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    Sam Wyer
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  • 2,961 Words
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.

Cal - 9. Chapter 9

Hey, again :)  Here's the next instalment.

We left the bar and Simon headed off after giving me a big hug. Davey and I walked home, pretty much in silence. The whole thing had kinda brought down a nice night. And as much as Davey had said it was OK at the time, I got the feeling that he was actually pretty pissed off that I’d hit Mark. Even though he was being a total fucking knob. When we got in I started getting ready for bed as usual and Davey was sorting out some food for Scarlett. He seemed distracted, and I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know why. I stood in the kitchen doorway watching him play with Scarlett for a few minutes before he saw me.

“Just go to bed baby, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Not knowing what else to do, I went to the bedroom. Alone, lonely, and sad. Not even Scarlett came to see me - but with Davey in the house, there was never any real competition for her attention, he wins every time. An hour later, and I’m laying on the bed, wondering if I’ve seriously fucked up this time. I mean, I’ve fucked up before, obviously, plenty of times. But this is feeling really fucking serious. I know that I’ve hardly been an easy boyfriend, getting totally strung out by the tiniest fucking thing, massively insecure, and now I’m forcing Davey to choose between me and his friends. OK, I know I’m not actually giving him that choice, but that’s how it felt right then. Davey still hasn’t come to bed. I need to try and make this better. I pulled on my jeans and went to see what was happening. Davey was sat on the sofa, with Scarlett apparently asleep by his feet. Protecting her owner from the ‘little fucking criminal’? Those words were still going round in my head with no sign of stopping, and they still hurt, but perhaps it’s not an unfair description.


I wasn’t sure if he was asleep or what, it was dark. He turned to look at me. Fuck, I hadn’t seen him like this before, like, ever. I guess he’d maybe been crying, but he looked so sad, and lonely, and kinda angry too. Bollox. Total fucking bollox. I knew that I’d done this to him.

“Davey, I know I said I’m sorry, and I am, and I know that you’re pretty mad at me right now, but I don’t know how to make this better. I shouldn’t have gone for him like that, but he was saying some pretty mean stuff.”

He just stared at me for what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute.

“Come here baby.”

I sat next to him.

“Is that really what you think?”

I just nodded. I mean, what the fuck could I say to help here? No idea.

“Cal, you’re so sweet, and also, cute, and funny, and loveable, and amazing, but...”

“Davey, please...”

I knew this was it. I tried to will him to stop talking. If he didn’t ever say that we were over, then it wouldn’t be true. Yeah, I know, logic of a three year old, but I was desperate.

“But you’re kinda fucking stupid sometimes.”

Fuck. So you’re gonna dump me, there’s no need to be extra fucking mean, just say it! I glared at him.

“I’m not mad with you. I just hate what happened. I feel like I put you in that position with someone who could be so hurtful, and then I didn’t even help. I should have been able to help, but I didn’t see it coming, and then I couldn’t get to you fast enough because the table was in the way. I can’t believe I let someone hurt you like that. I feel like s pretty shit boyfriend at the moment. I couldn’t even protect you.”

Whoa. This isn’t right. I’m the one with - yes, OK, I admit it - slightly fucking drama queen characteristics. I’m the insecure freak who never believes anything good is gonna happen. What the fuck am I supposed to do if Davey starts doing that too? I’m totally screwed, and not in any of the good ways. I could feel myself taking deep breaths, oh fuck, I was going to have to say something. And not just shit, something actually, I dunno, real? Useful? Helpful?

“OK Davey, look, I’m not very good at this, but I don’t see how you have anything to feel bad about. You can’t control what people think, and unless you knew all along what Mark was going to be like and just let it happen anyway, it’s totally not your fault.”

“Of course I didn’t know!”

“So shut up then. And it’s not your fucking job to protect me. You’re my boyfriend, not my fucking bodyguard. Besides, you already totally saved my arse once, and look where that got you? I’m still here!”

I gave him a hug. It makes me feel better, so maybe it will make him feel better too.

“So, you’re not disappointed?”

