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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. 

In the Fishbowl - 9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks to Jim for editing!

The first thing Dennis heard Mrs. Chesely say on Saturday morning was that it was going to be a beautiful day, and she’d been right. Outside, the sun was burning off several of the drifts around the house, and it was warm enough to go without a jacket.

Dennis had taken advantage of the more comfortable temperatures to sit out on the back porch and brush some of the winter coat off Valentine, where nearby Mr. Chesley taught Reilly how to take apart an old barbeque grill for cleaning. Dennis watched them as he often did, and like always, he couldn’t help feeling a little baffled by their father-son relationship, which had always proven such a contrast to the one that he’d had with his own father. He’d always felt that he should be insanely jealous of Reilly Chesley, but then, it wasn’t really jealousy that Dennis felt. It was more that he found it incredible, unbelievable even, that a father and a son could have a relationship like theirs.

Dennis imagined that Reilly Chesely wouldn’t mind growing up to be just like his father. Not like Dennis, who felt desperate to avoid growing up to be his own old man. But sometimes he feared that he wasn’t succeeding in the way that he meant to. Dennis supposed that he was... hindered, when it came to certain things. If his father had done it, then it wasn’t for him. But lately, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe avoiding everything that his father had done or accomplished wasn’t the smartest way to go about things. Maybe Dennis could just do those things differently. Because whether Dennis liked it or not, his father had been asomebody. Circumstances may have changed, but Dennis still wanted to be better than John Gordon. Delivering pizzas and newspapers, becoming a recluse in someone’s basement... it wasn’t cutting it.

Dennis could fault Travis Beltnick for this line of thinking. Travis, who hadn’t called like he said he would. Dennis had always been a firm believer that it was a bad idea to get involved in the business of others. But Travis seemed so obviously self-destructive that it was impossible to spend any amount of time with him without noticing. Dennis had noticed, and he’d started to wonder if he himself was as lost as Travis Beltnick seemed to be when it came to his way of life, because while Travis’s life didn’t seem like any kind of life by normal standards, Dennis didn’t feel any better off since he had no life.

He finished combing Valentine and set her free, only to watch her watch him as he plucked her hair from the comb and placed it in the plastic bag he’d brought with him. “Sit,” he said firmly, and then sighed and rubbed her head when she did nothing more than cock it at him. “Traitor,” he murmured, and then looked up when Reilly passed by him.

“We’re making turkey legs for lunch; want one, Dennis?” he asked.

Dennis shrugged. “Sure. Thanks, Reilly.”

Reilly rushed into the house, and for a moment Dennis watched Paul Chesley light the grill before the older man looked over his shoulder to smile when he noticed the gaze in his direction. “I hope you don’t have to go in to work today, Dennis. It would be a waste to spend it inside.”

“I don’t have to go in until tonight.”

“Well that’s good. Any plans for today?”

Dennis thought it over. “I might sleep.”

Mr. Chesley laughed. “That would be wasting this day, too.”

Dennis looked down at his hands and shrugged one shoulder in agreement. “Yeah. A waste.” But that seemed like every day. “Mr. Chesley? Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mr. Chesley replied, turning away from the grill to look as interested as he always did during the rare times that Dennis asked for his attention.

“I was wondering if you think... do you think I’m, you know, useless?”

The sympathetic look on Mr. Chesley’s face as he crossed over to the picnic table Dennis was sitting at quickly told Dennis that he hadn’t asked his question right. “Dennis, you know anything your dad used to say...”

“I didn’t mean that,” Dennis said quickly, releasing a long breath, as if it would help him clear his thoughts. “I’m asking for me. I mean, do you think... I’m not going anywhere? Living in your basement...delivering pizzas, it’s all just...”

“Are you thinking about going back to school?”

“Maybe. I want to, someday... probably before I reach a point that I never get around to it. I just think it would be better to do it when I know what I want to do.”

“Do you have any ideas about that?”

Dennis shook his head. “Most of the time I can hardly see past tomorrow. I don’t wanna be like that forever. It’s not all about my dad. I always hated hearing that I was worthless, now I don’t want to feel like...”

“I don’t think you’re useless, Dennis,” Mr. Chesley interrupted. “I just think you’re... uninspired.”

Dennis frowned, unsure of what the older man meant, and irritated that he suddenly felt offended when he knew he shouldn’t be. He never would have asked for Mr. Chesley’s opinion in the first place if he’d expected anything less than honesty.

“It’s like you’ve been standing still for a while now,” Mr. Chesley explained when he saw that Dennis was having trouble. “You need a new direction--does that make sense?”

