Lucky - 1. Story

Lucky

By B1ue

Yesterday, I'd have thought the next few minutes would be the most terrifying of my life.

That was yesterday.

Ding – Dong

“I’ll be right there!” I heard Ronnie say. After a second, a girl’s quiet footfalls came towards the door, and she started talking again even as she opened. “Sorry about that! I was--“ Shock wiped away her words and expression. Shock at seeing me, after so long.

I decided to take it as a good reaction. Shock wasn’t joy, but it wasn’t anger either. So, hey, hope.

Since I knew of no easy way to admit to being an idiot, I just did it. “Hey, I need to apologize for being a jerkwad.” She didn’t flicker so I continued. “I regret the way I treated you, and that I didn't try to apologize sooner. You deserved better than that, and especially didn't deserve being called…what I called you. You came all the way out here, and I treated you like complete shit." Then I did smile, a wry, lemoned one. That's, that's all I wanted to tell you. I've wanted to say that for so long."

"Oh.” She still looked mostly surprised, but that little worry line across her forehead started to form. “Thank you, Cyan. That was nice of you. You didn't have to."

"I kind of thought I did."

"I guess."

Then neither of us knew what to say. Ronnie edged back, putting a bit more of the door between her and me. She didn't invite me in, like the friends we said we'd be if things didn't work out. I'd kill myself before admitting it, but I felt an Alanis Morissette song coming on when I realized she wasn't going to. And then I realized why.

"Babe? Who is it?" I heard from inside her apartment. My smile widened, as did her worry line.

"Boyfriend?" She nodded. "Good for you. Really."

"Thank you. It's kind of new, Louis and I. But it's working out."

There were all kinds of things to say, and none of them meant a thing. So I only said, "Really, that's great. I'm happy for you. Like I said, I wasn't coming over to start anything. I just wanted to apologize, since it's my last chance and all. I'm leaving tomorrow." I felt myself starting to babble, which was unlike me. My two best friends, they babbled. They were kings at it, but I didn't. My shtick was knowing exactly what I wanted most in life, and not going for it.

"Leaving?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, it's time. I just graduated, and both Gio and Harley left town. Nothing really keeping me here, except my family. And with Sarah starting kindergarten, they don't even need me as much. So it's now or never."

"Ronnie, what's up?" Louis said, much closer, and the door opened up at last. I took in her apartment, the anime posters on the wall, with the Buffy comic poster I'd given her the day she moved in nowhere in sight. Louis was about our age, clean of ink and piercing, good looking in a freckle faced boy-next door kind of way. We had absolutely nothing in common, I could see in an instant. "Hello. Who's this?" He asked.

"Just a friend from class," I said, since Ronnie clearly wasn't going to. "I was around, so I thought I'd drop by and see Ronnie. But I see she's busy."

"Yeah," she said.

"So, I'd better just go. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, Louis." I said, taking his hand to shake. I have seven younger sisters, and was excellent at coming up with an explanation.

"Oh? Nice to meet you too…" he said, holding the sentence in hopes that I'd finish it. But I left without another word from any of us. The door closed behind me before I made it back to the stairs.

I wonder what he made of all that. Not that it mattered, as I realized the instant I saw her face again in that doorway. I didn't love her anymore, and she, clearly, didn't miss me.

It was a strange feeling, to know I actually was going to do it. Ronnie had been the last chance, my own personal long shot reason for sticking around. Gio and Harley had, as I told her, grown up and moved on. Harley "married" his boyfriend of six years, in fact the only boyfriend he'd ever had. I couldn't imagine him any more without Mikhael at his side, and I guess they finally couldn't either. That he'd on the same freaking day suddenly gotten his dream job of making music as a session musician and lyricist for a company out of Los Angeles was almost to be expected. Life worked out like that for Harley. Sure, it'd broken up any chance we'd ever have a band together, something the three of us had been working on and dreaming of since junior high, but Harley had to look out for himself. I was happy for him, really. Gio too. I was happy for Gio, I mean. Gio was less than thrilled with Harley, since the collapse of all the futures he'd ever imagined (namely, married to Harley himself, and managing our multi-platinum band as a side to playing keyboards himself) all at once left him a few twinkles shy of a glitter. I think moving to New York with a guy I never knew he'd been seeing and basically cutting all contact with our group of friends in general and Harley specifically was a pretty rational response, I thought. Tried to think anyways. It was hard, because I missed him so much.

