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Still Time - Fall Anthology 2023 - Leap of Faith Due 10/1 ×
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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. 

Breaking Quincy - 11. Chapter 11 - Relocating

Hello all! This is my newest additon, written Nov 28th 2010. I am always looking for input and welcome any comments, questons, concerns, etc. Email me at phanpy.road@yahoo.com. I try to respond to each email!

Breaking Quincy - Relocating


Of course people stared. I expected nothing less as Asher and I walked into the locker room, hands grasped tight, fingers interlocked. I looked over at my tall, muscular blond boyfriend. This must be so hard for him, being so public with out relationship. I wasn't sure if he was ready for this step yet, but I was sure of one thing: He loved me and was willing to do anything to keep me.


In the past week, Asher's really stepped up to the plate of "boyfriend." No more afternoon snuggle sessions in his car with pretty girls, no more shoving me, no more nothing. He'd brought me flowers on Wednesday and kissed be before my class on Thursday, right there in the middle of the Quad. I was staying at his house, now that I wasn't allowed in mine. I was shocked, really, at how much he'd manned up. I chuckled at the thought: being a good gay boyfriend meant manning up.


Oh, our generation.


"Asher?" Philip tilted his head, intrigued at the sight of us holding hands. Phillip was on JV with Asher, your average 16 year old boy. He was nothing special to look at, really. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't toned like me or muscular like Asher. His nose was a bit pig-like, but then again, I could be quite judgmental at times. I guess I was spoiled, hanging out with gods like Asher and Parker. Philip and Asher had become friends this year, since they both swam backstroke.


"Yeah?" Asher said nonchalantly. I blushed hard, looking down. God, he was so sexy when he was confident and suave. How lucky was I? Philip shrugged, apparently accepting the fact that we were together with ease. He turned back to his locker, looking for his goggles. Asher seemed a bit surprised- was he expecting to have to defend our relationship? He seemed to often be on edge and defensive, so it must've been a shock when Philip so easily moved on.


"Study session after swim?" I asked Asher, reaching for my bookbag. Varsity had practice in the morning, so I already swam. Asher nodded and, with only slight hesitation, leaned in to kiss my goodbye. We got a few sidewise glances, but no one seemed appalled or outraged. I guess us dating wasn't a huge shock to anyone. We had been best friend, inseparable for years. Now, I wonder what people would say if I walked in holding hands with Parker. I think I'd get a bit more drama from that!


With one last look at my boyfriend as he, in his little orange speedo, left with the team to go swim, I headed out of the locker room. The sun was shining bright, clean white cloud dotting the light blue sky. It hadn't been warm in weeks! I couldn't help but smile- my life was going so well. I had a perfect, stunning boyfriend. I was on Varsity swim team. Sure, there was the issue of my father....


"Quincy." I startled, hearing his voice. My heart skipped a beat when I looked up, seeing our family's silver minivan parked in the lot in front of me. My father was at the wheel, staring at me. I panicked. I hadn't seen or spoken with him since I was kicked out! I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't very well ignore him. Perhaps he came to apologize, to take me home. I mean, the nights with Asher had been fun and all, but I missed my mother and my room.


"H..Hey Dad. What's u-"


"Get in." He cut me off, and I heard the click of the doors unlocking. He was big and oozed power. He had played football in high school and still had those big shoulders and thick neck, that bully gaze. He had never wronged me or done anything to harm me physically or emotionally, but I had always been intimidated by his presence. How he was married to the gentle flower that was my mother, I'm still not sure. I nodded at his request, opening the passenger door. As I slide into the car and closed the door behind me, I had one very clear thought:


He was not here to take me home.




Like usual, Ky burst through the door and pressed my back against the nearby wall. His almond eyes were mocha dark, his tanned hands starting to work at my belt.


Imagine his shocked when I gently grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand off.


"Not today," I muttered, heading into the living room.


