![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Here are all the previous parts of Summer Story, nestled in Memories.
Here is the next installment and I'll talk about it later. "cause I'm scaring myself.Damn.
SummerStory
“Whitney. Whit, howya doin’ boy?”
His knees went weak for a second and he turned.
“Wade.”
Wade was looking at him, his eyes flat and blank, his face devoid of expression. “I went to your house to get you. I found out you don’t live there anymore. Your dad told me.” He balled his fists, drawing Whit’s eyes to them, and he noticed his knuckles were rough and red.
“So. Living with the Ross’, hunh?” He stepped back from Whit and looked him up and down, still expressionless. Whit was about to speak, when Wade smiled.
“Good. They’re good people. You look better too.” He jerked his head back to the road. “Were those dicks bothering you? They won’t now. No ones going to bother you.”
A chill swept over Whit—Wade. Just when he was beginning to think he wasn’t coming back, here he was. Looking out for him again.
Wade put his hand on Whit’s shoulder, and pressed down.
“I missed you, Whit. Some things changed while I was gone, but that never did. Did you miss me?” He tilted his head and looked at Whitney with interest, like he was examining every reaction, and Whit thought how cold and dead his eyes looked.
“Wade,” he said again and it was like magic, like watching life being poured into an empty vessel, his eyes warmed and looked—real, alive again.
“You said that already,” he laughed and his teeth gleamed, and his eyes sparkled. He moved to stand next to Whit, and Whit couldn’t help but notice how his muscles slid and bunched under his t-shirt as Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard pack of cigarettes. The heat from the brick wall behind him warmed him and made his own muscles feel slippery and loose. He watched Wade light up and draw in deep; Whit leaned against the wall and let the heat fill him.
Wade tilted his head back to exhale and Whit’s eye’s followed the line of his throat and Wade turned to him and asked,” What’s the story with Kent?”
The warm bubble he’d been in burst when Wade asked and he lurched upright.
“Kent? What? What thing with Kent? We’re friends….”
Wade grinned and his eyes were flat again. He reached over and grabbed the pocket of Whit’s denims and jerked him towards him, towards the alley next to the comic shop.
Whit staggered after him and Wade pulled him deeper into the alley way, and he slammed Whit against the rough brick wall. The smell of the dumpster blocking sight of the street filled his nose for a moment, bitter and metallic and the smell of rot—oranges gone bad and putrid meat, dead things--made him gag, and then Wade was leaning on him.
His breath, smoke and sweet and spicy, swept out against his mouth as he spoke and replaced the odor around them. Whit leaned into him, drawing in the spicy scent of him, and Wade whispered against his neck, “ You weren’t friends when I left and I hear that you two spend a lot of time together lately—alone, and that means you’re fucking him.” He jerked Whit against him hard and startled a grunt out of him. Wade rolled his hips against him and for the first time since seeing him, he felt a stirring of the feeling Wade always brought out of him. Whit’s knees spread without thought and Wade laughed softly.
“I don’t want you fucking him anymore—no body…unless I tell you it’s ok.” He bit down on the tender skin of Whit’s neck and shook a little, growling. “ Be a good boy now, ok, Whit?” he licked against the sensitized skin.
Whit shook all over and nodded. He wished he wasn’t as hard as he was and wished he didn’t want Wade to touch him…
Wade stepped back. “What are you doing today?” he asked in a perfectly calm, everyday tone of voice and Whit blinked, trying to adjust to the rapid change in mood.
It took him a try or two before he could respond in an audible voice.
“I- I’m supposed to help at home Do yard work and, and stuff.”
Wade’s eyes flatten out again as he lost interest. “Oh. Okay.” He stroked Whit’s arm absently, “Can you call me when you have free time? I’ve got a place, a big place, it’s nice…you’d like it,” he said, his mood going through another lightning change looking at Whit with an expression he found hard to place—wanting…needing… approval?
Whit looped his arms around Wade.” Sure, as soon as I get a chance, we’ll get together.”
“Good.” He batted Whit’s arms away. “ Shit. Don’t go all girly on me, get off.” He said and headed back to the mouth of the ally, and Whit followed him, grinning a little. He could tell when Wade was pleased, and Wade glanced back at him with a small smile, the real smile he saw so rarely. It made him feel good. Pretty good.
The bright sun made his eyes blink, and then there was a dark shadow in front of him. Before he could understand what was happening, stars went nova in his head and he hit the sidewalk.
“Wade!” His hands were wet and something was stabbing them and he was kneeling on glass, and it stank of something sharp and alcoholic.
“Your faggot boyfriend’s dead, I hope,” his dad growled in his face, a length of pipe in his hand. “I think I’ll finish up with you,” he dragged Whitney back to his feet pushed Whit back into the alley, and his heart raced and jittered, he was afraid, so afraid, he wanted to run, drop to the ground. Blood and something that stung his eyes ran down his head, dripped into his gasping mouth.
