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    FieldMan
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Light at the end of the tunnel - 2. Love bites

I was lying on my bed, my red and swollen eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The night had fallen already, but my guilt made a point of preventing me from sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of what happened would invade my vision. The feelings would overwhelm me and tears would flow again. My tear soaked pillow was concrete proof that no matter how much I ran, how much I wished, everything happened. I can’t remember when I found sleep that night, but the town was slowly coming to life as it happened.

When I woke up, the sun was already high in the sky and the birds had stopped chirping long ago. I was still exhausted from the emotional drain of yesterday’s events. If keeping my eyes open was a real struggle; leaving the comfort of my bed was a terrible ordeal. I still can’t believe what happened … what a bunch of assholes! I hope…I hope he escaped unharmed. “Unharmed”. Geez, who am I fooling? I hope he got out of this without “more than a few bruises”! This mere thought made me cringe. He definitely got hurt; and it’s all my fault.

But I didn’t really want to go through the whole self-blaming process again and I figured breathing some fresh air would do me good. I slipped a pair of boxers on and hopped into some clothes – dark jeans and a hoodie that was lying around – before heading to the front door. I was halfway down the stairs when I noticed something that puzzled me. There’s…there’s light in the kitchen? Does that mean…is he back?!

I quickened my pace and hopped toward the light, a smile growing on my face with every step. It had been so long since the last time he was home! I hope he’ll recognize me. I mean, of course he will, but I’ve grown up during the past few months. I had replaced my old haircut by a short messy one – my hairdresser said it brings out its dark shade – and my face had changed. My traits were as fine as before and I still looked as manly as a puppy, though... I couldn’t describe how, but I knew I had changed. I looked a bit more “grown-up”.

I was almost running now, missing a few steps out of excitement and bracing myself for the hug of my life. I pushed the door that was half-open and rushed inside, welcomed by the smiling figure of my … of my … of the maid?! My smile faded instantly, but I did my best to keep my composure.

“Good morning, young man. I was about to wake you up. It’s already 3PM and you know that your parents don’t like late risers.”

“Hi... Don’t worry… the sun took care of it. I just…I saw light in the kitchen and thought that maybe my father was home. Is he?” My eyes were pleading her for a positive answer. Please say yes! Tell me he’s in his bureau, waiting for me to wake up to give me the loving hug I’m craving. But even in my head, it sounded wrong.

“Well…” That was it. The answer I was dreading.

“Don’t bother, I got it. He’s not here. I was a fool to even consider the idea.” The bit of hope I had left disappeared into thin air and I found myself grief-stricken again, maybe even more than before this conversation. I headed back to the front door, but I was stopped midway by a gentle grasp on my shoulder.

“Listen, Lucas. You’re a smart boy, you know that your parents love you. But they both have very demanding jobs, especially your father. If they do all of this, it’s to make sure you never need anything. Do you understand?”

“Whatever. I’d prefer to live in a cabin and get to see them on a daily basis than being wealthy and having to wait for Christmas to spend time with my dad.” I tried to escape her grip but she wouldn’t let me go.

“Don’t say such things. Your mother assured me she would try to spend time with you next week-end and your dad promised he would skype with you during the week.”

“Great, that’s really awesome. I can’t wait. It just made my day!” I gushed in a sarcastic voice that didn’t have the desired effect. I thought she would get upset and scold me – which would give me a good reason to relieve some of my frustration on her. Instead, she settled for a smile and landed a motherly kiss on my forehead.

“Don’t be cheeky, young man. Go. I’ll make you some breakfast, if we can still call it a breakfast at this time of the day. Don’t go too far though.” She ruffled my hair and pushed me toward the door.

Now… I know it may seem strange for a maid to act in such a way. The truth is that she’s the one who raised me, who feeds me, who cheers me up when I’m down, who takes care of me. She’s more of a mother than the one who gave birth to me. I love my mother, but she’s more like a housemate than a parental figure; she pays the rent and I get to see her occasionally.