I didn't really miss Harley. He was a good friend, but I wasn't in love with him.

None of that really mattered now. Ancient history, aside from the dreams I still had. Harley never knew Gio loved him, and neither of them knew their token heterosexual, as they called me, liked guys at all. I don't really know why Gio shied away from admitted his feelings the instant he knew about them, though it was me that stopped him from trying a last minute mad attempt to stop Harley from marrying. After that long, I pointed out, Harley was a lost cause, and it was just too bad. Best to just keep the friendship from getting awkward. That's what kept me from saying anything about my feelings. I knew Gio's type after all, and it was short, blonde, a bit sparkly, and nothing like me. So I kept quiet. It proved to be better that way, I think.

I stopped by Chem. on my walk home from Ronnie's. My smile was real and not at all forced. Chemistry was my thing, I guess. I was good at it, with steady hands and an innate understand on how things would react together that not even I fully understood. It was the one thing I didn't share with either of my best friends or anyone in my family, though they did all humor my mad scientist pretensions, my family going as far as letting me set up a tiny lab of sorts in my bedroom. There were a couple things I didn't keep at home that I'd need, things that were just too dangerous to have in a room that was never proof against little sisters that occasionally attempted to take over the world/metamorphose into spawns of chaos/gain superpowers, but it'd be safe enough to have on hand for just one night. First, I had to get it though. Luckily, I had an ace in this particular hole.

"Why, if it isn't my favorite student!" exclaimed Anita, the T.A. from my senior lab and the main lab's on-duty Cerberus. She was a Black, bouncy, curvy girl in her mid-twenties, and one of the few exceptions to the rule "Thy Teaching Assistants shall not be good-looking." Not really my type, but the accident rate through carelessness in her labs was noticeably higher.

"Hey Anita. How's life?"

"Rough around the edges, as always. Missed you at commencement. I had a banner ready and everything."

"Aw, that's sweet. Yeah, I didn't go. Sister number 2 graduated high school the same day, so the family went down to see her walk."

Anita's eyes narrowed, as if this was not good enough reason to have stood her sign up. "Hmm," was all she said. "Well, anyways, what's up?"

"Oh, just a last minute project I wanted to do, sort of a going away present to myself." I rattled off a short list to her, with enough interesting items on it to cause an eyebrow raise out of her.

"Interesting project this must be. It's not for a class, you say?"

"Nope. Just something on the side for my own amusement."

Anita looked even more skeptical. "If it was anyone but you, I'd know you were lying, but you do find this stuff fun." Her eyes then widened. "Oh, did you change your mind, maybe, about doing grad work here, and needed something to show up with? If so, say the word. It's too late for the fall for most people, but everyone knows you. Everyone that counts anyways, and we'd all like you around some more."

I laughed it off. "That's not going to be for a while, 'Nita. Money was tight enough with two of us in college. No way can my parents spring for grad school, with my sister starting up this year. Nah, I'd have to figure out how to pay for it myself, and that just doesn't look like it's happening right now."

"And as I told you before, there's ways, even now. Professor Marsh would kill to have someone like you as a lab assistant, I saw you mentoring the freshmen through their lab work. I think you'd actually like a teaching position, lord help us all." I smiled, and shook my head. Anita sighed, rolling her eyes in resignation. "Well, you can't say I didn't try."

"I can't say that." We smiled at each other, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Get back here, and help me get what you need. You've got the steadier hands." she told me. I was happy to agree.

I love my sisters. I remind myself of this every day, lest I sell them to wandering gypsies or offer them up as the stake in a poker game. The temptation grows with every fresh violation of my property. "Dios mio! ¿Tienes loca?”

"Hola Cy," she said, coughing and waving at me from behind a blue colored smoke. "¿Ayudes?" My room's ventilation, though better than anywhere else in the house, is not all that a fully equipped lab would have. I covered my nose and mouth with my shirt as I turned on the third fan and opened my window all the way.

Once the danger was past, I turned my best evil eye on sister number 3. "I ask again, are you crazy? What are you even doing?" I asked her in Spanish, as we spoke at home.

"Studying," she answered, before switching to English. "Summer school assignment with Blake here. Mom said you wouldn't mind."

