Hey guys, I am so sorry about not updating Stagnant Chaos for over a month.
The second chapter is just so boring that I have little motivation in writing it, but it is important to the plot. I hope this little one-shot I spent two days writing can appease the masses for a while, so I can return to Stagnant Chaos with a fresh perspective.
On another note, it was my birthday on May 19. I am now another year older.
Enjoy!
Rites of Passage
A one-shot by Tertiary Genesis
--XxXxX--
There are a number of seminal moments, comings of age or rites of passage, which a boy undergoes on his journey to becoming a man. His first steps, his first day of school, his first crush, his first pimple, his first date and even his first job. Some rites are more embarrassing than others. Some men can recall the first time they found a wet patch in the morning or even a tent in that spot. Others may recall the moment there was a need to reassure their parents that, "No, we have not done it yet."
Troy Bolton, a young man of seventeen, found himself undergoing this very rite one lazy Sunday afternoon. He brushed the lengthening brunet hair away from his face and tore his eyes from the TV set to glance at the other teen on the couch with him. What he saw was none other than Ryan Evans, the graceful stage performer, infamous for his relation with East High's Queen Bee.
Troy continued watching his fair-skinned couch-mate, wondering how such polar opposites could have co-habituated the same womb. He noticed the beginnings of a smile gracing the other boy's lips as the blond continued watching the re-runs of Punk'd on the television set. The sound of Ryan suddenly laughing brought Troy out of his reverie and caused him to look around to see if anyone else had noticed his trance-like state.
The Bolton living room was relatively devoid of movement and sound. The television speakers and Ryan, who would chuckle on occasion despite the fact that he had already seen these episodes and knew what was to come, were making the only noises heard. The lights were switched off but the curtains were drawn, allowing natural light to filter into the room, creating that lethargic atmosphere that makes you tired whilst doing nothing.
Troy yawned casually, the sluggish pace of the day taking its toll on his regularly energized body. He raised an arm, stretching his almost atrophied muscles and was about to place it over the shoulders of his companion when he stopped himself, realizing how inappropriate such a move would be in this context, considering how clichéd the maneuver was, and the necessity for a girlfriend to make it work.
It was at that moment, during mid-stretch, that Troy's father, Jack Bolton, decided to make an appearance. Troy hastily lowered his arms to his side, quickly registering his father's presence before bringing his focus back to the television screen. The other boy did not even acknowledge the entrance of another person, still captivated by the larking of another movie icon.
Jack Bolton surveyed the sight before him. He saw two boys sitting on the couch in front of a television on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Something was not right. They should have been out playing basketball, or golf, or hanging out with their friends or something. Jack carefully scrutinized the situation and judging from the posture and proximity of the two teenagers before him, came to one conclusion: they had done it.
A million thoughts raced through the elder Bolton's head once he had made that decision. When did they do it? Had they worn protection? One of them could have been hurt. Did they do it right? All these notions swirling in his head were too much for him to handle. He needed to sit down, so he placed himself into an armchair rather violently.
The teenaged brunet's attention was caught by his father's antics, causing him to throw the older man a concerned look, a look which was thrown right back at him.
Jack Bolton, rendered mute by his thoughts, pleaded to his son with his eyes. Please tell me you have not done it yet! He attempted to elucidate his notions through his face but his actions proved futile, met only by bemusement and bewilderment.
Still unable to locate his voice, Jack tries to communicate more clearly, mouthing his message to his son. "Have you…?" he silently asks, while making a vague but suggestive gesture with his hands, "… done it yet?"
Troy finally catches on to his father's inaudible plight and responds to his silent question with a faint, "no."
Jack, apparently unconvinced by his son's denial, gets up, moves with newfound tenacity, and sits on the coffee table, directly across from his son.
Troy is somewhat affronted by his fathers actions and leans back, moving as far from his father as the couch back would allow him, in an attempt to regain some personal space.
Ryan attempted to continue watching Punk'd, believing this to be a family scuffle to which he was not supposed to be listening.
Troy felt terrified by what was to come. Confronting situations, especially with his parents, were always a scary ordeal. Things would invariably get painfully awkward and embarrassing for all parties concerned.
"I thought," Jack began, ignoring his son's horrified expression, "we agreed that you would come and talk to me before doing this, Troy." He put the statement out there, attempting to shift guilt from himself unto his son, and as he looked to his child for his response, he still appeared to miss the shocked appearance his son wore.
Troy's eyes darted around, scanning for escape or defense against the present situation. He even looked to Ryan, who appeared engrossed in more of Ashton Kutcher's capers, seemingly oblivious to the personal discussion occurring right beside him.
"Can we not…?" Troy choked out to his father, attempting to halt the situation before it picked up any sort of momentum.
"No Troy, we have to talk about this," Troy's father responded, trying to maintain his position of responsibility despite his own misgivings about having serious discussions. He too knew it would be awkward and embarrassing for all parties concerned.
"Well can we talk about it at another time?" Troy offered, suggesting postponing the inevitable awkwardness that was already descending upon them.
"No, it has to be now because I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation."
"But…" Troy starts defensively.
"Troy," the elder Bolton interjects, "there are consequences for your actions. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, but…"
"I know how it is with you kids these days, thinking you know everything. You should still come to me first so that I might be able to explain the mechanics of it all…"
"Dad," Troy interjected, stopping his dad from continuing what would have been, without a doubt, a very disconcerting lecture. "I'm not stupid," claims Troy in a patronizing tone.
