaguely.

“About what?”

He sighs. “Homosexuality in the bible, in different religions.” He shakes his head.

Frank licks his lips, deciding to stay silent. The bells ring, suddenly, alerting them that their lunchtime is over.

“Time for fourth period,” Joel says, standing up. Frank grabs his arm and pulls him back down so that their faces are so close that Joel can see the pupils of Frank’s eyes dilate. His heart stops and Frank leans forward, but Joel yanks away from him and frowns.

“I said, don’t,” he mumbles, then grabs his books and runs away through the doors of the school, leaving Frank with an empty pack of cigarettes and a smirk.

Despite being afraid of Frank in some respects, Joel found himself slightly intrigued by the rebellious boy. He seemed unfazed by the nuns’ punishments, and he never appeared to learn from his mistakes. Joel often wonders why Frank is at a Catholic boarding school; he never showed any interest in religion or even school in general. Joel thinks about how Frank touched him and he wondered what was going on.

More often than not, he found himself thinking about Frank.

Less and less of his free time was spent alone or with this brother, and he was most likely in Frank’s dorm, cross-legged on the spare bed as they talked or played cards (no gambling, of course). Sometimes Joel would try to teach Frank a little respect for the nuns or his beliefs, but Frank would have none of it. Instead, he tried to teach Joel about things that made the boy’s cheeks burn red.

“You’ve never masturbated?” Frank says incredulously, staring at Joel with wide eyes. They’re both on the empty bed today, and it’s supposed to be Bible study hour. Instead of studiously reading, however, Joel’s blushing and trying to hide his face as Frank stares at him.

“Once,” he says quietly, “but Benji told me I shouldn’t.”

Frank pauses, rests his hand on Joel’s knee. “Joel. Masturbating? Is not a sin. Killing people, sure, but not jerking off. Trust me on this one.”

“But-” Joel tries, but Frank slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” he says. “I promise. Have you ever even kissed anyone before?”

Joel bites down hard on his bottom lip, lowering his eyes. “No,” he says softly.

Frank smirks, rubbing his hand over Joel’s leg. “You wanna play a game?”

“Sure,” Joel says, thankful to get the subject off him for a minute. “What game?”

“Truth or dare.”

Joel laughs, shaking his head. This game just reminds him of watching his older brother and friends sitting in a circle in his room, smoking pot and kissing each other. Joel isn’t allowed to talk to Josh anymore. “There’s only two of us.”

Frank shrugs. “Hey, I know. Whatever, right?” He says, poking Joel’s side.

Joel pouts. “I guess.”

“I’ll even go first,” Frank offers, shifting so he’s sitting cross-legged like Joel is.

“Okay. Truth or dare?” Joel asks, not meeting Frank’s eyes.

“Truth,” Frank says, but Joel can see that smirk already forming. He frowns uncomfortably, wringing his hands in his lap.

“Um, do you have any siblings?” He asks finally, shrugging a little at his own lameness.

“Yup,” Frank says easily, nodding a little. “I got a brother in jail.” He winks. “My turn.”

“Truth,” Joel starts uneasily.

Frank scoots closer to the boy, lowering his voice. “Thought so. When was the last dirty dream you had?” He asks.

Joel’s blush creeps down his neck and he feels his heart pounding from embarrassment. He’s not supposed to be talking about things like this. “Never.”

Frank gapes. “You’ve never had a dirty dream?” Joel shakes his head. “Oh, man.”

“Truth or dare, Frank?” Joel says hurriedly, trying to change the subject again.

Frank pauses a moment, as if seriously thinking over his answer. “Truth, yeah,” he says.

“Are you gay?” Joel asks suddenly, surprising them both. Once Frank gets over his initial shock, he allows himself to laugh a little bit.

“I thought that would come up,” he says calmly. “Yeah, I am.”

Joel looks at Frank, but his opinion of the older boy doesn’t change. He almost expected it to, just because of Benji and how he was brought up and everything, but he still sees Frank as Frank. Perhaps even a little more clearly.

“Truth,” Joel says gently.

“Does it make you nervous?” Frank asks, sliding his fingertips along Joel’s leg. Joel frowns.

“Yes.”

“Dare me,” Frank says quickly, meeting Joel’s eyes.

Joel frowns, wracking his brain for a good dare that will impress Frank without having to pray extra hard tonight. “I dare you to streak across the soccer field.”

