Black Star Cross - 7. Lovers' Quarrel

Black Star Cross

Chapter 7: Lovers’ Quarrel

“Anthony? It’s me, Shawn.”

There was no answer at the door.

“Anthony? C’mon, man. Open up.”

Again, nothing but silence. I had to resort to one of his tricks.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll just have to talk to your mom about what hap...”

“NO! Don’t. Please. I’ll unlock the door.”

I waited until I heard the latch on the door unlock. I opened the door to find Anthony staring down at the floor. I looked beyond him at his room. It seemed like a typical teenager room. Clothes thrown everywhere, rock band postures on the walls, sports trophies on the shelves. Nothing that I didn’t expect.

“Well, are you just going to stand there or are you coming in?” Anthony said, in an irritated voice.

I gave him my best “whatever” face and made my way in. Anthony closed and locked the door behind me.

“Why’re you locking the door? Afraid of me breaking out?”

“Haha. Very funny, dude. I don’t want my mom to come in here in the middle of this,” he said in a sarcastic, and annoyed, tone.

I stayed silent while he paced back and forth. He seemed very anxious, nervous even. I doubt he wanted to talk about this any more than I wanted to. But we had to talk about this anyways. Since he didn’t want to initiate this, I guess I better do it. But how to go about it?

“Sooo...I guess we better talk about this. So you were the one who...”

“Look, can we just NOT talk about this?”

“No, I tend to think that something along the lines of kissing, especially if it’s with another guy, is something that begs to be talked about.”

“Why don’t you speak normal, fag!”

“Fag?! YOU were the one that kissed ME! Not the other way around!”

“Shut up, dude! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You have no proof that I did that!”

“You think not?! I beg to differ. I could just ask your mom if she kissed me last night. As repulsing as that may be, for the both of us, I’m pretty sure I know what her answer is going to be. And the only other person living here would be...you.”

Anthony stood there, staring at me, while he tried to come up with something else. But try as he might, the poor bastard couldn’t even get any words out. He knew that I had him trapped. He knew that there was no squirming out of this one. He was caught red-handed doing something he’s been making fun of me for supposedly doing for four years. I bet now he’s regretting that decision of locking the door.

Now Anthony had a great look of ferocity in his eyes. He clenched his fists, his head darting this way and that, as if he were looking for something to punch. I’m surprised he didn’t settle on my face. Seeing nothing to pound, he turned to the nearest wall and punched it, hard, letting out a frustrated yelp along with it. The trophies shook on the nearby dresser. Anthony breathed heavily before punching the wall again, this time with noticeably less force. When he punched it for a third time, it wasn’t even with enough force to hurt me. His fist stayed at the wall; he seemed to be leaning into it. He then fell down to his knees, his labored breathing almost transitioning perfectly into what sounded like the beginnings of a crying spell. It finally got to the point where he just got into the fetal position and stopped making sounds altogether.

I just stood there and watched each transformation. I didn’t know what to do. Should I help him? Should I taunt him some more? Should I just stay there and do nothing? Should I just leave? Something inside me told me not to leave, or to hurt him anymore while he’s like this. I suddenly heard him say a few words, but I couldn’t understand them at all.

“What’d you say?” I said, in the softest voice I could muster.

“...can’t...ay. I can’t.”

“You can’t what? Anthony, I can’t hear you when you’re bundled up like that,” I said, trying to get closer to him so that I could hear better.

“I SAID THAT I CAN’T BE GAY, YOU STUPID HOMO!!!” he yelled at me.

Since I was so close, hearing him yell at me really startled me. I kind of leaped back a little, just in case he decided to hit me. Then I realized what he just said. And that got my blood boiling.

“You know what? I’m tired of you always calling me a fag, or faggot, or homo! You don’t even know if that’s true! However, I think now I can take the pleasure of calling you a faggot, since you obviously are one! I wonder what your asshole friends are going to say about this?!”

“You tell one word to anybody, you motherfucker, and I will not only cut your dick off, BUT I WILL MAKE YOU CHOKE ON IT BY SHOVING IT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT!!!”