"Troy, I'm your father and head of this household. You will not talk to me like that," retorted the other Bolton, getting annoyed with his son's evasiveness.
Ryan was still somewhat oblivious to the topic of conversation but from what he had heard, had a good idea. He was no longer even looking at the television screen but somewhere to the left of said screen, not focusing on what he was seeing, but rather what he was hearing. He knew he should not have been listening in on this conversation, but humans are curious by nature.
Locked in a staring contest were the two male Boltons, both trying to gain dominance over the other in an attempt to rectify the situation and push it their way. Another Bolton, female this time, entered the arena and chimed, "family time!" before moving to turn the television off.
This brought the warring Bolton's out of their conflict. Jack Bolton gave his wife an exasperated look while his son attempted to bury himself in the lounge.
"We were having an important talk here, Luce," pleaded the elder Bolton, somewhat pathetically.
"Well you can talk during family time," retorted Lucille Bolton, who graciously took a place on the couch beside Ryan, inadvertently putting him in the centre of the circle, rather than on the sidelines of this family affair.
Troy's father gave a sigh of defeat and continued his discussion as Mrs. Bolton watched avidly.
"Make sure you are always wearing protection, alright? There are many unseen dangers lurking about," Jack lectured to his son.
Troy turns from his father to Ryan who has a horror-struck expression on his face. Ryan was replaying the events of the day in his head, trying to find out how and why he came to be present in this private family conversation.
Lucille Bolton had suddenly realized the topic of conversation and found herself asking, "Has he done it yet?" to no one in particular.
Troy reacts when his father gives his mother a quick nod. "No, I have not done it yet," he tried to make that point clear. "And could we please not discuss this in front of Ryan?" Troy pleaded.
"Well, isn't he the one you plan on doing it with?" asks Jack.
"I guess…" Troy says, causing a sharp intake of breath from the boy beside him.
Ryan looked at Troy aghast. He did not expect that such a confession would escape Troy so easily. This caused Ryan to go into deep contemplation. Does he want to do this with Troy?
"How about we just do this right now, and get it over and done with?" Troy offered, wanting to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.
"Okay Troy," Jack agreed seeing this as an excellent suggestion, "here are the keys to the shed". He handed Troy a set of keys and stood up. "Get everything set up and I will be there in a few."
Troy pushed himself off of the couch and left the room, motioning to Ryan from the door, "C'mon Ryan, lets do this."
Ryan hesitated before getting up to follow Troy to the shed. A number of things were whizzing through the blond's head, causing him to freak out, namely the shed, and Mr. Bolton's presence on this occasion.
Troy unlocked the shed, located in the corner of his back yard, and attempted to move a motorized lawn mower.
Ryan ducked his head into the shed for a quick reconnoiter. It was dingy and filthy, and there was little room for movement.
"Can you help me pull this out?" Troy asked as he continued to struggle with the lawn mower.
"What do you need it for?" Ryan asked, as he positioned himself to help Troy get the mower out of the shed.
"To mow the lawn," Troy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "what else did you think we were going to do here?"
Ryan stood stumped for a moment, collecting his thoughts and replaying the conversation that occurred in the house. "Oh," he sighed when he realized his mistake in jumping to conclusions.
"I thought your dad was giving you 'the talk' in there," Ryan said, motioning to the house.
"Nah," Troy chuckled as he maneuvered the mower into an easier position.
"Then why were you all embarrassed if all you guys were talking about was mowing the lawn?" Ryan asked.
"Do you know any other seventeen year old guys who haven't mown a lawn before?" Troy retorted with a question.
"Yes, me," Ryan countered.
"Well, you can pay people to do it for you, whereas we can not."
Ryan understood and just watched Troy push the mower towards the front yard where he was supposed to begin.
Troy stopped pushing the lawn mower when he received an epiphany. "Hey Ryan," Troy called out to his friend, "if you thought I was getting 'the talk', why did you come out here with me?" he asked, somewhat cheekily.
"What?" Ryan exclaimed blushing, "no, I… uh… wanted to see your shed…" Ryan attempted.
"You thought we were gonna do it in the shed?" Troy asked laughing.
"Shut up, Troy," Ryan said, totally red from embarrassment.
Troy noticed the awkward position he had put his friend in and approached him apologetically. "I'm sorry Ryan. If you want, maybe after I finish mowing the lawn, we can go up to my room and do something," Troy offered, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Just go mow your lawn, Bolton," Ryan retorted playfully, though not about to reject the offer given.
Many would consider it a right of passage, a seminal moment or even a coming of age, when a boy finds himself in the situation of having to assure his parents that, "No, we have not done it yet." It indicates a maturation that comes with the arrival of responsibilities and partaking in that manly tradition of neglecting them.
--XxXxX--
The ending did not exactly come out right but I wanted this over with so I could get back to Stagnant Chaos. This was originally a 700-word narrative, which I wrote for an English Creative Writing Task. I had re-appropriated it to become a Tryan. I just felt that I had not been on the Tryan lists for a while and needed something to put me back there, and in touch with the new generation of Tryan readers. I rarely write one-shots so this is special.