Dennis nodded. “Yeah...I get that. It’s just figuring out which...direction to go in...”

“Isn’t always easy,” Mr. Chesley said. “And its normal. But you’ll get there.”

Dennis sighed. “In time, right?”

Mr. Chesley smiled at him. “How long it takes is up to you. Maybe you need to give yourself a little push. Find some satisfaction in things again.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“That’s because you’ve always had someone else pushing you. You pushed yourself for someone else. But I think you’re ready to move on from that now, and sometimes to do that, you’ve got to let go of some of the things you’re comfortable with. Give yourself a reason to try something different. I think you’re going to do it better than you think.”

***

Owen hadn’t actually discovered where Dennis had disappeared to the night they’d ended up at the same party. He’d been curious, even if he hadn’t gone out of his way to figure it out. The truth was, he’d been hoping that Dennis would call again and explain it himself. But, when that didn’t happen, Owen had finally decided to call Dennis himself.

Dennis had seemed surprised, but really, that was to be expected. Owen had been very careful to let Dennis make most of the contact they’d had. In part, it was because Owen could still see Dennis Gordon telling him to fuck off if he tried to call at a bad time. Their budding friendship still felt like a fragile thing, given past history, and Owen supposed that he didn’t want to feel intrusive. So he was glad that he’d thought of attempting to build things in the garage they had no experience building. Dennis seemed to like it, and it gave them something to do. Personally, Owen was bored with trying to figure out what the difference between a wood blade and a metal blade was, but he really didn’t mind hanging out, and besides, after seeing Travis Beltnick with Valentine, he had more questions for Dennis than why he’d disappeared from the club. So, now Owen was impatiently waiting for Dennis Gordon to pull up in front of his house. But looking out the window on a constant basis was useless because Dennis wouldn’t be there for at least two hours, or so he’d said when Owen talked to him. So, Owen had resigned himself to the chore of folding laundry--a task he despised like no other, likely because it was the most boring task in the history of chores.

Owen would have been just fine to shove his shirts in a drawer right next to his socks, a habit which had been broken when he and Aiden started sharing a room. Aiden had liked things neat whether or not they could be seen, and Owen liked things the way that Aiden wanted them to be. And when Aiden had been around, folding laundry hadn’t been so boring because they’d do it together, and they’d talk. Owen missed that. He even missed the way that Aiden refolded his shirts when he thought Owen wasn’t looking.

The doorbell was the sound that relieved Owen of both the laundry, and thoughts of Aiden that he’d been trying to force away lately. He needed those thoughts to be gone. Otherwise, he’d start babbling about wanting his ex-boyfriend back, and, why should he? Aiden obviously wasn’t telling his friends that he missed him. He was telling available, and apparently gay, guys like Travis Beltnick that they’d split up.

Heading towards the door, Owen shook his head at himself. He wasn’t being fair. Aiden hadn’t done anything wrong. They weren’t together anymore. But, as silly as it seemed to Owen, maybe a small part of himself had hoped that Aiden was having as much trouble explaining that to the rest of the world as he was. Hell, Owen was still trying to explain it to himself.

The doorbell rang again.

“Owen!” Chris called from somewhere in the back of the house. “Are you even around to get that?”

Owen blinked, realizing that he’d paused three feet from the door. He mumbled something back to his brother, not knowing if he heard or not and opened the front door, expecting to tell Dennis that he was glad he’d arrived early. That’s why he was surprised when he didn’t find Dennis outside, but Lacy instead. And since it was Lacy, it wasn’t so much of a surprise when she grabbed his hand and yanked him past the door.

“Owen, look! Sunshine!” she said, pointing up, and then grinned at the amused look on his face. “It’s warm today.”

“And you’re in a good mood,” he commented, waving her into the house. “Got one of those for me?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Owen shook his head as he closed the door behind her. “Nothing. Just feeling mixed up lately, I guess.”

“Hmm. Welcome to the club.”

“Hey, we didn’t have plans today, did we?” Owen suddenly asked. “Because if we did, I sorta forgot and I’m meeting someone else here in a little while.”

Lacy made a point to look affronted. “Someone more important than me?” she teased. “Who?”

“Dennis. But, you can hang out with us in the garage if you want.”

“Dennis again, huh?”

Owen frowned. “You’re not going to give me the third degree about that too, are you?”

“Nope. I just think it’s weird, is all. You don’t?”

Owen shrugged. “Not so much anymore. He’s not the same as he used to be.”

