Slash Work - 4. Suppression Depression/Why Is This So Depressing!?

Chapter 4: Suppression Depression/Why Is This So Depressing!?

Sooo...things haven’t been going so well. I still have no idea who sent me that text message. Probably just some random idiot who just sent a message to a random number that just happened to be mine. And the most recent chapter hasn’t been universally liked as I had planned. One reader “wo-mon” even went as far as to send me a big-ass review containing some constructive criticism. Now, I really appreciate the fact that she took her time to write that monster out, and I flat out encouraged people to write constructive criticism, but it still hurts a little when someone tells you that your story isn’t as great as you thought it was. I did get a lot of other reviews saying that it’s a great story and all, but I guess I need to step it up a notch.

So now it’s almost a week before that one project is due and I swear that Chad is starting to lose it, literally. He comes in, completely drained of energy, barely has it in him to make it through class, and doesn’t even mention the stupid project anymore. Like he’s actually losing sleep over it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to help him out a little if he’s THIS stressed over it. Hope he isn’t like that for EVERY project he’s assigned.

So I think the hoody guy from my Geology class made a pass at me earlier today. It’s weird. I was searching the classroom for hotties, as I always do, and my eyes eventually make their way towards him, and just at that moment, he looks up and stares back at me. Now here’s where it gets weird. Before I can turn my gaze away from him so as to not look like I’ve been staring at him for the past ten minutes, he smiles and, I swear he did this, winked at me! Then he puts his head back down on the desk. Okay, so maybe I was imagining it all, but did that particularly attractive unshaven guy just wink at me?! Did it look that obvious that I found him attractive? And by winking at me, does that mean that he thinks I’m attractive, too? I don’t think I remembered what the professor talked about today.

He is SO definitely going into the story now.

Which brings me back to my story. I’ve been toying around with the idea of adding more characters to the story, even making some of them main characters. I don’t want to add too many, as readers will easily get confused as to who is who, but I definitely want to add more than one. Generally, I don’t make female characters unless I need a mom character somewhere in the story, but should I make one (non-mom character) now? Would I even know what it’s like inside the female brain? It scares me to even ponder the idea. And how close should the new characters be to the main couple? Close buds or complete strangers? Maybe introduce more of the football team.

After Geology, I high-tailed it back to the main building most students hang out at, took my laptop, Destroyer of Free Time, out of my locker, and went to someplace quiet to type. Unfortunately, that usually means climbing a couple flights of stairs which, with a laptop in hand, is not something I like having to do, but alas, it is a necessary evil. I booted it up and went straight to the Internet, the Dark Lord of the Destroyer of Free Time. The Internet owns my soul, in case you haven’t noticed. As predicted by now, yet still quite pleased to see, I have two new reviews for “Shooting Stars Collide.” One of which came from Comedian (Yes! Got him hooked for life!), who enjoys having to think for once in what he’s reading. Also he is able to pick out the synthesizing that I throw in every now and then. I’m surprised he caught that. That’s advanced techniques I’m dishing out right there, and he’s sniffing them out like a bloodhound (though I hope he isn’t sniffing my dirty undies to help pick up the scent of synthesizing in my stories as well). Bad Comedian! No treat!

The second review from “Teh Dude,” so I guess is a guy. Saves me the trouble. Hmm...this is...interesting...

“Dude! This story is awesome! I’m totally glad that the two guys aren’t acting like a pair of sissies. Honestly, I get sick and tired of gay guys always being portrayed as women with penises. Why can’t a guy like sports and cars AND like guys as well? And the two guys are jocks! (Shocker!) Who says that jocks can’t feel emotions other than lust? Finally, characters I can relate to. Update soon, dude!”

Um, okay? Is this guy, and it’s OBVIOUS this time that it’s a guy, working out some personal issues here through reviewing my story? I mean, I’m totally glad that he reviewed, but did he have to take it near political? Man, he’s going to have a harem of feminazis after his ass once they read this. Not that I COMPLETELY disagree with everything he said. Or that I, for some reason, think that he sounded sexy, even if I don’t know what he looks like or how his voice sounds.

Keeping all the reviews I received in mind, I set to work on the fourth chapter, hoping that I would do a better job this time around. I was still thinking about that rape scene, but decided to put it on hold for right now. I think it’s still way too early for something like that to happen, though I have read stories before that managed to pull it off early on excellently. For now though, I’ll have to make do with a witty yet semi-important dialog scene between Guy A and Guy B. Be sure to include plenty of “dude” and “bro.” Dude, I’m so glad that I don’t talk like that. Wait...