I regretted not putting on socks the moment my bare feet touched the porch. The shivers and the cold were a good way to keep my mind off the dark thoughts, but losing my toes to frostbites was not an option. I rushed to the grass and leant my back against the tree, resting my head on the damp bark. I closed my eyes and took a slow, long, deep breath. That faint and indescribable scent, heralding the beginning of winter, drew my thoughts back in time, back to those precious moments in the dead of winter when our whole family would gather and spend some time together; to those afternoons where I’d just cuddle with my dad, snuggled against him under a thick blanket as my mum prepared us warm chocolate... We’d just watch the snow fall on Paris through the windows or watch TV together, absorbed in the Christmas cartoons.

My eyes lost themselves in the grey sky above me. It was rather comforting, actually. Nothing annoys me more than feeling sad on a sunny day. It would just ... make me feel even worse, you know? Conversely, dark weather perfectly matches my thoughts and allows me to wallow shamelessly in my misery. I’m not a depressive person, but sometimes it just feels good to let go; to embrace whatever fate has planned for you.

“Lucas, come here, breakfast’s ready.” I was snapped out of my daydream by Rosa calling me from the window.

“I’m coming, give me one sec.”

I was feeling a bit better, but what happened yesterday was still stuck in my throat. It was eating me from the inside and I couldn’t wait until Monday to make up for it – if he even shows up. Forget that, I will go to his house this very day and apologize. But … I don’t have his address. The hell with that! I’m not going to back down once again! I just have …

“Hurry, it’s getting cold!” Arrrrgh! Can’t I have a bit of privacy here?! Though, as the good boy I was…

“Alright, alright, on my way…”

She had prepared some scrambled eggs and some of those ready-to-bake croissants. That wasn’t epic, but I wasn’t really hungry anyway. I was munching at my breakfast when the idea suddenly struck me. OF COURSE! I just have to find him on Facebook! Maybe his real name is on there and I’ll be able to find his address in the phone book. I devoured the rest of my plate and ran to my room, thanking “Mum 2” – as I call her – with a kiss on the cheek.

As soon as I got on the computer, I rummaged around in Facebook to find his profile. Nathan? Hmm, nothing. Nate? Same. Damn … but wait! He probably follows our school’s page! After what felt like hours of scrolling down among hundreds of faces, it became clear that searching his name was hopeless. I could have browsed hundreds of profiles named Nathan or Nate; it would have been useless. In fact, he had the most adorable nickname: “Nay Nay”. It seemed like he wasn’t really active on social media, because he was at least one year younger on his profile picture. But to be honest, it made him even cuter! He had a smile that would melt you right away and a playful spark in his ashen eyes that made him so adorable.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything in his information or statuses that would give me even a remote clue about where he lives. Stalking a bit further in his profile, it seemed that we had a common friend. Awesome! I pulled my phone out and dialled his number.

“Hey buddy”

I wasn’t in the mood for the usual banalities and gossips, so I asked the burning question right away. “Tell me, do you know this cu… ahem, do you know this boy from your class? Nathan, I think.” Hehe, that was close!

“Yea, he’s in my French class. Sup with him?” He sounded a bit startled by my unusual directness.

Damn! I didn’t think this far. I can’t possibly tell him … I have to think fast.

“I’ve lent him a game and I’d like to get it back, could you give me his address?”

“Hmm lemme see if I have it….” Could he hear me fidgeting?! “Okay, I got it! He lives at 15 rue Jean Jaures”

“Awesome! Thanks! See you on Monday” I didn’t want to be so abrupt but I had no time to waste.

Sweet! It’s almost next door; I can be there in 10 minutes if I walk fast. I can’t really go bare feet, though. And if I have to put socks on, I might as well replace the rags I’m wearing with something that would make me a bit more … ”attractive”. I mean, he called me a cutie, right? Maybe after I apologize … he’ll be grateful and maybe we will … ah, forget it. I’ll already feel blessed if he accepts my apologies. Hell, if he even agrees to talk to me after what I did, I’ll be in heaven!

