"What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction." – Chuck Palahnuik
"So you really are a virgin?" Specs asked, not sounding particularly surprised. Presumably he'd already caught on from my conspicuous avoidance of the answer on the first day, which founded my assumption that he simply intended on reveling in that knowledge.
I looked down at the seven fingers I still held up, opposing the two Specs had left. "You know, this game really doesn't work with only two people." I heard a chuckle and looked up at Specs, who had another one of those grins going. "What are you getting at?" I questioned, confused.
"Oh, nothing in particular; you're just so cute when you're flustered." I've never actually noticed anyone blushing from embarrassment, but I can guarantee at that moment I was blushing something fierce. And something can be said for that closed door enhancing the awkwardness. Since I'd awoken that morning sprawled underneath him, Specs and I had relied on every party game we could think up to entertain us. "Anyway, who knows? That might not be true by the time you leave," he announced in a painfully nonchalant fashion. And now I knew my cheeks burned as red as that metaphorical tomato. Suddenly, as if nothing else even left his mouth, he asked, "So then, what are we going to do to pass the time?"
About to respond, I realized his two statements did in fact relate, if only loosely. "I will have you know I am a very virtuous boy who is not about to be swept off his feet by the likes of you, Mr. Diopolus." I hoped the haughty accent I'd adopted would get the incident laughed off, but I've never possessed that much luck.
"Oh, excuse me for offending your delicate sensibilities, Mr. Taylor. But I beg you to recall our proximity hier soir. Are you truly sure you wish to abandon that?" I hated that he understood exactly how he affected me and managed to pull it into everything, including our jokes.
"True. I am your humble servant, here to do your bidding in exchange for one sweet, sweet night in your bed. But please, call me Jayce; let me act as though this is truly a romantic encounter. I adore you, my own personal Casanova." With that, I moved across the room and curled up against him for effect. Well, at least I'll claim it was for effect.
He looked down at me, looking surprisingly earnest. "You may not want to do that. I have very little self control." I felt disappointed as he slowly moved himself away, but a bit better when he compensated by resting his hand on mine. "Truth?" I nodded. "What's your greatest fear?"
"Being buried alive." It's ridiculous, I know, to be afraid of something that's highly unlikely to happen. But it's actually worse than that because it comes out in other situations as well. Any time I feel trapped in a small space, I panic. Elevators tend to terrify me. It's not claustrophobia, though, because I love sitting in my closet when I need to be by myself. Either way, the purpose was to get to know each other, not to continue an inner monologue about ourselves. "You?"
"Being left alone," he responded, with a blank honesty I hadn't seen before.
I squeezed his hand a bit tighter and hoped that would help. "What's your favorite flavor of soda?" I asked, changing the mood.
"Diet Coke, my mom loved the stuff. We drank it at least once a day, it was ridiculous." he responded, imitating me by squeezing my hand back. He wasn't comfortable with spoken vulnerability, I could tell. But non-verbal communication worked for him, and I'd just have to hope I could interpret what I needed to.
At this point, though, I was grinning at the mention of Diet Coke. I couldn't help my obsession with RENT, my friend Alex back home was completely infatuated. She made me listen to it constantly, and I had to admit that it was pretty exceptional. "So what, your house was like Cyberland?"
"You are such a flamer," he announced, grinning. At least he was distracted. And he understood references to Broadway musicals, which meant he wasn't any better. I told him as much, and he gave up on finding a retort, opting instead of slap me lightly.
"Ouch; you hit me, you ass."
I watched him thinking about what he was going to say next. He may not seem completely reserved, but he always thought about what he was saying before he said it. He seemed pretty happy with the idea. "You want me to kiss it and make it all better?" he cooed. Yes, cooed. I was judging him, I must say.
"As you wish," I quoted. He took me at my word and I can't say I was complaining about that.
Suddenly, it turned from an innocent peck on the cheek into a fierce assault on my neck. No words quite describe lavish attention being paid to my neck at this point. Somewhere between nipping and biting, but not quite. All I knew was that I liked it – and that there was finally someone who was interested when they weren't under the influence. That last thought heightened the excitement in my mind quite a bit.
"All right. Thing you want me to know the most right now?" he asked, continuing the game we'd started earlier before he stared moving to the bit of my chest that my shirt failed to cover.
I knew instantly what I needed him to know about me. "The drugs were the only reason anyone ever touched me," I confided. As soon as the words left my mouth, I understood something. I understood that he had admitted the same thing earlier. That the drugs were filling a hole we couldn't acknowledge ourselves.
"I've never kissed someone on the mouth. It's stupid, I know, but it's sort of an unspoken agreement in my interactions. I just, can't ever bring myself to do it," he confided. I knew he was attempting to explain himself. He just needed time. And I could give him that, if I needed to – we would be here for quite a while anyway, even outside of the three days in this room.