‘He shoved me. I shoved him. Well, I tried to shove him, but he sidestepped and I went flying to the floor. It didn’t help that we were in the showers in the locker room, meaning that as soon as my face hit the floor, I felt my towel land on my back. Which would mean that my ass and my balls were all on display for him. I quickly covered myself up, but it was too late. The damage had been done. He was laughing like a clown hyena, his face beet red, tears in his eyes. I thought he might pass out from the lack of oxygen he was taking in. Instead, he himself collapsed onto the floor, laughing so hard that he couldn’t even stand up. Bastard.’

I have no idea why those two are in the showers alone, but I can make it work. Readers won’t mind, as long as they get the hot man sex. And I can always explain it away later. Maybe reveal that they WEREN’T alone, and that a third-party member, a Guy C, was peeping the entire time. Blackmail, the best plot device money can buy. Though there won’t be a threesome. I don’t advocate rampant, gratuitous sex, especially through forced means. Is it too early for them to start noticing each other’s advances?

My cell phone vibrates. I got a text message. I fish it out of my pants and see what it says.

“dud1. u so hawt. suk my balls. wana fuk?”

WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY?!? And why does he keep sending me these things?! Do I have to change my number now? Because obviously somebody knows who I am and what my phone number is. And actually, now that I think about it, the quip about his balls is proof that this IS a guy! Crap, now I don’t feel like finishing out that scene. The mood’s ruined. And I don’t want to do something completely stupid like forcing myself to write a chapter. I sighed and put away my laptop.

Heading for Pre-Calculus, I kept wondering about that text message. Come to think of it, I rarely get text messages to begin with. So I should’ve been suspicious of getting one right off the bat. Why can’t this person be stupid and leave a return address or something on his messages? Why do I get the smart assholes?

I detected a flash of rainbow in my peripheral vision.

I swerved my head towards the rainbow to see what it was. Oh. It looks like the campus’s resident gay club was out on campus again (no pun intended). What’s their beef this time? One of them, whom I honestly couldn’t tell was a guy or a girl, was holding up a sign, but I could only see the back of it. I didn’t know what it said. Not like I’m going to go over there and ask what they’re rallying/protesting/promoting this time. Like I want to be associated with them. I swear, I can understand them wanting to be “out and proud” and everything, and not have to worry about being or acting a certain way with repercussions, but that, by no means, means that they have to illustrate, and to a point, exaggerate, every single known gay, lesbian, and transsexual stereotype known to mankind. I mean, all the guys are flamboyant, a couple to the point of crossdressing (the trans folk), and the girls are either lipstick lesbians or butch Rosie O’Donnell types. Whatever happened to “normal” people who also happen to be gay? Who DON’T feel like their sexuality defines their very being? I sighed in frustration and continued to walk to class.

Guy B drops his designer Abercrombie & Fitch jeans and model Calvin Klein briefs.

“Oh my!” squeals Guy A. “Is that a rainbow condom, cutie-pie?”

“It sure is, babycakes,” replied the burly Guy B, brandishing a cat-o’-nine-tails whip from out of nowhere. “Why don’t you bend over so that I can...show you something?”

“Ooooh!” cried out the flamboyant male cheerleader. “You’re so romantic!”

Why do I feel a massive amount of bile piling up in my stomach (trademark sarcasm)?

Chad didn’t come to class until about fifteen minutes after class had began. He came down to my row, slumped down into the chair, and just started sleeping. If he was THAT tired, he could’ve just went back to his dorm room to sleep. No sense in coming to class if you aren’t going to be awake throughout it. It’s not like the professor takes attendance or anything. The project must be working him to death. I left him alone until after class.

“Yo, Chad.”

“Hm?” he mumbled sleepily.

“If you really need help in this project thing, well, I’m always free on the weekends,” I offered.

His eyes visibly got wider.

“Really?” he asked, with what I could’ve sworn was hope of the purest kind in his voice.

“Um, yeah. Really,” I said, getting kind of creeped out by his sudden change in demeanor.

“Cool! So you can come over on Saturday then?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Am I already second-guessing this?

“That’s cool. Thanks a lot, bro. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

It was at that moment that my “slash material” senses went off. Or maybe it was my broken gaydar. But something was telling me that those words meant more than at face value. Quite possibly of homoerotic intent. But then again, I’ve had these moments before, and they’ve always proven to be wishful thinking. Nothing more.