The most difficult was to find a good balance between being “too” dressed up and “not enough” dressed up. I didn’t want to look like I was going to a wedding; I needed to keep it “cool”. Upon calm reflection, I decided to wear my second-best clothes: a pair of light blue, slightly faded, Diesel jeans – not the ugly skinny ones – with a plain black shirt that matched my inky eyes. I wouldn’t make a great impression if I rang his bell while shivering and having the sniffles, so I slipped a pearl-grey zip-up hoodie on. To my surprise, I was pretty satisfied with what I saw in the mirror. I mean, nobody my age is especially pleased with his looks, but I caught myself thinking I was kind of … well, I wouldn’t go as far as using “hot”, but at the very least, cute.

The journey to his home was rather quick. At first, I considered using these 10 minutes to rehearse the speech I would give him, but I was rather sure that once in front of him, I would find myself babbling anyway. Instead, I used those precious minutes to relax and enjoy the townscape that I was still discovering. I missed Paris, its beautiful and majestic Haussmann buildings, the continuous flow of passers-by, and the stupefying view on the Eiffel Tower we had from our Penthouse. The suburban town we landed in a few years ago was not even close to stand comparison. The buildings were lovely, but looked tiny and not as fancy; the parks were smaller and less maintained; and the streets were dirtier and soulless. Don’t get me wrong: this was a beautiful and calm city, but I was used to Parisian splendour.

The further I walked away from my neighbourhood, the more shady people I noticed. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was getting closer to “this” part of the town: you know, the part where no one wants to go, except rich kids when they need to get drugs.

Fortunately, he lived a couple streets before the demarcation line – if you ever wonder what a demarcation line is and where it is in your town, ask a taxi driver where he doesn’t want to take you. The houses still looked somewhat decent, yet you could tell time had done its damage and public services wouldn’t venture into this neighbourhood very often. Neglected for a few more years, Michael’s house would have fit in perfectly.

In front of his door, nervousness took over my body and I started fidgeting. What do I do? What do I say?! Shit! You can’t believe how frightening a bell can seem in those situations. Maybe I should have rehearsed, after all. But I walked all the way here; I’m not going to chicken out now, right?! …right? I finally built up the courage to overcome my irrational fear and rang the bell.

After a few seconds – that I spent trying to wipe the sweat off my palms on the back of my jeans –, I heard the lock click and the door opened. A gasp escaped my lips as the outcome of yesterday’s incident became tangible before my eyes. His upper lip was split and slightly swollen, a dark shade with hints of crimson was surrounding his left eye, and small bandages were applied on both his right cheekbone and eyebrow. The mere vision of my cutie being hurt like this overwhelmed me. I felt my heart shatter as the poignant reality hit me: it’s even worse than what I expected! I thought he would get away with a few bruises, but…this? He looked like a freaking boxer who had just lost a match!

It took all my will not to cry, and even more to resist the urge to take him into my arms. I wanted so badly to hug him and to nurse his pain out. Anything that would make him feel better! Yet…the moment was awkward enough. I’m pretty sure that any gesture of this kind, at best, would have made him consider me a creep, and probably get my ass kicked. Honestly, I could tell he wasn’t pleased by my visit. The second he saw me standing on his porch, his face hardened and his polite smile faded in a blink. His eyes lost that playful spark I fancied so much; his glare became harsh, piercing through me with anger I would have never expected.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was cold and sharp. “Upset that you didn’t get to take your shot?”

“What?! No! I just wanted to apolog…”

But before I could even finish my sentence, he gave me a glare full of contempt and shut the door in my face. My jaw dropped open in profound amazement. What … what the hell just happened?! Out of all the scenarios I had made in my head before coming here, not a single one was even remotely close to this. I remained still, staring at the door with wide-open eyes. I tried my best to process what had just taken place, but I couldn’t. I don’t get it! I’m upset for what they did to him, not because I didn’t join them! Why would he think otherwise?!

I came here to apologize, and even if it would break my heart, I could live with the fact that he doesn’t want it. But leaving while he thinks I’m in any way related to these bullies is not an option. I have to make him listen to me, and I have to do it today! I rang the bell again and waited for him to open the door, preparing to slide my foot to prevent him from closing it again.

