

David McGhee

Published by: David McGhee at Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 David McGhee

Cover design copyright © 2010 by David McGhee

Book design and layout copyright © 2011 by David McGhee

Author photographs copyright © 2010 by Tammy Ealom

This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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All rights reserved. Without limiting rights under copyrights reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other means) without the prior consent of the author and / or publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either of the authors own imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the various products and brands mentioned in this work of fiction which have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Homosexuality: Nature Or Nurture first appeared in Allpsych journal in 2003. Copyright Ryan D Johnson.

Wikipedia article: www.wikipedia.com from anonymous authors unknown. Copyright Wikipedia ????

Appearance and Personality: Copyright Nathan C. Popkins

Song lyrics and music © copyright David McGhee 2000-2011

For Mike King and Thomas Murphy, without you two I'd totally have been screwed a loooooooooooong time ago!

"Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen." - Albert Einstein

"Tall people have no feelings..." – Brian Oldman

:::Late September:::

Chapter 1: Hell

Brian lay next to him, naked and sweating in the fall heat. Through the darkness of his room he made out shapes and objects out of the stucco patterns on the ceiling. He was having a hard time getting back to sleep because every time he closed his eyes, the world spun from behind them. The man who drove him home from the bar was now unconscious and snoring lightly beside him in the nude.

Didn't even use a condom.

They say that afterglow is caused by the dopamine found in semen. Girls tend to have a period after unprotected sex where they just feel good. This happens with guys too if semen is absorbed through the colon tissue. Dopamine is the body's way of telling you that what you did was right. It gives you a strong euphoric feeling that encourages you to do it again. It's part of the brain's reward system. It's meant for sex and eating. Two things that humans need to do to survive either as an individual or as a species. You can also high jack this system, by using drugs like meth, heroin, even caffeine.

I am not a good person.

The guy was a good head taller than Brian. Not that that was anything unusual though. Not that it should matter. He's a good size where it counted, not going to win any prize ribbons but at least he's been told that most of the male population is that big. Aside from the guys he normally met this one was almost comically huge where it counted. It was a good thing he slept with him drunk and numb because he could feel himself stretch to a near ripping point.

One time Brian slept with a guy who was tall and only four or so inches. He wanted to feel sorry for him but the man was just so happy about his life and his body that he couldn't help but admire the guy.

But still though...

Everyone is bigger than me...

Everyone is more hung than me...

Everyone is all around better than I could ever be...

Brian was never going to be the swimsuit model or the cool hipster he wanted to be. No matter how hard he tried he was still going to be himself. He was coming to accept this though.

Well... as much as he could.

Brian winced. His bottom hurt more now than it did when the man had first made love to him that night. Likely because the alcohol was wearing off. It was too sore to move and if he really wanted to get in a comfortable position, the guy whose name he thinks is Ryan, was holding onto him a little too tightly while he slumbered. Brian couldn't break his hold and eventually decided that he couldn't get loose without the risk of waking him up. Although he might have to at some point soon if he was going to get to the bathroom in time.

He swallowed hard and did his best to keep himself from vomiting. The taste of copper and saliva filled the bottom part of his mouth.

Brian liked this guy too, from what little he knew about him that is.

It was always about making the other person happy.

I don't matter after all.

Brian looked at the clock beside his twin sized bed. Two thirty in the morning. They had gotten back to his place at around one. The room spun around feverishly. The bookstand melded in with the nightstand while the floor was moving beneath him.

He was developing a major headache.

The major headache was then developing into a major headache with severe nausea.

Then it was a full blown major headache with nausea and extreme pressure on his right eye.

A drunken migraine...

I deserve it...

To his good fortune, the man shifted himself to lie on his back, releasing Brian from his vice like grip, leaving sweaty red indentations on Brian's right side. He took this opportunity to slowly move away from the bed and staggered into the hallway, where he made his way hurriedly to the bathroom. Three feet from the toilet he collapsed onto his knees and crawled the rest of the way toward the bowl. What came next was him putting his whole head in it and letting it all spew forth. He wretched and heaved until nothing was coming up but the lining of his stomach, if not his stomach itself. He couldn't catch a breath for a good minute before it all settled down.

Then he did it again.

He got on his knees and tried to steady himself but still couldn't find the strength to stand. Knowing he'd feel better in the morning if he drank some water now and then threw that up, he proceeded to the sink where a small plastic orange cup presided. Getting rid of all the excess alcohol was something that he thought would, in the end, be the best thing for him to do. There is an old wives tale that if you drink a glass of water with each alcoholic drink you intake then you will wake up feeling fine the next morning. Obviously it's only a half truth if you cannot keep the damn water down.

When he felt stable enough he got up and filled the cup with water again. It wasn't that big so he had to get in a few glasses more before he was able to get back to vomiting.

In his unsteady and very drunken state he realized that he had forgotten to put on any underwear before leaving his bedroom. He prayed to God that none of his roommates would get up and have to pee while he was standing over the sink, naked as a newborn bastard child.

With water in his stomach he knelt back down on the floor and aimed for the bowl. Chunks of God knows what were going in everywhich direction, prompting Brian to puke even more at the sight of it.

When he was done he felt better but his stomach still felt shredded.

Brian steadied himself and drank almost four more cups of water. By the fourth he could hold no more liquids, lest he exhale more bodily fluids.

Trying his best to stay on two feet as he stumbled out into the hallway. He fell sideways into the drywall and his vision doubled for a second. He looked around to see if he had woken anyone with the noise. No one peeked out of their room, so he was doing ok. Slowly he made his way back to his room and closed the door behind him.

He took a look at the 6'3" sweaty naked man that lay in his bed before returning back to the mattress. He hated himself for enjoying what the man had done to him. He hated himself for gawking at him while he slept like he was some Playgirl centerfold. He hated himself for being gay, but within the same argument he couldn't help it any more than someone can help being straight.

The man is beautiful.

He hated himself for thinking he was beautiful.

He IS beautiful...

Brian got back into bed and maneuvered his way into Ryan's side. Immediately Ryan pulled him toward his body and wrapped his long arms around him and squeezed until his chest felt like it was going to cave in unto itself.

"Feeling better?" Ryan mumbled. Eyes still closed.

"Yeah," Brian lied weakly. He scooted over slightly trying his best to turn over so that he would be facing away from Ryan's burning hot body. This however was thwarted by Ryan's strong arm, holding Brian in place. The man's body was so fucking hot it was making him sweat. The sheets were on the floor seeing as it was still technically summer and his room lacked the luxury of air conditioning.

When he finally was able to roll over, Ryan took hold of him and kissed the back of his head. The man pulled Brian toward his crotch. He could feel him getting excited again.

"Hey there boy." Ryan cooed.

Brian sighed and prayed for sleep that wouldn't come anytime soon.

Ryan pulled him even closer.

Anything to make him happy...

The clock radio began to play the hard rock guitars and banging drums that radio 93.3 was known for at approximately seven thirty am in the morning. It was a less than welcome racket for one who's brain felt like it was about to split into thirds. Brian half consciously turned it off and rolled over to see if Ryan was still there. He wasn't. A pang of sadness and relief washed over him. The man had left an imprint on his bed and Brian could almost fall into it.

Beautiful.

He lay in bed for a few moments. On his back he pressed his hands deeply against his eyeballs to counteract the hangover. Sunlight always makes everything worse. He felt like throwing up again.

Brian got up and nearly fell down as he put on his underwear and pants. He had shirts all over the floor and picked the one that he hadn't worn in a few weeks. Looking around his room to make sure nothing was stolen; he found a napkin on his dresser with Ryan's number written on it with a black sharpie. He could barely make out the last two digits but it was there. Proof that he had met and liked someone and the sentiment had been returned. Even through his haze he couldn't help but smile.

Before anything else could happen during the morning routine he had to stop by the bathroom to throw up whatever was left of the night before. When he was finished throwing up bile and water he flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. He needed a shave but in his condition he was more liable to accidentally go all Sweeney Todd on his face. He opted out of the idea and left the bathroom.

Brian made his best effort to walk normally into the kitchen, it felt as though he had a carrot up his butt, his attempt was futile when his roommate Mike saw his broken stride. He put down the paper he was reading and grinned.

God, how I hate his stupid shit eating grin.

"How's your ass this morning?" Mike laughed. "Don't think we didn't hear you and your friend's drunken asses last night."

Brian opened the refrigerator and took out one of his weight loss shakes. He adjusted his underwear before staring stupidely into Mike's eyes. Revenge was at hand.

"Honestly Mike, do you really want me to go into the details?" Brian's face squinched and grew red, already feeling a little more anger toward him than was necessary at seven thirty in the morning. "Do you want me to tell you how he was hung like a horse?"

"Stop it." Mike went back to his paper.

"How his cum was dripping from my anus all night long?"

"I said fucking stop it!" Mike stood up in his chair and threw the paper down on the table. He, like most people, was a whole lot more intimidating than Brian and he scared the fuck out of him, especially at this moment where he was breathing deeply and turning red. Brian was still a little disoriented from last night and didn't want an argument.

"Sorry." Brian took a sip from his shake and rubbed his right eye and applied more pressure.

"Fuck man!" Mike got up and left the dining room in a huff.

Brian held the weight loss shake canister against his chest and leaned against the refrigerator. He punched the fridge's front door, causing a few of the magnets to come off. He picked them up and put them back on.

Brian sat down in his seat at the dining room table and took a look at the newspaper Mike had been reading. It was The Onion. He always did like The Onion. The weekly satirical news paper always could make him smile.

What was a dumb ass like Mike doing with something cool like this?

Brian paused...

That's a mean thing to think.

Brian frowned.

He left the paper on the counter as he got up make a bagel to go along with the shake.

They had everything bagels and blueberry bagels. The blueberry ones were Mike's and he felt like he had done enough to the guy for one day so he chose the other one.

Not enough if you ask me.

He sliced it into halves and put them in the toaster and went to the fridge for the cream cheese. He stared at the container and his entire face melted into melancholy he had to make the decision to possibly exacerbate things by taking the last of the cream cheese or leaving it. He could use peanut butter, but that would be gross on an everything bagel.

Stupid, that's just stupid...

With a few moments consideration; he decided to use up the contents of the cream cheese container and wrote a note on the stationary next to the microwave, saying that he was going to pick up more on his way home from work today. He used a magnet on the fridge to stick it up where everyone could see it.

With bagel in hand he returned to the satirical newspaper. One of the headlines claimed that bra training had been completed and showed the full bust of a young lady on the right corner of the cover. He sighed and opened it to the Denver / Boulder section to see if any cool concerts were going on that week. And by cool concerts this meant he was checking to see if the Hi Dive, where his band was playing that week, had even bothered to advertise his show. He looked through the ads twice and put it down in defeat. Not even a blurb about the concert in the show list for Wednesday.

Paul entered the kitchen. The nicer of the two roommates, he was casually walking around in his boxers as he tended to do in the mornings when he woke up. His flat stomach had the beginnings of a six pack, his happy trail was beautiful and full black. It went all the way from his belly button to his crotch. His hair disheveled (which was also black), and the most striking thing of all was his astonishingly brown eyes (which by the way, looked almost black.)

Not a bad body.

Brian looked away, then back over and lower toward Paul's boney feet.

Better than the one I got.

Paul did not seem to notice as he began to plunder through the refrigerator.

"Do we have anymore cream cheese man?" Paul took out one of Mike's blueberry bagels.

Brian looked forward stupidly. Staring into space and not sure of how to respond to this question; if he told would he get Paul mad?

"Hey!" Paul snapped his fingers in front of Brian.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What?" Brian came back to reality to see his brown haired, brown eyed roommate towering above him as he sat, waving a blueberry bagel in his face.

"I asked if there was any more cream cheese." Paul smiled at his friend's ditzy demeanor.

"Oh..." Brian looked at his plate where the two halves of everything bagel with the last of the cream cheese lay. "Actually you can have these if you want. I just used up the last of it." Paul's nose wrinkled. "But I was going to get more today after work." Brian promised.

"Nah, man..." Paul sat at the side of the table. His eyes became transfixed on the item on Brian's plate and he thought again about his offer. "actually I may take one." He helped himself to one of the bagel halves and tore into it like a guy who wouldn't get fat if he drank bacon fat smoothies every hour on the hour for ten weeks straight.

"What are you gonna do with Mike's bagel? Eat it with peanut butter?" Brian asked.

In between bites Paul's brow furrowed and he stared at him completely confused at the suggestion, he answered "Just smother it with butter and eat them like they were made for." Bits of bagel flew from his mouth as he spoke.

What a pig.

Brian stared at his angular face as he ate, Paul either did not notice or was ignoring his friend's starry eyed stare.

My wonderful, wonderful pig...

When Paul finished he got up to get butter for the blueberry bagel. When he returned he sat in front of Brian's gaze. He was not staring at him anymore but straight through him, through the walls and out into the city behind them. It made him a little more than uncomfortable so he again snapped his fingers in front of Brian's eyes. "Dude," He took a bite of the blueberry bagel. "Do you need a med change or something?"

"Oh no," Brian was embarrassed, he had zoned out on the guy twice in one sitting. "I uh... I just need to get ready for work I guess." He got up and went to his room to change.

Stupid idiot,

Paul scratched his crotch and continued to munch on his breakfast. "Strange fellow," He said to no one in particular. He grabbed the paper from across the table and read through the fake headlines. "Bra training complete..." He took another bite and continued reading.

Brian looked at the slave insignia on his work shirt. Roger's Subs was his current employer and he knew it wouldn't last long. They never did. Was this self-fulfilling prophecy or just him being realistic? Couldn't decide...

With silent resignation he put the shirt into his messenger bag along with his laptop and a Chuck Palahniuk book. He wasn't even sure if he had finished the last book he was reading. It's been a while since he's even been able to concentrate on anything else let alone a novel. Things have just not been going too well in his mind lately. He determined that he was in the beginnings of an existential crisis, something to bring up to his counselor tomorrow.

When he was packed and ready to go he walked across the hall and toward the kitchen. From there he walked into the living room and went to the guest room, which was where Paul's room was. He knocked on his door and asked if he was ready. With a loud clang and an obscenity Paul told him to wait by the car. Brian did as he was told and headed out the door.

It was a mild day in Denver Colorado. He remembered when he first moved here he expected (like most people he knew back home) it to snow all the time. While this held truth during winter it indeed got hot as a mother fucker during the summer time. From the six or so years he has lived in the state he's come to the conclusion that Colorado really only had two seasons. Summer and winter, it was either the cold ass snow or hot as hell sun. And all the plant life was either evergreen or just dead. Well, deadish...

The neighborhood they lived in was less than safe. It was just on the outer skirts of the city and was mostly Latino. They'd been robbed twice since moving there a year or so ago. One of the times he was in the house sleeping. He still had nightmares about those kids with their knives... If that police siren hadn't scared them away he didn't know if he'd be standing here today, next to Paul's Ford minivan.

He sighed.

Brian ran his fingers across the film of dust that blanketed the windshield and shivered thinking about those two young men who stole almost all of their DVD's and video games in a black garbage bag. The deer caught in headlights sort of way they looked at him when they went into his room where he slept. The cops came and dusted for prints and all that other stuff but after they left none of them ever heard from them again, just another armed robbery.

Just another statistic,

"Hey!" Paul's voice boomed from the front door, it caught Brian off guard and made him jump a little. Paul locked the front door and went over to the passenger side door to unlock it for his friend. As they got in Paul checked his mirror for any of those pesky little neighborhood children who enjoyed playing in the middle of the street. He pulled back out and headed down toward the city.

"Thanks for giving me a ride." Brian spoke softly, trying to make conversation. "I just don't think I could've walked to work today."

"Yeah," Paul giggled. "I heard."

Brian's extremities went cold and numb from shock. He winced and laid his head against the window.

Paul knows too. Fuck...

Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

You were pretty loud...

Fagot,

Brian sighed... It's not like he hasn't tried to be straight. He's been trying all his life. Even Paul hooked him up with a so called "Hottie." He even wound up sleeping with the poor girl. It still didn't feel right, no matter how many times he did it or even how good his female partners told him he supposedly was. He hated himself even more each time he forced himself to be with them.

Happiness is a bottle of Vicoden.

Happiness is the few minutes he spent alone jerking off in the bathroom.

Happiness is the half hour he sometimes spent on stage with his band Goodbye Timebomb.

Happiness was riding in the same car as Paul. Looking over at him he felt the emptiness inside him grow. He knew he could never have him. Cool, straight and normal Paul. Still, he liked it whenever he would take him hiking. Even going to the grocery store was an adventure to Brian as long as Paul was involved. They'd always buy BBQ potato chips when they'd go.

Paul loves those.

Brian loved seeing Paul's skinny underwear clad body in the mornings. But, he learned a long time ago never to mess with a straight guy. It only led to physical and emotional pain.

"Tall people have no feelings..." Brian said under his breath.

"What?" Paul took his attention off the road for a split second to gaze in Brian's direction. "You say something man?"

"Nah," Brian mumbled.