But at least, with that confession, it had moved past attraction. We weren't the same as the people who were in this situation before us. We weren't using each other, we needed each other.
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I woke up next to Specs again, but this time we were in his bed. I was still fully clothed, since we hadn't really done much at all. But eventually the fact that we were, after all, sick caught up with us and we opted to take a nap. We knew we'd abandon normal sleeping hours anyway since we were locked up without a clock. I doubt the doctor even though we'd need one. They told us to expect him around six p.m., but we had no idea when that would be.
"If we're expecting company, I should probably get out of your bed, shouldn't I?" I asked, grudgingly. He nodded and I leaned over to kiss him. Abruptly he turned his head, offering up his cheek. "I'm sorry, really. I forgot. I'll try to remember it's just that I'm not used to that," I explained, feeling ridiculously insensitive. "I'll need something more than that cheek, though." I started towards his neck, attempting to return his earlier favor and then –
A man stood in the frame of the door, looking awkwardly down at the floor. "Sorry boys, but it's six. The name's Bryan Denton, if you were wondering. They sent me to check up on you. Looks like you're handling yourselves pretty well, though. I'll just check your temperature and remind you to drink copious amounts of fluid. Also, we're thinking that in about twenty-four hours you'll be able to go out, instead of waiting the extra day. I'll have to look you over before you leave, but I doubt you'll still be contagious." And true to his word, Denton didn't stay long. He just stuck a thermometer in our mouths and waited.
Specs was running a fever while mine was going down. Most likely he'd gotten sick from me, and that's why I was getting better. Either way, I realized I wasn't going to have all that time to kill getting to know Specs – but it wasn't like I wouldn't see him at least after dark and in group. Not that we could really make out during group, but you get the general idea.
"Oh, and Medda wants to go ahead and meet with each of you for your sessions anyway. She decided you really couldn't miss three days of any therapy, so that's her compromise. She'll be in about thirty minutes after I leave, so be expecting that," he added, grinning.
After Denton had walked out, Specs and I just looked at each other. After a couple of seconds both of us started to laugh. He had this great light chuckle of someone who didn't laugh enough, and thus savored every time. I knew I wanted to be the person to make him laugh,
"Specs," I said. "I want to be something to you." I knew I was moving fast, but I didn't want to waste any time. Plus, if he responded negatively, at least I'd have an idea how serious (or not) he felt about what we'd done earlier in our lockup. "I don't know what yet, but something."
He nodded. "I do too, but – I can't promise to do everything perfect. It'll be – I'll be difficult. I won't say the right things and I might do the wrong things. But I can try, if that's what you want."
It was the most honest thing he'd told me so far and I could see him starting to regret it. For once he didn't think before he spoke; I knew I had to tell Specs that was alright. "I know," I answered softly. I reached over and kissed his forehead. "We can try."
"I should warn you," he said, sounding only slightly more comfortable. "I don't have much faith in high school relationships."
I understood, obviously, after my previous failures. "I don't have much faith in relationships in general," I admitted. I wished at that moment it was untrue. I wanted so bad to have that hope, but I simply didn't.
"Let's prove each other wrong," he whispered, almost so softly I thought I'd imagined it. Slowly, I pulled away and moved across the room to my own bed. I used Medda's imminent arrival as an excuse, but really I couldn't think of a response to something as beautiful as what he'd said. I'd gotten what I needed for the moment, so I could wait without pushing it for a bit.
Almost on cue, Medda opened the door and proceeded into the room, dragging a chair in behind her. "Jayce, we should go ahead and get started. If you don't mind, Specs, could you listen to some music to give us some privacy?" she asked, handing him headphones.
"I heard about you and Specs from Denton," she announced bluntly. I briefly thought how strange it was that even the councilors referred to him by his nickname, but then realized that he introduced himself using that name. "I'm glad to see you're taking such a necessary step, for both of you. That's all I can really say about that right now; I thought you should know. Also, I know last time we were discussing what led to your problem, but maybe we should pass on that today and talk about something else important – why you chose to check yourself in."
I started trying to explain that my mother had found the drugs and there was already a woman over at the house to talk to her about rehab programs. But halfway through that story I realized I was lying. "My mom recommended rehab, but I knew somehow she wouldn't place the call. Somehow, watching her sit there and have to decide between possibly alienating me or letting me continue using drugs forced me to call. I grabbed the brochure and checked myself in before she could. If you grow up with an extraordinary mother like mine, it's easy to choose between making yourself suffer and making her."
Medda nodded, marking down words on a yellow pad of notebook paper. You can't imagine what I would have given to read those notes, to know what they thought was going on with me. "I know you live with only your mother, tell me more about that situation."
