A soft thud from somewhere opened Tom's eyes, and they swiveled around to locate the source of the sound. It was still dark outside, as he could see from the open window, and usually he would wonder what time it was, but this time he didn't care. He reluctantly sat up, which took a bit of time, as he was still a bit groggy, and looked around, his eyes blinking uncoordinatedly. He recalled the events that happened the day before, and his eyes immediately searched for Little Johnny. Discovering it on the floor next to his bed, he finally figured out the mystery of the sound.
As he extended an arm to grab it, a sudden breeze enveloped his body, and, after realizing he had taken his shirt off in the middle of the night, he shivered. He got hold of Little Johnny's ear, hauled it up, and pulled the blanket around his shoulders for warmth. He didn't want to go all the way over to the window to shut it. In the comfort of the covers, he pondered for a while, innumerable questions burning his brain.
What really is Danny's job? Why did he smell of cologne yesterday? Why was his hair like that? Why is he hiding things from me? He stopped at the last thought. Why am I hiding things from him? He deserves to know about Giovanna. About our situation… He buried his face in Little Johnny's. Oh, why did I ever make that move? Stupid, stupid, stupid… I have to tell him. I have to. If he loves me like I know he does, he'd understand… Wouldn't he? He turned to his side, exposing his back to the cold, but he didn't make a move to cover it up.
He tried to go back to sleep, but the tormenting thoughts drilled in his brain, and instead he shifted on the bed, looking for the perfect spot. Unsuccessful, he got up and slipped into the bathroom. He kicked off his undergarments and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes and, as he studied his stomach, that he put on a bit of weight. He trailed his finger along the disappearing contours of his abdomen and sighed heavily. His weekly runs had taken a backseat after they moved, and he never seemed to have enough time to continue them.
He tore his eyes away from his reflection and made for the shower. He spent about half an hour in there, the rush of water against his skin comforting to him. Once finished, he dried himself up, brushed his teeth, and dug in his closet for trousers. He slipped a pair on, grabbed his new shirt from the headboard, and put it on. Seizing his bag from the corner, he grudgingly walked downstairs and proceeded making himself breakfast.
He managed to produce an omelet and some sausages. Usually, he would make more than one omelet and even a serving of hash browns, but as he remembered what he had seen in the mirror, the whole idea repulsed him. He placed them on a plate, went over to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water, and set them on the table. He could see through the curtains that the sun was beginning to rise, the panoply of the warm golden light muffled by the fabric, and he began to eat.
As he finished his omelet, he heard footsteps descending the stairs, and he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Mrs. Fletcher slip into the kitchen. He gulped down the last of his water, went into the kitchen to kiss his mother goodbye ("Isn't it a bit too early?" she asked), and opened the door.
The intense light of the sun poured inside the house, momentarily blinding him, and he turned away to avoid further irritation to his eyes. Raising a hand to lessen the impact, he ambled onto the sidewalk and closed the door behind him. He had forgotten how bright the sunrise was in contrast to the darkness that its rays couldn't reach, but he really didn't have the energy to remember in the first place.
He strolled along, his hands buried in his pockets, and he whistled a tune to keep himself company. I'll talk to him when I get the chance… I can't put this off any longer…
It took him longer than he'd expected to arrive, and he had already seen a few students pass him by on the way to the double doors. He opened them and let himself in the hallway, which, oddly enough, was already bustling with activity. But school doesn't start for twenty minutes…
Some were huddled together discussing something under their breaths. Others were wandering around with no particular destination. What they all had in common, however, was that all of their attentions were focused on their mobile phones.
That's not normal… Tom thought, shrugging, as he pushed his way through the clusters of people, not really caring what all the commotion was about. Soon enough, he heard whispers everywhere—if you could call them that. The whispers were loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, and as he looked around to listen, he learned that hewas the subject. Eyes peered over their cellular phones and glared at Tom, some having fits of giggles as he passed them by, some crinkling their nose in disgust.
What did I do? He asked himself as he turned a corner, feeling more and more insecure as the seconds fluttered by. He wanted to look back to see if their eyes were still following him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He sighed in relief when the hallway before him was empty, and he made his way to his class as quickly as he could, his footsteps echoing faintly amidst the sea of whispers behind him.
Upon entering the room, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a jolt run through his body when he saw his entire class—with the exception of Danny—looking at him intently, cellular phones in their hands. He made his way to his desk, taking everything he had to avoid eye contact with any of them, and settled himself in his seat. Their eyes followed him discreetly, and not long after sitting down, two males stood up from their chairs and made their way to him.
His heart began racing. He didn't know what their purpose was, but they seemed intent on exacting it on him.
