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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
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. 

Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to Marvel Comics / Walt Disney Company <br>

Tangled Web - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2


::Long Lost::

*****

I walked down the long hallway that seemed to have no end, and occasionally looked at Mr. Summers’ butt. Okay, I out right stared the entire time. He was hot! Geez!

My dad had just dropped me off about an hour ago. It was Friday, and I was incredibly nervous about starting at a new school. I’d had a few days off, because it took some time to clear the paperwork between the schools, and I hadn’t been looking forward to going back. After Mr Summers took me on a tour of the institute, we were on our way to the dorms. I’d be staying with a roommate, someone who was in my grade, but had been there a few years. He told me the name, but I was…distracted…and now I don't remember. Reynolds or something.

“Well, here we are,” Mr Summers said when we reached the end of the hall. Faintly from behind the closed door, I could hear some kind of rock music. At least he’s not into rap…

“Peter?” I asked Mr Summers. There was a paper ‘X’ on the door that said, ‘Peter and Benjamin’.

“Peter Reilly, your roommate,” he said. Then he faced the door and knocked. The music got quiet, and I heard some shuffling, before the door finally opened, revealing the most attractive boy I’d ever seen. In my whole life.

“Good evening, Peter,” Mr Summers started. “This is your new roommate, Benny.”

He said some other things, but to be quite honest, I was only half listening. This boy was just too cute.

When Mr Summers finally left, Peter looked me in the eyes, and smiled.

“First day?” he asked. I nodded, because my throat wasn’t letting my voice work. “That always sucks. At least you got to skip the first three periods.” There was an hour and a half break between the first and second parts of the day. There were six classes, and three lunch periods. Peter and I had third lunch period, so we had about an hour to ourselves.

“Well, are you gonna stand in the hallway all day?” he asked with a smirk.

“No,” I said, red cheeks blazing, and started to move toward the door to our room. Peter didn’t move out of the way.

“There’s something you need to know about me…” he began, but my arms were getting tired holding my bags.

“Let me put my bags down first,” I said, and squeezed past him.

I walked in, and found the unoccupied bed, and put my bags down on it. Then, as I straightened and turned around, I noticed the posters.

There were a few Harry Potter posters, but those were a fairly normal thing to see in a fan’s bedroom. Except they seemed to have been clipped from one of those girly teen magazines. One even had ‘HOT!’ in bright pink letters on it.

Over his bed was a large poster of Bill Kaulitz from the German rock band Tokio Hotel. I didn’t know anyone else in America knew who he was. Still… I guess he could just be a fan…doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gay…

Then I saw the rainbow flag, half hidden behind the door.

I made eye contact with Peter, who’s face was bright red, and was having a hard time meeting my gaze.

“Well…I guess I don't have to tell you… you figured it out, right?” he asked, obviously nervous.

I didn’t answer. I walked over to my suitcase, and dug around in it for a few moments.

“You’re not…looking for something to hit me with, are you?” he asked, more frightened than nervous now. I looked up at him.

“No,” I said.

Finally, I found the T-shirt I’d been looking for, and I stripped off the plain blue one I’d been wearing. I put the new one on, and turned to look at him.

His eyes were wide, and his face was more red. He shook his head slightly to clear it, and read the shirt.

“‘Sorry girls, I like boys’?” he read. Then he looked up at me, and I gave him a huge grin.

“You bastard!” he said with a laugh. “I was nearly crapping myself over here!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” I said, trying to hold back the giggles. Yes, giggles. Apparently I turned into a five year old girl at some point. My dad had ordered the shirt online for me a few months ago as a gag, and I never thought I’d have the guts to wear it in front of anyone else.

“Can’t complain about the free show, though,” he said with a wink. Until he said that, I didn’t even realize I’d just been half naked in front of this gorgeous boy.

It’s a good thing I had my shirt on now, because I really didn’t want him to see one of my terribly embarrassing full body blushes.

“Yeah, well… heh…um…” was my brilliant response, and he laughed at me. It was a soft, musical sound, not unlike the sound a wind chime makes on a slightly breezy day.

I must have been staring at him for a little too long, because he waved his fingers in front of my face.

“Are you even listening to me, cadet?” he asked.

“Cadet?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“As in space cadet. I said, we’d better get ready for lunch, we’ve only got twenty minutes,” he smirked as I blushed again, and made his way over to his desk, where he picked up his wallet and what looked to me like a credit card.

He looked up at me and when he saw my confusion, said, “Lunch credit. You’ll get one once your name is put into the system.”