Frank laughs. “You just want to see me naked.”

Joel shakes his head, frowning at the teasing, even as Frank pushes his shoulder playfully. “Just. Truth, okay?”

“Okay,” Frank says, moving close to Joel, putting his hand behind the boy’s head, lowering his eyes to half lidded as he leans in a little closer. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Joel swears that three hours pass before he wills himself to move, falling back from Frank and scrambling for his stuff, grabbing his backpack and his Bible. “U-um, I don’t want to play anymore. I gotta go.”

“Joel,” Frank starts as Joel rushes to the door. “Wait-”

“Nah, I have to,” Joel mumbles, opening the door. “Bye, Frank.”

“See ya,” Frank mutters, wincing as the door slams shut, leaving him all by himself again. “Goddamnit.”

He frowns, glancing at his Bible, then back up at the ceiling. “This is all your fault,” he accuses.

tbc

Westbound - 6

Sun, 16 Oct 2005 20:27:09 GMT

Title: Westbound
Chapter: Six
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: MEST
Pairing: Jeremiah/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeremiah, he only wanted to travel. So, he gets kicked out and hops on a train - he never thought it would be like this.
Author’s Notes: In which the chapter is longer, and the author actually uttered "oh shit" out loud.
Archive: matchsticks

1;2;3;4;5

It took some persuasion, but Matt managed to convince his parents to let me stay with them. After I swore up and down that I’m not a drug addict by any stretch, with support from my best friend at my side. Once they finally believed me, they apologized for assuming, offered condolences concerning my brother and welcomed me with open arms. As Matt’s mother said, we’d been friends for so long, it’s about time they showed me some support.

Over dinner, mashed potatoes and peas and chicken, Matt’s parents tell me that they don’t like to believe the rumors spread in this town, but when I had left they just had more reason to assume. I’m sort of half listening, because I had almost forgotten why I left in the first place.

I spent weeks not thinking about Josh, or my family. Matt’s parents knew Matt had been smoking too, but considering my family history they had more reason to believe that it was my fault over Matt’s. I decided not to correct them, I didn’t wan to give them a warped view of their son.

“So, Jeremiah,” Matt’s father says while his son and I are washing dishes from dinner, “where have you been these past few weeks?”

“Oh, um,” I cough, drying a cup Matt hands me, giving me an awkward smile. “I took the train,” I say vaguely.

“Ah, to Wilmington?” He asks, and I’m mildly surprised he remembers my frequent trips to my grandparents’ house. He must notice my surprise because he smiles gently, looking over at Matt. “He always used to mope around while you were gone.”

I look at Matt, too, and he’s blushing a little, elbow deep in suds. I can’t help smiling when he avoids my gaze, handing me a slightly soapy plate. I roll my eyes and dry it off, suddenly feeling something weird in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s because I’m already feeling so comfortable or maybe it’s because I’m aching to get back to the rails.

Get back to Tony.

I debating asking Matt to come out with me, just for a day, but I won’t want to freak him out. I know he wouldn’t want to go, anyway, or maybe it’s because I don’t want to run into a familiar face.

When I’m thinking about how Tony would react to Matt, I guess it’s just not pleasant. He always seemed a little jealous that I had this other boy in my life, and he and I didn’t exactly part on good terms. Love... maybe it was just too soon, and this was meant to happen. Maybe I’m meant to be curled up with Matt in his living room, watching this movie, here. Maybe this IS home.

We’re sitting on Matt’s couch, his arm curled tightly around my shoulders. The only light in the room is the glow from the television. Sometimes it’s just nice to cuddle with your best friend. It’s a way to feel loved and comfortable when you know there’s nothing sexual about it.

Matt shakes me a little, and I direct my gaze up to him. He’s smiling, but looking kind of concerned.

“You look distressed,” he says. I raise an eyebrow, walking my fingers across his tummy.

“Why are you watching me, and now the movie?” I ask coyly, and he doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he just looks down at me, like he’s waiting for me to talk or something. I take a deep breath, sighing against his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” I mumble. “I guess I just miss him.”

Matt sort of bristles, and I look up at him with confusion. He clears his throat and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Was he, like, your boyfriend?” He asks me, and Tony’s words are echoing in my head. Was Matt, like, your boyfriend?

“It was complicated,” I murmur, more in response to the memory than to matt’s question.