"Then why the fuck invite me over?" Ky was at my heels, walking quickly after me. I gave him a shrug, flopping down on my couch. Ky stood in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, a pissed expression on his face. I wasn't afraid; I knew he could be a violent prick in bed, but he'd never rape me. He waited, looking at me for some sort of explanation. As I reached for the remote and turned on the TV, Ky let out an exasperated sigh. "You're fucking annoying, Park. I'm gonna go." He fished in his pocket, looking for his keys, walking back towards the door.


"Because I miss you." Now, that seemed to get his attention.


"What do you mean? I just fucked you on Tues-"


"No, not like that." I sighed then, sitting up on the couch. I played with the dark green tassels on the pillows, scowling. It bothered me when he said things like that. I mean, I know he just "just fucked me", but did he have to put it so bluntly? I didn't look up when I felt the couch depress next to me, the shaved boy sitting next to me. I looked over, sneaking a quick glace before focusing back on the tassels.


There was silence for a moment and I became uncomfortable. We hadn't really talked in months. Maybe over year. I cleared my throat, sitting up some. Ky had made it clear that I was to talk first. I squirmed, trying to get the knot out of my throat. Ky leaned back, chuckling. Fucker always got off on me being uncomfortable. I looked away from him and out the window. He, of course, grabbed my chin and tugged me so I was looking back in his eyes. I was lost for a moment in his dark eyes, trembling like a freaking moron. Ky would never let me off the hook. I always had to be so damn present.


"I miss my best friend..." I muttered, eyes falling to the side. "Remember on the island? I miss your laughter, the one you had when you'd go down the big slide at the playground. I miss your tears, like at our bon fires at the beach, and you'd always burn your marshmallows and whine and cry until I made you a perfect one. I miss your smile, like when you used to play the ukulele with your father..."


I regretted it the moment I said it.


There was a quick punch, and I went sprawling out onto the floor. "My FATHER?" Ky was enraged, and I curled up defensively. "In case you forgot, faggot, my father was fucking murdered on the island. So I'm sorry if I don't laugh or cry or smile like before. Your best fucking friend Ky died when Dad did! I have a shell of a mother to take care of and a sister to raise, so for-fucking-give me if I don't have time for... for marshmallows!"


I peeked through the crack in my arms, looking up at Ky. I looked at him closely, my eyes scanning his face. For the first time, I saw the toll these past 7 years had taken on my once companion. He had deep lines by his eyes from frowning. He shaved his head the day after his father was buried, and he's kept it that way ever since. I watched as he shoulders relaxed, eyebrows sulking to the side, the rare look of... sadness on his face. And, for a moment there, I saw a passing glimpse of the ten year old, looking at his burning marshmallow covered in sand, the light of the bonfire dancing off his tan skin.


"Ky," I whispered, sitting up and reaching out, my hand resting on his. He gave it a squeeze. One simple, soft squeeze to show his tenderness, his true emotions. I smile softly, giving him my most charming look.


Something snapped and an evil, familiar smile danced across Ky's face, and in a flash, he was on me, and the world went black.






A frail looking woman opened the door. I never remembered her as being frail before, but tonight, that's the only adjective I could use to describe her. She looked nervous as she peered her head around the door, big eyes staring up at me with the same blue eyes as my Quincy. "Ye...Yes, Asher?" Quincy's mother asked.


"Is Quincy here?" I asked, trying to look behind her through the sliver of the open door. "He was supposed to come over and study, but didn't show up. Is he here?" There was a look of fear in her eye that made me instantly nervous, and I folded my big arms over my chest. "Where is Quincy, Mrs. Kat?" I asked again, this time a bit harsher, my voice full of venom.


"You have to understand, Asher. Mr. Kat comes from a different time... " The poor woman was shaking, her thin hands grasping the door. I took a step closer, chest out. I didn't like to make a habit of intimidating middle-age women, but I figured I could make an exception. My brown eyes narrowed, pecs flexed. I cracked my knuckles, taking another step closer. Of course, I'd never hit her, but she didn't need to know that.