“I can see that,” Lacy agreed. “I mean, look how many issues he used to have with you being... you.”

“I think the word you’re looking for would be gay.”

“The words he used to use were more colorful,” Lacy said bitterly. “But... obviously something changed, right? So, good for him. And no, I’m not hanging out in a garage, and it’s not because of Dennis.”

Owen smirked. “Yeah? Since when are you afraid of getting dirty?”

“It’s not that either,” Lacy replied. “I’m here to see Chris. He’s here, right?”

Chris? Why would you be here to see Chris?”

Lacy arched an eyebrow. “What? He’s my friend, too. Besides, he said he has his car in the shop or something, so I get to haul him around all day.”

“Really?” Owen asked, more confused than surprised. “Well if he needed to go somewhere why didn’t he just ask for my...” The sharp shove to the back of Owen’s shoulder stopped him from completing that sentence as his older brother suddenly joined them.

“You said you needed your truck,” Chris said quickly, and then smiled at their guest. “Hi.”

“I didn’t say...” Owen started.

“You ready to go?” Lacy asked Chris.

“Yep,” Chris said as he opened the door for her.

Owen, who felt pushed to the back of the room and a little ignored, watched after them with a bewildered frown on his face. At least Lacy had the decency to say goodbye to him, but he was still shaking his head as he stepped forward to close the door a moment later.

Refusing to go back to the laundry, Owen decided to make himself a sandwich, but he hardly had two bites of it swallowed before there was someone at the door again, and he rushed to answer it.

But again, it wasn’t Dennis. It wasn’t someone he was as ready to smile at as Lacy, either. Instead he found someone who caused him to swallow hard and release a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding before he said the only thing he could think of. “You never used the doorbell before.”

Aiden tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear and forced a smile. “I don’t live here anymore.”

Right, Owen thought, frowning because he was confused by the sudden spark of anger he felt. That wasn’t usually the effect seeing Aiden had on him. But, maybe it had something to do with the resentment he’d been feeling over the end of their relationship lately, and Aiden, standing there with clear eyes and a white sweater that made an attractive contrast against his skin tone, looking as if he’d never been troubled by the things Owen was troubled over, was not helping matters. “Yeah,” Owen replied, suddenly unable to meet Aiden’s eyes. “Um...if you’re here to see Chris, you just missed him.”

“I wanted to see you.”

Owen ran a hand over his face, hoping to briefly hide his surprise and confusion. “Are you going to come in?”

“If that’s okay. If I shouldn’t be here...”

“No, that’s alright,” Owen insisted, finally finding the sense to step aside and wave him in. “I just didn’t expect to see you. So, what did you wanna talk about?... you did want to talk, right?”

Aiden didn’t seem to hear the question as he stepped inside, looking around the living room as if he’d misplaced something there, and was now concerned over it’s whereabouts. “You rearranged the furniture,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Owen replied. “Chris hates it. I just figured, we needed the change.”

Aiden nodded. “Oh.”

“Do you wanna sit down?”

“Are we here alone?”

“Do we need to be?” Owen asked, regarding him curiously.

“No,” Aiden replied. “I was just curious.” He started to pace the living room slowly, his brow knitted as he sorted through whatever thoughts were on his mind.

Frowning, Owen watched with growing nervousness. He kept looking at the sofa, wanting to sit down, but he didn’t dare while Aiden seemed so restless. Something about it felt too familiar, and as it was, Owen was finding it difficult to keep himself from reaching out for his ex, wanting to keep him still.

“Maybe we should sit,” Owen suggested again, but Aiden shook his head.

“I shouldn’t stay that long.”

“Oh.” Ready to get away already, Owen silently accused, and then tried not to grow too upset over it. “Um... that’s okay, I’m meeting someone in a while, anyway... so maybe you should tell me why you’re here?”

Aiden finally stopped pacing long enough to meet Owen’s eyes. “I don’t want to pretend this doesn’t suck, Owen.”

Owen gestured with his hand. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair enough.”

“You sound angry.”

“Well, maybe I’m getting tired of this,” Owen admitted, walking further into the living room.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Owen replied, releasing an exasperated breath. “Actually, it would be nice if you stopped by more often, and didn’t use the doorbell... and stopped acting like we’re complete strangers.” Owen did sit down now, but only to keep himself from pacing the way that Aiden had. “It shouldn’t be weird that you’re standing in my living room. Our living room. It used to be ours.”

Not bothering to conceal any of his surprise, Aiden ventured closer to the chair Owen had chosen to drop into. “I don’t treat you like a stranger, Owen.”

