Ok now I know I said I was gonna be more frequent with updates for my fics and well I know I haven't exactly kept my end of the bargain LOL but it's hard. I want to write good stuff and then when people leave these really nice reviews I feel this kind of personal pressure to make the next bit even better and then I write something and I feel like it's stuck under some big black shadow that the previous chap managed to cast. Damn. LOL people are so sick of my A/N by now right? Hey it wouldn't be complete without a ramble. I think I mixed my tenses up near the end with the flash back but a) it was something like midnight when I wrote it and b) I had managed to identify with Hanson's plight so much that I was very depressed and also extremely, extremely confused and panicked. I felt this urgency to write that flashback and well that's why it's so muddled. Also I don't really write graphically so you know…I had to kind of write weird to try convey what was happening ( I hope people can figure it out from what I've typed LOL) Not to say that you're all not intelligent enough to work it out, just that my writing might not be very clear ( I'll stop digging my own grave now shall I?? LOL) Ok so thanks to everyone who reviews especially Goodnightmysweetprince and a sparrow's soul. Love you guys:-D On with the angst!!
"Tom?"
Hanson rubbed his eyes with his fists, dislodging the remains of sleep.
"What?"
"Who's Paulie?" repeated Doug urgently. He shifted his body so that he was sat upright, Hanson imitated his actions.
"Nobody"
"You always scream at nobody in your sleep?" demanded Doug waspishly
Hanson slumped against the pillows staring intently at the ceiling, focusing his attention on the white swirls of plaster.
" He was just this guy I knew" he said softly his eyes dim with sorrow, his face slack with fear.
Doug peered over the edge of the duvet at his boyfriend's pale features; he slipped his hand beneath the blankets desperately seeking out Hanson's. He grasped it, clutched it tightly, Hanson entwined his fingers with his own.
"What did he do to you?" whispered Doug breathlessly.
Hanson scrunched his face up tightly; purple splodges appeared against the lids, shimmering there like some drug induced high. He pulled his hand free from Doug, rolled on his side shifting his attention from the ceiling to the wall.
"Nothing I didn't ask him to" he whispered his voice hoarse.
Doug's face crumpled with confusion, he placed a hand tentatively on his boyfriend's slender shoulder.
"Turn off the light" said Hanson his voice muffled by the corner of his pillow.
"But-"
" Please?" begged Hanson. His voice sounded so small and childlike. Doug didn't have the heart to refuse him; he leaned over and clicked off the bedside light plunging the room into darkness. He lay on his side of the bed listening to Hanson breathe.
Time ticked by in the silence, an endless eternity of quiet, Doug closed his eyes and sighed. Sleep continued to evade him.
"I was eighteen"
Hanson's voice startled him, he was sure he'd been asleep. Doug lay still, not wanting to move, not wanting to break the moment; he needed Hanson to share whatever this was with him.
"I was going out with this older guy. Thought it was cool" murmured Hanson. He chuckled weakly, "Yeah, real cool. I, I really liked him. He didn't like me so much"
He sniffed in the darkness, wrapping himself in the protective barrier of the blackness. If Doug couldn't see him, he wouldn't see the shame, wouldn't see the bruises or the scars, the hollowness of his eyes, the dirtiness which coated his entire body.
"I used to make him mad a lot, I never did anything right. I mean it wasn't his fault I couldn't do what I was told. He was trying to he-help me"
"Help you how?" snapped Doug, his voice laced with frustration.
"He j-just wanted to help. Help me be better, not so weak and selfish. He just wanted me to behave"
Doug felt a wave of anger surge through him. Someone had fucked Hanson up. Someone had parroted this bullshit to him, made him believe he was inadequate when nothing could be further from the truth.
"What did Paulie do to you Hanson?" demanded Doug his voice harsh
"I went over his house a-and I, I wouldn't do what I was told. I wouldn't, c-couldn't say Wh-what he wanted me to say. I wasn't, I wasn't."
He faltered, his words trailing; disappearing into the darkness.
"Not then anyway" he concluded his voice barely audible.
"Whatweren't you?"
Silence stretched between them.
"Tommy, please talk to me"
Hanson teetered on the edge of the mattress, his body resting as far away from Doug's as humanly possible. He clutched at the duvet, shoving the corner in his mouth trying to stifle the sobs so Doug wouldn't hear.
"Tommy?" questioned Doug gently. He reached across the vast space, desperately trying to breach the gulf, to weather the storm of sorrow and break through to the heart of Hanson's pain and suffering. He wanted nothing more than to pluck Hanson from the depths of despair, to pull him into his arms and comfort the poor creature that resided there.
Hanson spluttered into the blankets, his face wet with tears, the corners of his eyes aching from the salt which gathered there.
Doug rolled the smaller man over so that he faced him. He stared into Hanson's mournful eyes, never ending circles of grief and pain, clouded by tears of anguish.
"Talk to me please."
"He said I, He said I, He said, H-h-he-"Hanson's sobs intensified.
"Oh come here" whispered Doug, "Come here"
He pulled Hanson close to him, wrapped his arms around him, felt his boyfriend's fingers dig into his back as he clutched to him as if his life depended on it. The broken sobs split the night air as Doug desperately tried to soothe his heartbroken partner.
"Ssssh, it's ok sweetheart, everything's gonna be ok I promise. You hear me? You hear me Tommy?" He whispered softly, "When you feel like talking I'm gonna be hear listening ok babe? I'm gonna be right here. I swear. Do you hear me Tommy? Right here"
Hanson buried his face against his shoulder, inching his body closer to his lover's, drowning in the warmth and wanting nothing more than to be able to bottle this feeling of security, of love and protection so that he could take it with him everywhere and use it to ward off his demons.
You're a whore Tommy.
Nothing but a two dollar 'all you have is fifty cents but you can fuck me anyway' WHORE.
Stay on your knees, that's where you belong.
The rip of a zip, somewhere above his head, his tousled hair doused with sweat,
I want to go home.
Yanked by the hair, guided, coarse fingers ruffling through the limp, lank strands.
I want to go home.
Sweat pouring from every pore, dripping down his baby face, shirt stuck to his back.
Fear? Heat? He doesn't know anymore.
Shallow breathing, grunts, groans. Pants of pleasure.
Shattered hearts. Shredded dignity. Stolen soul.
How long?
Far too long.
Burned at the mouth, lips parched and dry.
Gagging.
Spit, don't swallow
He is a whore after all.
The images flashed before him; a never ending slideshow of his own personal hell.
He buried his face deeper into Doug's shoulder, urgently trying to block them out.
No matter how hard he shut his eyes, they continued to dance before him, breaking through the chinks in his armor, twisting and taunting him, hammering away at whatever sense of dignity he had left.