We walked out of the room, and down the long hallway toward the front entrance of the dorms. We left the building, and entered into a rather small courtyard, with a fountain and a statue of Charles Xavier in the center. There was an engraving on the statue, but I didn’t have time to read it as I was having trouble keeping up with Peter as it was.

The boy was like a whirlwind, I swear. We entered the building across from the courtyard, and it seemed as if everyone new him. People from just about every social clique, every grade, hell, even a few teachers said hello to him. He smiled at everyone and kept moving, leaving me stumbling over myself to keep up.

As the hallway got more crowded, Peter seemed to have a grace about him that let him maneuver through the crowd with seemingly no effort at all. He was like a champion swimmer in a kiddie pool, and I was like a toddler in the deep end.

“Peter–,” I called out in a strangled voice. He didn’t hear me. It was getting harder and harder to keep up, and the distance between us grew. “Hey, Peter!”

Suddenly someone threw their shoulder into me, knocking me back into a wall. He was a big someone. He had dark hair, almost black, and a big nose. That was about all I noticed about him. And that he looked pissed. I rubbed my shoulder, and felt the panic begin to rise from the pit of my stomach.

“Watch where you’re going, fag,” he said, and moved on as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Damnit, I’d been here only a few hours and already someone wanted to kick my ass. This sucks. I shook myself off, and tried unsuccessfully to shake off the panic. It didn’t help matters that a lot of people were staring at me.

I pushed myself through the crowd, and finally came to a clearing, where I found Peter looking around. He spotted me, and rushed over.

“Dude, I’m so sorry!” he began. “I forget how hard it is to navigate these halls when you’re new. I didn’t even realize you weren't behind me until I got to the cafeteria.”

“It’s…it’s okay,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. I was obviously still shaken over what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern. “Does your arm hurt?”

I was still rubbing my sore shoulder. “Some…huge…guy just ran into me, knocking me into a wall.”

“Broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and a nose the size of Jupiter?” he asked.

I nodded.

“That was Jack Davis,” he explained. “Real asshole, I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

A shrill bell rang, snapping us back into reality. Peter grabbed my hand, and quickly led us through the slightly less congested hall toward the cafeteria. He was holding my hand. I don't think I breathed the entire way there.

We entered, and the barely controlled circus that is the high school experience began. Even at first glance, I could see that the tables were occupied like territories, each clique had its own section all to itself. In that way it wasn’t all that different than Midtown High, and it was nice to have a tiny piece of familiarity in this flurry of new experiences.

We made it through the lunch line with relative ease, and when I got up to the register, I told the lady my name and she checked it off her list. We all got a free basic lunch every day, consisting of a main entrée, a side item, a vegetable, a fruit for dessert, and a small carton of either white or chocolate milk. There were other things to choose from, like chips and coke, but you had to pay extra for those.

When I was done, my meat product and I followed Peter as he made his way to his usual table. He plopped down in one of the empty chairs, and when I didn’t immediately sit, he looked up at me.

“C’mon man, we don't bite,” he said. “Well, Alexandra might, but she’s on the other side of the table,” he said, gesturing to a petite blonde girl who laughed at him and shook her head.

I set my tray down, and finally sat, feeling nervous.

“Guys, this is Benny, my new roommate,” he started. “Benny, this is Josh Wilson,” He pointed to a blonde haired boy with glasses who waved at me. “Kate Johnson,” a rather large girl with brown hair and freckles. “Antoine Washington,” a very well built black boy, who looked to be at least a senior. “Kyle Taylor,” a very good looking boy with a punky bleached blonde haircut. “And you’ve already met Alexandra White.”

I kind of waved shyly, and everyone resumed their earlier conversations. I've never really been too socially skilled, so I didn’t really have a whole lot to contribute to the conversations going on around me.

I finished the nasty meat-like substance the school was trying to pass off as food, and took a moment to look around a bit. I was still getting weird stares. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but the more I looked around, I noticed people seemed to be talking about me. A few people pointed me out to their friends, and laughed at me. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

I poked Peter in the arm, and when he looked, I whispered, “Why’s everyone staring at me? Do I have something on my face, or something?”

He looked at my face, then around the table at everyone we were sitting with. They were still having their own conversations, and weren't staring at me.

“Nobody’s staring at you,” he said.

“Not them, everyone else,” I said in a hushed tone.

He looked around again, at the rest of the cafeteria, and then gave me a thorough looking over that made me blush…again

“Well, being the new kid is always a big gossip topic,” he said. Then he added offhandedly, “And you’re gay, so that’s an even juicier topic.”