“Then what do you call it? We can’t even be friends now. How can we not be friends? You were the first real friend I made around here, and now I don’t even have your phone number.”

Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “If you wanted it you could have asked.”

“When you were ignoring me, or when you were telling me we needed space?”

“I never ignored you! And we both agreed that...”

“Well I’m sorry for it!” Owen blurted, rising to his feet, which was just as well since he’d never been comfortable in the chair, anyway. He felt agitated, willing to yell some more, but only sighed when the confusion on Aiden’s face got to him. “You can’t just... you can’t show up like this if we’re not even friends.”

Aiden frowned, but gave a nod of understanding. “So you want me to go then?”

“No.”

“Then what? You think we should try to be friends? Call. Talk? Should we try to do the things that friends do and pretend that...”

“I don’t want to pretend, Aiden.”

“Then you know we can’t be friends because that’s not what we are.”

Owen shook his head. “We haven’t even tried.”

“Because you’re not ready for it, and I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “Because you’re so unaffected?”

“No, that’s not...”

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I can or can’t handle? Believe it or not, I didn’t need you telling me what was best for me when we were together, and I don’t need it now.”

Aiden opened his mouth to respond to that, but suddenly closed it and surprised Owen with a weak smile instead.

“What?” Owen demanded.

Aiden shrugged. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. It’s just... you never would have said that to me before.”

“Well, maybe I’ve changed.”

“Yeah.”

“And maybe you have, too,” Owen added. “But not so much that I don’t think we couldn’t try to be friends. At least that, Aiden. We started that way, right? Why can’t that be how we start again?”

Aiden seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then regarded Owen seriously. “Are you sure that’s all you want to be?”

No. It was frightening how fast that crept into Owen’s mind, but he didn’t dare say it. He wanted to. But, instinct told him that one little slip in what Aiden would consider the wrong direction could ruin everything. Owen couldn’t bring himself to do that, but he couldn’t lie, either. “I think... if we don’t at least try, I’m going to have to say goodbye to you.”

“Not if we keep doing what we’re doing... the space...”

“The space sucks, Aiden, and I don’t want to do it anymore,” Owen said honestly, and then frowned at the troubled look on Aiden’s face. Does he have to think I’m that desperate? Owen wanted to know. Just because he wanted Aiden back, Owen didn’t see why Aiden had to be so quick to think it.

“I want it to work,” Aiden finally said, moving a little closer to the warm comfortable place just on the edge of Owen’s personal space; close enough to block the wind if the need for it should arise. And Owen believed him, too, even if he could see that Aiden had his doubts. “I just think it’s going to take a while for things to feel normal again.”

“And I think that you’re about to tell me that’s why you have to go.”

Aiden shrugged. “Yeah, but we can still try. Baby steps.”

Owen thought on that for a moment, and concluded that Aiden having to leave before even sitting down felt more like pressing distance than attempting friendship. “Sure,” Owen forced himself to say, but then added, “but, before you go don’t you think you should tell me why you wanted to see me in the first place.”

“Um, no. Not really,” Aiden replied, suddenly seeming more or less amused.

“Why not?” Owen asked, even as Aiden passed closely enough by him that their shirtsleeves brushed together.

“Because,” Aiden said as he took it upon himself to open the front door, “I shouldn’t decide what’s best for you.”

That was enough to confuse Owen, but before he even had a chance Aiden was suddenly stepping back inside and turning to face him. “But,” Aiden said, “what if...I talked to you about something? As friends. I could do that, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Owen...” Aiden looked at him intently, as if he half expected Owen to simply read his mind so there was no need for further conversation, but obviously, it wasn’t working.

“What’s the matter?” Owen finally asked, concerned now. “Is there something wrong?”

Aiden let out a breath, and then suddenly closed the door to work his way back over to the sofa where finally, he sat down. “No. There’s nothing wrong, but I do want to talk to you... Remember how we said that we didn’t want to know about it? I mean, if one of us started seeing someone else?”

Owen sat down almost involuntarily, and found himself grateful that he’d made his way to a chair first. “Are you?” he asked, furious that he couldn’t quite keep the panic out of his voice.

“No, I’m not...not yet,” Aiden added, causing Owen’s gut to tighten another notch. “I don’t know if you are, or...”

“I’m not.”

“Or, if there’s anyone you might be... thinking about.”