"Where is he?"


The mother broken down then, crumpling to the floor, tears flowing down her wrinkled cheeks, bringing down black mascara with it. "I begged him not to!" She was gasping for air, clutching her chest. I winced- she was just as hurt as I was. "The- The Joseph House for Confused Teens...Staying at the Lake Road Inn tonight... Oh god, I'm so sorry... I'm sorry... Asher..."


Call me a selfish ass hole or blame it on love, but I gave Mrs. Kat a soft "Thank you," before giving her one last look of pity before jumping into my car.






My head throbbed as I sat up, blinking my eyes, well, eye open. The other eye was swollen shut. I looked down, blood on my plaid shirt. I wondered if that added to my sexy rough look. I was sure the girls would swoon when I told them I was jumped.


I looked around, gathering where I was. I was on my couch, Ky sitting next to me, icing his red ripped knuckles. "Mornin' princess." He said calmly as ever, examining the bruising on his fingers.


I reached out, snatching the ice pack out of his hand and pressing it to my eye. "Asshole," I muttered, wincing as I pressed the ice to my forehead. Ky leaned back against the couch, smirking. He nonchalantly tossed his arm around my shoulder, tugging me close to his side. Ky ruffled my hair, chuckling still. Begrudgingly, I relaxed against his chest, wiping some blood off my cut lip. The tan boy ran his fingers over my stubble, tipping my chin up to look the damage he caused me.


"Bruising just like a banana." His voice was rough like sandpaper, and it shook me to my core. How could he be like this? Beat me to a pulp then hold me close? And people at school thought I was the jerk. I tugged my head away from his prying eyes, feeling embarrassed. I could never keep my cool in front of Ky. To anyone else, I was the sexy, rugged man with bright eyes, stubble, plaid shirt and black earrings. When I was with Ky, however, I was this blushing punching bag.


"Asshole," I repeated, growling as I curled up against his side, my swollen eye throbbing. Ky's hand rested on my shoulder, giving it a playfully squeeze. I knew he would never apologize. The last time he said sorry was when he was 12, and that was only when he broken the pencil I lent him.


"I'm not saying sorry." Ah, leave it Ky to read my mind. It was dangerous, having such a dark person know me more than anyone. "Besides, it was your fault, bringing up Dad like that." I kept quiet, pressing myself close, hiding in his shoulder. He smelled like musk. All natural manly rage. I rested my hand on his stomach, stroking his abs. I was so angry with him! My eye was bruised and puffy, my lip red and cut. I had only tried to reach out to my friend, and I get the shit kicked out of me. I was so angry... But why couldn't I keep my hands off of him?


"Ah, my Parker, my little exit whore," Ky muttered, leaning back on the couch further, offering me more of his chest. "I knew knocking you out would give you some fucked up satisfaction. You never liked being aware." I withdrew my hand and scrambled to my feet, glaring.


"Fuck you, Ky!" I hissed, hands balled into fists. I was pissed because he was right. Being unconscious had always been pleasant to me. I don't know, I can't explain it. Like the white out from sex. Black outs were comparable.


"Gladly." Ky stood up, gripped me by the collar of my shirt, and dragged me upstairs.






The night was bitter and dark. Even the stars had gone into hiding, leaving a blackish blue blanket to consume the sky. The light around me fluttered as the old sign that read "Lake Road Inn!" flickered on and off in an eerie fashion, the wind whistling through the elm trees only adding to the ominous atmosphere. I stood there in my XXL Spartan's tee shirt and my slippers. I didn't want to waste time dressing properly. Besides, the zipper probably would've woken up Dad. What then?


I knew I had to leave once I saw the pamphlet on the nightstand. The Joseph House for Confused Teens! It boasted. Being gay isn't a choice, but the lifestyle is. What, my father thought he could send me here and have me return a vagina humping all American? I was offended and disgusted. How could he think I would possibly agree to that? I knew I had to go.


Though, I wish I planned ahead.