“I think it’s a valid question,” he argues gently.

“There was something,” I tell him, feeling his nod. “Maybe that’s why it’s so hard.”

Matt hugs me closer to him, and I feel him kiss the top of my head. “He didn’t deserve you anyway,” he says, and I laugh.

“How do you know?” I say. “You didn’t know him, Matt.”

“I don’t need to know him,” Matt replies. “I know you.”

I blush a little, moving closer to him. “What does that mean?”

“No one could deserve you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I bite my lip.

“Matt,” I start.

“What? It’s true,” he continues. “I can’t tell you how lucky I am just to have you here with me now.”

I feel like I’m going to cry. I punch his shoulder a little. “Knock it off, you sentimental shit.”

“I’m just speaking my mind,” Matt says, and I find my mind wandering to dangerous places. I’ve tried so hard not to think about Matt in any other way besides friendship, that maybe it’s all catching up to me. Tony may have triggered that want, that need to love someone close to you.

Maybe I was ready for it after all.

Now I’m asking myself, is it Matt that I want it with? Wrought with confusion, I just to push the thoughts away and remind myself that Matt is just being friendly. Just being that close person he’s always been. I don’t know why it feels so different now.

“You know, I really thought you were gone forever,” Matt says to me. I force out a little laugh.

“I don’t think I could be gone that long,” I say quietly, and Matt shifts so I’m forced to look at him. I raise my eyebrows, and he’s hugging me close.

“Why not?” He asks, and I just bite my tongue. For some reason, I can’t help but think that I know what he wants me to say. Because of him. Maybe Matt is interested in me. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, being with him, because he’s my best friend. No one knows me better than Matt.

Except Tony, Tony knows this whole other side to me. I can’t help but have this feeling that if I were to kiss Matt, or even hug him like I am, I’d be hurting Tony. I know that Tony has feelings for me but he kicked me out, so this should be okay. Touching Matt, even feeling something for Matt, it should be okay. Because Tony doesn’t want me anymore.

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” I say in response to my question, and I feel my stomach sink, because I just told him what he wanted to hear. As much as I love Matt, I just don’t know if this is right. This flirting.

Matt laughs a little, and I notice that the movie is over. It’s just snow on the television screen, and I’m sucking on my bottom lip, feeling anxious. Matt has control of this conversation, and I’m starting to wonder where he’s going to lead it.

“Jere?” He says, and we both know something is up. The movie is over. We’re still curled up with each other, talking. It’s going somewhere, and Matt seems determined.

“Yeah?” I say, perhaps a little breathily. At this point, we’re just sort of looking at each other. His arm is still around me, and his other hand is rubbing my thigh a little, something that used to be comforting, something that’s maybe a little different now.

“Do you ever wonder why we never... you know,” he trails off, and my face heats up. My heart is beating so fast that I can’t organize my thoughts, and I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yeah,” I say, “I guess I just thought you weren’t interested.”

The words come out of my mouth and I’m blushing, I’m reprimanding myself because I don’t know if this is what I want. He knows how I get when I’m nervous.

“I’ve really missed you this past few weeks,” Matt continues, his hand sliding a little further up my thigh. My breath catches in my throat. I wish he wouldn’t do this.

“I, I missed you too,” I say, but all I can think about is Tony. I mean, I missed Matt, yeah, but not nearly as much as I’m missing Tony right now. Tony. I close my eyes, because I was never good at just dealing with stuff.

“It made me realize a few things,” Matt tells me.

“Like what?” I ask softly.

Matt pauses for a moment, and I think for a moment that he might back down. I feel my heartbeat slow down, and I take a deep breath.

“Like how much I want to do this,” he says, and I’m just frozen to the spot when Matt kisses me. I clench my fists, my eyes sort of half lidded, and I just don’t know what to think. His hands are cupping my cheek, and he is good at what he’s doing. I find my hands on his shoulders, tipping my head to the side as I kiss him back.

I don’t understand what I’m doing.

Even when Matt’s tongue slides between my lips and I’m opening my mouth to accept it, I just feel so helpless. I start to wonder why I don’t have control over myself. I wouldn’t have fought with Tony. I wouldn’t be here, betraying Tony.