Owen frowned. “What do you mean?” It seemed like a reasonable question since the only anyone he’d been thinking about was sitting on his living room sofa. But, Aiden only looked frustrated. Owen knew the particular expression well enough; it meant that his ex was about to say something he didn’t entirely know how to say.

“Owen, the only way I know how to talk to you is to just say it, so...”

“You can do that,” Owen insisted, trying to be helpful.

“Alright. I know someone who might... I think he likes you. Or, he’s interested in you, and...”

“Travis?” Owen asked, surprised both because this was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Aiden, and because while he wasn’t inept enough to not understand Travis’s hints of being interested in him, he hadn’t really considered his interest more than curiosity. Until now.

“Yeah. How did you...”

“I saw him. He said he talked to you,” Owen replied, shrugging.He didn’t understand why Aiden was bringing this up at all. Jealousy? He hoped so.

“He did?”

“Yeah. He mentioned something about it. Why?”

“What did you say?” Aiden demanded, and Owen blinked at his tone.

“I don’t know. We were just talking, and he mentioned something about it. He acted like he wanted to do something, so I told him we could hang out at the club sometime,” Owen explained, and then carefully added, “as friends.” As much as he would have loved to know what kind of feelings Aiden still had for him, he wasn’t yet to the point where he’d purposely want to hurt him, on the off chance that he was jealous. So, Aiden’s reaction to all of this decidedly took Owen by surprise.

“You’re not going to, right?

“Um, I don’t know... why?”

“Because it’s not a good idea. He might say he likes you, but...”

“Hey. Wait. What is that supposed to mean?” Owen wanted to know, suddenly taking offense. “He can’t like me?”

“No, it just means he’s not for you,” Aiden stated, and when Owen’s eyes widened in response he was quick to continue. “Look, if you trust me at all you’ll believe me. He’s not your type.”

“Really, and other than you, how would you know what mytype is?”

It’s not Travis.”

“Are you jealous?” Owen asked before he could stop himself. He really hadn’t meant to say that.

Aiden’s olive complexion reddened, but whether it was due to embarrassment or anger, Owen couldn’t really tell. “I’m not jealous,” Aiden snapped, and Owen followed him to his feet. “For your information the guy’s been hitting on me, too. The only reason he even looked at you was because I...”

“Oh!” Owen cut him off. “So he’d never be interested in me because he’s interested in you? Shit, Aiden, if you wanted to warn me off of someone, why didn’t you just come out with it?”

What? Don’t be a dumbass, Owen. I wasn’t saying that, either. I just thought I should warn you--as a friend--that Travis would be a bad idea. I have a good idea what the guy’s about and he’s completely out of your league.” Aiden had only paused for a moment to catch his breath, but in that moment the look on Owen’s face warned him that he’d just made a severe mistake, and after Aiden replayed his own last words in his mind he knew he had. “Wait, Owen--that came out completely wrong! You know I don’t think what you’re thinking! Look, I just don’t want to see you get...”

“What?” Owen asked, his voice seeming much lower than expected. “You don’t want me to get hurt? You know what, Aiden? It would have been nice... if you could have been just a little bit jealous.”

Aiden swallowed, shaking his head as if to insist that this conversation was nowhere near where he’d wanted it to be. “Owen...”

“You were right about one thing at least, you know? I’m not ready to be just your friend. You can find the door on your own.”

Before Aiden could even start to think about how to respond any of that, Owen had left him standing in the living room when he made his way down the hall, and Aiden didn’t leave until he heard the soft click of a door as Owen locked himself in the room they used to share.

***

Dennis stared at the front door he’d knocked on repeatedly, and then at the black truck parked in the Dovans’ driveway. He checked his watch, deciding that he wasn’t too late or too early, and then allowed his eyes to drift off down the street in both directions, wondering if he’d see Owen coming back from a walk, or maybe a neighbor’s house.

Then he took a seat on the front steps, and he waited. He needed to take a breather anyway, though sitting still wasn’t currently helping him to feel better. But, being a little nervous--or completely freaked out, depending on how he wanted to look at it--it would do him some good, he thought. Get outside of that comfort zone. Give yourself a push. Dennis had taken Mr. Chesley’s advice, alright, but after walking into the pizzeria and quitting the one job that paid most of his bills, he really hoped that he hadn’t misinterpreted that advice. He also really hoped that the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach would go away soon, and that he’d stop thinking about how he didn’t have time to sit there on Owen’s front porch because he should be out looking for a new job. Maybe two of them. Maybe something he’d never tried before. Figure out what you want to do. I can do that, Dennis thought. He could even do something he didn’t want to do, like deliver newspapers. The paper route he’d decided to hold on to for now. At least it would pay for gas on the off chance this venture into the unknown had him living out of his car by next month. And it very well could, since Dennis had already decided he’d be moving out of the Chesley house if he didn’t have enough to pay rent by March first.