And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. After 5 minutes of waiting, I realized that he would not show up. This painful realization implied another, a burning one: he hated me. He didn’t even want to talk to me. And the glare he gave me…it hurt. It really hurt. Seeing this kind of emotion, this level of disgust, in the eyes of someone you fancy so much is an experience I would not wish on anyone. It tears your very soul apart, and leaves you…empty.

I considered ringing again, but it was hopeless. Running home and sheltering there wasn’t an option either, so I did the only thing that I could: I sat on the sidewalk, hoping he would get out of his house later that day. I resumed where I had left off the night before, drowning in guilt and sadness. I wanted to cry, but my body wouldn’t.

 

I had probably been sitting there for a couple hours, because the sky was getting dark and the sun had become a barely noticeable shine through the concrete jungle that was the western part of the town. The air was getting colder and colder as the minutes flew by, and the shivers running through my body intensified. If I had known I was going to stay outside for so long, I would have picked warmer clothes! A passer-by stared at me as she walked, and her eyes conveyed so much pity for the freezing boy I was that I figured it was time to go home. It was hopeless to stay here any longer; the night was falling already and he probably won’t leave his house today. I will come back tomorrow and try again. If I’m not bedridden sick by then.

I turned to give a last hopeful stare at his door; and to my great surprise, he was standing on his porch! Geez, I might have been really absorbed in my thoughts not to hear the door open. Fortunately, he hadn’t noticed me either, too preoccupied with the defective lock and with the beautiful German shepherd that he was obviously taking for a walk. That’s my opening! I’m not leaving him a chance to shut me off before I have the time to talk to him. I snuck up behind him, walking on feathers in an attempt to be stealthy. A very foolish attempt. I had completely forgotten about the dog, who growled at me as soon as I approached. Damn.

“Shh, sit.” Nathan said to his dog, who promptly complied. He turned and looked at me with an annoyed face. “You again?! Don’t you have anything else to do? Boys to beat up, puppies to kill? Basically anything that would get you out of my face?”

The lovely boy I met the day before seemed to have vanished, replaced by this cynical, cold, and awfully sharp-tongued Hyde.

“Come on, please! Don’t think I have anything to do with them. I hate them! They’re just people I know from school and…” I tried to explain, but he interrupted me midway.

“Really? Now you’re playing the “lies card”? I know that this Max is a good friend of yours, so quit it. Now here’s an idea for you: why don’t you find someone else to piss off with your babbling?”

That suggestion struck me right in the heart and I did my best to suppress a wince. That’s fine, I can…I can take it. It’s just words, nothing more. And if I can’t stand myself for what happened yesterday…how can I expect him to do so?

“He was a good friend of mine until yesterday. Can we please just talk it out?” I pleaded, staring directly into his eyes.

But they were shooting daggers at me. He turned his back to me and walked away.

“Fine then, I’ll just follow you until you’re willing to talk.”

I wore my best pouty face and followed him, staying a few steps behind. I’ve never been comfortable around dogs and given that growl, I figured it would be wise to keep some distance. We walked for a few minutes and reached a quiet park. The path by which we arrived would split in two, going left and right, and eventually join on the other side of the pond. The park was bathed in an eerie atmosphere. A deafening silence reigned, only disturbed by a few owls and the noises of the dog exploring the thickets; the water’s surface reflected the dim light of the moon, casting broody shadows as the branches of the willow tree were buffeted by the wind. This is definitely the kind of place into which I would never venture alone, especially at night when everything is dark. Fortunately, the moon was full that night and more even than keeping away the darkness, it was doing a wonderful job on the boy who was walking before me. Every time he turned his head, the night star would bless me with a mesmerizing vision, bathing his face in a soothing light, smoothening his every wound. I wonder how his eyes look right now. The white, natural, light would most likely enhance their hypnotizing quartz. Unfortunately, he won’t grant me a single glare.

I couldn’t help but abandon myself to a lustful stare as he leant slightly forward to unleash his dog. Wow! I noticed the first time I laid my eyes on him that he had a nice derriere, but the way the fabric of his pants stretched at this moment revealed to my eyes the most beautiful shapes I had ever seen. Forget Nicki Minaj, forget Kardashian; his was ten times better! It was so round and looked so smooth that I seriously considered giving it a discrete squeeze. Or, you know, getting closer and…hah, I’ll just enjoy the view.