Am I betraying Tony? Technically, he and I were never together. Matt’s hand on my leg, mine falling to his hip. I mean, Tony won’t even know about this. My eyes finally shutting when Matt drags my bottom lip into his mouth. My stomach is untwisting, and I think I’m relaxing. My back hits the soft cushions of Matt’s couch, and he’s over me, still kissing me. His fingers are threading through my hair, and maybe I’m starting to forget about Tony.

I even feel like smiling.

*

The next few days, they’re a little weird. That morning after Matt kissed me for the first time, I wasn’t sure whether Matt wanted to brush it off as a mistake or pursue it again, and I wasn’t sure which scenario I preferred. I woke up on the floor of his room, and he wasn’t in his bed, and I wondered if he was avoiding me. When I went down to his kitchen, though, he was just making breakfast. He turned around and saw me, standing awkwardly, giving him a little wave.

He had walked over to me, putting his hand on my bare stomach. I arched an eyebrow and he leaned in, kissing the side of my mouth.

“Morning.”

After that, things got exceedingly more... comfortable. We avoided his parents and just hung out in the park that’s back behind the football field. It was cold outside and Matt was on break from school. I had dropped out when I left, which my parents, I suppose, preferred over just believing me in the first place.

The park behind the football field was just this place Matt and I have been going for years. It wasn’t really a park, just kind of this clearing of grass through the woods behind the field. It was normally deserted and quiet, and just the perfect place to go when we wanted to be alone.

Now, more than ever, we wanted to be alone.

We went there, and Matt let me tell stories about being on the trains with Tony. He would get a little jealous, and I knew because if I ever mentioned anything, he’d suddenly get very clingy. Like I would suddenly realize that I liked Tony more than him and just leave.

In truth, I already know I like Tony better than Matt, but I can’t leave.

Sometimes I’d just be in the middle of talking about this one card game with Tony and Benji, and Tony bet my virginity, and Matt would cut me off by just kissing me. He’d pull me over to him so I was basically in his lap, and make me forget all about what I was saying. Maybe he thought I didn’t notice, when really I just didn’t mind.

Matt never officially asked me out, but we were fooling around enough to make me assume we were together. I really got the feeling that Matt cared about me. He asked me to come up and sleep in his bed, and once that happened I really did start to get lost in whatever Matt and I had. Just being with him made me feel so wanted and happy, and I just couldn’t describe it.

But I still, still, still missed Tony.

“Matt,” I ask, and we’re back in our park, our little clearing, on our backs, just looking up at the sky.

“Yeah?” He says softly, moving to look at me. He props his head up on his elbow and hovers above me a little, meeting my eyes. I smile at him.

“Do you want to go train hopping with me sometime?” I ask him, and I can feel his fingers running up and down my arm.

“How come?” He asks me, and I give a little shrug.

“I miss it. It’s fun,” I say, and he’s giving me a soft smile. He leans down, brushing my bangs away from my eyes.

“Sure,” he says, pressing a light kiss to my lips. “Someday, okay?”

I sigh. “Okay.”

Someday. Someday, that’s not good enough for me. I’m seriously considering just hopping on a train and leaving all of this behind again.

But now, I’ve got Matt to think about. I couldn’t do that to him. Even though we may just be really close ‘friends with benefits’ in Matt’s mind, he’s still my best friend.

Constantly fighting this inner battle is too exhausting. I sigh softly and Matt’s kissing my neck, his fingers playing at the hem of my shirt. I tilt my head and let him keep going, even though my mind is somewhere else. I don’t think this is fair to Matt, or to Tony, or to myself.

I think I’m going to have a mental breakdown if this gets any worse.

I try to let myself forget it, focusing on the feeling of Matt’s tongue against my collarbone, his knees on either side of my hips as he straddles me. I put my hands on his hips and he presses our mouths together tightly, smiling against me.

We make out for a little while, but I think he can tell I’m not feeling it. He pulls away after a while, sort of frowning, looking kind of frustrated. I apologize and he forces a smile and tells me it’s okay, standing up and holding a hand out for me.

“Let’s go back home, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, and he leads me back. I feel bad for frustrating him but I’m so confused right now, I don’t know what do to about Matt or this perfect little suburbia, or my parents or school or anything.

It’s just too much. I’m still this weak little boy, and I’ve got two people in the world that love me, and they’d probably kill each other if they ever met.