Sitting in my next class, I thought about my upcoming “date” with Chad. Oh man, now I’m starting to think like those crazed yaoi fangirls, thinking that everything is somehow gay. ‘Quick! Think of something manly! Cars! Think about cars. No, not the ones with metallic balls in the back. Breasts! Think about breast, and how they’re NOT just two oversized, hairless balls on a woman’s chest...Crap! I really AM too gay!’

It’s probably completely innocuous in nature. I’m just over-imagining things. Besides, he has a roommate. No way will we be able to have hot n’ horny sex if there’s a (straight) third person there in the same room.

By the time I made it back to the apartment, I was as hard as a rock. I think even watching High School Musical would set me off at this point. And that, my friends, is the first telltale sign of the Apocalypse. Instead of watching an uncharacteristically goodie-two-shoes basketball player heartthrob with a heart of gold even MORE uncharacteristically sing about good times and love to a DEFINITELY characteristically popular equal in female form, I instead went to Youporn. For about three minutes. Then I was done. That’s all I’m saying.

“You’ve got mail!”

The appropriate icon changed to indicate so. So I got another review, huh? Well, hopefully it’s someone who will NOT completely hate the previous chapter. Maybe they’ll even praise it. From “Jock_Boi_88” (another guy I assume?):

“I’m glad that you wrote this. I agree with you on the stereotypical gay thing. Why DO they all act like that? I told some people I know that I was gay, and they automatically assumed that I was like all of that. Even those who’ve known me for quite some time. True, I don’t play any sports, but it’s not like I’m all of a sudden going to go “girlfriend!” to everything and talk about interior design to an excessive degree. The guys in the story, I feel, represent a more accurate portrayal of gay male teens in America today, the ones you CAN’T pick out of a crowd. So thanks for writing this. I hope many other people also read it and learn something from it.”

Okay. Well then. I had no idea that what I was writing was so...political to some people. I’d ask him not to take this too seriously but, like “Teh Dude” from earlier, he left no link to his profile, if he even has one. I guess I’ll just have to address it in the next chapter.

It’s weird that the two guys are the ones making this into a political statement, or taking it FAR too personally. I, in no way, am trying to make this a serious piece about the strict gender roles in our society today. I’m making this stuff up as I go along, people! I just want to make an enjoyable story about two guys falling in love together, who also happen to NOT be stereotypically gay! Is that so hard to understand? If I wanted it to be taken seriously, first off, I wouldn’t make it fiction and certainly not a multi-chaptered story, and secondly, I’d have posted it somewhere else.

It was no more than an hour later, while doing some homework, that I got more mail. I pretty much never log off the Internet anymore, just so that I always know when I get more reviews (that’s about the only kind of email I get). From Phlegm (oh, she’s back): something I said in the previous chapter reminded her of some ancient song that really shows her age. So I guess she isn’t a thirteen-year-old fangirl foaming at the mouth about some straight anime character she secretly wishes was gay for some odd and nonsensical reason. And she wants a rape scene. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN?! Does everything have to include rape to get your jollies off (can soccer moms get their jollies off?)? Oh God, is she…is she jerking off just reading this story? This isn’t supposed to be your porn! Not until I say so!

With her rape-centric review fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but to think of the rape scene. Damn her. It isn’t time to include that, yet. I still have characterization to get through. And there’s still all those other reviews that said the previous chapter was boring as shit. I need to make something better. Something that will make the readers forget about that chapter. If only I had planned most of the story out beforehand. Had an outline of some sort. I could at least go off of that. But knowing me, I’d steer so far away from it that it would start resembling a new story altogether. I sighed in defeat and closed all the windows. It’s pretty sad when homework starts sounding better than writing a chapter.

Now that I think about it, I myself should start working on that damned project due in a week. No sense in devoting all my time and energy helping Chad with his project if I can’t even do my own. And where did this fifty page reading assignment come from? And this other assignment? Actually, how on earth did I manage to miss all of these? I guess working on (and worrying about) my story took all my attention away from my studies. If this story makes me fail this semester, I’m going to kill every last character in it in the most gruesome way possible.

Now that I found the solution as to how to believably get Guy A and Guy B to see and speak to each other, how am I going to get them together? That shouldn’t be as hard to do. They’ve already got enough in common. They see each other regularly. How could they NOT fall in love with the other? Should one of them be highly homophobic, even though he’s gay himself? Could always do that. Makes for good angst. What would those guy readers of mine think? Keep in mind that I’m thinking about all this as I’m trying (key word being “trying”) to do some of this homework. About ten minutes later, “trying” morphed into “failing.” And ten minutes after that, “failing” became “a lost cause,” as I booted up my computer and opened up the document again.