When they had reached Roger's Subs on the side of eleventh and Broadway, Paul unlocked the doors and told Brian to have a great day. Brian smiled and nodded and did the whole obligatory good bye spiel.

It wasn't going to be a great day.

He got out and marched toward the concentration camp that is Roger's Subs. He looked back just in time to see Paul's car driving off into the flow of oncoming traffic. Off to his day job as an EMT at the detox center. At least Brian didn't have THAT job. Being spat up and vomited on all day must be worse than having to make sandwiches for yuppies for eight hours a day, Monday through Friday.

Right?

Chapter 2: Dr. Neven

While Brian was a fully functional human being, he had some psychological issues when it came to liking himself and others. He had hooked up with the local mental health center (Mental Health Services of Denver: MHSD) a few years ago when he was hospitalized for an overdose. It was all paid for by a grant through the city. The only thing that wasn't fully covered was the private one on one counseling Brian received. For that there was a $20 co-pay per visit. This was on the condition that the good doctor could tape the sessions.

He saw Dr. Neven once a week, four times a month, making it $80 per month. That's fucking expensive to a guy who didn't make a lot of money and has too many bills to pay.

Rent was about $350 a month.

$30-$45 for utilities.

His share of the grocery bill was around $70 to $150.

His Android phone service from Criket ran $55.

He only made four hundred something per check.

He got paid bi-weekly.

Life sucks.

I deserved what happened to me two years ago...

If he would have had to continue paying for his psych meds out of pocket he would of dropped counseling all together, but a new revision in the grant allowed for him to get them for free.

Brian waited in the reception area in the far corner of the room. All around him were people talking to themselves and shaking where they sat. One of the joys of this being a public health care provider was the large number of people (some homeless / some on SSI) he got to meet every time he came in.

Biting your nails is a sign of OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. Brian actually had this particularly mental ailment. At least he believes he does. It says in the DSM that if you can't stop doing something compulsive and it interferes with your life then you probably have OCD, along with five hundred other criteria, but Brian wasn't about to nitpick. It was comfort enough that he had the self diagnosis. He liked to think if he knew what was wrong with him he could work on it. Still though... he wasn't bad like he had to clean the house every five minutes, but he did obsess over the tiniest of details sometimes.

I think I'm dying... My heart is beating really fast.

He continued to bite his nails. It's also considered a nervous tic in some people. Maybe that was it. Just a tic, it's better than doing it because you have a disorder. Being anxious meant you were just being human. Having OCD meant you were a freak.

I am a freak...

Brian went back up to the reception area to ask if they'd forgotten about him. It was five minutes past his appointment time. The lady at the window assured him that the doctor would see him when he got around to it.

Brian mumbled as he went back. To his disappointment a scruffy unwashed black man had taken his seat and put his book bag in the adjacent one.

"Sir, could I sit there?" Brian asked. It was where he was just sitting after all.

The black man looked at him and even through the darkness of his skin Brian could see him growing red with rage, he began pointing his finger at Brian's face. "You stay away from me white devil! I've killed people before! I've killed them and they've died in the hospital! I killed them!" He yelled.

"OK. Whatever..." Brian rolled his eyes. He didn't really care. He just walked over to the other side of the small white waiting room where there was some seats available. You sort of get used to people like this in a place like this after a while.

This particular mental health consumer goes by the name of "Charles". He was schizophrenic and bi polar if Brian remembered correctly, a nice guy most of the time, but a fucking psycho when he decided that taking medications just wasn't his thing.

He's killed before.

Brian felt the tip of his own nose, feeling the grooves the blackheads left on the skin.

They've died in the hospital.

He then went over to the other side and stood next to the coffee maker. The green rimmed coffee pot meant it was regular while the orange rimmed coffee pot meant it was decaf. Only an idiot would drink decaf. He'd worked at Starbucks before and always would ask somebody "why?" if they chose to have decaf. The answer would always sort of irk him. No matter the reason he always thought it sort of defeated the purpose of having a cup of coffee. They would sometimes quip that they just enjoyed the taste. Brian couldn't comprehend this but he served them their fake coffee anyway. They were the idiot in the situation if they'd spend almost five bucks on something that wouldn't give them a buzz.

It was always all or nothing with Brian. If it didn't mess with his body in any extreme way, he didn't care for it.

Why take a Tylenol when you could take a Vicoden?

Why have plain cranberry juice when you could have cranberry juice with vodka in it?

Why get a blow job when you could just fuck?

You either did it all the way or not at all. There is really no point otherwise.

The whole point of life is to get to the climax.

He hadn't had a blow job in a while now. Not really something he cared for too much but it's just been some time since some poor tortured soul had his pecker in their mouth. He never really cared for them mostly because his medication made it almost impossible to cum with that particular method of intercourse. Nobody likes getting a sore jaw that way.

The last time was with a girl named Rebecca. He had had other girls before. Sometimes when he felt like he had something to prove he'd still try to see if maybe he'd been wrong before. Only to find out, yet again, he's gay.

Daddy's little girl.

Brian took a Styrofoam cup from the pile on the counter and put three sweet and lows in it. He then poured some regular coffee (No point in decaf after all.) and picked out a stir straw from the box of stir straws next to the coffee maker. He stirred for a few seconds then threw the stirrer away in the trash basket by the table where the coffee maker was. He slowly sipped the hot beverage but gagged on it on the first taste.

He put in too much sweet and low again. He was always doing too much.

If it's worth doing it's worth over doing?

Why get a blow job when you could just fuck?

Like the time he had overdosed before.

Enough is never enough.

Fuck this is hot coffee.

Brian stood next to coffee maker and quietly reflected on his thoughts. He doesn't need to pay someone to tell him the obvious, does he? He knows he's neurotic and depressed. Anyone could tell him that by just sitting next to him for ten minutes.

$20 a week for somebody to tell me I'm defective?

"Hey!" A woman's voice broke his trance. Brian looked over to see a tall scraggly lady wearing multiple layers of long sleeved sweat shirts. Her hair, greasy and tangled, covered her face like a mad witch women.

Her name is Samantha. A commanding presence and in her mid-thirties, she has borderline personality disorder with schizo effective tendencies. She can be a real bitch too.

Brian stepped aside to let the bag lady get her fucking cup of coffee. After a few more labored sips Brian gave up and threw his half drunken cup into the trash receptacle. His stomach felt as if it were being pushed and squeezed, bile and coffee came up and went back down his throat.

He was getting nervous.

People made him nervous.

Crazy people made him very nervous.

Am I like all these poor sad souls?

Brian walked over to the entrance and stood there for the longest time. He stared past the window in the reception area and breathed deeply. Even through all the talking and squabbling in the lobby he could hear his name being called across the room. His name sounded like a trumpet from hell. Shoulders slumped and defeated, Brian walked over to the be-speckled secretary and announced that yes his name was Brian.

The lady was still typing as he stood there, ignoring him for the longest time until she looked up at and told him that Dr. Neven will see him upstairs now.

As if walking to his own execution, Brian made his way past the entrance and to the stairs. The stairs were worn and frayed. He couldn't help but notice the discoloration from years of being stepped on. How many people just like him have walked up those stairs to see the good Dr.? This particular facility had a few. Hundreds of people come through the state mental health system every year. Some with minor depression and some like Samantha, poor, lost, lonely and can't be unbroken.

I can't be fixed...

Brian came to the top and took a hard left, walking as if he could not be concerned with such small details like being polite to the people in his way. Forgetting to say apologetic statements like "I'm sorry I bumped into you", "You simply must not mind me, I'm retarded." or "Pardon me, I'm such an asshole."

He stood at Dr. Neven's door and waited a few moments. This never ends well. Taking in a deep breath, Brian lightly raps on the doctor's door.

"Come in Brian." a cheery voice said from the other side. Brian closes his eyes and turns the knob.

Chapter 3: Brian's Diary: Coming to Georgia.

I remember moving into our first trailer in Georgia. My father worked for a moving company so he got us all moved in at no cost to us. We moved a lot back then.

We just came from Tennessee and I suppose my father moved with the moving company. You gotta go where the work is I suppose.

I was about maybe eight or nine at the time? I don't remember. There are going to be a lot of gray areas in this, so bear with me.

I remember it was a nice double wide trailer in the middle of the woods. Way nicer than the single bedroom monstrosity that we'd been living in before. It was huge! The inside had fake plastic wood on the walls, the shag carpet was a reddish brown color, and there were three bedrooms. This was the selling point to me. I guess you could say I was moving on up in life. It felt good at the time.

We had a big clearing out in the front but we were told right off the bat that going out into the surrounding forest was a big no, no. We'd get our asses beaten raw if we did what my father told us not to do. I always wondered whether or not zombies and other monsters would come out of there at night and try to kill me. So many nights were spent sleeping under my bed.

My little brother made quick friends at school while I was put in an advanced reading class. I was a dork from the beginning. I never really knew how to make friends so I'd just make them up on paper or find them in the juvenile books that I would read. I remember taking a liking to anything that was a movie tie in or those amazing Goosebumps books. I fucking loved those things! I always went into one of them hoping that somebody would die like they did in the movies. They never did though. I was always disappointed in the trick endings but I still bought and read every damn one that came out.

I remember my father getting mad at me for sitting in my room and reading. He would tell me that my brother was outside being a real boy while I was inside being a fagot. Even from that early age I suppose he had his suspicions. That and I sang show tunes to call my cat over to me instead of "here kitty, kitty!"

My mother was sort of supportive though, when she wasn't around my father at least. She was the one who bought me the books and sometimes art supplies.

I excelled at art class. I loved it because I would never have to do what the teacher made the rest of the kids do. While they were doing a special project Mrs. Payne would give me a large piece of paper and some fine felt tip markers and tell me to make her a masterpiece. I obliged when I felt inspired and just drew whatever came to mind when I wasn't. No matter what though she'd tell me how good I was and that I should really look into becoming an artist when I grow up. She really did make my early years more bearable. I still have no idea why she liked me so much. When I look at my drawings these days it makes me feel sad at their amateurishness. Mostly they were just rip offs of Mega Man and Sonic the Hedgehog.

It was during this time that a great depression fell over me. It was like no matter how much praise I got from the teachers all I really wanted was for the other kids to like me. They'd call me a nerd and throw things at me. I also noticed during this period that my parents were giving my brother extra attention. I was getting good grades and being featured in the school newspaper for my art yet he was popular. My father was very proud of him and would always let me know that if I could only get out and maybe join a pee wee sports team he'd buy me things too.

I remember I would ask him for hugs and he'd tell me that that's for sissy boys. I wasn't a sissy boy now was I? No I wasn't. Sissy boys made God angry.

God was a very scary figure to me when I was young. Being part of the Southern Baptist church you really only get to hear about the fire and brimstone. God was a vengeful man and would send you to hell in a heartbeat if he could. So it was important that I made my father happy because I had to honor him.

Or burn in hell for all eternity.

What a thing to put on a kid, you know? Richard Dawkins, the great biologist and atheist of our time considers religious indoctrination with kids is akin to child abuse. I'd have to agree to that to a certain extent. I didn't want to think about everything I did before I went to bed, hoping that I didn't cross the line and become a full blown sinner, and be cast aside into the fiery pits of Hades. This mentality especially came into play when I finally hit puberty and had strong urges to touch myself.

That's for a later story though...

With the wrath of God looming over my head and the waning attention from my parents I began to cry a lot in my room. It finally got so bad that I would cry in class. I didn't understand what I was feeling so it made me even more scared that there was something wrong with me. Tears would well up for no fucking reason at all. When I got like this I swear all I could think about was running away and getting hit by a bus or something. I couldn't explain it, nor can any child afflicted with serious mental illness.

Nature or nurture? I'd have to say a little bit of both, but I do know now that because of my family's supposed history of suicides and depression and anger, I most likely have a serious chemical imbalance caused by outstanding genetic factors.

During recess when I'd go outside to read the other kids would throw rocks at me, telling me to cry for them. Those rocks hurt. It hurt that they wanted to see me cry. Worst of all my parents never noticed my bruises and scars until I had to bring home a nurses note explaining my injuries. My mother would just shoo it off and tell me I had to fight back. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to, but those kids were not only bigger, that's not my argument here. My argument comes from the fact that if you hit somebody else in school, no matter who started it, you were going to be suspended for a week, at least. Zero tolerance bullshit.

When my father found out that I was upset and being picked on he got very angry with me. He would tell me that I was doing something wrong if the other kids didn't like me.

I was like nine years old!

I think it all finally came to a pratfall when I was cornered by some of the richer students in my class in the hallway. They had found out from my little brother that we only had one car. I mind you that we were in a very well off section of Georgia and my family was coasting along with a dinky double wide trailer in the woods and had only one car. To imagine I used to be so damn proud of that dump. Anyways, all these kids had two to three story homes and would always be dressed in all the latest Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles attire. They left my brother alone because they liked him. But these kids beat me bad. They wore their suspensions on their shoulders like badges of honor.

I remember before a teacher could intervene I got loose from their grip and ran down the hall. I was blinded by the tears from my eyes and I was bumping into a lot of people. The manila painted brick walls all blurred into one great glossy abyss. When I came to the end of the west hall I saw that the janitor's closet was open, so I went in and closed the door behind me.

It was dark and scary. I turned on the light inside. With just one light bulb hanging above me I couldn't help but shiver in fear at the shadows on the wall. Brooms looked like horrible monsters while the mops contained big mean spiders. I would later write a song about it in which it's chorus went "One light shining through, oh!"

Trapped all alone in the janitor's closet, I began to hyperventilate and cry even harder. I collapsed onto the floor and held myself for a few moments. It felt like hours but my Mickey Mouse watch said that only a minute had passed. When I looked ahead on the shelf I had what I thought at the time was the first good idea of my short life.

There was a gallon of bleach in a plastic container just begging me to drink it. I remembered the grownups telling us never to drink from those things because it would kill us. Kill is a big word to a little kid. It's an ever expanding idea of forever that I just could not really grasp at that age. I was always scared of death because I knew I would go to hell like my grandpa and father told me I would.

But this time when I thought about it a sudden wave of peace came over me. For the first time in months I smiled. As if I were guided by some unseen force I unscrewed the cap and tried to lift the jug to my face. It took all of my strength to do it and I did spill more on my clothes than anything else. I took a big long gulp and immediately felt it.

My eyes bugged out of their sockets.

My mouth and throat burned as if I had just swallowed acid.

That peaceful feeling was replaced by pitch black fear and throat dissolving pain.

I couldn't scream. My throat was closing in on itself and I couldn't breathe. I opened the janitor's closet and ran out into the hallway and into the nearest room. I went into a fifth grade room and I began spitting up blood on the floor. Things got blurry and I could feel myself suffocating. The only things I could hear were the other kids screaming and the teacher yelling to get help.

I don't remember much after that. I was in a gurney when the paramedic cut a hole in my throat to get me breathing. I was in so much pain and discomfort that I wouldn't even notice the tube going in my throat for another day or so. The man kept caressing my hair and told me that I will be alright. I overheard the other guy tell the man next to me that he thinks I swallowed bleach. My shirt and jeans had white spots everywhere and I fucking reeked of the stuff.

I don't know why I panicked so badly when the nice one got out an IV needle. They had to strap me into the gurney with restraints in order to get me to be still.

Once the needle was in I remember feeling this wave of relief come over me.

My stomach, my mouth, my eyes, everything just went numb. It was my first ever experience with narcotics and I swear to you I was in love with life when that shit hit my blood stream. I tried to hug the paramedic but I was strapped down and very weak. He then gave me another shot of something through my IV and I must've fallen asleep because I awoke in the hospital. I was in the ER and my mother was next to me crying. I looked over to her and she slapped me in the face very hard.

"How could you do something like this to us!" She screamed. I couldn't move very much let alone reply to her. When you are of a certain age you internalize everything as being your fault. It's your fault when a relative dies. It's your fault your parents get divorced. It's your fault that you like to read books and draw.

Well, this WAS sort of my fault, but I digress...

When my father came into the room I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Even though the pain was unbearable I still maintained silence and didn't move a muscle, God how it hurt.

I remember overhearing him telling my mother that the doctors think it was a suicide attempt. That was the first time I heard that word. They had a name for what I did and it was appropriately frightening. Suicide is bad. That much I knew.

I heard it once before when my uncle died. My father said he chickened out and committed suicide. Although at that age I pronounced it "Soo Slide".

I spent a few days in the kid's area of the hospital. It had brightly colored paintings of balloons on the wall against a playful light blue background. There were kids seats in the rooms and a wide array of toys to choose from. Whenever the nurse would walk by I would request in my still aching and raspy voice, some ice cream. When you had throat injuries they pushed liquids and cold stuff on you so you would get proper nutrition. The doctor even told me he was going to write a prescription for ice cream and that my mother and father would have to follow it because it was doctor's orders. Even at that early of an age I could spot a bullshitter when I heard one.

I remember my dad taking time off of work to sit with me for hours. We didn't talk much and I really couldn't physically say more than a few sentences before my throat would begin to feel shredded. We just watched TV for a long time until the nurse came by and gave me something to sleep.