When we get back to Matt’s house, he tells me he’s going to go take a shower. I follow him up the stairs, and when I glance at the clock, it’s still early in the day. His parents are still at work, and should be for a while. I walk into his room, trailing behind him, and he pulls his shirt off. I bite my lip, watching him as he digs in his drawer for a clean towel, and turns around, looking at me.

“What?” He says, smirking a little. My eyes dart back up to his, and I smile sheepishly.

Matt and I haven’t gone too far, I usually stop it before it gets too heavy. I’m a little nervous considering all that kind of stuff, and I can tell Matt wants to go all the way but I’m just not stable enough to throw sex into the mix as well. I love kissing him and touching him, but when things start to get deeper I just freak out. I know he hates it and I apologize for it, but he always tells me it’s okay, he wants me to be comfortable.

He drops his shirt and walks up to me, putting his hands on my hips. He rests our foreheads together and I kiss him, pulling him tightly up against me. Maybe it’s because I feel bad about slighting him earlier. I don’t know. But I’m kissing him heavily, sliding my tongue into his mouth and pressing our hips together. He makes a little noise and slides his hands down my back to rest on my ass, and he pulls away first.

“Whoa,” he says, and I don’t let him talk. I just start kissing him again, nudging him back toward the bed. He sits down on it, parting his legs, and I fit myself between them, holding his cheeks while I move our lips together. I move one hand down to rub his bare chest, and he pulls back again, nuzzling my cheek a little.

“Don’t start anything you aren’t going to finish,” he tells me.

I don’t believe it.

I’m so hurt and angry that I don’t move away from him right away. He’s looking at me so matter-of-factly that I’m about to open my mouth and yell at him, but we’re interrupted by the doorbell.

“Can you get that?” Matt asks, “I’m not really, uh, fit.” He gestures down to his bare chest and his erection. I roll my eyes, pulling out of his embrace and crossing my arms over his chest. I stomp down the stairs, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment and anger. I guess Matt doesn’t care about me as much as I thought he did.

I get down to the door and sigh because Matt’s door doesn’t have a peephole. I shrug and unlock it, and pull it open.

The first thing I notice is my blue duffel bag, and the second thing I notice is who’s holding it.

“Tony,” I breathe, and he holds it out to me.

“You forgot this,” he mumbles, and I’m just staring at him. I blink a few times.

“Hey, J?” He says, the confidence back in his voice. “You okay? You look kind of off.”

I move past his outstretched arm and hug him so tightly that he drops my back, his fingers landing delicately on the small of my back.

“I missed you so much,” I murmur into his ear, and he hugs me a little harder. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Jere?” I hear Matt call from the top of the stairs. “Who is it?”

I freeze, because over my shoulder, Tony’s seeing this shirtless guy calling my name. He stiffens in our embrace and pulls away from me.

“I should go,” Tony says, but I grab his wrist.

“No,” I say. “Please, don’t go.”

He must note the desperation in my voice, because he nods, then offers a wave to Matt, who’s looking kind of angry, standing behind me. I nudge him, giving him a little glare that he understands, so his face softens into a smile.

“You must be Matt,” Tony says amiably, and I’m so nervous.

“Tony, then?” Matt says sharply, and I see Tony look a little slighted. I frown, inviting Tony in. He graciously accepts and I’m still in awe of seeing him again. He looks great. He asks where the bathroom is and after I show him, Matt corners me.

“Jeremiah, how could you bring him here? You know how he feels about you,” Matt accuses, and I sigh.

“Tony is my friend,” I say sharply, “you and I aren’t together and neither are he and I.”

He looks kind of frustrated, and finally sighs. “Fine,” he says. “But if I see him touch you, he’s-”

“Shut up, Matt!” I snap.

He closes his mouth, glaring softly at me.

“Listen, I obviously can’t give you what you want, so maybe we should just back off for a while,” I say, and maybe it came out a little more acidly than I thought.

Suddenly, Matt goes from looking jealous to looking so sad, I feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake. “Is this because of him?” He asks, gesturing toward the bathroom. I shake my head.

“No,” I say, and it’s only half true. “I can’t feed to your needs, you need to find someone who will.”

He nods, and somehow I think he understands. I hug him, and he actually hugs me back.