"Well, she is a single mom, as you obviously already know. She's also thirty-four, so she basically gave up her life to try and make mine worthwhile. My father said he was prepared to take the initiative and help raise me, but he bailed after only about six months." I hated relating this story because I had to think about the fact that my own father wanted nothing to do with me. At the same time, I wouldn't even think about trading my family. "I guess I feel like I screwed up her plans enough as it is – not that I blame myself, but I do acknowledge that she wanted to do more by this point in her life – and this was just letting her down again and that's something I can't handle." Did I mention I ramble? A lot?
"Do you think it's helping you at all? Being here?" I will always admire Medda's ability to ask a direct question that forced me to ponder. They were like being slammed up against a brick wall, those questions.
I nodded slowly and she looked at her watch, noting the session would have ended in real time. She set down the pencil for a second. "If you want to keep talking, tell me now. I can say I got distracted and didn't notice the time."
"I think Specs needs this time with you more than I do. But thank you, truly." She reminded me that her door was open to me whenever I needed guidance about my substance abuse or other situations. After that, I headed across the room, grabbing the headphones from Specs and letting him take his place with Medda.
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Time still evaded me, but I could see that it was near sundown when they finished talking. I began to regret not listening in on the exchange right after she left. My roommate simply came over and climbed into my bed without speaking, lying down next to me and refusing to move.
"Please, just don't talk. I need a few minutes," he cautioned awkwardly before closing his eyes. Just as I started to assume he'd passed out, he spoke up again. "So, why didn't you tell me you'd checked yourself in?"
I probably shouldn't' have been as surprised as I acted just then. Specs had listened, which made sense because he'd been in the room the whole. And, inexplicably, I wasn't that upset when he explained why. "I wanted to know more about you, and I didn't know how to ask. My will-power sucks."
Suddenly arms appeared around my waist and I settled back into Specs' chest. "Do we tell them? That we're – well, whatever we are?" I had only just come to Whispering Pines, they weren't my friends. But for Specs, I couldn't guess which optioned he preferred.
"I think they'll figure it out for themselves. The entire staff seems to know anyway," he responded, grinning. My instincts wanted me to kiss him right then, but I knew there was more waiting before he would let me. In terms of physical contact, we were trapped with cuddling, primarily. In no way was I ready to do what he was used to, and he wasn't ready for some things of his own.
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"Truth," I proclaimed as Specs' eyes opened and he propped himself up a bit. "Your first time. What happened?" As long as we were being invasive, I might as well find out what I wanted to know.
"Grudgefuck. Which are not nearly as hot as they make it sound in stories. I don't really know – we fought all the time and one day it just went past that." I knew I must have been staring at him in abject horror because he started to avoid my eyes. "Second time was better though. Couple of months later around midterms, so I was probably about to turn sixteen. Jack Blair. We dated around four weeks before that and maybe another four after." He paused for a while, brushing a stray curl out of his face and shoving it back behind his ear. "You don't want to know about the rest."
He asked about my first boyfriend, since I couldn't answer the earlier question. I told him about Thom. But not the way I explained Thom to Medda. Of course that came out, but I focused on some of the better moments we shared. "Once we went out to the mall to ice skate – because yes, we ice skate indoors in Texas – and for some reason I just forgot how to skate. I fell flat on my ass maybe thirty times. And Thom just came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me to try and keep me upright, but that meant he fell over maybe six times along with me. The whole time we just laughed, not caring. That's why I thought it was love, not the physical side, really."
One hand found mine, weaving the two together like the French braids every girl wore in seventh grade.
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A/N: Alright. Since this took me nearly two months to put out because I completely abandoned it for a while, I'm just going to go ahead and post it at six pages. I know what's going to come up next (and for a while… I'm planning for once!) and since I'm so infatuated with these characters, I'm hoping to get it up pretty fast. However, the week before Winter Break is kicking my ass and my friend comes back from Switzerland where she's been since September the day I get out of school. So I make no promises, sorry.
I know they're talking a lot in this. I never write this much straight dialogue. But if you've only got one other person locked in a room with you, that tends to happen.
I, by the way, really tend to like shoutouts. I like to read other people's shououts, which might make me creepy. So I think they're banned on now, but I still want to write them. I won't right now, but does anyone really care if I do?
One last thing (this is getting so long, I apologize): I really want some criticism on this. I know it's not particularly great, though I think it's not bad. I'm in high school and trying so hard to improve my writing skills, so feedback is very, very welcome. I've had 16 hits on this story since reset the hits counter, and only one review in the past two months. I'm not great about reviewing either, but if you notice something, please bring it up.
I talk too much. Hope you liked.