“Davey, I can’t even begin to explain how impossible that idea is right now. I don’t think there’s ever any way in the world I could be disappointed with you. You are awesome. Tonight was awesome, you make me feel awesome, and yeah, the last bit at the bar, that was shit. But you didn’t do that. Please Davey, just come to bed.”

I kissed him, not a horny, come fuck me kiss. A real kiss. As he lay against me, he said he was going to take the day off tomorrow. I was only planning on shopping for work clothes, so that was cool with me.



“You erm... you kind of freaked me out a little at the bar. You seemed to be so calm, and then you just kind of exploded. It was a little scary.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It happens sometimes.”

“You were kind of fucking awesome though. Even if I did think you might have really hurt him.”

I tried not to smile.

“OK, three things Davey. Don’t swear, it doesn’t sound right with your posh boy accent and your mum would be very upset to hear it. And don’t say ‘kind of’, no-one over 15 talks like that, it’s just so common. And yeah, I *am* fucking awesome baby.”

We both laughed and I held him as close to me as I could, hoping that he could feel at least just a tiny bit like I do when he does that to me.

The fucking alarm is going off at 6.30am as usual, because neither of us thought to turn it off last night. I was still cuddled up to Davey, just how we fell asleep. Sweet. Davey hit the alarm a couple of times, but it didn’t stop, so he passed it behind to me. I turned it off and dropped it on the floor. A few minutes later I got out of bed and pulled on some clean boxers before heading to the kitchen. Switching on the coffee machine I smiled to myself, it was only a few weeks ago that I thought I was going to blow it up when I switched it on, and then I fed Scarlett. Breakfast was pleasantly intimate, and the events of last night were already seeming distant and somehow unimportant.

Of course, the world isn’t so fucking understanding some mornings, and the banging on the door just after 8.00am signalled the storm had arrived after the so far calm start to the day. It was Kati. Of course. Fucking hell. She was seriously ranting at Davey even before he opened the door. Davey pretty much ignored her, but when they got to the Kitchen doorway she saw me, and seemed to knock it up a gear. I kinda thought she would stop after a minute or two, but it didn’t seem to be happening. It clearly wasn’t a good idea for me to interrupt her, or to correct her wildly inaccurate version of what had gone off at the bar. Eventually I think Davey got bored.

“Kati… Kati… Kati!”


“Shut up.”

“What? I come over here to try and make you see sense and you start…”

“Kati, that’s not what happened.”


“That’s not what happened.”

Taking advantage of the momentary pause in her endless talking. Davey summarised what actually went on, taking care to highlight just how much Mark was being a twat, and how he hit me first. Kati begrudgingly acknowledged that perhaps she didn’t have an entirely balanced view, having only actually heard from Mark.

She left, eventually. We had hardly kissed and made up, but she was at least polite. Davey negotiated with Scarlett that we would go out later in the afternoon with her. She didn’t seem too bothered, presumably knowing that we were going shopping and preferring not to. We headed in to town, and quickly ended up back at my latest favourite clothes shop. The stuff I got there last time was awesome, and I think really helped with my interview, so I thought it was a good place to start. The shop boy was there again. Apparently, well, not apparently, his name tag said it, he was called Gavin. He didn’t look like a Gavin, but there it was. It was more obvious today, he was definitely flirting. Cool. I mean, not that I was interested, but it’s always kinda cool to know that someone is into you, right? Davey noticed too, and he was just a tiny bit possessive. I liked that too. It wasn’t anything too over the top, but he was bit more obviously being my boyfriend. He made me smile on the inside, as well as on the outside.

An hour later, I had bags full of new shirts and trousers, as well as another pair of shoes. And a date with Gavin if I’d have wanted it. He had all but given me his address and phone number before I had to stop his rather enjoyable attention and point out that Davey was my boyfriend, and I wasn’t interested. I’ve never had to do that before - turn someone down like that. And the thing was, I really liked it. In fact, I loved telling that shop lad that Davey was my boyfriend. No, you can’t have me because someone else already does, and I love him! Not that I said that, obviously. We got some lunch in town before heading home to pick up Scarlett and go to the park. But she wasn’t the only one waiting for us.