Westbound - 5

Wed, 12 Oct 2005 01:32:54 GMT

Title: Westbound
Chapter: Five
Author: xinsipid
Fandom: MEST
Pairing: Jeremiah/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jeremiah, he only wanted to travel. So, he gets kicked out and hops on a train - he never thought it would be like this.
Author’s Notes: In which the author fails to make up for the week she missed.
Archive: matchsticks

1;2;3;4

With Tony passed out, I’m given a lot of time to think over what he said while I’m cleaning up his cuts. At first I was just thinking that he must have been completely delirious, because we’ve only known each other for, fuck, I can’t even remember how long I’ve been out here. I rationalized it, telling myself that Tony just has a crush, and doesn’t know what real love is. He’s only felt that sibling love from Frank and Benji, so maybe he just considers me a brother.

Thinking this way, it’s safe.

It’s not that I don’t like Tony, because I certainly do, but love... that just seems a little extreme. I don’t know if I can understand it myself. While I’m cleaning him up I decide that I do like him and maybe I’m willing to pursue something with him. I tell myself not to worry about it until he wakes up, because right now there’s nothing I can do about it.

So I just watch him sleep, rubbing his shoulders slightly, keeping him comfortable. His head in in my lap and every so often he’ll wriggle a little like he’s having a bad dream. I think I could watch him sleep all day. Blinking out of my stupor, I rake my fingers through his hair, trying to shake him awake. His eyebrows furrow and he snuggles down against my lap, and I try to fight a smile. He yawns, sitting up.

“Ah, shit, my head,” he groans, pressing against his temples. He’s developed a nice black eye, and the cut on his lip is healing. I give him a little smile and wave which he sort of reciprocates. He’s blinking himself awake and I give him a bottle of water which he gratefully receives. He winces when he touches his sore lip but he takes a few big gulps anyway.

“That guy is going to get a major beat down from Benji and Frankie,” he grumbles, and I laugh a little.

“Lucky for you, I think black eyes are sexy,” I smirk. Tony drops his eyes and looks sheepish, even a little shy. I reach out and gently touch the bruising on his cheek, and there’s this nice, warm connection between us. The air might be a little different now, but it’s not something I’m complaining about.

“Hey,” I say, and the rumble of the train is almost deafening.

“Hey,” he mimics, and I slide my hand down his cheek to rest on his chest. “Listen, Jere, about what I said-”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, giving him a comforting smile. “I know you weren’t really thinking straight.”

He pauses, looking a little confused. “Are you saying I didn’t mean it?”

“Oh, no, I just know you were a little rattled,” I try to explain, but he still looks perplexed.

“Jeremiah, hey, I meant what I said.”

“Okay,” I say softly, and he leans back from my touch.

“You don’t believe me,” he accuses.

“Tony, I just,” I’m fighting for the words, “I know you haven’t had much contact with people.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” he snaps, shocking me. I haven’t seen him like this before, and maybe I’ve made a big mistake.

“Tony,” I try, but he cuts me off.

“Jeremiah, how could you say that?” He says, and this time he sounds more hurt than angry. “Just because you’ve had a family and friends and I haven’t doesn’t mean that I don’t know what love feels like.”

I nod, meekly. He gestures sharply to his face.

“Look at this black eye, look at me, J! You don’t think that’s love?” He snaps. I’m biting my lip, just sort of looking at him as I watch his face heat up with anger.

“Why don’t you say something?” He asks, looking right at me. I open my mouth, but I just can’t think of anything. My face is warm with embarrassment and right now I can’t help but wish I was back home with Matt telling me everything is all right. I don’t think I’m ready for something like this.

“I,I guess I just wanted to know if you were sure,” I try, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“You think I’m so ignorant,” he says clearly. “Well, Jeremiah, I may have grown up out here but I think I know a hell of a lot more about people than you do.”

My face sets itself into a glare of its own accord. “Hey! Watch it,” I say, a warning tone in my voice.

“Why?” He asks, sarcasm lacing his tone. “You can belittle my life but I can’t talk about yours?”

“I wasn’t belittling your life,” I argue, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Cute little rich boy can’t even count to fucking fourteen,” he growls, and I can feel my blood starting to boil. He’s looking for a fight and I’ll be damned if he thinks he can say that sort of thing and get away with it. “Oh, by the way,” he says, reaching behind him and pulling something out of his pocket. “Here’s your fucking wallet,” he snarls, throwing the leather case at my chest.

I catch it and grit my teeth. “I never asked you to fight that guy,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

“I was saving your life, you selfish prick,” he growls, hunching himself over.