"Hello Mr. Torres," the young man I hadn't fully been aware of until that moment said. "Your mom really did say it'd be okay."

"It's Cy." I said, automatically, "My dad is--." I hesitated. "Actually, not even my dad is Mr. Torres. But anyways, I'm Cy. And you are still messing with my lab."

"I don't know what went wrong. When the teacher showed us in class today, nothing like that happened." He looked totally bewildered for a moment, eyes downcast at the ruins of the A he'd probably been expecting.

It was probably a good thing he was looking down, because damn if I wasn't staring. The boy was totally adorable, especially looking so lost in a world gone mad. "Shibby," I whispered.

"Que?"

"Nada," I told my sister, whose eyes had suddenly narrowed. I shook my head clear, trying to get a grip on my reaction. "No one can use this set but me. I had to switch all the labels after the 'truth serum bubblegum' incident last month. I'm surprised Tere didn't warn you off, actually."

"It was her idea," sister 3 said, her expression darkening further. Which was good, as she'd be distracted plotting revenge, and not paying attention to my second ever attraction to a male. Mercifully, Blake didn't know me well enough to recognize the signs, and that gave me just enough time to regain control of my breath, voice, and composure. All three of which went straight to hell again the second he turned his doleful topaz eyes to me again.

"I guess we won't get that extra credit after all," he said. Even knowing that the tears that glittered in the corners of his eyes were the product of the fumes, I was only a man. A weak, terrible man.

"You can if I help you through it. I know what's really in what, after all." I put down my little packet from school, and stepped up to the table. "So, what are you trying to do?"

We got through it. Blake and I did, anyway. I banished my sister from the room, since she could not be allowed to learn my code, lest all of humanity suffer. She didn't seem to mind, as her name would be on the assignment and I'd be sure to get it perfect. Blake insisted on staying and learning, just in case questions were asked. It wouldn't do if they were quizzed on their technique and the only thing they had to offer was blue smoke. We chatted as we worked, and I learned a bit more about him. Sixteen-years-old, I found out, and completely cut-off from almost all social contact because of his poor grades this last year. Since his was a naturally happy, ever laughing and joking personality, the isolation was getting to him. Studying, like this, was the only exception, and the only thing keeping him sane, he confessed to me.

"Mom's a professor. She's a big believer in discussion groups." I nodded, and kept trying to look at things other than his eyes and lips, and especially tried not to notice the tongue piercing with a gemstone the exact color of his eyes. I was actually kind of surprised at how strongly I was reacting to this kid a full six years younger than me, and was thankful for once for the crush I'd nursed for years over Gio. At least I didn't have to have a sexuality crisis on top of everything else. And it gave me practice working despite my feelings, since the last thing I needed now was to accidentally splash acid because I was too distracted wondering what he'd look like with a tattoo, and in fact what kind would look best on him. He needed something colorful, I decided. Small, on the arm maybe, but distinctive. A bag of skittles, maybe? Too soon, I was cleaning up and offering advice on their lab write up, which he'd started typing up on my computer.

"Thanks for all the help, Cy," he said with a wide, easy grin. "I don't know where we'd be without you."

"The ER," I stated without thinking. Luckily, he laughed. I liked the sound of his laughter.

"Are you two done in here then?" my sister said, peeking around the door jamb.

"Just about," Blake said. "Your brother is good at this stuff."

"He's the best. I told you that," she said walking in.

"Indeed, he is," came another voice from behind her, one that would cause greater mortals than I to stand straight and quake in terror that they'd be called on to answer her questions. Entering right behind her were my mother and the one woman I feared almost as much as her, Professor Melanie Marsh. "I've told Mr. Torres this several times myself. He is always too modest to agree."

"Well, I'm glad you told me today. I had no idea he had that kind of aptitude," my mother said. "Cy, how come you never said they tried to get you a funded graduate position?"

"Partially funded," I corrected. "And I didn't say, because it didn't matter."

"Loco! My poor boy," she said, hands enveloping my face. "You need to think of yourself a little more sometimes. I know you're used to the idea, but education cannot be handed down, mijo. We'd have tried to find a way."