I remember that they had to put me to sleep because I would get upset when my father would leave. They go to great lengths it seems to keep the kids quiet and behaved in the hospital. I remember I would wake up after the medication was given and he would be gone.

I didn't understand why it made me so sad. The man wasn't really all that nice to me. So why did I care so much about whether or not he was there? I suppose he's my father. You just love your parents even if you say you don't. Part of you will always want their approval. You will always seek their affection.

I was alone in a private room. The best our insurance could afford. I kept asking if I could be with the other kids and they would tell me that it cost a lot to be in a room by myself. They told me I should appreciate what my parents did for me. It just made me feel even lonelier.

They had no books that I could read. All the ones they had were thick intimidating books by grownup authors. (I don't know of anyone that age being able to read Stephen King or Diane Steele, which is all they pretty much had.)

No drawing supplies either.

It felt like the longest three days I ever had to live through.

Suicide...

The more I thought about it the less scary it felt.

Suicide...

It had a ring to it....

Chapter 4: The last show for a while, if ever again...

Tensions had been building with Goodbye Timebomb's drummer Fizz and Brian for a while now. Being a two piece band they didn't have anyone else to focus on and to dilute some of the opinions and song writing thingies that they believed in steadfastly. Brian wanted to practice more and play out more while Fizz (Not his real name, who knows what that is.) wanted to practice as little as possible and smoke pot while playing with his other band. It was sort of a professional relationship. Brian played for the fun of it and Fizz played for the door cover.

Brian had also been promising him that this was a temporary situation and that he would in fact not have to put up with him much longer.

Things were so volatile that Brian had to pay the man in advance upfront for the door money. So far this insured that he'd at least show up. Whether or not he was in playing condition was a roll of the dice. Either he was in ship shape or too stoned or too drunk to even walk right. How he even drove his van some nights scared Brian so much that he preferred to help pack the gear in at Fizz's house and take the bus to the shows. He can replace an Ibanez Jet King but he couldn't replace his limbs.

The thought of playing at least one more show gave Brian a sense of peace as he stood outside the Hi Dive. The place they were going to play.

He checked his cell phone and looked into the venue. Only a few people had shown up and he's beginning to wonder why he even tried at all. Some nights they would fucking pack the place while others he would just be playing to two people at the bar drinking while carrying on with their own conversation.

Don't let anyone ever tell you that they get the same rush whether playing to thousands of adoring fans or to a few people in the bar. You don't. You get up on stage and see no one in front of you and it's just like "Why bother?" The only thing that keeps you entertained and going is the door man heckling you from the entrance. You're playing to him. And Brian felt more than a little depressed by this when that happened.

Looking down Broadway hoping to see a van coming down the road but so far none were in sight. It was almost seven thirty and they went on at eight. Even though the turnout was light this still made him panic a little.

"Does your drummer have a cell phone?" The door man asked.

"No. His parents will give him everything else but a cell phone apparently." another drag.

"You know man we have four bands tonight. You dropping out wouldn't upset things so bad."

"Yeah..." Brian sighed. "It'd be my luck the place sells out though.

"You can't play without at least a guitar man."

"I was thinking about doing an acapella revival of Mudhoney's 'Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge'." Brian snapped. He continued to stare forward at oncoming traffic. The oncoming cars phased into each other as their headlights stalked him from the sidewalk.

Anger slowly dissolved into defeatism as the minutes go by. The door man has already told the other bands that they can go on early and play longer sets tonight not even four minutes ago.

The first band started to soundcheck by the time the van came rolling down towards the sidewalk where Brian is standing. It was already eight thirty. Fizz smiled and unrolled the window to greet him.

"You're late..." Brian says with shoulders slumped and head staring at his shoes.

"Oh man." Fizz looks out at the big brick structure and asks if they're still getting paid for tonight. Brian didn't even bother to tell him that he had already gotten twenty fucking dollars from him. He just didn't care anymore. Walking slowly down Broadway the van keeps pace illegally with him.

"Come on man it's not my fault!" Fizz is trying to explain. "I just have homework and I was at this party and you know man?" He smiled but it was not returned. Brian looked into his eyes and saw the red veins amassed on them. Like they are two red cue balls floating in watery puss. His skin is already starting to turn yellow from all the partying he's accomplished by now at such a young age.

He better not die before I do...

After about a block of following Brian the van sped up and headed down the street. He could see it turn on Alameda and disappear from sight, Brian stood where he was, three blocks away from the failed attempt at playing music to live people sat.

Brian rubbed his eyes and fought back the tears. He knows that this is going to look bad on him when it comes to getting shows in the future. He'd be lucky if he even gets another chance there.

He took out his cell phone he called up the only person that will talk to him.

Paul answered after two rings. "What's up my man?" There's laughter in the background.

"Yeah, stuff went wrong and now I'm free." Brian kept his tone even and steady. It's still threatening to shake. "Just wondering what you're up to."

"Oh man! I'm sorry man!" A long pause ensues. "Um, actually I'm over at Sputniks. It's right next door to your show. I was having a few drinks here and was gonna head over next door and see you play man." another uncomfortable pause. "That sucks man. I suppose you could come have a few drinks with us while you're down here." A slight hint of enthusiasm invaded his voice.

"Who do you mean by 'us'?"

"You know... Shelly and Tim."

"Have you ever thought that you may drink too much?" Brian sighed.

"Listen man. Take it or leave it." Paul was getting defensive. "Come on down! You're more than welcome!"

"OK." He mumbled and shut his cell phone off. He slowly paced himself back over to the scene of the disaster.

As he went along the street Brian realized that he's never really looked at the strip before. He's never taken a look at the light fixtures and the Hello Kitty display at the Chinese restaurant. When he looks forward he is in slight awe at the beautiful glow of downtown Denver.

It's pretty yes. But it's also unforgiving.

He wonders if maybe moving out of state would help him at all. Maybe not though... You always take your problems with you. He'd still be the sullen little depressed person there as he is here. But he does miss the rain. It never rains in Colorado. Not like it did back in Georgia.

He missed Georgia. He doesn't know why. God knows he hated the place. Still, it was home.

Brian passed the door man who gave him a salute as he walked into Sputnik. It's not too packed tonight which is good because he can sit at the bar next to Brian and Shelly. He never really cared for Tim. Brian thinks that he is hot for Shelly and loves to hang out with them in hopes of one day being the rebound fuck.

That's what guys think about. Whether they're gay or straight it's all about busting a nut. Brian's actually surprised that some of the guys he runs into are even aware of what gender the person is going down on them or whatever hole they're sticking it into as long as it's warm and will catch sperm.

Brian sat down next to Paul, who gives him a quick pat on the back and orders him a cranberry vodka. He knows what Brian likes and takes out a five to pay for it.

"No man..." Brian protested, but Paul will have none of it. He's had a rough night and it's now his duty to get him fucking trashed. Brian wondered if he didn't know Paul, would he get drunk as often as he did. He doesn't decline it though. He's just happy to be there.

Sorta...

While the three are deep in conversation Brian sips at his drink and feels like this would be a good time to text Ryan.

Guys just want something warm to stick their dick into. Brian didn't care if he was that warm orifice tonight or not. He wanted to be held and he's willing to play receiver to accomplish this.

After a few minutes the man texts him back and asks who it is. Brian told him that it's the guy from Sunday night. With only a minor wait the guy texts back. "Yeah! I remember you!" Brian asked if he wanted to meet up again tonight. A few moments later his phone rings and Brian took it outside to talk.

It's Ryan.

"Hey." Ryan says in fast clipped speech.

"Hey." Brian tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Just downtown having a drink, where are you?"

"I'm at Broadways. Also having a drink."

"Would you want some company?"

This is getting sad.

"Um... Sure yeah! Do you have any condoms or you just want to go bare back like last time? I'd have to head back here afterwards though."

Brian held the top button and shut off his phone, he sat on a nearby bench where tears begin to well up in his eyes. A cold sensation spread numbness from his chest out to his limbs.

I just want to make people happy....

Brian began to silently weep alone in front of Sputniks.

:::October:::

Chapter 5: Brian's Diary: Meeting John

I was like twelve when I met him. He was like thirteen and a good deal taller than I was and at that age it got him a lot of attention. He had a short brown hair and brown eyes that were so deep in color you'd swear they were black. I remember he already wore size 11 shoes (Because we went shoe shopping together one time) and his skin was dark tan.

John Bellagosta was his name and he was an excellent example of what good Italian genes could do for your offspring. He had the deepest voice too. Always making fun of me for my then weak high squeak, but honestly I would give into the teasing for hours just to hear him talk.

John confused me greatly. I was on the verge of puberty (Still didn't even have my pubes yet...) and he was everything my father wanted me to be. At the time I thought it was jealousy. I guess I am still a little jealous of old Stretch. I think now looking back on it though it was much, much more.

We met together for the first time during lunch in Duluth Middle school's cafeteria. He was the new guy and I was sitting all by myself so he came over to me and asked if I had room for him. I couldn't take my eyes off of him but I did long enough to tell him that, yes he could sit with me.

He was the perfect friend from then on. Unlike the other kids, who teased me and beat me up for my height and lack of body hair, he defended me and was actually very smart to boot.

I remember that first conversation pretty good. Some spots are murky in my memory but to paraphrase it all it went a little like this.

Me - So where are you from?

John - I'm actually from Alabama. Please don't make fun of me.

Me - I can't make fun of someone who lived where I did now can I?

John - Hey really? That's cool. What part?

Me - The only town anyone knows of, Mobile.

John - ME TOO!!! Wow! Do you like Power Rangers?

Me - (I lied to get him on my good graces) absolutely!

John paused for a moment and then tested me.

John - Who is your favorite bad guy?

This is where I drew a blank. From the episodes I remember my brother watching I knew of a flower monster, a beetle monster, and a rhinoceros monster. I chose the rhinoceros monster.

John stared at me for another moment then smiled.

John - I think you're cool.

I don't know how to describe the feeling I got when he said those words. My first immediate thought was "Wow! He is so cool!" then it morphed into something resembling "Oh my God. I think I may have a friend. My parents are gonna freak!" All I could do the rest of our lunch break was smile and listen to his back story.

I learned early on after meeting him that you can make a lot of friends if you just shut up and listen to them talk. I think that's what everyone wants in a friendship really. They could care less about you but if you can care about them then they'll stick by you to the very end because you "UNDERSTAND" them. But back then I didn't understand him.

The three things I wanted most during my early years were:

1: Height - My family is huge and my bigger brother was almost a good foot ahead of me. I didn't know it at the time and it was never explained to my family but now Dr. Neven thinks I could have maxed out my potential growth with all the pills I was taking back then.

I was taking pills to make me less sad.

I was taking pills so I wouldn't cry.

I was taking pills to counteract the side effects from the other pills.

My blood was just a messy cocktail of whatever the doctor of the month felt like subjecting me too. Like the one that made me fat... Which leads me to my next most wanted thing as a youth.

2: I wanted to have a normal weight and look like all the other kids. Now I realized that the stuff I was taking caused significant weight gain and my body never really recovered from it all. Sometimes when I stare at a man naked all I can see is their flat stomachs. They don't even have to be ripped, they just have to be flat. I want what I can't ever have.

I was three hundred pounds at my max. When I stopped the pills and moved to Colorado the weight came off relatively fast over the course of a few years. Some would even go as far as to call me skinny. Fuckers, I still have a flap of belly skin that protrudes over my pant waist.

I was told the only way to get rid of it was through surgery. My credit mixed with it being an elective operation pretty much screwed me over on that front. That is one thing I'm hoping to come to terms with before I die, that I will never, ever look like other boys.

I have trouble even calling myself a man now because I look so damn young. Everyone tells me I'll appreciate it when I'm fucking forty. Fuck them. I want to appreciate it now...

3: I wanted to like girls - I know I should embrace my homosexuality but to be God honest I still lose sleep over my identity. I hate it when people tell me I chose to be this way. Chose my ass!

Who would choose to be made fun of?

Who would choose to be beaten up?

Who would choose to be part of a minority in which you could be subjected to hate crimes?

Who would choose to be an outcast? And I don't mean those fucking posers that wear black eyeliner and say they're punk. Those kids are nine times out of ten rebelling to either get back at their parents or to get girls. Girls love the sensitive rebel.

Who would choose to be gay?

Really? Who would choose to inflict that kind of pain on your family and friends. Who would want to hate yourself so much that, at fifteen, drive yourself to suicide? I almost did it. For the second time I tried to kill myself.

And it's all John's fault, big tall good looking perfect John. My father couldn't get enough of him! I remember he'd watch football with my dad. He would mow our lawn for ten bucks (and it was a fucking huge lawn!) He would talk to my father about girls! He was fucking perfect.

And yet I couldn't stop being around him. He was like a drug to me. Being around him made the pain less potent. He made me laugh. When I was sad he would hug me. I made sure I was sad often.

I never got the physical gratification of hugs and other forms of physical affection from my parents so I, for some reason I cannot fully comprehend even today, sought it in John because he would give it to me. I didn't think about being homosexual or having an attraction to the guy back then. Back then he was just my really good friend whom I envied, loved, and hated all at the same time.

On the day I met him I couldn't think straight. I was all flustered with feelings I didn't quite understand. He'd given me his phone number but I hesitated for the longest time that afternoon from calling him. After all, he had my number too! Why wasn't HE calling ME?

As I paced around the living room my mother would bark at me to either go into my room or sit the fuck down. I was too nervous to sit down and I was too afraid of being near my brother to be in our room. So I asked if she'd call me from the porch if I got a phone call. She said she would and continued her special soda that I couldn't try.

So I went outside and waited.

And waited.

And waited...

Until I heard the phone ring from the inside of our trailer and I tore the door open and ran for the phone. My mother beat me to it and brashly asked who it was. My heart sunk and I nearly broke down when she told the person on the other line that I didn't know any John and slammed the phone down onto the receiver.

"MOM! That was for me!!!" I cried out, big mistake.

You don't yell at mommy or daddy...

After she whooped me raw and red she sent me to the room I shared with my brother. I was beside myself with grief. The first ever friend who didn't hurt me actually called and my mother fucked it all up with just a few sentences and a violent hang up.

After I stopped crying and contemplating ways to off myself I decided to write the guy a letter. He must read right? So I went over to my desk (my brother supposedly owned it but God forbid homework ever take away from his videogames.) and wrote John a long letter apologizing to him for my mother's behavior. In fact I wrote a lot about how unhappy my family made me. A little too much I suppose. .

When it was finished I meekly walked from my room to the couch where my mother was sleeping. I softly called her name but she did not respond. Not wanting to get another spanking I gently nudged her by the shoulder and asked her to wake up, just for a second.

She didn't seem as angry as before, in fact she even called me baby. I asked her for an envelope and she pointed toward the coat closet next to the doorway. Me being twelve I did not yet have the growth spurt needed to reach the top of said closet. She suggested I use a chair from the desk in the living room and get it myself. So I did.

Surprisingly enough this act of neglect didn't get me hurt this time. I stood on the chair and pawed around the top shelf in the closet while standing on my tippity toes. I was able to nudge the box over and it fell into my other hand with ease.

I would later leave the box on the coffee table so someone else could put it up when I was done. I got flack for it, but then again, when didn't I seem to get in trouble?

I put the very heartfelt letter into the envelope and licked it shut. I savored the taste of the glue and felt as if a million, billion pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. It was the first experience I ever had with writing down my feelings. I would later learn about this cool new contraption called a Diary from John, of all people.

He kept one.

Of course he did, he was perfect.

The next day I slowly marched over to where he sat, not surprisingly it was not where I sat yesterday. I asked if it was cool if I gave him something. He seemed a little guarded but told me he'd accept something from me. He didn't exactly scowl at me but he did seem to be mad. It has not been the first time my mother (or father) would drive someone away from me and it wouldn't be the last.

I stood there next to him for a few seconds while he awkwardly tried to continue conversation with a girl he was talking to. It was only when he looked back at me and sad "Dude!" in a menacing tone that I got the hint. I went back over to my undercooked and soggy grilled cheese and stringy, tasteless green beans. I couldn't eat though. I was too anxious about what had just transpired and I knew that if I ate anything it would just come back up again anyways.

Man I was a mess back then.

I suppose I still am though.

I'd like to think I'm getting better.

Depression:

de•pres•sion

Pronunciation [dih-presh-uhn]

–noun

1. the act of depressing.

2. the state of being depressed.

3. a depressed or sunken place or part; an area lower than the surrounding surface.

4. sadness; gloom; dejection.

5. Psychiatry . a condition of general emotional dejection and withdrawal; sadness greater and more prolonged than that warranted by any objective reason. Compare clinical depression.

6. dullness or inactivity, as of trade.

7. Economics . a period during which business, employment, and stock-market values decline severely or remain at a very low level of activity.

8. the Depression. Great Depression. (see also Stock Market Crash; 1929)

9. Pathology . a low state of vital powers or functional activity.

10. Astronomy . the angular distance of a celestial body below the horizon; negative altitude.

11. Surveying . the angle between the line from an observer or instrument to an object below either of them and a horizontal line.

12. Physical Geography . an area completely or mostly surrounded by higher land, ordinarily having interior drainage and not conforming to the valley of a single stream.

