Awakening - 1. Awakening

The world outside the long passenger car window was dark and unwelcoming to Beckett, who sat sullenly on the train gliding smoothly east, carrying him to his new life. The idea that everything he owned in this world was stored in a few rolling suitcases somewhere below him or in the backpack at his feet caused a small knot of nervous nausea just below his navel. It wasn't that his old apartment or his computers or his CD collection gave him some great comfort in any material sense, but together they represented status quo, a steady state that in his mind even if things were a world away from where he wanted them to be, he knew what to expect from the familiar mediocrity of his situation. Now all of that was gone - his room, his CDs, his books, even his truck. He had his laptop, his iPod, some clothes, a few pictures in an album, and that was all. It would have to be enough.

Some of his discomfort came from anticipation as well, though he didn't know if it was an optimistic excitement about meeting up with Shawn in Connecticut, or fear. Running across the country to be with a man he knew as well as any lover but had only met twice felt a lot like jumping feet-first into icewater and impulse was not something he gave into often.

Beckett leaned sideways until his shoulder rested against the bottom edge of the window and the side of his forehead pressed against the cool glass. He exhaled and tried to relax, seeking sleep to speed along his journey, for good or ill.

-----------------------------
Beckett woke gently into an exquisite warmth, cradled from below by a deep, soft down featherbed and snuggled back into Drew's strong arms, chest, and legs. He inhaled deeply but slowly so he wouldn't wake his lightly sleeping lover behind him, and savored the sweet and spicy musk scent left by their cologne, their sweat, and their lovemaking. Plenty of eyes followed them around the club last night leaving no doubt that they looked damn hot together but Jesus, they even smelled good together.

A few moments later, Drew stirred, and they rose together and shared a quick peck on the lips before Drew headed to the bathroom and Beckett wandered to the kitchen to start up some eggs. Over the sizzling, he remembered seeing Drew at the bar from across the room as easily as if a spotlight shone down from the rafters. Drew was radiantly hot, and had the warmest smile he had ever seen. They danced, they talked, they broke a lot of hearts and sparked a lot of jealous stares, and at the end of the night, Beck brought him home. Drew really seemed like the real deal; he listened when Beck talked, he liked poetry, he said he really wanted to do something after college that had to do with conservation or saving animals or something. He might have missed some of the details, but that was about the time in the conversation that Drew had started holding his hand and staring into his eyes, which was incredibly distracting.

Beck, like most nineteen-year-old men, liked having sex, but he tried not to drop his pants for every cute guy that came along. He wanted a real connection with a guy, because that made the feelings so much more intense. Beck felt no reservations about leading him back to his place and within a few minutes, Drew was pushing him to a place of toe-curling pleasure as he slowly slid deep inside. They moved together, bodies sweating tears of joy and thighs groaning from clenching and thrusting for what seemed like ages, yet not nearly long enough. When they had both tired each other out and cleaned up, they snuggled up and passed out.

A greasy pop in the frying pan brought Beckett back, his memory fading for the moment and leaving him only with a half-erection and a small spot of drool on his lower lip. He sighed contentedly, flipped the eggs, and laughed at himself just a little.

Drew joined him in the kitchen a few moments later, fully dressed to Beck's disappointment, but with his longish straight hair still tantalizingly damp from the shower. They sat together at the counter and ate, while Beck threw out some ideas of what they could do with the rest of the day.

"Actually, I have to work in a little while," said Drew.

"Oh. Yeah. Well I guess we didn't really talk about it before now," he offered with a weak smile, hoping to hide some of his disappointment.

They finished eating, mostly in silence, and when Drew gathered up his belongings to leave, all Beck could manage was a pathetic-sounding "Call me soon..."

And then, he was gone. All that lingered were some crumbs on a breakfast plate and a scent on the bedding.

-----------------------------
The ruckus of another passenger losing a fight with an overhead luggage rack brought Beck back to consciousness and to the present. The dream lingered in his mind like a sour flavor, however, tauntingly reminding him how much he resented being deserted so quickly that he could still taste his lover on the back of his teeth. He clenched his jaw in bitterness.

It took a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. Beck didn't know what time it was and didn't care enough to bother looking; this trip would be measured in days but age him a year. The meager light that allowed him to make out basic shapes like trees or an occasional farmhouse shone down from the moon sliver high above. The landscape's high spots, reaching for a touch of light, glowed a dull blue; lower places only black. Blue and black, like bruises and moods.

Waking further from his nap, he guessed the time to be late, very late, perhaps three a.m. or so. Night was a time of loneliness, weariness, sadness, and fear but with uncharacteristic insight, it occurred to him that where he was headed, where Shawn hopefully waited, or waited hopefully, dawn was easing over the eastern horizon. Where he was headed, a new day was starting, and though Beck had suffered through thousands of new days, each one had its own small implicit promise of being just a little different, if not better, than the ones that came before.

Today, I am alone in all the ways that I wish I wasn't, he thought to himself, and tomorrow maybe I'll have someone real touching me for once.

He rummaged in his bag for his iPod, and fired up something mellow, an emo-rock tune that matched his depressed, futile, not-quite-self-damaging mood, which lasted forty-three seconds until the song's first chorus started, and the battery abruptly died. Musing to himself about how he couldn't even predict or depend on emotionless technology for comfort, he began counting the indentations in the textured cabin ceiling, and reached somewhere in the area of thirteen hundred before drifting to sleep once again.