“Nobody beats me in my own house and gets away with it,’ he growled and the stink of alcohol washed over Whit’s face and his dad shoved him hard against the wall, grabbed a handful of wet hair and slammed his head back.
Whit heard a crunch that vibrated through his head, and then pain made his eyes slam shut—pain, exploding in his head like a volcano—
Again and again and he heard his dad calling him a faggot and after a while, it really didn’t seem to matter, he heard noise but felt nothing except a rocking motion and he hoped he was going to die soon—it was taking a long time.
His dad opened his mouth, wide open and maybe he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear it, and then he dropped to the ground. Stayed there, and Wade was standing there, swaying back and forth and blood masked his face.
His dad lay on the ground.
Wade looked at him in horror, “You okay?” he gasped out, and spit blood. He grabbed Whit’s arm, asked again,” you okay? Because we have to move…” he bent down and picked up the pipe painted over with his own blood, made sure there was no blood on the man on the ground. He looked up and winced at the wall, some blood and hair were pasted there.
His dad lay on the ground.
“Whit, come on!” Wade pulled his arm again. “They’ll think he was drunk out of his mind, staggered in here to die. They’ll think he had a heart attack—let’s go damn it!” He raced to the other end of the alley pulling Whit with him. When they got out to the other side and sunlight flooded his eyes again, he grabbed Wades arm. “I-I think my dad is dead!” he looked into Wade’s eyes and felt lost—free-floating and never going to find his way back to the ground.
“Yeah, Whit. Your dad is dead. Nothing bad is ever coming from that motherfucker again…I told him not to fuck with you any more,” He muttered, "Told him…” He knelt quickly and shoved the pipe into a storm drain.
”There. We need to get cleaned up. There’s a bar down this block, we can go in the back way….” Whit was staring at him, not really seeing him. His dad was dead. His dad was trying to kill him. He was dead. He was dead and Whit was alive.
Whit doubled over and began crying, loud hacking sobs and Wade grabbed him, eased him to the ground and sat in the dirty alley and held Whit as he screamed into his chest.
TBC, god i hope so....
Here is the next installment and I'll talk about it later. "cause I'm scaring myself.Damn.
SummerStory
“Whitney. Whit, howya doin’ boy?”
His knees went weak for a second and he turned.
“Wade.”
Wade was looking at him, his eyes flat and blank, his face devoid of expression. “I went to your house to get you. I found out you don’t live there anymore. Your dad told me.” He balled his fists, drawing Whit’s eyes to them, and he noticed his knuckles were rough and red.
“So. Living with the Ross’, hunh?” He stepped back from Whit and looked him up and down, still expressionless. Whit was about to speak, when Wade smiled.
“Good. They’re good people. You look better too.” He jerked his head back to the road. “Were those dicks bothering you? They won’t now. No ones going to bother you.”
A chill swept over Whit—Wade. Just when he was beginning to think he wasn’t coming back, here he was. Looking out for him again.
Wade put his hand on Whit’s shoulder, and pressed down.
“I missed you, Whit. Some things changed while I was gone, but that never did. Did you miss me?” He tilted his head and looked at Whitney with interest, like he was examining every reaction, and Whit thought how cold and dead his eyes looked.
“Wade,” he said again and it was like magic, like watching life being poured into an empty vessel, his eyes warmed and looked—real, alive again.
“You said that already,” he laughed and his teeth gleamed, and his eyes sparkled. He moved to stand next to Whit, and Whit couldn’t help but notice how his muscles slid and bunched under his t-shirt as Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard pack of cigarettes. The heat from the brick wall behind him warmed him and made his own muscles feel slippery and loose. He watched Wade light up and draw in deep; Whit leaned against the wall and let the heat fill him.
Wade tilted his head back to exhale and Whit’s eye’s followed the line of his throat and Wade turned to him and asked,” What’s the story with Kent?”
The warm bubble he’d been in burst when Wade asked and he lurched upright.
“Kent? What? What thing with Kent? We’re friends….”
Wade grinned and his eyes were flat again. He reached over and grabbed the pocket of Whit’s denims and jerked him towards him, towards the alley next to the comic shop.
Whit staggered after him and Wade pulled him deeper into the alley way, and he slammed Whit against the rough brick wall. The smell of the dumpster blocking sight of the street filled his nose for a moment, bitter and metallic and the smell of rot—oranges gone bad and putrid meat, dead things--made him gag, and then Wade was leaning on him.
His breath, smoke and sweet and spicy, swept out against his mouth as he spoke and replaced the odor around them. Whit leaned into him, drawing in the spicy scent of him, and Wade whispered against his neck, “ You weren’t friends when I left and I hear that you two spend a lot of time together lately—alone, and that means you’re fucking him.” He jerked Whit against him hard and startled a grunt out of him. Wade rolled his hips against him and for the first time since seeing him, he felt a stirring of the feeling Wade always brought out of him. Whit’s knees spread without thought and Wade laughed softly.