13. Meteorology . an area of low atmospheric pressure.

Origin: 1350–1400; ME (< AF) < ML dēpressiōn- (s. of dēpressiō ), LL: a pressing down, equiv. to L dēpress ( us ) ( see depress) + -iōn- -ion

—Synonyms

discouragement, despondency

Chapter 6: Finding The Right Costume.

Yet with all the loneliness and anger that is associated with his experiences with the local Denver music scene, Brian still loved it with every ounce of his being. No national band could even touch Ian Cooke, Joshua Novak, The Symptoms, Glass Hits, Dressy Bessy, Apples In Stereo, Hot IQs, Lion Sized, Ideal Fathers, 3OH!3, The Photo Atlas, Fissure Mystic, Matson Jones, Tornado Alley, Suzi Homewreker, The Chain Gang of 1974, and just the multitude of great in town groups that played every night of the week at many of the local venues. Some can even pack houses meant for hundreds, if not thousands of people.

With new and amazing talent popping up everywhere it was no wonder that Brian tried so hard to get a piece of the action. He did his best but in the end he figured that being cool and knowing the right people were more important than the heart and soul you put into the creation of your art.

It's sad but true. In the end it's rarely talent, songwriting, or musicianship that get you anywhere. While he loved all the bands mentioned above he couldn't help but feel the pain of the dozens of other not so well known acts must feel daily when they trudge along and take whatever scraps they can from the scene that inspires so many yet lets so few in.

Despite all his attempts yet so far he has yet to break into the inner circle of hipsters that rule the scene. So he has been dealing with the hand dealt and has come to terms with his wayward scenester standing within the music community.

He is that weird guy who goes to a lot of shows and hey! He's in a band too! Big surprise huh?

Not in a band anymore, he now says. When asked about whether or not he was going to play anymore shows he just shrugs and lets it be known that he has no interest in pursuing it anymore. Sometimes he lets it slip that he's not pursuing much of anything anymore.

By the time when there is only three days left to pick out a costume for the Hi Dive Halloween show Brian and Paul are busy deciding on the best outfits for the occasion.

Standing in the middle of a deserted Arc thrift store, Brian couldn't help but notice the desolation abound through the aisles of used and thrown away outer wear, the racks standalone quiet and unmoving and with the slighted hint of sadness in the way that, like he, can be in a room full of suits and still be all alone. The rows and rows of clothing that nobody wanted, someone either had to die to get rid of it or some more well off family decided that they couldn't bare to look at last year's fashion and donated it to the budget conscious facility as a write off on their tax returns.

Picking up the arm of a suit jacket between two fingers, Brian rubs the two appendages together, testing the softness of the material. It's not perfect for what he wants but he's getting warmer.

He does the same with the next suit jacket in line, and the next, and the next.

Paul is somewhere over near the Men's pants section picking out his new winter wardrobe. It's not too far off and Brian knows that he too should get ready for the cold Colorado weather that is only a month or so away. He already has most of his things already because he never throws anything out unless it's severely tattered or spotted. Still though, he could always use more.

Paul and Mike tried to donate some things to him when they first moved in together with him but other than the pants (Paul wears a size 32 and Mike 34, which Brian wears with a belt) he cannot fit into their shirts without them falling over one of his shoulders. They both wear large to extra-large and he is a paltry small to medium kind of guy. It was a nice gesture though.

Sometimes Mike can surprise him with weird acts of kindness or at least actions of good intention.

Tall people have no feelings...

I just have to remember this.

Everyone will hurt you if given the chance.

Even Paul, Brian is just waiting for the day he beats him down so he can say he told him so. Sometimes honestly he has tried to get a rise out of him but so far it's just gotten to the stage of verbal battle. Even then it always ends with Paul apologizing with a hangover the day after. It sometimes makes Brian mad to have his expectations shattered because it makes him feel somewhat unsure about his worldview. No one likes it when you tell them the Earth is round when you just know in your heart of hearts that it is as flat as a swimmer's stomach.

Taking off a purple jacket from the rack, Brian undoes the zipper to his Photo Atlas hoodie and takes it off so he can put on the suit coat. It's a very loose fit but it's perfect for what he's going to go dressed as. It's the exact shade of purple and he then gets the feeling that the costume director also must have been shopping at thrift stores to get the character's grungy yet eclectic look.

He picked his hoodie up from off the floor and walked around the suit section and over to the Men's pants. He doesn't see Paul's big head over the racks but he does see it protruding amongst the Men's dress shirts. As his stride steadies he sees his friend comparing the shirt with his body width and he can tell that it's not to Paul's liking. He puts it back and continues to thumb through the selection.

"What do ya think?" Brian twirls his body full circle showing off the entirety of the suit jacket. He then stops dead center and looks up toward Paul with his boyish grin and nudges the big man.

"It's perfect man!" Paul runs the back of his left hand over the arm of the jacket and then tugs a little on the price tag.

"Nice huh?" Brian was seeking his approval.

"This is a steal man." Paul does the last button on Brian's chest, making it completely cover his brown My Chemical Romance t-shirt. "And it hides any imperfect taste in music you may be sponsoring." With a smile and a pat on the shoulder he give Brian a wink then takes out a blue striped shirt from the middle of the isle and holds it to his stomach. Intending to show it off to the one person in the store he knows has at least a little style.

"Shelly usually helps me get shit like this but you're gay." Paul's mouth creeps slowly into a wide "you just got punked!" grin. "You would know as well as her what would look good on a man like me."

Brian puts one hand to his chest and the other parallel to his shoulder and scoffs melodramatically. "Are you implying that I am the stereotypical homosexual male? Your own personal 'Queer Eye For The Straight Guy'?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying" Paul pulls the collar to his neck. "Cool or not cool man?"

"I don't personally think blue is a good color for you." Brian takes the large dress shirt from Paul's hands and puts it back on the rack. He then proceeds to rifle through the rest of the inventory until he finds a nice white and brown striped button up long sleeved shirt that he thinks totally match Paul's skin tone and eyes.

"Try this on." Brian hands him the shirt. Paul reluctantly accepts it and initially treats it like a soiled diaper. Holding it at an arms distance and looking disdained and objective to his roommate's choice in attire. Then when the joking around ceases he does his little belly to neck spreading of the shirt on his body to see if he agrees with the size and the colors.

"If you say so man." He says with a little skepticism. Brian can tell though he's already sold. He's just giving him a hard time is all.

Brian notes that for $2.99 he can't afford not to get it.

"You're such a fag." Paul ruffles Brian's hair with his free hand and then proceeds across to pick out four other shirts before going across the shoes and straight into the dressing rooms. Brian remembers when he was homeless and he used to steal out of places like this by bringing items to the dressing room and stuffing it into either a bag or his back pack. Every good bum needs a good roomy back pack you know.

That and a good flask, Brian doesn't drink that often but he had one anyways so as to not look like a sissy in front of the other gutter punks.

Then he remembers the dark times he had being without shelter. His veins ache with the craving for opiates. It's right then when he decides how he is going to do it. He is going to overdose on heroin.

Or other drugs.

I could pass out with a noose around my neck?

Brian filed that one into the back of his mental list of options.

No, what if he messes it up? He's overdosed a ton of times but has always failed to cease living afterwards. Some stupid jerk off always called the ambulance and he always wound up being narcained in the emergency room by some third rate hack nurse via an even more degenerate cum stain of a doctor who ordered the stupid anti opioid antagonist. In Laymen terms it's a drug that they give you for opiate overdoses.

As Brian recalled the doctor's explanation, he remembers him saying that opiates lower the functioning ability of the brain stem. It pretty much knocks it out of business. The brain stem controls breathing and your heart beat and stuff like that. Thus opiates mess with your heart and slow your breathing down to dangerous levels. The more you take the less oxygen you get. You can't control it because it's all in the brain stem, primal function part of the brain. Obviously without air, you die. Hence that's how you die from an overdose.

Narcan is a drug designed to counteract the overdose or really any amount of opiates you've ingested by any means. Depending on how much you took though will determine how long it will last. It's initial effect is immediate withdrawal to the individual which is extremely painful and feels like a jolt of pure adrenaline to the heart.

Your eyes go from a pinned dot of black to a dilated saucer of darkness.

You can't catch a breath for what seems like minutes.

And the worst part of it all is that you are fucking hurting everywhere on your body. It can even seem like places that can't hurt are actually contracting and pulling to the breaking point and your insides immediately go limp. Sometimes you may soil yourself depending on how long you've been intoxicated, how much you had, and how much of an addiction you have to the stuff.

Narcan is fucking awful shit. Only a shit doctor with a hatred for junkies would ever give it to someone who is not in a life threatening situation.

Brian was definitely going to put himself in a life threatening situation. But even with an intentional heroin overdose you can never be too sure about it. Even the most inspired of overdose related suicides wind up with you in the hospital with a shot of Narcan or at worst, you'll wind up a vegetable afterwards from the lack of oxygen to your brain. That can lead to the destruction of vital parts of your cerebral functioning. And to put it simply, lack of air to the brain can seriously fuck with your motor skills.

There has to be a way...

Paul snapped his fingers in front of Brian, effectively ending his prolonged vacant stare into the rows of shirts before him. Brian smiles at the gesture and tries to extend the good time he's having.

"I think I will look in the shoes now. I may be able to find some dress shoes that would go perfect with my get up." Brian suggests.

"Go knock yourself out man. I think I got what I wanted." Paul puts one of the shirts back and piles the other four over one arm. "I'm gonna go pay for this shee-ut. I'll meet you back over there when I'm done ok?"

"Sure." Brian looks on as Paul casually heads off toward the cashier's counter. He can't help but feel a little bit of his abandonment issues percolating up from the exchange. His friend cannot wait for him to complete his shopping and thus heads off and leaves him behind. Maybe he's just reading into it a little too much.

It's not like it would be the first time it happened.

Tall people have no feelings...

Chapter 7: Brian's Diary: Why I am not as good as the next guy.

Everyone is perfect and I am the freak of nature standing next to them, making them look good.

I am the gross little guy who makes the one standing beside me look absolutely fuckable by comparison.

I am the hole in the wall that you stick your dick through because you know someone is on the other end waiting to suck you off. Only it's my luck that on top of you using me, you'll give me herpes on my mouth.

I'm writing this at St. Pete's coffee shop and it's pretty packed even by their standards. There wasn't a place to sit when I got here and I walked around for a few minutes looking like a sad, lost, lonely puppy about to get put to sleep when this really thin guy with short wavy brown hair offered me a seat next to him at his table. After a moments hesitation I thought he looked safe and cute enough so I sat down next to him.

He introduced himself as Sean and I told him my name and he smiled. He has the widest mouth and the whitest teeth. It's the kind of mouth that you could put your whole fist through without stretching any skin or hurting the jaw. His grin is just too big for his face I thought.

He shook my hand and his totally engulfed mine. It was sort of a cold sweaty feel and it sent shivers up and down my body.

His eyes were my favorite color of brown, the kind that is almost black, like Paul's eyes kind of. The eyebrows on this guy were big and bushy and the kind that can hide small children within them.

I put my diary down and decided to ask him what does he do for a living. He told me that he is a med student and I was all like "Wow! So is my roommate!" Well he's not currently in school, he took a few semesters off to get save some more money for next year's classes but I left out this information when conversing with Sean.

Sean. That's a cool name. He told me that he is just starting his first year in school and to earn money for it he's a web designer. I just thought that was the coolest thing in the world. I told him that computer language and HTML and Flash is just way too complex and daunting for me to ever attempt seriously. He then told me that it's really easy if you just build your own little templates and when you have enough you can show the basic ones to a client and modify it to their specifications.

Why didn't I ever think of anything that simple? Maybe I could've done something with my life instead of wasting it working menial jobs and reading too many books.

I noticed his legs protruding from the shorts he had on and for some reason the hairy appendages just turned me on a little. I like guys that look like guys.

His feet were big and he had manly toes that were not too stubby with just a few sparse black hairs on the knuckles.

He appeared to only notice me when he talked. To be honest this guy really seemed like he was becoming interested in me.

I was listening. Everyone likes to be listened to. I think that it's the key to picking almost anyone up. You just gotta swallow back what you're thinking and just smile and nod to their words.

I told a stupid joke (one that I will not even dare to repeat here because it was so bad) and the guy laughed! Oh man I was getting stomach flutters and I know I was blushing so bad you could of made a cut in my face and I would of lost all my blood.

I was getting nervous as the conversation went on because I wanted to bring up the subject of exchanging numbers and maybe hanging out sometime.

The tuft of hair on his chest was poking out through the collar of his shirt. I just wanted his to take it off and give me a long tight hug and take me home with him.

I started thinking about going to movies. Eating at fancy restaurants, the kind where you get a hot towel handed to you before your meal. Long walks in the park talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

I was getting way too far ahead of myself.

I had to make a move I thought or we may never see each other again. So many times did I just let them slip away because I couldn't muster up enough courage to ask for their phone number.

At least I never can when I am sober. Get a few drinks in me and I'm guaranteed to be giving back rubs and taking people into the bathroom for a quick hand job.

I wondered how big he is.

Writing about this is making me think of Ryan... I wonder if I should go out with him again? After all he was just being upfront with me about what he wanted last time... Maybe I took it too harshly...

Anyways...

It was at the moment I thought I was brave enough to ask that he broke my heart into a million little shards of glass.

A girl with tight jeans and a tank top walked by, she had long brown hair and less than ordinary breasts I might add. But he looked at her anyways. Long and hard as if he didn't care who knew he was gawking.

Then he turned to me and said those horrible words to me... "Holy shit I'd tap that in a second!" He smiled a smile that was just too big for his face and continued to tell me how he remembers having a girlfriend like that and fucking her in the bathroom of this very coffee shop.

If I had anything in my stomach I would of thrown it all up. I think I did dry heave a little. The man was straight and there I was trying to fucking get his number.

I guess he was just a nice guy. Why did I even think that someone that cool and nice would ever be interested in a little dwarf fuck monster like me? My stomach even has a little spillover of skin from when I was really big for Christ sake! I am an idiot who can never take his shirt off.

Not like this guy.

This guy who's so good with the opposite sex that he was able to convince a girl to fuck him on the floor of a public restroom.

Why didn't I get an immediate erection the moment that girl passed us by? Why do I fucking have to be so goddamn physically drawn to fucking guys?

I hate Creationalists because they believe a perfect and loving God created us all equally and with the care of a blessed hand. If that's true then why do I feel like I never had a choice in the matter if we all start off the same?

Why would I ever purposefully choose to endure so much pain and have such a fucking identity situation? I hate people who ask me why I am the way I am. I don't know why I am the way I am.

There is some promising research out there that suggests that it may indeed be nature and not nurture. I'll have to look it up again. When I do I'll write it in here.

Safe to say I couldn't even look the man in the eyes anymore and the conversation quickly dissipated until we were both just sitting next to each other doing our own thing. Oblivious to one another until he left, before he left I caught him peeking at a few other girls who walked by.

Before he left he got a phone call and apparently was talking to a girl. He told her the directions from wherever she was to the café where we were. He hung up and said goodbye to me. He then winked and told me he's gonna spend time with a real honey.

I faked a smile and told him to tear that shit up. He patted me on the shoulder and put his laptop into his back pack and left.

As he walked away I couldn't take my eyes off of his hairy legs. As I found myself staring at them when he was heading toward the exit I couldn't help but hate myself that much more for even thinking I had a chance with him.

I am just a stupid little, fat ass, fagot boy who will be single till the day I die.

You're Not Cool

Words and music: Brian Oldman

If you ever wanna be my friend

I'm a reject

Standing in the pit next to all the social zits

I'm a reject

I'm a defect

And that's what I like about you

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool and I don't think there's anything hip about you

You're not cool, you're not cool

Moshing on my head

I'm ahead, I'm a head

I'm a reject

I wanna be my friend

But I wanna be a friend

I'm a reject

I'm a defect

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool and I don't think there's anything hip about you

You're not cool, you're not cool

Happy, I'm happy

But I'm happy and unhappy

I'm a reject

Pleased that I'm flat

And I'm flat and I'm fat

I'm a reject

I'm a defect

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool, you're not cool

You're not cool and I don't think there's anything hip about you

You're not cool, you're not cool

Paul says you're cool

And I'll take his word for it

Chapter 8: Halloween at the Hi Dive

Slick globs of green hair product stuck Brian's hair straight into the air just like it said it would on the little white can. It was crazy color glue and he got it from Hot Topic especially for this occasion. Although he would flatten his follicles out in a second to get the necessary messy hair effect, he looked at his spiked hair for a moment and thought to himself that if he weren't wearing grungy clown makeup, he could pass for a hardcore punk.

He runs his hand through the green mess and produces a flat and shaggy mass of greenish brown hair. Running the back of his hand over his mouth, he successfully smeared his red lipstick and makes it streak across his face.

Perfect.

The purple suit jacket he bought worked perfectly with the purple pants and purple dress vest he got from Buffalo Exchange down on 13th.

