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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. 

Cid (working title) - 13. Chapter 13

omg this makes my heart ache

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Christmas break was all too short for Cid; he and Roxie and Rikki, and the other girls had all gotten together as much as possible. They’d held him and talked to him, and tried to boost his spirits. He finally told them a little bit about the creepo dude that would follow him and they suggested he arm himself.

The first day back, Cid propped up the canvas that he’d finished during the break. It was a night scene, and mostly black. Bleak. Devoid of animals or people and it was a very depressing image overall. But it was how Cid felt inside. He’d pushed Billy aside and knew that someone that sweet would find someone else very soon. Maybe that Frank guy he’d mentioned.

The day rolled by slowly, and Cid felt oddly lonely. He missed his friends very much already. He tried to hold onto the good moments for as long as he could manage. They’d at least refilled his coffee supplies and his bank account. Roxie took care of all of it.

A knock was heard on the door and it startled him. Ono…please don’t be Billy.

He wished there was a window or a peephole at least, but he had to rely on blind faith.

“Who is it?”

“My name is Frank. I’m Billy’s friend.”

Well holy crap…the friend that Billy wanted him to meet right before break and he cowered in his room. That guy. Oy. Why was he here? Had something happened to his ex-friend-wannabe-boyfriend? He opened the door and had to look up at the tall man. He carried a large gift-wrapped box with him.

“I’m Cid.” Duh. Thanks Captain Obvious.

“I know.” Frank replied. He let out a breath. “I think we need to talk.” He set the box down on the bed.

Cid wasn’t sure why he was coming around now; unless Billy was either hurting that badly or some other reason. He waved the man inside and remained standing.

“Is Billy ok?” was his first question.

Frank nodded. “Mostly. The break was tough on him, Cid. His family and I had to pick up the pieces you left behind.”

Wow, thanks for making me feel extra bad.

“I tried to tell him that we’re wrong for each other… over and over. The kid would not give up.” He explained.

“I know it. But I only know of you what he told me. My coming here was to number one meet you, but number two to get the whole story. I’m biased to Billy, but I only see the hurt that he feels.”

Cid took a seat and faced Frank. He was a good-looking guy for sure; perfect for Billy.

“Frank, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I’m too old for him, I’ve been through hell in relationships and I really am not ready to dive into one again. I’m a slow-mover and he pushed and pushed and wanted me to commit to something that I honestly just couldn’t do. I know it hurt him, hell it hurt me! But he’s better off without me.”

“Thanks for the disclosure, dude. I get all that, but he obviously doesn’t. He’s brand new to all of this and got infatuated with you. You were stringing him along though…giving him false hope.”

That stung because it was true. Cid had promised to come out as a couple in the springtime, but the deeper they got involved, Cid got more and more scared.

“I was an ass to him, Frank. I’m sure you know everything from what he’d told you already.”

“Not everything. Why are you like this?”

Uh oh, now he had another curious guy trying to dissect his motives.

“Because I’m not the right one and I’ve had a really crappy life. I know that’s not a great reason, but if you knew all that I’ve survived…and lemme tell you…survive is the right word…you’d know why I’m like this.”

“That’s awful, dude. I’m sorry whatever happened to you did; but that doesn’t excuse how you treated him. If anything you’d think it’d make you wanna be nicer.”

Cid was half wanting to throw this guy out already or cave in on himself and really question why he’d become what he was.

“Thanks.” He mumbled. “Frank, I’ve gone over it and over it. He and I had coffee and lunch together, and he’s a sweetheart! I think he’d be perfect for any decent guy who hasn’t had his mind ripped apart like I have. He’s too good for that.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s a great guy. I really hope you get your past agony gone and learn how to treat people a little better. I wasn’t there, I know, but I’m just giving my opinion.”

True enough. Cid appreciated his honesty and standing up for his friend.

“I’m really sorry for the way things went down. I suck at talking to people.” Cid admitted.

“Good luck to you. I mean that. I really care about Billy and just want the best for him. I’m sure deep down, you cared too.”

What did he know? “I do care about him; enough to know I want to spare him.”

Frank cocked a brow. “Fair enough.” He stood and straightened his coat. “Oh…this is from Billy. It’s your Christmas present.” He indicated the box on the bed.

Cid’s throat ran dry and he ran his fingers over the perfectly-aligned corners of the brilliant blue foil paper. On top was a large label with ‘Cid’ drawn out in red marker.

“I’ll thank him in person. If he lets me.” Cid felt incredibly vulnerable right now. He blinked back his emotions and eyed the campsite painting. He guessed that’s really all they had left now.

“Here.” He snatched the painting and handed it to Frank. “Give this to him, from me.”

“Dude…are you sure?”

Was he? The kid got under his skin for sure and thought he was in love; but Cid knew that wasn’t really possible. Real love didn’t exist, not that he’d ever experienced.

“I’m sure.” He whispered as he forced himself to let go of the painting at last.

Frank looked it over. “It’s amazing work. Let me send you a picture at least?”

Cid brightened. “Y-You can do that? I don’t have a smartphone.”

“Do you have an email?”

“Yea.”

“Here. I’ll do it right now.” Frank whipped out his phone and in two seconds took a couple pictures and then turned to Cid. “What’s your email?”

“Um…LilacLost92. Here, I’ll look for it.” He opened up his laptop and booted it up. Not two minutes after Frank sent the photos, they were right there in his email, he moved them from ‘spam’ to ‘not spam’.

“Sweet! Now you have something to remember it by.”

Cid shut his eyes and fought his emotions. He wanted to see the painting, he wanted to see Billy, but he couldn’t.

“Yea.”

“Hey, I gotta run, but I’m glad we finally met.” Frank held out his hand to shake.

Cid gripped it and gave it a firm shake. “Definitely.”

“Take care, Cid. I hope you find some great help and soon.”

“I will. Thanks, Frank. Take great care of Billy.”

He grinned. “I’ll do my best.” He left the room with the painting in tow.

Cid shut the door again and looked at the box again. His curiosity was sky-high and he very meticulously unwrapped the package. It was a cardboard box which he carefully sliced the tape open on top with a knife. After the flaps were pushed back, he saw a note card on top. He paused and picked it up, his hands trembled.

“Dear Cid,

Now we can go camping together. Here’s a complete cookset for the great outdoors.

Merry Christmas to my favorite artist ever!

Billy”

Cid fingered the cookware, still in its plasticwrap and ready to be washed and taken on a campout. The one they were supposed to have if he hadn’t been such a jackass. Now he’d be Frank’s man and there was nothing he could do about it.

He lied down on the bed and held the box to him and cried.

Copyright © 2018 stephanie l danielson; 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.
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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