“Well, maybe I didn’t need your help,” I say calmly, and he raises his eyes to mine. There’s fire burning in them and I can already feel the tension crackling between us.

“Is my help not good enough for you?” He asks, and I grunt with frustration.

“Stop putting words into my mouth, Tony!” I say with exasperation, and he just makes a little noise and glares down at the floor. “Hey, fucking look at me when I talk to you!” He looks back up and his glare is so intense that I have to catch my breath.

“I don’t have to,” he says, “you’re saying everything you need to.”

“What are you talking about?” I say, exasperated, and Tony just shakes his head, glowering at me.

“You think you’re better than me,” he states, and my eyes widen.

“What?” I say. “Tony, what on Earth-”

He cuts me off. “Oh, fuck you, don’t think I don’t know, because I fucking do. Maybe you are better than me, because I’m just some kid train hopping with no family and no money and you’re all I’ve got, but you can just fuck off now, because apparently I’m not allowed that, either.”

There’s a silence between us, and I just don’t know what to say. He’s so upset, and I’m getting there, too. I don’t want to be mad at him, but he’s accusing me of all these different things that just aren’t true.

“Why are you assuming all that bullshit about me?” I ask sharply, and he doesn’t look back at me. “You don’t even know me, Tony.”

“You’re right,” he tells me. “I thought I did, but I don’t.”

He’s turned away from me now, arms cross tightly over his chest and I just feel so helpless. I don’t know how we got to this point but we’re here and I don’t know if I can fix this anymore. I’m trying to find the right words to say but my mind is swimming with his insults and accusations, and I’m just getting angrier by the second. The silence in the car isn’t helping, and I just don’t know what to do.

“Well,” I say after a few minutes, and Tony looks back at me. He’s eyes are kind of wet like maybe he’s been fighting crying, and guilt just overwhelms me.

“Jere, the next stop has a train directly back to New York,” he says. “Maybe it’d just be better if you went home.”

His voice is so cold and not the Tony I know, and I just sit there in shock. As many times as I’ve wished I was back home I never saw myself actually going, and I never thought Tony would be the one to get me to leave.

“Do you want me to go?” I ask him softly, and he just looks so sad.

“It leaves from the rail next to ours, five minutes after arrival,” he continues, looking down at the wooden paneling below us. “There’s no stops, and it’ll be a half hour before you hit Larchmont.”

I nod a little bit, tucking my wallet into my pocket. I don’t know how long the rest of this ride is, but I can’t decide whether I’m hoping it takes forever or thirty seconds. I don’t want to leave Tony but right now I don’t think either of us can take it. I can see Matt again, even though it’s been a short time since I last saw him I had no idea I would miss him so bad. Maybe he’d let me stay at his place until I figured something out.

I’m startled out of my stupor when I hear the familiar screeching of the train pulling into the station. Tony and I accidentally meet eyes and I draw my lip into my mouth. There’s still time to fix this, I think, so I open my mouth to apologize.

“Tony, I-”

“I’ll see you around, J,” he says, then gets up and hops out of the car. I’m sat there in shock for a moment, before scrambling up and rushing out, dropping down from the car and looking around for him.

He’s gone.

I furrow my eyebrows and deal with this unfamiliar feeling as I find the train I’m supposed to be on, climb into car fourteen. I smirk at finding my GameBoy laying there, but I’m distraught with this feeling that I’ve lost something else. I shake my head, turning it around a few times in my hand before sitting down and leaning up against the cargo.

The goodbye with Tony was almost too anticlimactic for me to really feel comfortable with. It all happened so fast, and I think I’m having trouble understanding as the train rumbles out of the station, leaving behind this kid I’d really grown attached to.

Being in this compartment alone, I don’t know what to think. I’ve picked up all this tips and habits from Tony, and it just seems so amazingly quiet and cold without his chatter or his arm around my shoulders. It’s not love. It’s just a friend that I miss, that I want to be with again because I’m having trouble without him.

I try to occupy my thoughts with seeing my best friend again, because Matt has never failed to make me feel better about everything. I start to arrange the stories I have to tell him, and how I’ll describe Tony. I know Matt and Tony would get along, their personalities sort of compliment each other’s. Maybe, maybe one day they’ll get to meet.