I was expecting Jen to still be around, but she was looking pretty worried when she opened the door. Davey had started to ask her what was up, but my stomach had already dropped through the floor and was threatening to come back up with my lunch when the two Police officers stepped out of the kitchen and in to the hallway.

“Good afternoon Mr.Richardson.”

I looked to Davey, and he was as much at a loss as me. But I guess I knew better, the Police turning up was never a fucking good thing.

“Hey” I said, considering my options for running.

The door was still open, and I hadn’t noticed anyone waiting outside. I could easily make it around the corner before they got anywhere close, and then I could lose them no problem.

“Could we have a word?”

Like I had some fucking choice? Why do they do that? Like they’re asking you a favour or something.

Deciding that running was probably a bad idea, whatever they wanted it would look bad, we sat in the lounge. It was a terse exchange, as you might imagine, I’m not ever so fucking friendly with the Police. And now, it seems that Mark was going to press charges for me assaulting him! The fucking bastard! Apart from there not being any real case to answer, of course I suppose I would fucking think that, if I get prosecuted again I’ll be straight back inside. I answered their questions, and gave them my side of things. Davey was able to add to and clarify most of what I was saying, and also pointed out that there was CCTV at the bar, and several staff who also saw the whole thing.

Jen stayed out of the way in the kitchen, but I know that she heard the whole thing. Fuck, fuck, and fuck. It was suddenly like nothing had fucking changed. Well, except of course, I was now looking a whole lot better, living in a nice place, with an amazing fucking awesome boyfriend. OK, so maybe a few things had actually changed. As soon as the Police left, Jen made a discreet exit, which I was very grateful for. For whatever fucked up reason, I really couldn’t face seeing her, never mind talking to her about what had happened. I didn’t like the idea that she even knew what had happened, like I’d let her down or something.

We took Scarlett out to the park, just later than planned, but I wasn’t really enjoying the walk and was pretty uncommunicative. At least, I wasn’t saying words. I guess there’s a lot of ways for someone to see how you’re feeling without you having to actually say stuff. I was totally pre-occupied by all of the possible repercussions of Mark pressing charges. There was just no way I could handle going back to prison. Eventually I started to talk to Davey about it, and as nice as he was - no, that’s unfair, I know he really cares, he can’t make this better. He didn’t seem to want to talk about the possibility of me going to prison again, and what that would mean, and how it would work, and whether or not he’d still be here for me when I came out again. I suppose I can’t blame him for that though, it’s a pretty fucking messy situation.

Back home, Scarlett is sleeping, and I’m not feeling any better. I decided I needed to go for a run to try and sort my head out a bit. At least, that was the option I thought I would try first. What I was really focussed on was something entirely different, but I didn’t want to go there, not with Davey at home. It feels like the last secret I have from him, and even then, it’s not really a secret I suppose, it’s just something I’ve never talked about. OK - so perhaps I’ve deliberately not talked about it. He’s obviously seen the scars on my body, and many of them really are from fighting. But there are others. The thin, almost parallel lines in groups of five or six, mostly on my lower arms. It’s amazing how many people will look and ask me about my tattoos, and the bigger scars, and then pretend like the don’t see these ones. Sometimes I’m happy to play the game and let them avoid the truth, and sometimes it makes me really fucking angry. It’s all part of me, you can’t just pick the good bits, or the pretty bits, or the bits you want. Fuck. I know it will make me feel better, there’s nothing like it, ever, anywhere. But then there will be the inevitable guilt about doing it, and the overwhelming shame of having Davey see me like that. And I also just didn’t want to. Well, I feel like I really fucking desperately want to, but my head doesn’t agree. And I know for a fact that there aren’t any razor blades. Maybe I should pick some up, you know, for emergencies. Anyway, running is the next best thing that I’ve found.

In reality, I was doing neither, but pacing around the bedroom and getting more tense every minute. Davey came in, and gently guided me in to getting changed and pretty much pushed me out the door. I guess he could see I needed to clear my head a little. Five or six miles later and I thought maybe it was working. I knew that I couldn’t do much to control the whole assault charge problem, but I suppose I can try and get on with the rest of my life on the off chance that it doesn’t all go to shit in the next few days. After all, I’m starting my job tomorrow. I was about to say ‘new job’, but having never really had a proper job before, that doesn’t seem right.