Even his shoes are a cool, tattered black dress shoes. Brian smiled and tried his best to make it as creepy as he could.

"They call me..." He took out a rubber switchblade and held it to his lips. "Joker!"

"HA!" Paul's voice spooked Brian from behind. Brian can see that he's in the bathroom doorway, wearing his dirty white night shirt and jeans he's had on for over four nights now. "I don't know whether to laugh or call Christopher Nolan to tell him you're infringing on his copyright."

"I think it's cool." Brian defended himself in a small voice. "No matter anyways..." He pretended to touch up his hair when really he is just stalling for time. The longer he appeared to work on his look the more he thought Paul would believe he worked on it. It really only took like five minutes in all (about three for the dressing up) and Brian wanted him to think that he put at least some effort into his costume. He's not lazy after all.

"Well man I'm gonna be heading out pretty soon so you better get your ass in gear." Paul warned.

Before he could leave Brian asked "Is that what you're wearing?" in disbelief.

"Yeah." Paul chuckled in his deep baritone. "Can't you tell what I am?" He motions his hand up and down his tall frame.

"No..."

Paul maked a mock sigh and the sides of his mouth rise to show off his only slightly yellow teeth in his silly, fun smile. "I'm a psycho killer. We look just like everyone else!"

"HA!" Brian's fake laugh wasn't lost on Paul, who stopped smiling and for a moment appeared to be the slightest bit insecure. "Wasn't that from The Addams Family? Who's infringing on who's copyright now?" He patted his hair flat again.

"No one ever said I was original... JOKER!" Paul countered. They both laugh and he tells Brian to hurry up. The party is going on without them.

All alone in the bathroom Brian reflected on the last month or so. He was making a real effort to be happy and it seems to have changed nothing so far. Ever hear of fake it till you make it? Well he's faking it, but making it is another story.

Brian added a little more black to his white face makeup and turned the faucet onto hot and washed his grimy, makeup addled hands. Using Mike's dirty towel he dried off and wipes the rest of the crap off. He then carried it out of the bathroom and threw it into the dirty laundry hamper.

Mike should know better.

He saw Paul on the couch watching TV and walked over to him. Standing on the side of the sofa, he leaned on it and proclaimed that he is now ready. He felt like taking a seat but wasn't sure of how soon Paul would react to his proposal.

"Cool man." Paul said after almost two minutes, he didn't take his eyes off the television. He had the remote in his hand and was still switching channels, it didn't seem like he could decide on anything to watch.

Just like Brian's dad would do.

At this time of night it was mostly reality shows on anyways.

The shudder went up Brian's spine like a lightning bolt, making his boney feet twitch and stubby hands tremor. The last thing he wanted to do was compare his best friend to his father.

After a few moments Brian gets tired of standing and sits down next to Paul. It's only then that Paul decided to get his ass in gear and switched off the TV. He patted Brian on the head and got up, stretching out his back as he did so.

"Let's go little dude." Paul said to him. Knowing he hated it when people call him that.

"Fine." Brian said in defeat.

As they get out to the Paul asked if Brian could sit in the back seat.

"Why?" Brian asked, he was truly offended by the request.

"Because," Paul smiled "Shelly's gotta have some place to sit now doesn't she?"

"Why not make the vagina sit in the back?" Brian countered. Knowing it is a useless argument he opens the back door to the green minivan and climbed in, buckled his seatbelt, and prepared to share his friend.

"I wish I was a girl." Brian said under his breath as Paul turned on the ignition.

Shelly, tall, blond, thin, Shelly, she's near perfect and used to model. She has a high feminine voice and from what Paul says, gives amazing head. Not that this interests Brian in the slightest. If anything it made him even more jealous of the five foot ten female.

When Brian had first met her he made an angry comment that she looked like an anorexic Barbie doll. Paul's only counter was that she was HIS anorexic Barbie doll.

She had on a very tight and revealing black body suit with little cat ears on her head. To make the cliché outfit complete she even drew little whiskers on her face with what looked like pencil eyeliner.

Whatever... He was hell bent on going home with someone tonight. He wasn't about to go home and have to endure the sex sounds of Mike and Paul all night long. Last time that happened he got so frustrated he jacked off three times during the night. Not that it wasn't productive, he had the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time, but it still made him severely depressed.

He wasn't actually all that big, at five foot seven and one hundred and sixty pounds, he was only a little thick, nothing really noticeable to any male or female horny enough to do anything.

Paul parked along Lincoln and 4th and the three of them begun their six block trek up to the Hi Dive. It hurt Brian to see them holding hands but the saving grace in his mind was that he looked awesome. If anytime were right for him to meet someone, tonight would be it. Even if it was a girl he'd at least pretend he was interested.

He brought along two condoms in preparation. Brian gets them free from a little grab basket at his mental health site. Safety first...

Along the way up there Brian noticed the other costumed couples heading in the same direction and began to wonder if the Hi Dive would be sold out by now. It was only 9pm but you never knew.

Of the people walking down the street, Brian was trying to spot anyone who had done what he had done and dressed up like the Joker. So far he saw three devils, two angels, three cat girls, one wolf and one red riding hood (in red lingerie no less) and a crocodile.

As they reached the block before Paul mentioned that they should get some pizza afterwards if they were all still together when it was all over. Having not eaten anything but two Slim Fast shakes during the day Brian actually was looking forward to it sort of. The comment sort of depressed him because it felt like Paul had no faith in Brian hooking up that night.

It was a little embarrassing that it was the same door man from his failed show but the guy mentioned that he liked Brian's costume.

"Thanks man!" He genuinely appreciated the comment. Maybe tonight wasn't going to be so bad after all he told himself. The thought actually gave him goose bumps. Tonight was going to be good.

Fake it till you make it.

Once inside Brian's first instinct was to go to the bar. The bands had yet to go onstage so he had time for a few drinks before things got really started.

After he had fought his way through a few people dressed in Star Trek costumes Brian motioned for the bartender to go to his side of the bar.

"What can I get ya Brian?" The bartender's name was Bill. Brian knew him because before he was 21 this guy used to sneak him into shows that were bar shows by having him help his band "The Swayback" load their equipment in. Once inside he was offered beers to help sell merchandise. He had on his glasses and wore his hair in an asymmetrical style that reminded Brian of those characters in Japanese anime cartoons.

Although tonight he wasn't in a band, he was the bartender. And if the previous times meant anything, Brian knew to only drink a max of two of his mixed drinks because the man poured him some Guinness Book of World Records style heavy drinks.

"Can you make me a white Russian?" Brian yelled over the noise. Bill nodded and headed back toward the liquors. Brian got a second thought and ran over to the other side of the bar where he was and pushed his way through a few more people, these ones dressed like convicts, and yelled his name.

"What?" Bill asked as he held the vodka bottle in his hand.

"Can you make it normal?" Pleaded Brian.

"Sure man, whatever." Bill seemed a little disappointed but made the drink nonetheless. After adding the cream he handed the drink to Brian and proclaimed that it would be four dollars. Brian gave him a five and left the bar before he could get the change. When Brian took a sip of it his lips immediately puckered and he could feel acidic, egg tasting vomit rise in his throat. The thing was almost all vodka.

The place wasn't too packed at this point in time which was good because he wanted to get a good spot near the stage. On the elevated platform he saw a lone cello sitting on a stand and wondered what the hell it was doing there. Wasn't there going to be any rock tonight? He supposed he just had to wait if he was to find out. He knew that Matson Jones was supposed to punk rock with cellos pretty much, but he had no idea who the opener bands were.

Brian decided to ask Paul and went looking for him. Making his way through the costumed throngs of people he finally found them sitting on the corduroy "Make Out" couch in the back of the space. They were in fact, making out.

Brian interrupted the suck fest by nudging Paul's arm. Annoyed Paul unlocked his lips and looked up at his roommate, whom he wasn't very fond of seeing at this point in time.

"What?!" Paul demanded loudly. His eyes looked evil and slanted.

Brian threw up his hands in annoyance. "Nothing." he decided it wasn't worth it and walked away. When he looked back the couple were back at it like nothing had happened.

Fucking breeders...

After pardoning himself through the crowd he made it back up to the stage where two more people had decided to camp out.

One was a chubby red headed girl with glasses in a bunny costume and the other was a tall tan guy with a short and mild white boy afro wearing a Tarzan outfit. Of the two Brian picked the tall black haired man to ask his question.

"Excuse me?" Brian poked at the man's arm. The guy turned around and smiled. Which was a welcome surprise seeing that the instant he poked the guy, Brian felt remorse.

"Yeah, what's up?" The man had beautiful dark green eyes.

"Yeah I was wondering if you knew who was playing tonight." Brian felt a frog in his throat." I mean, other than Matson Jones."

"Well..." The man thought for a few moments. "This guy Timothy Grant is playing. He makes pop music with a cello and his voice and nothing more." The man spoke of him like he was a dear friend. This caught Brian off guard a little so he decided not to say anything about his doubts of a cello rocking the place. "The other one I think... The Hot Iqs?" When he smiled Brian's heart melted. A tinge of sorrow ran through his chest, knowing this man was going to fuck some slut tonight and would no doubt smash Brian's face on the bar if he asked him if he wouldn't mind him to buy the guy a drink.

Brian decided to hell with his feelings and introduced himself anyways.

"My name is Brian." He extended his hand.

The man smiled and took his hand. "And I'm Timothy Ryan."

"Ha! That's awesome." Brian looked back up on the stage and took in the cello again. He began to feel like he was on the spot and slumped his shoulders a little. Before he knew it he was staring at his shoes.

"I like your costume." Tim said in a sweet sing song voice.

"Thanks man." Brian felt his face turn red beneath the Joker makeup. "So how long have you been playing?"

Timothy looked dreamily above Brian and toward the wall. "Since I was too small to even hold a cello." He looked back down at him and smiled. The stubble on his face had to be no older than a day. Bryan couldn't help but look at his hairy chest. His loin cloth was a bright orange and he was wearing sandals, thank God without socks.

That's pretty much a turn off for anyone...

"So um... I guess I'll see you onstage." Brian took a sip of his drink, as if to deflect any further comments. He immediately gagged on it and looked back at Timothy to see his reaction.

"I guess so." Tim blushed and walked toward the bar.

Did he really just blush? Brian couldn't tell in the light but the man definitely changed color. Instead of following him to see if this was a sign of something Brian stayed put and downed his drink. It stung his throat and he cursed Bill for making it so strong.

He stood there in silence as the placed filled a little more. It had to be half full by now and the place started to heat up with the sweat of so many bodies. Before it got any fuller Brian decided to get another drink before the action started.

He had ordered a shot of vodka and instead got a small highball cup of it. Perfect. At least he had a ride home and at the rate he was going he would be too drunk to care if anyone was having sex. Still, he had to pace himself.

He was sure that he'd just be trashed if he downed the drink so he did and put the glass back on the bar. By this point, he could see Tim climb the stage and set up at the seat where his cello sat. Brian moved quickly and was able to get a spot right in front of him before anyone else could.

"Check, check." Tim sang into the microphone, allowing the sound guy to get the levels right. "Check one, two."

For whatever reason this amused Brian because it was so cliché, he wondered if Tim was doing it out of irony or if he really did check the microphone like that.

Then he ran a few chords with his bow and from the few seconds he played Brian could tell the man had talent.

Then he did a test of cello and vocals at the same time. Running through a brief moment of what probably was a song of his. From the snippet Brian was awed at the beauty of it. He hadn't even heard more than ten seconds of Tim's music and he was already hooked.

He nudged closer to the stage.

Tim sat there for a second and began to tune his cello. Brian looked to the left of him and to the right to see if anyone he knew was in attendance. He didn't see anyone he knew to the left but he noticed Tom from the Westword to his right. The Westword is the local alternative weekly newspaper in Denver and Boulder. Tom had written up Brian's band a few times and he had actually stayed at his house a while ago when he was kicked out of his parent's house for

For...

You can say it. It's ok.

For being a fagot ass pansy...

Brian began to wave in Tom's direction and after a few moments Tom spotted him and waved back. He was obviously working so Brian decided to catch him between acts. But obviously he had different ideas.

Tom got his camera out and came over to where Brian was standing.

"Give me a menacing look Brian." Tom pointed the camera at him and Brian was more than happy to oblige. He got out his rubber switch blade and put it to his lips. After an eye melting flash it was over.

"What's that picture going to be for?" Brian asked, putting the switch blade back into his suit pocket.

"If it's OK with you I'd like to put it in the Westword blog." Tom said as he checked the photo on the view finder. He then thrust the camera toward Brian for a look.

Brian smiled. He did look cool!

"Of course man! Could you say it's Brian Oldman from Goodbye Timebomb?"

Tom laughed and told him of course that could be arranged.

Then the sound of cello filled the room and the two men became silent. Looking onward onto the stage Tim had gotten into his performance mode and was now moving with the sound of his music.

It was absolutely beautiful. Words escape as to what it sounds like. The cello was not an instrument as it was a blunt object beating the audience over the head until they were nothing but pulpy, squished grapes of brain matter. His vocals didn't seem to be sung as much as they were gliding out of his mouth and soaring above the audience. When you closed your eyes you could see pictures being created with the sounds coming from this man.

"My bed is big enough for two..." he cooed.

"Lay down and grow old with me..." He sang with heartbreaking authority.

His thirty minute set felt like seconds. Brian was so entranced and couldn't help but dance to the music. It was as if he was witnessing the birth of Christ. He was being moved that much. The second coming was here. And his name was Timothy Ryan.

After Tim's set Brian was too afraid to go up to him and tell him what a great show he had performed. The man was God like now and would no doubt be disgusted by his presence.

After a few words with Tom, Brian decided to give him some space and walked over to the bar. He was upset that somebody so awesome would never in a million years get with a guy like him. He was probably already fucking groupie in the bathroom as he stood there waiting for Bill to come over and take his drink order. Before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder. This shocked Brian and he turned around. When he saw who it was he began to feel a coldness run from his chest down to his thin arms and small feet. Numbness overcame his body and he could not speak.

"Hey buddy." Tim's hand stayed on Brian's shoulder. "What'cha drinking?"

For what seemed like eternity Brian couldn't answer. When he finally did he choked out "Beer."

"Well, what kind?" His smile was so warm and inviting. What was he doing?

"Just PBR?" Brian couldn't help but answer it like a question.

Tim raised his elongated arm and motioned for Bill to come over to them.

"What are ya having Tim?" Bill spoke to him as if he were just any guy.

"I'll have a Jack and Coke and this young man will have the finest brew you have." He looked back down at Brian. "None of that cheap shit for my new friend here."

Bill seemed to not notice the exchange and nodded. He then went to work getting the drinks.

Brian got out his wallet. "Hey man I can get it."

"No please, I drink for free tonight. It's on me." Tim took his hand off of Brian's shoulder and scratched his hairy leg.

When the drinks came back Tim took Brian to the back where the downstairs were. Brian had been back down there before. It's the green room, which surprised Brian the first time he went down there because it wasn't green at all. It was just a slightly furnished basement with two couches and a bucket of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. There was also a refrigerator in the corner in case say a touring band had food to keep.

When they got down to the room below the Hi Dive Brian could see that Matson Jones were standing and talking to the guys in The Hot Iqs. He waved at Bryan (The bassist for the band who had recorded his own album at his home studio.) and followed Tim to the second couch near the fridge that was free.

Brian knew everyone in the room and they apparently knew Tim too. Where had he been? How had he missed such an amazing performer after being in the scene for so long? It hurt his brain to think about it.

They sat down and amidst the chatter Tim spoke in a voice slightly louder than the rest.

"So where are you from?" He took a sip of his drink.

Brian also took a long gulp of his brand name beer and waited for the perfect response. He gave up and said "Georgia."

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know, things happen and you wind up in a new city."

"Yeah I know how that is." He took another drink and settled into his cushion a bit more. Brian wanted to believe this guy was into him but he's been in situations before when a lonely performer latches onto someone who strokes their ego a little. He's been in way too many awkward situations before and couldn't bear to think of being in another one.

Tim looked on at the bands and hangers on mingling and scooted closer to Brian. This made him even more uncomfortable because he didn't know what to think.

After a few moments Tim broke the ice. "So how long have you been out?" He asked before finishing off his Jack and Coke. This caught Brian off guard and he couldn't believe the guy had just asked him that. But he responded anyways.

"About four or so years now..." He looked down at his legs and put his hands on his knees. He couldn't look at Tim anymore. He was too ashamed.

"I've been out since I was sixteen."

Brian looked back up and over at Tim. That comment seemed to take away Brian's defenses and for the first time since meeting up with him after his show, he smiled.

"I admire that." Brian looked down as Tim's big sweaty hand covered his own. It tingled when they touched.

"I think you're a little cutie." Tim's other hand caressed Brian's make up laden cheek.

It was then that Brian knew he wouldn't need Paul's ride home.