“Shhh! You want everyone to know about me?” I whispered, horrified. “And besides, how would they know I’m gay?”

“Umm…look down,” he said.

I looked down.

I was still wearing the shirt.

I hugged my chest tightly, covering up the words on the shirt. I felt the heat blaze even hotter on my cheeks, and as I looked back up at Peter, he was fighting the urge to laugh at me.

With my eyes beginning to water, I got up and rushed out the door before I felt the first tear streak down my face. I’d never felt more humiliated in all my life. My first day at a new school, and within five minutes of interacting with other students, I’d made an ass of myself. Did the one fucking thing I didn’t want to do. Outed myself.

I made it to the courtyard before a hand gripped my wrist tightly, pulling me to a stop.

“I'm sorry, Benny. I shouldn’t have laughed at you,” Peter said when I came to a stop. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to be out, or I would have reminded you before we left our room.”

I sniffled. “I know,” I said. I took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to calm down. I didn’t want to completely break down where people could see me. “It’s not your fault. I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

“Hey now, don't be too hard on yourself,” he said.

“Why not?”

“It would’ve happened eventually,” he said. When I just stared at him doubtfully, he continued, “This is the Xavier Institute. You know how many telepaths go here?”

“C’mon,” he continued. “Let’s skip the rest of the day and go back to our room.”

“But it’s my first day,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but it’s Friday,” he said. “They’ll just assume you’re starting on Monday, and I’ll explain it to Miss Frost when I see her. It’s not like we can lie to her anyway.”

We made our way back to our room. When we got there, I laid down on my bed, which still had just the basic sheets on it. I hadn't had time to put my blanket on it yet. Peter sat in his computer chair, and looked down at me.

“I wish I could talk to my dad,” I said, draping my arm across my eyes. “He always knows how to cheer me up.”

“Whenever I get homesick, I pull out my photo album,” he said as he pulled a large book from his bookshelf. “It’s got pictures of me, my mom, and my dad from the time I was born in it.”

He passed the book over to me, and I opened it.

My first impression was that he’d been a cute kid. The picture I opened up to was of him standing on a pier somewhere, holding a fishing pole and a big fish. He had a big toothy grin on his face.

I turned the page and found a family portrait. He was in the front, smiling a slightly reserved looking smile, probably from being forced to dress up. His mother was a beautiful woman with long, straight blonde hair. But neither of them were what drew my attention.

His father did. He looked like my father. And I don't mean that in the ‘if you squint you can sort of see it’ sense, no, he looked exactly like my father, but with blonde hair. Like his twin brother, or something.

“What the hell?” I asked as I dropped the book. “What’s your dad’s name?”

“Ben Reilly,” he answered.

 

© 1939-2022 Marvel Comics / Walt Disney Company; All Rights Reserved; Copyright © 2014 PatrickOBrien; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
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. 

Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to Marvel Comics / Walt Disney Company <br>
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Chapter Comments

Hi! I am very glad to tell you that this chapter has been a very pleasant read also.

 

I cannot believe yet how nice it is to read something so fluid and so... so crisp and so... pretty understandable. Besides, as I was reading this story I felt like an adolescent again or something. I am feeling as I read all the insecurities I would have had in the unknown environment a this high school.

 

Well, it can seem a little weird that I had said "pretty understandable". Well, it is not so weird. There is a common language for all people... for most people, that post stories here, but it is not that easy to write in a plain understandable and clear way. That it why to write is said to be "an art". If were not, everybody would be doing it nicely.

In my condition of alien to this language, I am very sensible on this precise topic. I most than others need to read a clear text to feel good. When, I do not understand a story I feel like... you know one says in a phrase like this.

 

I personally feel like of malodorous trash as I read a story that I do not understand.

 

Have you ever tried to read Ulysses of Joyce? If you are one of those lucky one that can read this novel, you are one a few. If don't you can perhaps understand how bad I feel sometimes reading.

Some people write stories in a way that it seems I am reading Shakespeare or Chaucer, not a piece of contemporary literature.

Well, you are not Shakespeare, don't be sad, man. Not any publisher would print you any story if were writing like Shakespeare.

If you were that big, I would not be so enthusiastically praising this second chapter of this story.

So, far only a girl from Perth has written as well as you here.

Then it amazes me at how alone seems your story here. That I do not see any enthusiastic review.

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Very nice indeed. As soon as i heard Peter's name I started to wonder. You definitely didn't disappoint. Good job with the dialogue. This is gettin good Brian =)

 

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