He imagined himself moving out when they weren’t looking. Mrs. Chesley seemed to frown upon anyone she considered hers, living without the luxury of four walls and a roof. But, it won’t come to that, he swore. All he had to do was find a job within the next week and he’d still get a paycheck in time to pay his bills. He hoped.

Dennis sat some more, contemplated what was going to happen to him over the next few weeks some more and worked more anxious knots into his gut before he looked at his watch again, and frowned at the time.

He’d been sitting there for almost an hour, and suddenly felt like an idiot. He wasn’t so much upset at being stood up by Owen. Sure, it was aggravating enough, but he was too distracted by his own issues to put whatever amount of anger towards it that might have been acceptable. Besides, Owen had called him this time, and just because Owen wasn’t around didn’t mean that he didn’t have a good reason for it. He’d sounded tired on the phone. Maybe he’d fallen asleep, because he sure as hell hadn’t walked through the front door since Dennis had arrived.

Dennis thought about knocking again, but decided against it when he realized that he’d be leaving soon enough, anyway. Not because he had somewhere to be, but because he didn’t... and that was beginning to bother him. Job. Find a job.

He remembered seeing Now hiring signs around town. Of course, that could have been months ago for all he knew, and even if it wasn’t, it probably would have helped for him to remember where he’d seen them. But that was alright, because during his stay on Owen Dovan’s porch, he’d decided on a good place to start. Good thing, too, because if all he’d accomplished was numbing his ass on cold concrete, he might have been a little upset.

He wasn’t interested in working in the mall. Not yet, at least. He wasn’t desperate enough for that. But, the strip of stores surrounding the grocery store left him with plenty of options, including the gas station and the car wash across the street.

Dennis spent the next forty-five minutes picking up as many applications as he could. It was Saturday, and everyone seemed too busy to give him any sort of time, but he decided that there were a few places that looked promising. Some claimed that they weren’t hiring, but he insisted on applying, anyway. Give yourself a push. He went everywhere he could. Get out of that comfort zone. The older woman behind the counter of the cosmetics store gave him a strange look when he asked for an application, but, he thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work there. It had been a while since he’d had the opportunity to be in the company of females his own age, and he was sure that Mrs. Chesley wouldn’t mind taking advantage of any store discount he might get. So he went everywhere around the grocery store, except, of course, the grocery store itself. No need to jump out of that comfort zone all at once, he figured, and any place employing Ryan Sader was way out of his comfort zone. He did go into the store, though, if only because he remembered that Valentine was almost out of food.

By now Dennis was tired of the crowds, and he went straight to the pet supplies aisle, intending to make his visit as short as possible before heading to the express checkout. But, after dropping a bag of dog food into a cart with a squeaky wheel, Dennis decided that a trip to pharmaceuticals couldn’t hurt. He’d had a headache lately, and as if the universe had suddenly decided to confirm that picking up a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol wasn’t such a bad idea, Dennis’s pocket started to ring just as he dropped one of the smaller bottles into his cart.

He didn’t recognize the number when he lifted his phone from his coat, but answered anyway, hoping that Owen had finally remembered him.

“Hello?”

There was a strange noise on the other line, like a dry tongue clicking against the roof of a mouth, or the clearing of a tightened throat. The voice that followed was tired and quiet, and for a few moments, Dennis had trouble placing it. “Hey... I figured you wouldn’t answer. I was going to leave a message.”

“Travis?”

“Yes?” Travis replied carefully. “So, like I said, I didn’t think you’d pick up. You can hang up now, if you want. I can call back and leave a message.”

What?” Dennis wasn’t sure of he had a bad connection or if Travis simply wasn’t getting his point across. Either way, the phone felt uncomfortable to hold as he attempted to navigate his cart out of the pain-reliever aisle. “Look, what do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Travis said after a moment. “You said I could call.”

Last night. You didn’t, Dennis thought, not really sure why that bothered him. “Right. So?”

“So?”

“How... did things go last night?” Dennis asked.

Travis was silent for a long moment. “Not as expected, I guess.”

Dennis frowned. He didn’t like having conversations where he had to wrestle details out of someone. Especially when he wasn’t so sure that he should care about those details. “That’s it?”

Dennis heard Travis sigh. “I’m tired right now.”