:::November:::

Chapter ????: Homosexuality: Nature or Nurture

Ryan D. Johnson

Source: http://allpsych.com/journal/homosexuality.html

April 30, 2003

In recent decades, many hotly debated topics have come under the scrutiny of sociobiologists, trying to determine their causation and origins. One such topic is homosexuality. Originally thought by the American Psychological Association (hereafter referred to as APA) to be a mental disorder, research into its causes, origins, and development have consequently led to its removal by the APA from its list of diagnoses and disorders [1]. Many different theories can be found regarding the root of homosexuality, as far back historically as Ancient Greece. The current debate is whether or not homosexuality is a result of nature: a person's environment and surroundings, or of his biology and genetics. The debate endures because both sides have the ability to create a scientific environment to support their cause. For example, biological theorists may argue that a monkey and human child, reared in the same setting, will develop with vastly different outcomes, while social theorists may argue that monozygotic twins, one reared normally and the other raised in seclusion for 18 years, will also develop with vastly different results, but different even more from the first scenario [4].

In debating sexual orientation, much is unknown; according to Charles Darwin, "...we do not even in the least know the final cause of sexuality. The whole subject is hidden in darkness." [2]. Although the APA currently states that sexual orientation is not a choice, rather that "...it emerges from most people in early adolescence with no prior sexual experience"[1], social theorists argue that an individual's upbringing can directly influence this [sexual orientation]. Also tied in with many of these debates is the morality of homosexuality. But the purpose of this examination is not to prove whether or not homosexuality is right or wrong, but rather to establish a thorough understanding of the biological and social theories surrounding the cause of homosexuality.

Let us first look at the biological debate. Biological theorists have found substantial instances of anatomical, genetic, and endocrine evidence to support their argument. Experiments in biological research date back as far as the late 1930's, beginning with the pioneering research of Alfred Kinsey (for the University of Indiana) on human sexuality. Kinsey had two goals for his tests: 1) to find out how many adult males engaged in homosexual behavior, and 2) to suggest theories about it came to be [9]. When asked if they had engaged in homosexual sexual relations, a large percent of the population tested answered "no", however when asked if they had engaged in same-sex sexual relations, the percentage answering "yes" nearly doubled. The experiment yielded that 30% of males had experienced at least orgasm in a homosexual act. The results of this research became the widely popularized Kinsey Scale of Sexuality. This scale rates all individuals on a spectrum of sexuality, ranging from 100% heterosexual to 100% homosexual, and everything in between [7]. While establishing that as many as 10% of adult males reported having sexual relations with a same-sex partner, this research did little more than to put the word homosexual into common language.

Karen Hooker executed the first psychological test done to test for biological determinism in 1957, on a grant from the National Institute of Mental Health [2]. The study was meant to explore the relationship between homosexuality and psychological development and illness. Hooker studied both homosexuals and heterosexuals. Both groups were matched for age, intelligence quotient (IQ) and education level, and were then subjected to three psychological tests. These three tests, the Rorschach, Thematic Apperception Test (TAT) and the Make-A-Picture-Story Test (MAPS), were then analyzed by psychologists, and the results were tabulated. The results of Hooker's experiment yielded no significant differences in answers on any of the three tests. Because both groups' answers scored very similarly, she concluded a zero correlation between social determinism of sexuality.

As a result of Hooker's finding, the APA removed homosexuality from its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychological Disorders in 1973. In 1975 it then released a public statement that homosexuality was not a mental disorder. In 1994, two decades later, the APA finally stated, "...homosexuality is neither a mental illness nor a moral depravity. It is the way a portion of the population expresses human love and sexuality" [2].

D.F. Swaab conducted the next noteworthy experiment in 1990. This experiment became the first to document a physiological difference in the anatomical structure of a gay man's brain. Swaab found in his post-mortem examination of homosexual males' brains that a portion of the hypothalamus of the brain was structurally different than a heterosexual brain. The hypothalamus is the portion of the human brain directly related to sexual drive and function. In the homosexual brains examined, a small portion of the hypothalamus, termed the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN), was found to be twice the size of its heterosexual counterpart [2].

At the same time, another scientist, Laura S. Allen made a similar discovery in the hypothalamus as well. She found that the anterior commissure (AC) of the hypothalamus was also significantly larger in the homosexual subjects than that of the heterosexuals [2]. Both Swaab's and Allen's results became a standing ground for the biological argument on homosexuality. The very fact that the AC and the SCN are not involved in the regulation of sexual behavior makes it highly unlikely that the size differences results from differences in sexual behavior. Rather the size differences came prenatally during sexual differentiation. The size and shape of the human brain is determined biologically and is impacted minutely, if at all by behavior of any kind.

Simon LeVay conducted another experiment regarding the hypothalamus of the human brain in 1991. LeVay, like Swaab and Allen also did a post-mortem examination on human brains; however, he did his examinations on patients who had died from AIDS-related illnesses. He examined 19 declared homosexual man, with a mean age of 38.2, 16 presumed heterosexual men, with a mean age of 42.8, and 6 presumed heterosexual women, with a mean age of 41.2 [3]. LeVay discovered that within the hypothalamus, the third interstitial notch of the anterior hypothalamus (INAH3) was two to three times smaller in homosexual men then in heterosexual men. The women examined also exhibited this phenomenon. LeVay concluded the "homosexual and heterosexual men differ in the central neuronal mechanisms that control sexual behavior", and like Allen and Swaab, agreed that this difference in anatomy was no product of upbringing or environment, but rather prenatal cerebral development and structural differentiation [2].

Another line of testing done to support the biological perspective are neuroendocrine studies. The neuroendocrine viewpoint's basic hypothesis is that sexual orientation is determined by the early levels (probably prenatal) of androgen on relevant neural structures [7]. If highly exposed to these androgens, the fetus will become masculinized, or attracted to females. This research was conducted on rats at Stanford. The adult female rats that received male-typical levels of androgens sufficiently early in development exhibited male symptoms of attraction. The same was true in the reverse when applied to the male subjects. The female exposed to high levels of the hormone exhibited high levels of aggression and sexual drive toward other females, eventually trying to mount the other females in an act of reproduction. In the males, the subject who received deficient levels of androgen became submissive in matters of sexual drive and reproduction and were willing to receive the sexual act of the other male rat [7].

A popular route of experimentation in general psychology also did not elude the biological argument. Twin studies have become a highly debated area of experimentation. Ernest Kallman conducted the earliest twin study. He found a 100% concordance between monozygotic (or identical) twins (MZ), and only a 12% concordance for dizygotic (or fraternal) twins (DZ). Although discredited with methodological problems, the early experiment paved the way for a much-publicized team to conduct their twin studies.

J. Michael Bailey and Richard Pillard also studied the gayness between MZ twins, DZ twins, and non-related adopted brothers. They examined how many of the sample population examined were gay and how many were straight. They found that 52% of MZ twins were both self-identified homosexuals, 22% of DZ twins were so, and only 5% of non-related adopted brothers were so. This evidence, repeated and found to be true a second time, showed to the biological camp that the more closely genetically linked a pair is, the more likely they both are to exhibit gay or straight tendencies. Later experimenters found similar evidence in females. One such scientist is Dean Hamer. Hamer examined the possibility of homosexuality being an X-linked trait. He examined the family trees of openly gay men, and thought he saw a maternal link, leading him to investigate his theory of X-linkage. He took 40 DNA samples from homosexual men, and genetically examined them. He found that there was a 'remarkable concordance' for 5 genetic markers on section of the X-Chromosome called Xq28 [2].

Hamer hypothesized upon examining the family trees of the same men that on each subject's mother's side, there were markedly larger numbers of homosexual men, all stemming through the maternal lineages. This observation, along with his startling discovery on Xq28, led his findings to be dubbed the "gay gene study". The statistical probability of the 5 genetic markers on Xq28 to have matched randomly was calculated to be 1/100,000 [2], lending even more support to his findings.

This finding of a possible 'gay gene' prompts a look into two evolutionary concepts, and how they are affected. The Superior Heterozygote Theory states the phenotypic (actual) expression of homosexuality is the result of homozygosity for recessive (non-expressed but present) genes [11]. In simplification, if the person's genetic code is heterozygotic (one homosexual gene and one heterosexual gene), if the homosexual allele (half of the genetic code) is the allele passed on to the next generation, it will become the phenotype. Heterozygotes are only capable of being passed through to the next generation by mothers (as the Y-chromosome is incapable of heterozygosity), this again links homosexuality to X-linkage.

While all of this scientific experimentation and conclusion seems evidentiary, sociobehaviorists are not convinced. This opposing point-of-view proposes that homosexuality is the result of environmental factors, not biological ones. Most social theorists see childhood elements as the largest contributing factors to homosexuality. Often they examine childhood play patterns, early peer interactions and relations, differences in parental behavior toward male and female children, and the role of gender constancy in the household [9].

The social argument for homosexuality dates back to the ancient Greeks. Aristophanes, in his Symposium investigates homosexuality, although not termed as such, as a desire by men to share a long-term fulfillment of the soul. He believed that two souls are longing to be together, and the sexual desire alone is not strong enough to create homosexuality, but that the cultural environment allows or forbids the relationship to occur [10]. In Greece is it well known that many men engaged in same-sex relationships, however, these were not equal relationships, they were older men to young boys going through the transition to adulthood. Two instances where the culture is a causative agent of homosexual expression are in New Guinea and Crete. In some tribes in New Guinea, young boys ages 8-15 are inseminated daily by the young male warriors of the tribe. In Crete, every adolescent boy undertook a homosexual relationship as a rite of passage into manhood [10]. In these two instances, the homosexuality is accepted; however, it can be argued that it is also forced, not a natural expression.

Most psychoanalytic theories, however, stress the role of parental and family dynamics, not the society as a whole. Behaviorists believe that some sexual and gender identification differences result from roles imposed by family and friends upon children, such as the masculine and the feminine stereotypes. Problems with this are there is no evidence, social or biological, to support that homosexual children were raised differently than were the heterosexual children. Also, with reinforcement of gender identification norms, one would be led to logically deduce that all of the stereotype reinforcement would ensure a heterosexual outcome [7].

While it is agreed that an element of gender ID is based on the decision made by parents on how to raise the child, the other element is formed with the development of language skills, naming of sexual behaviors and the naming process related to these behaviors [9]. Gender ID is learned over time, and other contributions include the frequency of parental interactions, tolerance of aggression levels, and the vigor of play during childhood. In this, another theory is acknowledged, the Parental Manipulation Theory. This theory is that one or both parents are able to neuter and control offspring to promote their (the parent's) evolutionary fitness, ensuring the passage of genes into the next generation. By selecting only heterosexual practices as acceptable, the parents are attempting to promote their passage of genes [5]. However the Kin-Selection Theory contrasts this. This theory states that it doesn't matter how the genes are passed to the next generation, so long as they are passed along. For example, regardless of a homosexual outcome, the very similar genetic makeup of siblings will still allow for the passage of the family genetics along to the next generation [9].

Two predominant social theorists on homosexuality are David Halperin and Jean Foucault. Although both social theorists, both have largely contrasting ideas on the environmental contributions to the formation of an individual's homosexuality. Halperin believed in Planophysical theory. This theory believes that homosexuality is a freak of nature, an error. His theory follows in the tradition of psychological theory on this subject. Halperin was a Freudian psychologist, and places stock in Freud's idea that homosexuality is derived from a failure to resolve Oedipal issues [10]. Although Halperin has a large following from interest groups such as Christian coalitions, his theory is largely disrespected by the psychological community at large, as it provides only a result, not a cause. He fails to produce any scientific evidence. He does, however, provide examples. He postulates that a weak father and strong mother, with an unresolved Oedipus complex will lead to a weak, and then homosexual, son, because the mother has too strong of an image, compared to the weak state of the father. Psychologists argue that this same arrangement would also possibly lead to a stronger son, striving for compensation of his father's weakness.

Jean Foucault argues, "...homosexuality became because we made it so" [11]. Foucault says that the category of homosexuality itself was only created a mere one hundred years ago, after a German neologism coined some twenty years later. Foucault gives root to the social derivation of homosexuality believing that homosexuality appeared as one of the forms of sexuality, only "after it was transposed from the practice of sodomy into a kind of interior androgyny, a hermaphrodism of the soul" [10]. The theorists believe that the homosexual had been an aberration, and had then become a species, justifying itself with a new word.

Although both theorists represent the major ideas of the socioenviromental belief, there are three differences in the two theories. The first is based on the depth of desire. Foucault believed that the depth of desire is only sexual preference, that it is nothing more than superficial tastes and preferences. Halperin contrasts this with saying that homosexuality does go deeper than superficial tastes, and that homosexuality is a psychological condition, with much deeper roots than mere sexual preference. The second major difference is that Foucault did not divide people into categories. Halperin acknowledged that there are three general categories of people in respect to sexuality: heterosexual, gay men, and lesbians. Foucault groups gay men and lesbians into the all-inclusive term of homosexual. The third difference is that Halperin see homosexuality as a symmetrical and equal relationship, Foucault believes that historically, as far back as the Greeks, before the term was coined, homosexuality has always been unequal, differences in race, age, education and social status influencing the 'superficial' tastes and preferences of the men influenced.

We have examined many causes for homosexuality in the preceding pages, both biological and social. And although an interesting topic of debate, no one theory or experiment leads to a definitive answer. Some believe that the characters found on Xq28 are the Holy Grail of homosexuality research, the elusive 'gay gene'. Others may place stock in the theories of Foucault and Halperin. Perhaps Simon LeVay did reveal to us that anatomy is the key to understanding the difference in sexual orientation. Perhaps there is no one answer, that sexual orientation, whether homosexual or heterosexual; gay, straight, lesbian, or bisexual, all are a cause of a complex interaction between environmental, cognitive, and anatomical factors, shaping the individual at an early age.

Chapter 10: The mourning after.

Tim's apartment was a little studio on Capitol Hill near the capitol building downtown, the hub of all things cool. Brian wondered how much the tiny space ran for but knew better than to ask stupid questions so early into what he hoped would be a relationship.

It might be just another one night stand.... Brian prepared himself for it and took inventory of the good times he had had last night.

It was four o'clock in the morning and Tim was sound asleep. They lay naked together in his queen sized bed without any sheets over their vulnerable persons. Brian was lying on his side while Tim was on his back quietly snoring. Brian gently twirled Tim's chest hair with his fingers and tried not to breath too hard on him. His breath was hot and the man felt so cold.

Brian couldn't help but feel motherly and slid off of his side to search for a sheet or a blanket. He didn't want his new friend to catch cold, even though he knew that it was germs that caused it and not the cold itself. Nonetheless he walked into the space Tim used as a living room and searched the mess of items on the ground.

He found some gay porn and a few journals amidst the socks and stray shirts that lay on the carpet. He dared not look at those and continued to rifle through the cellist's cluttered apartment for something warm.

He decided to take the blue sheet off of his couch and brought it back to the other side of the room. First he laid it over Tim's midsection then he climbed in himself. Once on the bed again he folded the sheet over to cover his small body.

It must have been the motion he caused but Tim stirred and rolled over to his side as to face Brian. His hot breath was choking him but he endured it. He didn't know this guy too well but it was worth going through what he had to in order to make a new friend.

Tim's eyes opened and he pulled Brian closer to him and hugged him tightly to the point of Brian's ribs hurting. Again, you endure what you can.

"You aren't very experienced are you?" Tim asked.

In a tiny breathy voice Brian responded. "Not really."

Tim smiled. "I felt like I used you.."

"I didn't feel like you used me... I felt like I connected." Brian defended his actions.

"I did too." Tim began to play with Brian's stiff muck filled hair. Before they had even made out Tim asked that Brian wash off his makeup. He got most of it but the hair would take a couple days of repeated washing to get all of it out.

After his shower Tim gently led Brian to the bed where they both undressed. Brian had never really done this being as sober as he was and was very self-conscious. It made him even more so seeing the guy had a very nice body.

He felt like crying when he compared himself to the man but before any real damage could be done Tim grabbed his arm and pulled him to the bed where he began to hold Brian and kiss the back of his neck. It was a good hour before the sex was introduced and by that time it didn't seem like sex but a natural progression of events.

Brian had never had a man take it slow. He even asked him if it hurt, that he would stop if it did. It did indeed hurt but Brian was too smitten with the guy to disappoint him. So he let him continue to conclusion.

Now though he was feeling warmer and his smile was brighter than any star in the sky.

"So what do you do for work young man?" Tim asked. He slowly went for Brian's hand and intermingled his fingers with his new friend's.

"You're going to think I'm a total dork if I tell you." Brian confessed.

"I don't think I could feel that way about you." Tim kissed him on the forehead. "I'll tell you what I do. I'm a popcorn maker at that small Hitchcock theater. You know? That one that plays all those foreign flicks."

Brian was curious. "How much do you make there?"

Tim sighed. "Minimum wage. I make most of my money from shows and CD sales. I'm big everywhere in the US but here it seems."

Brian felt a little less apprehensive. "I," He hesitated. "I work at Roger's Subs..." He said in defeat.

"Maybe we could trade then. A sub for me and a movie for you. How do you like that?"

"I wish I could. I can't even get free sandwiches. I still have to pay half price for everything but the soda."

Tim pulled Brian's hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "Well then how about a soda for a movie?"

Brian felt the butterflies all over again. "I'd like that."