I could feel the rocks jab the bottom of my foot through the flimsy soles of the slippers, not built for outdoor use. I might as well not have been wearing a shirt, the way the wind ripped through it. We were on a main road, and I figured my best beat was just to walk down it. Dad had taken my phone. Had Asher called? I tried not to think about it. I hated worrying that gorgeous blond, but that's all I ever did anymore.


I shuffled down the street slowly, my thin legs trembling in the freezing cold. Good! I thought bitterly. I'd rather die of hypothermia than go to that stupid House! It seemed I'd get my wish as the wind picked up. My teeth chattered together, and each step felt like it took ten times the energy it was worth. The street was, for the most part empty, with the occasional car whipping past.


I had no idea how far or long I walked. It felt like miles, but in all honesty, it was probably blocks. I dropped to my knees, my body giving up. I leaned against a light post, my arms and legs numb. I was too cold to cry.


Out of no where it seemed, a car pulled up next to me. My heart rate immediately picked up. I couldn't defend myself, I was too numb.


"Need a ride, little boy?" Said a soft voice. A bright smile danced across my frozen face. Asher! I used my last bit of energy to struggle to my feet, pull open the passenger door, and collapse on the seat. In a flash, I was wrapped up in those thick arms, my little body pressed to a muscular warm one. I tried to grip Asher's shirt, but my fingers wouldn't move. Asher didn't seem to notice- he just held me fast and tight, kissing the top of my head.


After a moment, Asher pulled back, smiling softly at me. "Trying to kill yourself?" He asked tenderly, reaching into the backseat. He tossed me his fleece jacket which was two sizes to big. I greedily put it on, embracing the warmth and comfort it gave me. "First degree frost bite." Asher muttered, looking at my white fingers. He sighed, turning on the heat in the car. "Get ready, kid. This is gonna hurt like hell."


I wasn't sure what he meant, but after a few minutes, I needed no further explanation. My fingers were on fire, and I bit my lip to stifle a scream. Tears rolled down my cheeks as the fingers began to thaw and rewarm. I thrashed wildly. What was this pain?! I let out a suffering hiss, shaking violently in my seat. I begged Asher to let me go outside, to numb my hands again. This pain was blinding, and I began gasping for air.


I was suddenly aware of being yanked into Asher's lap. He had pulled over to the side of the road, arms around me tightly, holding to fast to his chest. I sobbed into him, begging softly. "It'll be over soon... The pain is good... It means there is no tissue dama-"


"I don't care what it means!" I screamed against his chest, my throat feeling like it was about to close.


"Stay with me, Quince..." Asher coo'd softly, rocking me in his arms. "You have to breathe..." He pressed two pills into my mouth, and I swallowed them greedily. I quieted then, resting against my boyfriend's chest, snuggled up in his big sweatshirt.


The pain died down to a dull burn after fifteen minutes. After stealing a quick kiss from Asher, I crawled into the passenger seat again. "Take me home, Asher," I muttered, curling up on the seat like a dog. Asher nodded, leaning over the dashboard to push some strands of brown hair from my face. I felt his lips land on my burning red cheeks, and I squeaked softly, blushing harder.


He chuckled and shook his head, sighing as he started the car back up. "It's a crime, you being so adorable. Makes it very hard to focus on the road."


"I've just recovered from frostbite!" I whined up at him, pouting, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to curl around my lips.


"Yes, superficial frostbite. And now you're fine. And adorable. So either go to sleep or give me road head." I hide my face, not wanting him to see the stupid schoolgirl expression on my face. He chuckled anyways, obviously knowing what hid beneath my hands.


I yawned, far too sleepy to have a dick in my mouth. I didn't want to risk that chocking hazard. I reached out, grabbing for one of Asher's hands. He held mine tightly, my redish little fingers interlocked with his manly ones. With a soft smile at my knight, I fell into a deep sleep, knowing I was safe at his side.

Copyright © 2011 ChaseRose; All Rights Reserved.
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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