"Fletcher," one of them said, Christopher as Tom could recall. "Where's your little whore?" They burst into bouts of laughter, but Tom merely looked at them in return, eyes furrowed in confusion.
"What are you talking about?" he asked sincerely. He had never hired a prostitute to pleasure him all his life. They laughed even more, Christopher incoherently saying something to his friend.
"Ah, that's rich, eh, Tim?" Christopher laughed, nudging the one called Tim on his arm. Tom stood up, his eyes squinted in anger, his hands balled into fists. He could feel the sharp pain as his nails dug into the skin of his palm, but he ignored it.
"What are you talking about?" Tom repeated fiercely. The two looked at each other and laughed some more. The rest of the class joined in, and Tom could feel his blood boiling. Tim was the first to recover, and he pushed his phone in Tom's chest. Tom grabbed hold of it, pushed the button in the middle, and watched as a video began to play.
The close-up of a familiar face met his eyes—Danny.
He had his eyes squeezed tight, biting his bottom lip, his face going in and out of view. The sound the video provided wasn't of the highest quality, but Tom could make out laughter and low grunting. When the camera pulled back from Danny's face, Tom's eyes widened in horror at the new sight before him: Danny was leaning over the sink, his hands grabbing the edges, his trousers wrapped around his ankles, and Cole holding his waist behind him.
The camera panned to Jimmy's face (he was apparently the one taking the video) and he was saying something that Tom didn't bother to decipher. His attention was solely focused on what was behind him. What he could make out, however, was "Come on, Danny-boy! Make Cole believe you're worth his money!"
The bathroom incident flooded back into his mind immediately. He wasn't beaten up that day! He was raped!
He pressed the middle button again, not wanting to see anymore, and shoved the phone back into Tim's hand. He eyed the two with disgust and fury.
"That's not prostitution!" he yelled aloud, oblivious to the eyes of his classmates. Christopher had stopped laughing and was now looking at Tom in disbelief. "That's fucking rape, you fucking idiots!" He collected his bag and stormed his way to the door. Along the way, however, he heard Christopher say something like "probably has his prick sucked for free" and Tom stopped in his tracks, his knuckles turning white, gritting his teeth. He turned on the spot and swiftly landed a punch across Christopher's jaw.
"Fuck you!" he bellowed and ran out of the class. A small crowd had already gathered around the immediate area outside the door, but he angrily pushed his way through them, ignoring their protests. He kicked the double doors open and made his way to Danny's house.
::
"Danny!" Tom screamed, banging on the door with the side of his fists. Nobody answered. He grabbed the doorknob quickly and twisted it, the reassuring click revealing it wasn't locked. He pushed the door all the way open and slammed it shut, his eyes scanning the place for any sign of Danny. Failing to locate him, Tom dropped his bag on the floor and made for Danny's room.
He found Danny sitting in his bed, his head buried in his arms, hugging his knees much like he did when Tom found him in the bathroom. Danny slowly lifted his head to look at the intruder, and Tom felt his heart drop when he saw his tear-stained cheeks. He stayed under the doorsill.
"Come to break up with me?" he asked coldly, looking away from Tom's eyes and out the window. Tom's eyes widened at the sentiment, but he kept his feet rooted to the spot. What is he talking about? Why would I do that? Danny wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "I understand. I mean, who'd want to have a relationship with a whore anyway?" Tom felt his heart being ripped from its confines, but he still didn't make a move to comfort Danny, something that he felt he should have done as soon as he found him crying.
"So you area prostitute…" Tom whispered, more to himself than to Danny, but Danny had heard it.
"What are you waiting for, then? Just lock the door when you leave. I can't handle any more humiliation." The statement sliced though Tom's heart, and he wanted to pull Danny into a hug at that moment, but for some reason, he couldn't. Wouldn't.
"I'm not leaving you," said Tom bluntly, closing the door behind him. "I'm staying right here." Danny looked at him and gave a soft laugh as he nodded to himself.
"I get it," he said, standing up, wiping the last of the wetness on his cheek, and he extended a hand. "I usually ask for the money up front." Tom furrowed his eyebrows when he realized what the gesture had meant.
"What are you talking about? I'm not going to pay you to have sex with me!" Danny stared at Tom and dropped his hand.
"Then why are you still here?" Tom was befuddled by his icy question and by the emotion he was evoking. Danny's face was completely unreadable.
"Why are you acting like this?" asked Tom sharply, and he could feel his face getting hotter.