-----------------------------
Beck was avoiding Shawn's eyes while trying not to look like he was avoiding them. He met Shawn's eyes squarely, politely, when spoken to and replying but then he went right back to examining his flatware, or the dog walking its owner outside the window next to them.

"Are you having a good time?" Shawn asked with a small smile, though his tone said plainly that he knew something was amiss.

Inwardly, Beck cringed but forced himself to keep a steady expression. He didn't want to lie, or to lie any more than he already had to this man who meant much more to him than some boy he'd met in a club. They had been talking for over two years now, since before Beck was open about his sexuality, before he'd moved off to college, before his first relationship. For months-long spans of time, they would talk every day, about anything that worried or bothered or delighted Beck. Once in a while, they might talk about something that worried Shawn, too.

Shawn was a great guy; the "right" guy in many ways. He was handsome, for an older guy anyway, he was affectionate but not smothering, and he would always listen to what Beck had to say - without judgement. He knew how to be sweet, but he also knew when to back off a little. Mostly, though, he was calm and laid-back and never all wound up about... well, anything really.

Except recently, he was wound up about Beckett, enough for Shawn to muster the courage to ask him on a date while he was traveling through Beck's side of the country.

"Something's bothering you, man. Just tell me what it is, it's cool."

Shit, Beck swore inwardly, this is really going to suck.

He was going to have to tell the truth now; the truth that he had thought this date, this "relationship-to-be" if there was such a thing, was done before it had started. At first, he simply didn't say anything because he figured he could give it a shot but as time went on, and as Shawn's business trip that took him all the way across the country to Beck's doorstep drew closer, Beck's doubts grew. With each phone call, Shawn seemed more excited, which made it more and more difficult for him to simply open up and say what he felt. He was lying a little bit, but he just couldn't bring himself to hurt Shawn so he put it off, again and again. But now, he couldn't put it off any longer.

"Shawn, I don't think this can go anywhere. You're a great friend and I'm glad we did this, but I really don't think we can be anything more than that." Beck stopped, took a breath, and looked up at Shawn for a sign of his reaction. Shawn's face was maddeningly unreadable.

"There are so many possibilities with you," Beck continued, "but at the end of the day, when I'm tired or stressed or upset or happy...who am I going to share that with when you're two thousand miles away?"

Shawn sighed and for a moment, his facade cracked just a little and Beck saw a momentary glimpse of the pain underneath. Quickly and smoothly, he tucked it back under and gave a gentle smile.

"Okay, that's fair. Maybe you're not used to thinking like this, so I should point out that I'm not a poor college student. I have a job, I have vacation time, I have means of making things happen. I know distance is a concern, but it shouldn't be a dealbreaker. I think we both know that if we really like each other, we would be looking for a plan to be together before long but I suppose that only matters if you have feelings in the first place that you think are worth pursuing, right?"

Beck nodded.

"You really should have told me before now, you know. I'm not made of glass, and you don't have to worry about breaking me. At the same time, keeping the truth from someone to spare their feelings doesn't work. In the end, you'll have to tell the truth, and by then it will hurt much worse than the simple truth would have in the first place."

Another nod.

"Okay. Let's get out of here," Shawn suggested.

-----------------------------
Waking from his dreams, he began to lock away his regretful memories once more, but he paused. Why would he do that and what good would it do? When he was shuffling through each day at a job that slowly killed him to earn enough money to go out each night, hoping to spot the barest twinkle of an individual in the chaff of humanity, one that he could bring home, that was when he needed to stow these reminders of his missteps.

But everything was altered now, since he had awoken. Not from sleep, but to a greater awareness of his situation. He couldn't say what caused it, but he did recall suddenly being cognizant that his situations were solely a result of his own actions, and that habitual adherence to convention was not the only choice. He realized that doing things in the same manner as everyone else was not mandated, and the assumption that his choices to follow the flow would get him where he needed to go was an assumption that he needed to question.

He had said as much to Sarah, his closest and perhaps only friend in the meaningful sense. She stared at him for several moments before asking if he had been taking drugs again.

But after a lengthy explanation and many, many questions, she looked at him appraisingly before asking simply, "So you're saying that from now on, you're going to make decisions about where you want your life to go?"

He had now chosen a path that he forsook before setting a foot on it. He knew the only person forcing him to stay here, in this city where he had attended the school his parents wanted, in unfulfilling relationships and bleak workplaces, was his own scared self. What did he really have to fear? If he went to the other side of the country, chased love, and failed, what had he lost? He really didn't have any money to begin with; school could wait a year; he could get a menial job anywhere. And if everything truly failed, though it would humiliate him, he could always slink home to his family and give a humbled knock on the door that he knew would never be completely shut to him. To the question of what he had to fear, in the end, the only answer he could find was 'nothing'.

Never much for clutter, Beck had only a few possessions to deal with. He gathered everything he knew he'd want to take with him in a small pile, and stacked up his favorite clothes alongside. He painstakingly listed everything else item by item on Craigslist, including his beloved truck, and pulled together enough money to settle up his bills and bank a small bit for traveling.

Finally, he called Shawn.

Beckett rode now on a fast-moving train that had passed through the tunnel of his youth's apathy, emerging into twilight of serene decisiveness. He hoped for something true in the arms of a man he knew he could love, and both complement and be complemented by. He knew that all of the forces that kept him rooted and circling this long would challenge him - expectations, family, convention, and doubt - but that his direction was of his own choosing. Beckett knew that his place in the world was not due to chance or fate, but action from his own hand and that empowered him to make the next choice.

And the next.

Discuss This Story