“Like that’s supposed to scare me? You seem to forget who totally owned your ass a few nights ago! I know that I can take you on and win, cocksucker!”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

But he didn’t give me a chance to repeat myself, as he lunged forward at me. Luckily, I was anticipating him to strike out at me, so I easily dodged his attack. But now I had a problem: this was as far as I had thought out. Anthony went after me again and this time I was frozen in fear. I sort of latched onto his body when he collided with me and took him to the floor. What was I doing? Didn’t I just tell him that I could take him on and win?

I tried to flip him over, but he was too heavy for me to move. He had me on my back and was trying to pin my arms down. He was also trying to get hits into my face, which I was desperately trying to block.

He finally managed to pin my arms down with one hand. He looked me straight in the eye, probably trying to uncover how scared I was. What I saw in his eyes was nothing but hate. I thought that since he kissed me, that maybe he had some sort of feelings for me after all. Instead, I guess it was just lust, and now I had to go and push it so far that all he saw out of me was a hatred I never saw in him before. Even before, when he was just that one guy who terrorized me, I never saw such hatred and loathing in his eyes. So if he saw anything in my eyes, it would be fear, and maybe just a little bit of regret.

But instead of hitting me, he continued to look into my eyes. I continued to look into his. We were frozen in that position. I could tell that Anthony was actually trying to search my soul. We were both still breathing hard from our fight. I still had my hands bound together by his one hand, so I took this opportunity to quickly release my hands from his grip and flip him over, successfully this time, and pin his hands to the floor with both of my hands.

I could tell that he was surprised by this action, but oddly enough, he didn’t try to do anything. He still kept staring into my eyes. It was like he was hypnotized. I decided right then and there that I had to find out if he was indeed the person who kissed me, and what he felt behind that kiss. I leaned down, never breaking eye contact with him, until our faces were mere inches apart. He showed no signs of discouragement or discomfort, but rather puzzlement and curiosity. So I continued to lean in until our lips met.

                .....

His lips...they were very juicy. We didn’t do much, just mildly sucking on each other’s lip. But I could tell. They were very juicy. All the girls he’s kissed before must’ve liked this part a lot. I could tell two others things as well. Anthony was the person who kissed me last night. I felt the same style of kissing now as I did from the kiss from yesterday. The other thing I could tell? He liked this.

A lot.

His hands shot out from beneath my hands and gripped my sides tightly. He arched his back slightly, thrusting his crotch against my leg. I could feel him gasping for air inside my mouth. When that didn’t work, he inhaled deeply from his nose, and from what I could tell, he must’ve sniffed my scent, which drove him even more wild. His thrusting was being done with more force behind it. His tongue was pleading with my mouth for entrance. I denied it, for now. His hands couldn’t keep still, going from my sides to my back, to my butt, and to my hair. All I did was reciprocate his kisses and keep my hands on the sides of his face.

We made out for what seemed like an hour, though it was only for about five minutes. We grinded against each other on the floor, both fully aware that the other was just as hard as they were. I swear, we were both ready to explode when we finally decided to stop for air. We continued to look into the other’s eyes. I smiled when I did. I had been wanting this for a long time, and now I’m finally able to receive it. I couldn’t be any happier.

Anthony didn’t smile.

After catching his breath, he continued to look at me. He then suddenly got a look in his eyes. It was one of shock, horror, and disbelief. He pushed me off him roughly and stood up. He looked as white as a ghost. Panic was written all over his face.

“Oh my God! What did I do? What did I do?! Oh my God. What did..I..I...no...NO! I...I...I freaking kissed you! I...I...”

And then he keeled over and threw up right there on the spot. When I tried to go over and help him, he jumped back like I was on fire or something. Great, now he’s having second thoughts.

“Look, Anthony...”

“Don’t even speak to me, you worthless fucking faggot! Don’t come any closer! Do you hear me?! Don’t.”

Tears starting rolling down his face, either due to emotional trauma, the act of vomiting, or both, and he bolted out of the room. The door was still locked, and he had a hard time trying to unlock it through his panic. I thought that he was going to kick it down there for a second. As I got to the door, I could see him running out of the house. I saw his mother running to the door, shouting at him, and then turning to me with a worried expression on her face. I didn’t know what to do. I caused Anthony to run away from home...just like I did. And now his mother was standing there before me, worried about her son that she probably knows nothing about. She was expecting an answer out of me, but how could I answer when I wasn’t even thinking straight? How could I tell her of what just transpired? What have I done?