"How much do you make?"

"I make minimum wage as well." Brian pulled back a little, Tim let him. "But sometimes I make tips."

"Why don't you want to get closer to me?" Tim asked.

"I can tell you're ready again. I know you'll hate me for this but I'm still hurting. I don't think I could do it again." Brian felt an intense wave of regret roll over him after saying those words.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." Tim pulled him closer again. This time Brian let him. "I am not one of those guys. I just like you being with me. It's only natural to get a hard on around someone you like. It doesn't mean I have to act on it every time I get one though."

"Yeah." Brian felt stupid again. He wasn't too keen on the compliment. "Thank you."

"No problem. I do have to tell you that I got to go to work at about 11am today. You can stay with me until then or I could give you a ride home or whatever you need me to do."

"Do you want gas money?"

"Pffft..." Tim mouthed in mock disgust. "That would make you a hooker. And you're not. You're a sweet little Brian with the most beautiful eyes and the greatest smile. You've done enough on your part."

"Thanks. I got the day off today because I was expecting to be hung over... Could I maybe see a movie?" Brian was hopeful.

"I suppose. But you'll need to wait around for about an hour until everything is set up."

"That's fine. Do you have any books I can read?"

"Books? Oh man." Tim let go of Brian and pulled the sheet off of him. He got out of bed and walked naked into his living space and over to the little book shelf near his little flat screen TV. "I have too many!" He laughed.

"What do you have?" Brian asked.

"Well, I have a lot of classics, plus a lot of popular authors. What do you like?" Tim began to pick at the spines of his collection.

"I like the standards. You know, Grisham, Deaver, Palahniuk."

Tim went over to his lamp on the coffee table and switched it on. He then went back to the shelf where he pulled a small paperback book from the shelf.

"Ever read Chuck Palahniuk's 'Invisible Monsters'?" Tim asked Brian, waving the book from across the room.

"Yeah actually, it took me a while to get into it though. I didn't like the characters at first. The ending really rocked though, totally out of left field!"

Tim laughed and slid the book back. "Do you like Philip K Dick?" He pulled another book out and walked over to Brian. He handed it to Brian who then examined the title.

"A Scanner Darkly? What's it about?" Brian sat up on the bed, making sure not to expose himself by pulling the cover over his bottom half.

Tim squatted by the bed and took the book back. He examined the back and told his new friend what he thought. "It's about this new drug that comes out and hooks a good portion of the population. It's basically about the rise of meth and the junky life. The cool thing is though is that he wrote this before it really became prominent! He did that a lot. He would write something back in the sixties or seventies and it would come true decades later."

"Wow..." Brian wasn't sure if he was all that impressed, but he humored him.

"Yeah. So if you want I could lone this to you."

"Yeah! That would be awesome!" Brian extended his arm to retrieve the book but Tim held it back. With Tim's free hand he wiggled his free hand's index finger at him, signaling that he had just pulled a "no no".

"You got to promise me you'll keep good care of this book. At this point in time all of Dick's books are out of print so this is a real find you know." He said.

"I promise. To me books are the most intimate present you can give somebody." Tim extended the book and Brian took it. It's small paperback binding was in almost perfect shape. The black on it was still shiny and new looking. He fingered the spine and placed it on the night stand by the bed.

Tim got up and walked over to his pseudo kitchen (It was not much more than a kitchenette that shared space with his living area.) and pulled a bag of Oreos from the cupboard. As he took two he proclaimed that the way to his heart was cookies. Tim put five in his hand and after a few moments when he ate the last one, he walked around to his side of the bed where he laid back down nude. He didn't bother putting on the cover and in fact he took it off of Brian, exposing his modest chunky body to the coldness of the room. He immediately got bumps on his skin from the cool night air.

"I'll keep you warm." Tim wrapped his thin yet muscular arms around Brian and enveloped him with the expanse of his body. Brian dug his head deep into Tim's chest. He could smell his musk and sweat emanating from him. It made him feel strangely at ease. Like this man would protect him from the horrible outside world for him.

He would never do him like the other guys did that time.

This big man wasn't out to get him. At least it didn't feel like it at the moment. He was in fact a little scared when the man offered to put him up in his place for the night. He's had so many bad experiences in the past and usually liked the other guy to go to his place. At least there he had the protection of Paul and who knows? Maybe even Mike.

As he lay with him he felt Tim getting aroused again.

The man bought him drinks and even some Burger King down on 6th and Broadway. The all night one he tended to frequent late nights when he was plastered from the excessive pouring of liquor at the Hi Dive.

He wasn't drunk now. He was thinking clearly. And he thought to himself that someone this nice and protective must be too good to be true.

The man had been nice to him... a little too nice but nice nonetheless. He hasn't had anyone in the recent past who he could really honestly say that about.

Brian felt the need to pay back the sentiment and guided his hand down to Tim's crotch. Tim didn't protest but he did let go of Brian. He rolled onto his back and let his erection stick into the air.

Brian used his right hand to steady it. He looked at Tim's face and he put his arms to the back of his head. His eyes were looking at the ceiling and Brian sighed. He looked at Tim's penis and a feeling of obligation overcame him. He closed his eyes and then proceeded to give his new friend oral sex.

Tim's hand softly caressed Brian's short dirty blond hair. With a moan he told him not to stop.

Brian couldn't help but get distracted by his thoughts as he progressed.

He was obligated to do this for Tim.

He was obligated to make him happy.

It's always about making the other person happy...

Cookie Monster

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

You're tall, you're thin

You're happy

Your hair do weighs a ton

You play the cello and that looks like fun

Got a question to ask of you

Why do you know I'm even alive?

I'm short, I'm fat, I'm ugly

And I weigh a ton

I argue a lot and that's never fun

Got a question to ask of you

Why do you even hang out with me at all?

You play the cello

I play the stupid guitar

You seem to have perfect pitch

And I'm never on

You know you deserve it

But I don't deserve it

You play the cello I play the...

Guitar...

I know that I'm not in a band

Maybe we can still be friends

You play the cello

I play the stupid guitar

You seem to have perfect pitch

And I'm never on

You know you deserve it

But I don't deserve it

You play the cello I play the...

Guitar...

Chapter 11: Brian's Diary: The first sleep over with John.

I remember I had been waiting for that night for so very long. I had made earlier attempts at getting John to stay over with me or me staying over with him. I didn't know why at the time but I was just so drawn to him that it bordered on obsessive. This was not lost on him and I think he used it to his advantage sometimes by making me do things for him.

Things like do his homework or having me talk to girls for him. I had a knack for speaking with females and I didn't think it was anything to be proud of. I remember he got so awkward around any girl he thought was pretty.

We were both around thirteen and fourteen and the hormones were surging. He had had a little growth spurt and now stood a whole head taller than me. This attracted me more to him for reasons I didn't quite understand. It's an attraction that would later in life get me into a lot of trouble on several occasions. But back then there wasn't anything threatening about someone who was bigger than I was. Sure I've been beaten up before by other kids but at those times I was their size.

I remember coming back to school that year and seeing everyone change almost overnight. Some of the kids even had facial hair! It was so weird to me.

I remember asking my therapist at the time (Mr. Freck.) when I was going to grow tall and like girls like my friend had. He told me that it will come in time and that everyone grew at different speeds.

Fuck that I thought. I was five one and slowly gaining weight from the medicine I was taking. I won't delve too deeply into it but I was verging on overweight at that point. It would still be a few years before I became morbidly obese.

When I think back on it I hate my parents and everyone who had me in their care even more because they let me have this medicine that practically stunted my growth, made me gain way too much weight for anyone of any age, and basically ruined my life.

I was little and I was very envious of all the other boys at that time. I still am to a lot of degrees. But I was most envious of John.

The kid wore size eleven shoes! And at that time he joked with me that your shoe size determines your dick size. I held onto this myth for a long time. Hating my size eight shoes I would ask my parents to buy me size tens. I don't remember them ever questioning me about it but I got them. They were big enough to look huge on me but not too big where they would fall off my feet.

John and his size eleven shoe first brought up the idea of him coming over around the beginning of the new school year. Like in early October he answered my prayers and told me that he'd love to check out my new Super Nintendo. I was excited and had no idea that he could've only been using me for my games.

I was just happy to have human contact apart from my parents or my brother during a time that was not school hours! Oh man, I remember he was coming over that Friday and it was only Tuesday. I pained over what to wear that night and even went as far as switching from briefs to boxers. I did this because he said he wore boxers (Again it had to do with making your penis bigger and having it breathe, he said.) and I didn't want to look like a little boy with tighty whiteys.

My parents objected at first to the transition because I had so many pairs of underwear already. But after a few days they caved in. I remember my mother telling me she was glad at least it wasn't a video game and was actually something I would use.

After that I went on a diet that week. Hoping I'd lose something stupid like a hundred pounds or something. It's funny how kids think.

I deprived myself of everything but water. And I actually gained weight!!! It blew my mind! Here I was on Friday morning weighing myself and my diet plan had actually made me gain five pounds!

I would later learn that it was probably water weight brought on by the excessive intake of the clear liquid but at the time I was freaking out about it.

I decided that I would go to sleep that night fully dressed. If he asked me about it I would tell him that I always went to sleep with clothes on and act as if it was weird that he slept only in his boxers.

Which let your penis breathe.

He was going to take the bus home with me so all day he lugged around an over night bag filled with a few days worth of clothes and other things. He asked me if it was cool if he spent the weekend with me and I told him it should be fine.

Inside I was screaming "OH MY GOD THIS IS SOOOOO COOL!!!" but I never let on.

On the bus ride home he decided it would be funny to poke my stomach like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and wanted me to giggle when he did it. It was making the other kids on the bus laugh so I played along.

I hated when anyone did that, especially my mother. But when he did it I got a rush from him touching me. It was a feeling I would later try to duplicate to varying degrees of success. It was the first time a non-family member had touched me and it sent me to cloud nine.

When we got off at my stop I told him it was a bit of a walk to my place and he said it was fine. Although halfway down to our destination he began to complain about how far it was. Which confused me because he was so skinny. I thought that all skinny guys exercised a lot. Otherwise how did they get so skinny?

It never dawned on me that some people are just born that way.

Born lucky.

When we reached my place finally John had to take a minute to rest on the steps. I sat next to him and tried to make conversation. It wasn't doing any good because he was panting too hard. When he finally seemed to cool down he asked how far my place was. I told him from the bus stop to my place was a little less than a mile.

Then he broke my heart.

"How come you're so fat if you walk so much?" He asked. I couldn't reply to that. I remember tears welling up in my eyes but I fought them back. I fought harder than I ever had fought before because I didn't want to look like a total wimp around my friend.

I changed the subject and told him he could get to playing my SNES if he wanted to. He smiled for the first time that afternoon and almost ran walked to the door. I let him in and told him that my room was the last down the hall.

Before I could ask him if he was hungry he was already in my room. Me wanting to be a good host I decided to get some pretzels and two Cokes for us to enjoy while playing video games.

Mom and Dad weren't going to be home for about an hour so that meant an hour alone with John.

My brother was already home but he was outside somewhere being the better child. Because of the weird schedule between the elementary school and the middle school he got home before I did. But as I said he was always outside, leaving me to be by myself. Sometimes I still feel like I need to be all alone like I used to be. It grows on you and shapes you into a solitary guy, though in recent years I've been trying to break this habit by going out.

I found myself becoming addicted to company in my later years.

My mother flipped out and began to yell at me when she found out that John had planned to spend the entire weekend with us. I've seen her mad before but she never raised a hand to me until that day to do anything other than spank me. Only my father had hit me before so this brought down my defenses a whole shit load.

She told me that he was only supposed to spend the night and that she would drive him home if necessary. He told her that he didn't mean to cause so much trouble and she went from being scary to being Julie Andrews. She kindly told him that this was all my fault and that he shouldn't feel bad about it.

After another slap to the face she told us to go to my room and not to come out until dinner. As we were walking down the hall she yelled to John that he could come out if he wanted, the punishment was only for me.

The whole afternoon was engulfed in video games. Me being alone all the time made two player games moot and useless to me. So I would just sit on my bed and watch John play my games, when he'd ask if I wanted to play I'd tell him no. He was my guest and he could do what he wanted.

He didn't talk much and whenever I would try to start a conversation he would tell me that he couldn't focus on two things at once.

I remember the room lights and the monotony of staring at the TV for so long gave me a really bad headache. I was scared to tell my mother but it got to a point where I was holding my right hand over my right eye so I could put some pressure on it. That was the only way to make it feel better, until it got worse.

Finally, I asked John to pause his game, which he did begrudgingly. He asked what the hell I wanted and I asked him to go ask my mother if there was anything she could give me for my headache. John seemed perturbed and he told me to go ask myself. I then told him that I was being punished and that I would get hit again (At least that's what I thought) if I disobeyed.

He noted that my eyes were puffy and my face was red so he finally caved in and left the room. He came back in a few moments later with my mother and she checked me out. She was a nurse at the time so she was able to help out in a lot of ways when us boys got boo boos.

She finally told me that it appeared to be a migraine headache and told me there wasn't much she could do. I pleaded with her to help me and she finally told me that she could in fact give me something. But the catch was that I was not to let my father know. I told her it would be a secret and she asked John if he could keep a secret as well. He said he could and she asked if he wanted to feel better too.

Who could say no to that? She left the room and we talked amongst ourselves about what she could possibly do that would make us both feel better. I was expecting Tylenol or something and since John didn't have a headache I didn't see how he could benefit from it.

When she came back in a few minutes later she had four white oval pills in her hand and a glass of water in the other. She told me to put out my tongue and I did as I was told. She placed the pills in my mouth and gave me a sip of water to flush it down.

She repeated the procedure with John and he obliged as well.

Before she left the room she told us that dinner would be ready at eight. Then she was gone. Food was still an hour away so John resumed his position on my little canvas director's chair and hit the start button on the game he was playing.

I remember for a few minutes my migraine just got worse and worse and I was putting my head face first down on my pillow. I was pressing very hard for a while until I began to feel a release in my head.

My body began feeling numb and I just felt odd. It was a good odd though. An odd I was actually enjoying.

I got up from my pillow and asked John if he was feeling anything as well. He was slumped in my chair and told me he felt totally chill. I didn't understand what was going on with us but damn we felt good.

It was around that time that John began to speak to me for the first time that afternoon. He was rambling on about how his sister was stupid and how hard school was. When I would finally grasp onto a subject he was speaking of he would just change it. He was like a TV with a hundred channels. He was just going on and on about so many different things.

Some of the things were surprisingly smart. I was impressed. I didn't think that anyone my age could know about things from history books or science or any of that stuff.

He was in such a good mood that he shut off the game and told me that that night he was going to show me something cool. Something every boy should know. I would question him about it but he would just smile and tell me I'd thank him and owe him for the rest of my life.

How true his statement was...

After dinner he played my games for a little while until it was time for bed at around ten o'clock. My father had called in and told my mother that he wasn't going to be home that night because of a shipment he had to deliver to Alabama. She wasn't too happy when she got the news but when she came into my room to tell us lights out she was different. She always seemed to be in a different state of being when night fell.

She would stumble and I would ask her if she was ok. She would tell me she was and say that she was just tired. She also smelled funny. She smelled like mouth wash. Not the minty kind but the kind that burned your nose, the after smell. I couldn't explain it then and now when I look back on it, it just makes me too sad to think about it.

We pleaded with her to stay up and she finally agreed. As long as we didn't wake up my brother or herself we could stay up. So John turned down the TV and she proclaimed that she was going to bed.

She came over to me and kissed me on the forehead. The smell of her was overpowering and I wanted her out of my room as soon as possible.

In a weird act of motherly intuition she also kissed John good night. When she left he told me that he smelled booze on her.

I knew what that was but insisted that my mother was just tired, like she said she was. My mother would never drink. Bad people drank. (I say as I'm writing this at Sputniks, having a double cranberry vodka.)

He shrugged and told me to wait a little while longer for what he had in store for me.

I patiently waited until eleven o'clock until I couldn't take it any longer. I asked him what was up and he told me to take a look outside into the hall to make sure everyone was asleep. I did as I was told and indeed, all the lights were out aside from the bathroom.

He then told me to get some hand lotion and a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. I asked him why and he just smiled and insisted that I do it.

I did so with the up most confusion and came back with the supplies a few moments later.

He went to my door and locked the dead bolt. I told him he couldn't do that because my parents would get mad. He laughed and told me this wouldn't take long.

I watched him as he went across the room to his book bag near my bed. He plundered through it for a few seconds before pulling out a very gratuitous porn magazine. The front cover had a blond girl barely containing her breasts in her small bra. The inside of it showed horrible actions that I mistook as hugging and such.

I purposefully shielded myself from almost every bad thing in the world when I was young. This was the loss of my innocence...

If I weren't as stoned as I was I would have been in an utter state of horror. I told him to put it away then he called me a pussy. That being a harsh word for me to hear I decided to go along with him. He was my only friend and I didn't want to lose him over something like this.