Once the dog was free to wander around, he stood up and turned around to face me. Did I complain about the annoyed face he gave me earlier? I take that back. The way he was staring at me… wow. The anger burning in his eyes was so tangible that I unconsciously took a step back.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you get I don’t want to see any of you EVER AGAIN?! Fuck off!” His voice had risen, and his fists were clenched menacingly at his side.

The bit of self-control that I had evaporated when I heard those two words. It echoed in my head and shattered me; my emotional defences gave way and the tears that had built up since the very second I woke up that day flowed, leaving a cool trail as they rolled down my cheeks. I locked my eyes into his, a salty taste in my mouth, hoping that my hurt puppy face would touch him. However, far from softening him, it seemed to make him even angrier. He stepped closer, never breaking eye contact. He was only inches from me now, and I could almost feel his short breath on my face. The air was thick enough from the rising tension for his dog to notice it and trot his way back to the feet of his master. Why did I even come here? I should have stayed home! Deep down, I knew from the beginning that it was a bad idea.

He was scaring me at this point, and I know I should have left but … my feet wouldn’t move. I know I should have broken the contact and looked at my feet, but I couldn’t. I was still hoping that the sweet boy I knew would surface, if only I gave him enough time and a sufficient dose of puppy eyes.

“I said, FUCK OFF!” the words burst out of his mouth as he shoved me hard enough to make me lose my balance and fall back.

My head hit the ground in a painful thump and a whine escaped my lips the moment the pain struck me. It felt like my skull had been torn apart! My vision went blurry and I thought I was going to pass out. The moon in the sky was nothing but a bright distorted pebble in a dark lake, swinging as the dizziness took me over. I rubbed my eyes, hoping that it would make it better, when I heard him yell something that I couldn’t process. I rose on my free elbow to see what it was about, but as soon as I took my hand off my eyes, I was shoved back down and a lightning, stinging, pain travelled my forearm.

“OWWWWWWW! FUCK!!” It made me regain my senses in a blink. My eyes burst open to a pair of brown and menacing eyes, surrounded by dark fur. I was facing a beast, only a couple inches from my face, snarling and showing his now bloody teeth. He had me pinned down with both of his paws, buried in my chest so painfully that I was left breathless. I raised my forearm and held it between the dog and my face, the drops of blood dripping from the deep and stinging punctures soaking my face and clothes. I was too afraid to move, too afraid to even make a sound, but I couldn’t stay in this position. He is going to freaking eat me!!

I looked helplessly at Nate, begging him with my eyes to do something, anything. I wanted him to help me, I needed him to help me; but he looked as desperate as me. His fists were still trembling, but not from anger; he seemed stunned and frozen by what had happened before his wide-open eyes. Realizing how helpless and shocked he was, I built up the courage to defy the dog and begged him.

“Nathan…please…” I whined.

As soon as the words escaped my lips, he regained his senses and rushed to me.

“Oh shit!!” He grabbed his dog by the collar with both hands and pulled it off of me. “Oh my god dude, are you alright?!”

“Yeah… I think so.”

I laid my head back on the ground and let out a sigh of relief. What the fuck was that? Did he just….did he just unleash his dog at me? What a fucker! I don’t even know why I bothered coming here, he’s just an asshole. Maybe he *deserved* the beating after all, if that’s how he treats people! I came here to apologize, and the psycho tries to feed me to his dog?! Screw him! I tried to get up but accidently leant on my injured elbow. I winced in pain and fell miserably back down.

“I’m so sorry!” he told me as he held out his hand. “He probably thought we were fighting and tried to defend me!”

I pushed his hand away and got up, using my fit arm this time.

“And what exactly is shoving someone to the ground, for you?” I asked, pressing on the wounds with my other hand and staring at him, looking for a reaction. But I got none. Not a blink. Not a word. Nothing. “Yeah…Whatever” I shook my head and turned away, heading home.

I should have never come here.

Copyright © 2016 FieldMan; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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