"What are you still doing here?" Danny retorted severely, leaving Tom dumbstruck. "If you don't want to pay me, I don't see the point of you staying. It's obvious you're repulsed by me—I can see it in your eyes." He turned around and sat back down on his bed. Tom was getting frustrated, and he balled his hands into fists. Where the hell did he get that idea from? Damn it, Danny, why are you being so difficult!
"I am not! I want you to talk to me about it, that's why I want to stay!" Tom bellowed, unleashing his pent-up frustration. He didn't know why Danny was being so unbearably unreasonable, but his heart was aching to find out.
"Talk to you about what?" Danny said, his voice cracking, turning to Tom. "That I fuck complete strangers for money? That I'm a fucking whore? Sorry, Fletcher, but that's about all there is to it." Tears were already pooling around Danny's eyes, and it hurt Tom to look at him. This was not Danny. Danny was always smiling, always laughing, always happy about everything. That was the Danny that he knew, not the broken young man he looking at right now.
"That's not what I meant," Tom said defensively, advancing toward him. "I meant about you getting raped in the bathroom! Why didn't you say anything?"
"You wouldn't have believed me," Danny replied coldly as he wiped a tear before it had the chance to roll along his cheek, moving farther away from Tom as he got closer. "Nobody ever does. In everyone's mind, prostitutes don't get raped because they're willing." He was crying now, and Tom could feel gravity pulling him closer to him.
"Do you really believe that?"
Danny's body froze and he looked at Tom, who had already taken the space next to him. He placed a hand on Danny's thigh and continued. "We're best mates, Dan, I'd believe anything you say." They looked in each other for some time, Tom immersing himself in the splendor of Danny's blue eyes.
"You don't care that I'm—" Danny began, but he was interrupted by the sudden pressure of Tom's lips against his.
"Of course I don't," Tom reassured him as he pulled back. "You're still the same Danny I know. The same Danny I love. So what if you're paid to have sex? Your heart belongs to medoesn't it? Isn't that all that matters?" All of a sudden, it didn't matter to Tom that Danny had lied to him about his job so many times. All he wanted now was Danny—the real Danny.
Tom leaned back in for another kiss, and this time Danny kissed back, his hands wrapping around Tom's neck. Soon, Tom found himself situated on top of Danny, who was lying on his back, their lips never ceasing to make contact, their tongues playing with each other like all the other times, but this time was a bit different. Tom couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed that this particular kiss was the most passionate they had ever shared.
In that moment, all his fears rushed back into him, and, as he ran his fingers through Danny's curly locks and felt Danny's hands caressing his back, he felt as if though he was betraying him.
Danny's divulged his secrets to me, but I'm too much of a coward to tell him mine. That's not fair to him. I don't think I can continue with this relationship until I tell him about Giovanna…
Tom broke off the kiss and abruptly stood up, and Danny looked at him with confusion and longing.
"What's wrong—" Danny asked, beginning to stand up.
"I'm sorry, Danny," interrupted Tom, and he ran out of the house, leaving Danny standing alone in the middle of the room. He made his way back to his own house, kicking a crushed can of soda along the way.
He felt bad leaving him like that, but he couldn't go on being with Danny with Giovanna still in the picture. All the other times, he wouldn't have minded, but after finding out what his big secret was, he couldn't help but feel like a traitor. Danny had enough courage to tell Tom, even if it was a bit forced, but he still did. And Tom didn't. He could've told Danny about Gio the moment he parted his lips, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings after the whole incident that had just happened. But if Danny finds out before Tom told him, things would only get worse…
Come on, Tom! Pluck up the courage and tell him already, before it's too late!He shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned around, his eyes falling straight to Danny's house. He tentatively made his way back there, his heart racing faster with every step.
As he approached the door, he knocked softly, his hands trembling as he did so. He tried his best to contain his anxiety, but his face told a different story. He waited patiently, his head saying please answer the door and his heart saying please don't. These conflicting feelings made him more uneasy, and he turned around to leave when no answer came. But as he took a step forward, the door opened, and looking back, he saw Danny, his face and the front of his shirt wet with tears.
"What do you want?" asked Danny nonchalantly, his shoulder leaning on the doorsill, his arms crossed over his chest. Tom swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and moved closer to him.
"Danny, I have to tell you something," Tom managed to say, his voice a little hoarse. He swore he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and as he looked into Danny's eyes, he swore that he could hear it too.
"Well, what is it?" Tom took a deep breath and jammed his hands in his pocket, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. He couldn't believe he was going to divulge something that could break their relationship in a matter of seconds.
"Danny," he began, and he could feel Danny's eyes burning through his, and he could feel beads of sweat running down his temples. It's now or never... "I'm—"