“Okay...”

“But I don’t sleep,” Travis continued. “Do you know what that’s like? When it takes more energy to close your eyes than to walk ten straight miles? The dark’s not comfortable.”

“Are you drunk?” Dennis suddenly asked.

“No.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Travis released a small chuckle. “Right. No sense.”

“Travis,” Dennis started, beginning to feel frustrated. But, whatever he was about to say died on his tongue as he rounded a corner and became frozen behind his shopping cart as his eyes fell over a familiar blond head no more than five feet in front of him.

Dennis didn’t often see Ben Summers without Leo Sader, and because of that, Dennis suddenly found himself looking around, wondering if he was about to get ambushed. When there was no sign of Ryan’s cousin, he turned his attention back to Ben, hoping that he hadn’t been noticed, because running into Ben could often be more uncomfortable than running into Leo.

At least Leo was predictable. He liked to yell, and threaten violence, because, as Dennis would admit, he tended to get the same way. But with Ben it was something else, and underlying tension, maybe even fear whenever they saw each other--and for Dennis, a carefully concealed shame that he’d never really learned to ignore. And he wished that he could ignore it.

Seeing that Ben hadn’t noticed him, he backed away slowly, hoping that it stayed that way, but frowned when the aisle behind him became blocked by slow-moving customers.

“Are you still mad about your dog?” Travis asked.

Dennis might have expected some kind of teasing in the voice on the other end of the line, but instead there seemed to be uncertainty there, making Travis Beltnick seem like an even more confusing being than Dennis thought. So rather than answering the question, he replied with, “She won’t sit for me.”

“Oh,” Travis said. “Well... you should make sure you have her attention when you tell her. And sound excited about it... she listens if she thinks you’re going to pet her. It’s all she wants, you know. She’s a good dog.”

“Yeah,” Dennis said, sighing in relief when he was finally able to move, unobstructed, back down the aisle. “I’ll try that.”

“Yeah... maybe I could...”

Dennis didn’t hear the rest of what Travis was going to say. He was too busy stopping again, staring at another face he knew and wondering if this trip to the grocery store could get any worse. “Travis, I have to go,” he quickly announced, and without the common courtesy of a goodbye, hung up the phone. He suddenly had more to worry about than why Travis Beltnick was suddenly acting so strange.

There were often times when Dennis felt the need to run away, but wanting to disappear entirely was another matter that made him feel unsettled, weak, and all the other things that he’d been brought up not to be. But now it seemed unavoidable. When he’d walked into the dealership not so long ago, Dennis had at least expected to face his father. He didn’t seem to have the same luxury now that the one he was facing was his brother.

Dennis had heard people talk about his brother as if whatever drug use he’d partaken in accounted for the way he walked around with a constant chip on his shoulder; staring down anyone he didn’t like the look of, developing permanent lines in his face where his frown showed up the most, and the occasional head-turning outburst that marked him as a major asshole. But, Dennis knew better. In fact, if anyone had ever bothered to ask him he would have insisted that all of this wasn’t the drugs, it was Lyle Gordon.

And sadly, Dennis mused, anyone who knew him knew that there was a time when he’d wanted to be just like Lyle.

Seeing his brother now, Dennis wondered where any respect he’d had for him had come from in the first place. From Lyle being a jerk? Probably. Just like with his father, Dennis had at one time seen the fear other people had towards his brother as respect. Lyle’s friends had always thought Lyle was fun, the football coaches thought Lyle walked on water, and Lyle’s enemies were very careful to avoid him. Growing up, Lyle seemed so perfect. Their parents had been proud of him in a way that Dennis had never earned for himself, and it was all enough to give Lyle hero status in the eyes of his younger brother.

Dennis didn’t see it anymore. That had changed. His brother, with sand-colored hair that had always seemed a little shinier than Dennis’s, seemed rather plain now. The strong physique Lyle had always been so proud of seemed more pudgy now--soft skin where muscle used to be--and his face seemed more roundish than the defined features that Dennis and his father had. In fact, Lyle was resembling their mother a lot more these days, and in a moment of pure vanity, Dennis found himself praying that most of these physical changes were a result of his brother quitting the use of all the steroids, and not of genetics.

But, even with the physical changes Dennis noticed in his brother, he found Lyle Gordon no less intimidating, and his mind instantly raced to the recent phone call from him, which he’d chosen not to respond to. Dennis would have even said that he was grateful his brother hadn’t seen him... if it didn’t mean that Lyle had noticed Ben instead, and if the sly look on his brother’s face said anything at all, it was that Lyle wasn’t going to let Ben get away thinking he had gone completely unnoticed.