"As I told you, Mrs. Torres, it isn't entirely too late. We're all still hoping he'll change his mind, if not for fall, perhaps for spring? Well," she said, dismissing the thought with a wave. "I'm sure you two can talk about it yourselves, I've intruded enough into your lives. Blake, are you ready to go?"

I whirled on my afternoon guest. "She's your mom?"

"So she tells me. When she doesn't say she found me growing in a Petri dish. And no mom, I still gotta finish up the lab report."

"We can do that on my computer, Blake," my sister said. 'It doesn't smell funny in my room."

"And whose fault is that?" I asked.

"*I* didn't switch the labels. Save it and let's go. I'll tell you what we can do to Teri while we finish." My sister had him dragged out within a minute, suggestions for vengeance trailing behind them. My mother shook her head, and followed.

"A moment more of your time, Mr. Torres?" Professor Marsh asked, closing the door before I had a chance to reply. "I confess, picking up my son and taking the chance to bend your mother's ear were not the only reasons I was here today. I received a phone call earlier from Anita. You were mentioned. As," she reached out, and plucked the brown bag I'd gotten this afternoon and forgotten about from its spot on the shelf, "was this, I believe. Would you care to explain yourself?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wasn't terribly good at lying, you may be surprised to know. Evading the truth and misdirection, sure, but a direct question like that, in that "do not try to bullshit me, I'm an academic and you are out of your league" tone only tenured professors can do, threw me. "I, I don't know what to say."

"That's enough, I'm afraid," she said.

I really didn't know what to say. The one thing I'd been counting on was everything looking like an accident, as even the best have from time to time. Sure, Anita might have felt guilty later, and there was the chance one of my sisters would discover me too soon, before it became safe again to breathe, but I never claimed my plan was perfect. But Professor Marsh, it seems, knew it would have been no accident, and I didn’t know where that left me. Except stuck.

"There was a time, after my husband died, when I also considered this. Considered exactly this, which is why your little list alarmed me a great deal more than it did Anita. So perhaps I should start with what I'm about to tell with, I understand. I've been there, almost went through with it in fact.

"And I've have been wrong to leave Blake behind like that, no matter how good my reasons. Next to that, none of that crap mattered. And so it is with you."

Our eyes snapped together at those words. "It doesn't. Matter, that is. You cannot just leave your family like that. They love you. This isn’t the first time I've met your sister, and she thinks the world of you. After a few minutes of talking with your mother, I know she's the same. I can't imagine they are alone in that opinion, or that even it's limited to your family." I shook my head, and she smiled. "Still too modest."

"But what else can I do, Professor? Everything I ever dared to hope for is gone. Gio, school, my music. It's gone. But I'm still here."

"I'm afraid there's no easy answer to that. It's the hardest one in the world. You just go on. There's no trick to it, no way to make it all easier. You just go on."

"I see." I looked down at the floor, unsure of myself, and was shocked that the stern, domineering professor that held every undergraduate Chem. major in terror suddenly enveloped me in a hug. It was over almost before I could react, and she stepped back, readjusting her glasses as if trying to regain herself.

"And, anyways, school is not out of reach. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"There's just no way. My parents are barely getting by with us all, I can't add to that. Not for just myself."

"There's ways. For instance, what would you say to private lessons with my son, once a week this summer? I cannot believe the boy had the gall to flunk science when I," she cut her words off with a wave. "He seemed to like you." I couldn't help it; a blush that wasn't hidden nearly well enough by the darkness of my skin erupted. "Huh. Well, besides the fringe benefits, I'd be able to pay for your tutelage. And I'm sure there are others that could use your help. And if you cram knowledge into enough professors’ brats, I'm sure they'll support any funding in an effort to keep you around."

"I'm so confused."

"Then just, for now, say you want it. And say you'll help my son this summer and my lab in the fall."

"I do," I admitted. "I will."

"Then we'll all, your parents, you, and me, figure out the rest. For now, I'll just leave you here to think it over." She pushed me down into my own desk chair, and took the brown bag with her other hand. "And I'll just be keeping this little temptation out of your reach, okay? Splendid," she said with a nod "You know Mr. Torres, you may as well get used to my getting my way, if you're going to be my lab assistant for the next few years. I am going to work you like the slave economics forces you to become."

She left, at that. And I got used to the idea of staying.

© 2010 B1ue

Inspired by Boy Meets Boy by K. Sandra Fuhr.

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