By the time I got back home, Davey seemed a little different. It seems he’d been doing some thinking too.

“Cal, I know I can’t make this all go away, and I don’t even know if I can make it better. But if the worst happens, and I don’t think it will…”

“Davey, it’s cool, let’s not worry about it.”

Not being certain on where this was going, I didn’t really want to carry on this conversation. I suppose that I didn’t want to consider those options any more than Davey did.

“No, I need you to know. If you end up back in prison, you’ll still be my boyfriend, and I’ll still be here. I don’t think it will ever happen, but if it does, nothing else changes.”

I think that my next New Year’s Resolution might be to fucking cry less! But right at that moment, I couldn’t help it. Davey was hugging me so tight, and I was crying, again, like a fucking child. After a few minutes, I reluctantly pulled away to get a shower and change. Neither of us were bothered enough to cook, so Davey ordered take-away curry. Somehow, the day had been massively exhausting, and by 9.00pm I was falling asleep with my head on Davey’s chest. Whatever happened, I still had a pretty nerve shattering day to go tomorrow, my first day at work. Davey carried me to bed, and it didn’t seem long before I could feel him next to me. My little bit of perfect, Davey’s arm around me, holding me tight against his amazing hairy body, the two of us hidden from the world outside by the duvet, and protected by Scarlet who was inevitably sleeping just outside the door as she seems to do now.

As always, I hope you enjoy and I look forward to your feedback.

Copyright © 2017 Sam Wyer; 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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Chapter Comments

Mark's a jerk - I expect you to punish him a lot! Great story - I love how you are building Cal's self-esteem - even though he keeps trying to kick at the foundation. It doesn't help when people like Mark and Kati keep trying to undermine him - I am glad Davey's such a good man and sees the good man in Cal. Thanks

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can't quite see how he'll end up in gaol again. There is still hate speech and defending yourself against hate speech must count for something....  you'd hope.  Meanwhile I am not sure there is a pit deep enough for Mark, unless his rant hid deeper pain....

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Good chapter! As someone who has self-harmed their teen and adult life. That self talk happens. Why you should or shouldn't proceed. You find outlets. Cal runs. I write and escape to music. Cal is a character I relate so well. Doubt, unworthy, low self-confidence.

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I expected more from Kati, but I am glad she backed off a bit. I expect to hear more from her later. I wonder what Mark is thinking. Is it smart to press charges when you started the fight and threw the first punch? Doesn't Davey have a lawyer friend or acquaintance that can help Cal? Your story just gets better. Looking forward to more. Thanks.

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Thanks for your comments guys, it makes such a difference :)

So you're all agreed?  Mark is a jerk and Kati needs to chill out a little.

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It has suddenly gotten very real for Cindefella. Good thing his price Charming is a solid guy (not like that whinger in The Paper Bag Princess*"


* a lovely children's book for awesome girls and all the boys in their lives


Thanks for another great chapter

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On 8/28/2017 at 9:44 PM, JeffreyL said:

Is it smart to press charges when you started the fight and threw the first punch?

I think he’s counting on Cal’s history and reputation. I think there might be a kind of class thing going on too. I’m sure he’s furious that Davey just cannot see through Cal’s ‘gold-digging.’  ;-)

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45 minutes ago, droughtquake said:

I think he’s counting on Cal’s history and reputation. I think there might be a kind of class thing going on too. I’m sure he’s furious that Davey just cannot see through Cal’s ‘gold-digging.’  ;-)

I think you might be on to something there.

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Mark is a real asshole he had no right to hit him even wen he was rude to Cal he was calm and now he is pressing charges what an asshole a real jerk

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1 hour ago, Sussins said:

Mark is a real asshole he had no right to hit him even wen he was rude to Cal he was calm and now he is pressing charges what an asshole a real jerk

Yes - that seems like a fair description of him!

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