“I don’t want you fucking him anymore—no body…unless I tell you it’s ok.” He bit down on the tender skin of Whit’s neck and shook a little, growling. “ Be a good boy now, ok, Whit?” he licked against the sensitized skin.
Whit shook all over and nodded. He wished he wasn’t as hard as he was and wished he didn’t want Wade to touch him…
Wade stepped back. “What are you doing today?” he asked in a perfectly calm, everyday tone of voice and Whit blinked, trying to adjust to the rapid change in mood.
It took him a try or two before he could respond in an audible voice.
“I- I’m supposed to help at home Do yard work and, and stuff.”
Wade’s eyes flatten out again as he lost interest. “Oh. Okay.” He stroked Whit’s arm absently, “Can you call me when you have free time? I’ve got a place, a big place, it’s nice…you’d like it,” he said, his mood going through another lightning change looking at Whit with an expression he found hard to place—wanting…needing… approval?
Whit looped his arms around Wade.” Sure, as soon as I get a chance, we’ll get together.”
“Good.” He batted Whit’s arms away. “ Shit. Don’t go all girly on me, get off.” He said and headed back to the mouth of the ally, and Whit followed him, grinning a little. He could tell when Wade was pleased, and Wade glanced back at him with a small smile, the real smile he saw so rarely. It made him feel good. Pretty good.
The bright sun made his eyes blink, and then there was a dark shadow in front of him. Before he could understand what was happening, stars went nova in his head and he hit the sidewalk.
“Wade!” His hands were wet and something was stabbing them and he was kneeling on glass, and it stank of something sharp and alcoholic.
“Your faggot boyfriend’s dead, I hope,” his dad growled in his face, a length of pipe in his hand. “I think I’ll finish up with you,” he dragged Whitney back to his feet pushed Whit back into the alley, and his heart raced and jittered, he was afraid, so afraid, he wanted to run, drop to the ground. Blood and something that stung his eyes ran down his head, dripped into his gasping mouth.
“Nobody beats me in my own house and gets away with it,’ he growled and the stink of alcohol washed over Whit’s face and his dad shoved him hard against the wall, grabbed a handful of wet hair and slammed his head back.
Whit heard a crunch that vibrated through his head, and then pain made his eyes slam shut—pain, exploding in his head like a volcano—
Again and again and he heard his dad calling him a faggot and after a while, it really didn’t seem to matter, he heard noise but felt nothing except a rocking motion and he hoped he was going to die soon—it was taking a long time.
His dad opened his mouth, wide open and maybe he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear it, and then he dropped to the ground. Stayed there, and Wade was standing there, swaying back and forth and blood masked his face.
His dad lay on the ground.
Wade looked at him in horror, “You okay?” he gasped out, and spit blood. He grabbed Whit’s arm, asked again,” you okay? Because we have to move…” he bent down and picked up the pipe painted over with his own blood, made sure there was no blood on the man on the ground. He looked up and winced at the wall, some blood and hair were pasted there.
His dad lay on the ground.
“Whit, come on!” Wade pulled his arm again. “They’ll think he was drunk out of his mind, staggered in here to die. They’ll think he had a heart attack—let’s go damn it!” He raced to the other end of the alley pulling Whit with him. When they got out to the other side and sunlight flooded his eyes again, he grabbed Wades arm. “I-I think my dad is dead!” he looked into Wade’s eyes and felt lost—free-floating and never going to find his way back to the ground.
“Yeah, Whit. Your dad is dead. Nothing bad is ever coming from that motherfucker again…I told him not to fuck with you any more,” He muttered, "Told him…” He knelt quickly and shoved the pipe into a storm drain.
”There. We need to get cleaned up. There’s a bar down this block, we can go in the back way….” Whit was staring at him, not really seeing him. His dad was dead. His dad was trying to kill him. He was dead. He was dead and Whit was alive.
Whit doubled over and began crying, loud hacking sobs and Wade grabbed him, eased him to the ground and sat in the dirty alley and held Whit as he screamed into his chest.
TBC, god i hope so....
no subject
*Abi appologises for the gratuitous use of the work fuck, and wishes to state emphatically that she loves this part*
no subject
Where the fuck indeed has Wade been!
And yes! What the fuck *is* wrong with him!!!
And fucking Whit! My god, such a fucking poor kicked puppy!
Going right the fuck back to Wade!!!Yes! Fcuk! fuckity - fuck!
What the fcuk, even!??!!??
*Abi appologises for the gratuitous use of the work fuck, and wishes to state emphatically that she loves this part*
aww! it's ok! *kiss*
no subject
(oopsies)