I’m smiling while thinking about those times and events I’ll be telling Matt later tonight, maybe, but it soon occurs to me how much I really am going to miss Tony, and Benji. I’ll miss playing cards with Benji or smiling shyly when Frank would pretend to do his stowaway check, and calmly look over Tony and I reading tabloids. I’ll miss this life of maybe getting caught and maybe getting lost and having this guy by my side that just made me feel so good inside.

It’s about now, when I’m thinking about how quiet it is and how no one’s going to try and push me out of the compartment, it’s then when I start to get upset. I put my head in my hands and remember the way he was cuddled up in my lap just an hour ago, and I wait.

*

When the train pulls into Larchmont station I’m counting the money in my wallet. It stops and routinely, I hop out, do a quick check for engineers then climb up onto the platform. Like I’ve done over and over again, like I’m so used to I’m wondering how I’m going to manage a life without it.

Everything is eerily familiar, and my feet seem to work on their own and take me over to the taxi station. My hands hail down a cab, and my body works itself into the back seat. My mouth rattles off Matt’s home address, but my mind is somewhere else. I’m stuck on how I haven’t ridden in a car in so long. I haven’t talked to strangers. I haven’t paid for anything besides pre wrapped train station sandwiches and vending machine candy.

The cab driver isn’t bothering to make small talk, and I wonder what Tony’s doing. I wonder what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling. I imagine him seeking comfort with Benji, who’s maybe thinking that he just felt that relief a little too early.

It’s dark by the time the taxi pulls up in front of Matt’s house, and I pay with a nice tip and get out. He speeds off and I’m just standing awkwardly, remembering that my duffel bag is on a train out to California right now. Maybe Tony will come across it.

He’d probably toss it out the side of a moving train.

I walk up the front steps to Matt’s house, moving slowly and knowing it’s not too late to knock. If his parents answer I may be out of luck, but as far as I know Matt is usually the one to come to the door. I debate pushing the doorbell but reprimand myself for stalling, so I knock and wait anxiously.

It’s a few minutes before the door opens and there’s Matt, looking confused for a half second before his eyes widen.

I smile. “Hey,” I say.

After a four minute long hug and being told how much I was missed over and over again, Matt drags me into the backyard, away from the eyes of his leering parents. We sit down underneath his swing set in the wood chips, he gives me his warm hoodie and pulls me up against him. With my cheek against his shoulder I’m just wondering, how could I have ever left a friend like this behind?

“Where did you go, Jeremiah?” He asks me, and I just smile.

“I wanted to travel,” I tell him.

From there I go on, and on, and on, I just talk into the material of his t-shirt. I say that once, I almost got left in Texas because my watch was off by a minute. I talk about the time this kid Tony and I jumped off the train and ended up landing in a murky swamp, covered in mud and water, and how we laid up on a hill and dried out in the sun. I talk about when Benji almost tripped and backed out of a moving train, but Tony caught him just before.

While I’m talking I feel like I’m experiencing all those times over again. Matt’s listening quietly and when I catch myself, slowing down a little, he decides to talk.

“So, you keep talking about ‘this kid’ Tony,” he says, and I find myself blushing a little. “Who was he?”

“I met him a couple days in,” I tell him. “He showed me the ropes, and we just stayed together. Everyone else I met, they were his friends.”

“How old was he?” Matt asks me, and I know what he’s getting at.

“Um, he was seventeen. He’d been train hopping for nine years or something,” I say, and Matt clicks his tongue.

“Wow,” he murmurs. I nod against his shoulder. “So, you guys got really close, I guess.”

I nod again, but my eyes are shut. “Yeah, we really got along. You would have loved him.”

“So, why did you decide to come home?” He asks, and that’s the one I’ve been waiting for. I curl my fingers into the base of Matt’s t-shirt, tugging a little on the material while I try to look for an answer.

“Tony and I got in a fight,” I finally admit, and it feels so odd to say it out loud. Matt hums sympathetically and squeezes me a little.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I know he means it and that’s why I really need him. “I’m glad you came back, though.” His honesty is stinging me.

“Me too,” I say quietly.

He laughs a little, scooting around on the wood chips to get a little more comfortable. My hands are shoved into the big pocket of his hoodie, playing with the loose seams on the inside.

“I’m just glad you didn’t decide to leave us all behind,” Matt says.

I’m picturing rumbling trains and Tony’s smile.

“Well, this is my home, after all,” I lie.