Dennis looked back towards Ben Summers and cringed. If there was ever a bad time to be taking your time picking out of box of condoms, especially if you happened to be gay and out about it, it was not when Lyle Gordon’s attention was on you. And if you happened to be Ben Summers, someone who Lyle had openly detested since the first moment he’d ever laid eyes on him, it was even worse. And for Dennis Gordon, this situation was like a bad memory coming back to haunt him all over again. He felt guilty, and sick, and shaken about all of the things that could go wrong in the next moments as he thought about the last time Ben had seen his brother on the street. Dennis had been there, laughing about the way Ben froze up at even seeing Lyle. But he wasn’t laughing now.

“Lyle!” the word slipped from Dennis’s mouth before he could stop it, and that seemed strange since a moment before, he’d been thinking about walking away and forgetting that he’d seen anything. But, if Dennis had intended to get his brother’s attention off of Ben Summers, then he’d certainly succeeded as Lyle spun around, his brow raising in a way that indicated he was surprised to see his little brother.

Ben had turned, too, obviously startled. Dennis could still see him past Lyle, and he frowned when he realized that Ben wasn’t leaving as fast as he could, like he should be. Instead, the blond was staring at the two of them, seeming horrified and still, his eyes fogged as if he’d suddenly been transformed to another place. Unfortunately, Dennis knew exactly where that place was, and that’s where he always felt the guilt when dealing with Ben Summers.

“You little fuck,” Lyle suddenly said as he headed towards Dennis. His tone was one of irritation, but there was a smile on his face.

Both made Dennis uncomfortable, but he stayed right where he was and snapped his eyes to Ben’s until he knew that Ben could actually see him. Ben swallowed hard, as if he expected Dennis to point him out to Lyle at that very moment, and then was surprised when Dennis subtly nodded his head in hopes that Ben would take a hint.

“What the hell’re you doing?” Lyle asked, suddenly directly in front of him. “Where have you been?”

Dennis shrugged. “Around, I guess.” He glanced back to Ben, feeling relieved when he saw that he was no longer there. “I have to go.”

Lyle frowned, and placed a hand on Dennis’s chest to push him back before he could move his cart anywhere. “Hold on a minute. You’re not just gonna walk away. I wanna know why you’ve been ignoring your family.”

At this, Dennis made a face. “Last I checked, my family was ignoring me, too. I thought everyone liked it that way. Move out of my way, Lyle.”

“Hey, things are different now,” Lyle responded, sounding irritated. He’d never been a very patient individual, and it was no surprise that Dennis disagreeing with him in any way wasn’t something he liked to tolerate. “You know Mom and Dad are getting divorced?”

Dennis shrugged. “I heard something about it. But it has nothing to do with me. I don’t care.”

Lyle shoved his chest again, and Dennis gritted his teeth. “It has everything to do with you, dumbass. They’ve been fucked up ever since you left. Fighting ‘cause the rest of the family thinks they’ve got no control over their own family.”

Dennis frowned. The rest of his family could only mean his grandparents, people he didn’t really care for in the first place. “I’m not taking responsibility for them splitting up,” Dennis responded. “They can do whatever they want so long as they leave me the hell alone, so why don’t you tell Mom to stop calling me.” Dennis would have preferred to make his exit then, and did try as he forced his cart forward intently, but once again he found himself blocked by his brother’s large hand on his chest.

“No,” Lyle said roughly. “You start answering her calls before I get tired of her being upset over it and decide to kick your ass.”

Instinctively, Dennis opened his mouth, ready to retort that, but suddenly Lyle was passing him, and slapping him roughly on the back of the head in the process as he muttered, “Pussy.”

Dennis gritted his teeth and turned his head to watch his brother walk away, suddenly feeling sick to the stomach and unsure if it was due to unwinding nerves now that his brother was gone, or because he knew that the next time his mother called, he’d think about answering.

Copyright © 2010 DomLuka; 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.
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Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, there really is so much more to you, good for you for trying to find it.

 

Owen, despite your x's verbal diarrhea it's not what you think.

 

Aiden, way to make a sucky situation exponentially suckier.

 

DomLuka awesome work, thanks for sharing.

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I am so depressed at this point, so much anger and lack of commutation and for lack of better wording "self pity"  I know this is some what of an accelerated version of life but the it's everyone's world is about to implode. I only hope by the time I finish reading this book that life has found it's balance and no one is dead.   :/

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