He opened up the pages and picked a picture where a bearded man was sticking his thing into what appeared to be nothing. I asked him where it was going and made the mistake of asking if he was putting it in her butt and this made John laugh at me. I felt utterly embarrassed when he told me that girls have holes where the dick is supposed to be. That they were different from us in so many ways we couldn't comprehend. I knew that but I had never seen a vagina before, this one looked like a flesh eating flower.

He then showed me another picture of a girl naked and sticking her fingers into her hole. I asked why she was doing that and John told me that girls like it when you stick things into them. He said that it made them feel like we did when we rubbed ourselves.

I should of never of asked him what he meant by rubbing ourselves. He gave me the scariest look I can remember anyone giving me.

"Are you fucking serious man?" I had never heard him use the "F" word before and it sent chills all throughout my undeveloped body.

I told him that I had always thought it was bad to touch myself (didn't the bible say this?) and he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that there is nothing wrong with that. His father had told him so. In fact his older brother even told him how to rub yourself the right way.

I was going to ask more questions but he told me to concentrate on the naked lady. She had long red hair and the whitest skin. She was very thin and she spread herself for the camera, revealing everything in that wide hole of hers. I stared for the longest time before he asked if I felt anything. I told him no and he looked very dismayed.

He showed me another naked girl. Nope I told him.

Another. Not a thing.

Then he showed me a picture of a man rubbing his thing on a girl's face and that was when I finally felt something. I don't remember the details of the girl's face but I do recall the man being quite thick and long. It's size made me feel very small, but I chalked it up to the hope that I would look like that when I began to finally change. It was a very well put together picture for what it was and I assumed that I was just slow to feel things for the naked girls and made nothing of it at the time.

I began to feel hard in my pants and he asked me if I was getting a stiffy. I assumed the hardness of my thing was what he was talking about and I told him yes.

Then he grabbed the toilet paper and pulled out two long sheets and folded them into two thick pads. He then placed then on my floor and told me to take my pants off.

He was scaring me to the point of a panic attack at that moment but he assured me that all guys did this. I asked him if he would laugh if I took my pants off and he assured me that he would not. In fact he would go first.

He took off his pants and boxers in one pull and put them on my bed. His thing was hard and it was big. I asked him how did he make it so big and he told me that he looked just like his brother so he didn't know what I was talking about. He also had a patch of black hair above it and it was something I knew I did not have and wouldn't get for another few years.

Fucking medications...

If I wasn't so zonked out I would've protested further but I didn't. I stood up and took off my pants and boxers and stood in front of my friend with my thing sticking toward him. He looked at me for a long while and finally asked me if I'd ever seen another guy naked before. I told him no and he said that I wasn't weird or anything. I just hadn't grown like he has.

I couldn't take my eyes off of his penis. It was so big to me at that time and I remember wanting to touch it. He would smile at me and tell me that he was about to change my life.

He told me to sit on the floor with my knees and get some lotion in my right hand. I did so and then he told me to make a fist, but not a tight fist, just one with enough room to hold my pecker with. I did as I was told and put my hand around my thing. He did so with his and began to stroke it. He then laughed at me and told me to do it as well. It felt so good that I was mad at myself for not making myself do this sooner. I remember pressing my body against my bed before to try and feel this way but this was so much better.

I kept staring at his dick as I went up and down with my hand. I could feel myself getting hot and sweaty and it just kept feeling better and better. He told me that when I felt like I was going to blow my load to aim it onto the pad of tissue. I asked him how would I know when this was going to happen and he told me that I would know.

It took us a few minutes, I'm assuming because of the pills my mother gave us, to finally get to that point.

As I watched him do it, I jerked harder and harder. Finally John began to moan and then bent down and put the tip of his thing on the tissue. I saw this white goo spurt out of him really fast (I hear sperm shoots out at around 30-40 miles an hour.) There was a lot and the tissue didn't catch all of it. After the last drop had escaped he fell backwards onto the side of my bed and laughed. With a smile he put his hands in the back of his head and told me he'd wait for me.

After a few more minutes I felt it. I knew this must be what he was talking about and I mimicked him by putting my tip on the tissue. But what came next wasn't nearly as impressive as his was. I shot out a clear liquid that wasn't white at all. And it was low in volume.

John put his pants back on and came over to inspect my load. He stared at it for a while and told me that I must have not gone through puberty yet. He told me that when I did then my height, my dick, and my load would all get bigger and not to be discouraged. He told me that he was six and a half inches and that was the normal length of a man. I didn't question him because he seemed to know a lot about this.

I put my pants back on and took the pad to the toilet where I flushed it down. He took his and did the same but then got a towel to wipe up what he had gotten on the floor. I protested this but he told me that the washer would take care of it.

I agreed and he cleaned up his mess.

He began to play video games again and we sat there in awkward silence almost until twelve o'clock. It was the latest I'd ever been up yet I wasn't tired. I was still feeling euphoric and the feeling in my crotch lingered.

Finally John paused the game and told me to listen to him. I sat looking directly at his face and he spoke in an ominous voice. A voice I had never heard him use before.

He told me that if I told anyone about this he would fucking kill me. That was the second time that night that he had used that word and it creeped me out. I felt as if he meant it.

I then asked why he would kill me if all guys did it. He then explained to me that all guys did in fact do this. But they never did it together. He told me that when two guys did stuff like that together they were gay.

I had heard that word before and even used it to describe certain kids that I hated but I never knew what it meant. I asked him to explain.

He told me that it was a bad thing to like guys. And it was even worse to want to do a guy. I asked him how that was possible and he told me that gay guys did it by sticking their things up each other's butts.

This absolutely revolted me and I dry heaved a little. The butt was where you pooped, that was gross enough, but sticking your thing up someone else's? I couldn't even go into a bathroom that someone forgot to flush the toilet, much less think about having his privates touch something that produced such vile filth.

He told me that his brother had beaten up some kids at his high school because they were gay. He told me that when you are around a gay guy he would try to fuck you.

The third time he used that awful word...

I was scared and asked him how I would know if I was around a gay person. He told me that they would touch me a lot and would try to reach for my privates. I began to get scared because John touched my shoulders all the time. He punched me in the chest when I told him that and it hurt like hell!

He told me that a little touching on places like the shoulder or the head or the back was ok for guys. But anywhere else was bad.

He looked at me and asked if I liked him.

I told him I liked him as a friend but he shook his head no.

"Do you like the way my body looks?" He asked me.

I told him that I liked the way it looked and his face begun to sag. He asked me if I wanted to stick my thing in him and I told him no. Then he asked me what I meant by liking his body. I told him in shame that I wish I looked like him.

He smiled and told me that that didn't make me gay. I was afraid I was and I told him that it scared me to think it. He told me that admiring him for being good looking and wanting to look like him was different from wanting to look at him because it made him hard.

He did make me hard, but I kept this to myself.

John told me that gay guys get raped all the time. Me being so incredibly stupid at that age, asked him what rape was.

What came next chilled me to my very core.

He said it was when a guy beat you up and forced you to stay still while he stuck it up your butt. And when this would happen you couldn't say no or fight it. Because when you are raped you don't have a choice.

I was almost crying from fear until he put his hands on both my shoulders and told me to get a grip. He told me that when this happens I can always tell the cops. Cops put gay people in jail.

He left me on my bed and went back to my Mario Kart.

After a long while, almost one in the morning I composed myself enough to ask the next question.

"What if I turned out to be gay?" I asked with a heaviness in my stomach. "Would you still be my friend?"

John paused the game and turned around toward me.

"No." He said. "I would have to kill you. You've seen me naked and I couldn't let you get away with that if you were gay."

"Are gay people really that bad?" I asked.

"Yes they are." He looked back at the TV and stared at it for about a minute before speaking again. "I would in fact hate you forever if I found out you were gay."

I couldn't speak after that and brought my sheets out to the couch where I was to sleep. I didn't even say good night to John. He didn't seem to care though. He was immersed in what he was playing.

I turned on the lamp by the couch and set up my sleeping area. When I was done I turned it back off and crawled into my makeshift bed.

I couldn't get his penis out of my head. I couldn't get his words out of my head. I knew I was different and this scared me. I was so lost from that point on. Damn him for putting a name to my feelings. Damn him for unleashing this demon upon me.

I laid there for the longest time thinking about what he said. I began to cry and soon that gave way to blackness.

Tall people have no feelings...

Chapter 12: The long and winding road to Breakfast Queen.

Tim woke Brian up at around eight in the morning. After staying up so late he met some resistance but not too much. To Brian's horror Tim had already dressed and he was laying there full frontal and vulnerable in front of the one guy he wanted to take him seriously at this point in time.

To Tim's credit he threw Brian his clothes and told him that he wouldn't watch. He hid his eyes behind his hands but Brian could see him peeking through his fingers. This made him feel uneasy despite the fact that they had already spent the night naked in front of each other. Maybe it was the sunlight that made the difference. He didn't like to be nude when you could see all the nasty details.

Once fully dressed Tim motioned for him to come and give him a hug. It felt awkward and forced but Tim didn't appear to notice.

As Tim headed for his sink Brian sat down on his small black futon that sat in the middle of the room in front of his flat screen TV.

He wasn't feeling his best (he could feel his stomach contract and acidic liquids rise in his throat) and to be truthful he was expecting Tim at any moment to kick his slob ass out of his apartment.

He waited for the signs but every time Tim looked at him he just smiled. He waited for him to give him some sort of verbal clue but every time he spoke to him he just went on and on about how great last night was.

Finally Brian had to bring it up because obviously this guy was beating around the bush.

"So I bet you get a lot of good looking guys huh?" Brian nervously bit at his nails.

"Actually I don't hook up that often." Tim went on to the next dirty dish.

"Oh..."

Then why in the hell did you get with me then?

"Well I'm sorry I'm not in the best shape." Brian was almost trying to get a negative reaction from him. This wasn't happening.

"I think you're a little cutie." Tim looked over longingly at Brian for a moment before returning to his task at hand.

"OK." Brian didn't know what to say. "Am I still invited to go with you to the theater?"

Tim put down the white porcelain dish he had with a clang and turned around abruptly. He wiped his hands with the dirty blue towel on the counter and walked over to the futon. He motioned for Brian to make room for him and he scooted all the way to the far right side. Tim sat down and grabbed Brian by his shoulders and pressed him up against his chest.

"I'm going to make it my mission to help you get some self esteem!" Tim kissed Brian's head and got up to finish the dishes.

While washing the forks he began grilling Brian on why he thought he wasn't invited anymore.

"I don't know." Brian confessed. "I really don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's OK. To be a little honest your attitude is a bit of a turn off." Tim did not look back at him when he said this. He wiped vigorously to get the muck off of his butter knives and seemed to be at last avoiding eye contact with Brian.

Brian had to save face, and fast. "Do you want to go out for breakfast? My treat."

"I would indeed enjoy that. But I can pay my own way. I don't think we're at the level to buy each other anymore than a drink on occasion."

But we're at the level where you stick your dick in my ass?

Brian fought back the urge to smack himself in the face.

Tim finished up his chore and again wiped his hands dry. He walked over to the bed and picked up the book he was loaning to Brian from the nightstand. He went to the couch and handed it to him before sitting down.

Brian was at a loss of what to do. When Tim wrapped his arms around him Brian instinctively reached for the crotch of his pants. Tim's big hands grabbed him by the wrists and pulled them to his neck.

"You don't have to do that." Tim kissed him on the cheek.

"Do you want me to?" Brian felt himself grow red with embarrassment.

"If you want to you can but it's not necessary."

"If you want me to I will." Brian's hands navigated toward Tim's nether region again, but Tim's hands were once again grasping a hold and pulling around his neck.

"I said you don't have to if you don't want to. And I don't think you want to." Tim put his right arm around Brian's waist and pulled his as close to him as he could. Brian gave up and let himself fall into Tim's side.

"I'm sorry." Brian tried to dig himself as deep as he could into Tim's shoulder. Tim responded by holding on tighter and giving him reassuring kisses on his scalp.

"I'm not that kind of guy. You don't have to do that." Tim caressed Brian's cheek.

Brian rubbed his hand across Tim's stomach and rested it on his leg.

"You are OK." Tim said softly.

"Thank you." Brian could feel himself tearing up.

Tim's car was one of those new periwinkle dome VW beetles and was a very spacious little vehicle. It fit his cello case in the back and was big enough for him to sit comfortably without hitting his head on the ceiling. Brian pulled his seat closer and examined his seatbelt obsessively as they drove to the little breakfast place he knew of. He always would obsess over little things like that when he was nervous. And right now he was next to a man he knew very little about who could bench press him a hundred times if he wanted to.

Tall people not only didn't have any feelings but they could easily tear him to shreds if he let his guard down. It's been demonstrated too many times for him to count not to trust anyone who could reach the top cabinet.

Although there was also plenty of proof regarding smaller people and their not so nice potential for harm as well. It's just that you notice bigger people more.

Brian has been beaten up by them all. Short, fat, tall, thin, old, young, male, female, it didn't matter. If you had a pulse you could kick his ass.

At least that's the fear he has held onto steadfastly most his life.

People will always hurt you.

It took Brian almost twenty years to totally figure this out. Now that he had, he would never forget it.

He always looked after other people before himself. Maybe that was what got him into so much trouble much of the time.

Brian checked his seatbelt again and sighed.

Along I25 Tim reached for his hand and held onto it while his other hand guided the steering wheel. Brian looked over his way but Tim's green eyes stayed on the road. Tim's fingers began to intermingle with Brian's and it sent shocks up to his brain as he did.

Brian thrived on being touched but he would never admit it. He made it a point to tell new people that he would rather not be held so soon after meeting. So many times have guys and girls taken advantage of him when he allowed small little indiscretions like this turn into large and painful affairs.

One of the worst things he could think of was a one night stand. Sadly this was pretty much every one of his past encounters.

He'd also been with a girl for a little bit of time in the past but he didn't like to think about Michelle. It hurt too much. He hurt her too much and she reciprocated with joyful and reckless abandon.

He couldn't help but remember the sensation of his thing going into her hole. The first time he made love he with a girl he wasn't quite sure it was in the right way but she assured him that he was doing it right. Part of him didn't want to believe that he was giving up his innocence to somebody he had just met. To him he felt like his virginity was something to be held in the highest regard, despite what John and other guys had told him.

Faith told him that guys and girls fuck. There's nothing special about it and it's innately human to do it. If it was so damn natural why did it fuck things up between people so much?

He took forever that first time. He thought it was a good thing but Faith eventually asked him when he'd be done. He said he was sorry and did his best to keep going.

Sure it felt good, but at the same time it felt like the pieces just didn't fit. He wasn't sure what it was but there was definitely something wrong with the situation. The other guys in his life told him that this would be the greatest single moment in his life and he just couldn't get past the feeling that what he was doing was incredibly wrong.

As if serendipity came from the heavens and knocked him over with a shovel she said the three most hurtful words at the worst possible time. It was probably one of the few single most defining moments in his life.

As he was getting near climax she pulled him over and sat on top of his pelvis. The transition took some of the sensation away and he was left to refocus on coming. Before he could fully get comfortable she stopped in mid hump.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, knowing he had done something wrong.

She caressed his dirty blond hair and kissed him on the cheek.

Then she said it... "Are you gay?"

Immediately his erection subsided and she felt it as well. Faith dismounted Brian and it was an odd feeling to have his limp penis slip out of her vagina. He just stared at the ceiling for the longest time before he made his next remark.

He asked her what she meant by it, never taking his eyes off of the white stucco above.

"I didn't mean anything by it." She slowly stroked Brian's soft organ. It felt as if he would never get an erection again. Not now or ever again. She softly spoke into his ear if he wanted to go again at it. He let her touch his thing but it just wouldn't respond anymore.

"I just meant you are very gentle when you make love." She tried to make it seem like what she said meant nothing. "You almost make love like a woman. I mean, I'm bisexual and I know girls who have the same motions when they have sex."

Brian tilted his head down to see his flaccid pecker still within her grip. With a long and tired breath he grabbed her hand with gentle fingers and guided it up toward his mouth where he kissed it.

"Are you ok?" She asked.

"Yeah..." Brian wasn't though. This was his first time. He would never have another. Never would he have that awkward nervousness about getting naked in front of another female and having the feeling of being judged solely on the merits of his physical attributes. Never again would he feel that first insertion and he would always have to live with himself and the fact that he never completed his first sexual encounter.

The apartment was small and Brian still lived with his parents at the time. He got up from the mattress on the floor and went to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. Once inside he closed the door and locked it. He tore off the condom and threw it into the trash basket. Then he stood in front of the mirror and took a long hard look at himself.

He wasn't a man.

He would never be a man.

Even this girl had told him what every other guy since them has told him. Hell even his parents knew before he did.

He was a fagot who couldn't even pleasure a girl where it counted. Sure he'd put his thing in the hole but even that felt awkward.

Brian was noticeably distracted and Tim let go of his hand and waved it in front of Brian's face.

"Hey little dude! Wake up!" Tim laughed.

"Oh," Brian came back to reality "sorry..."

"It's OK. Penny for your thoughts?"

So cliché, Brian thought. "Actually yeah. Please don't call me little dude. I don't like it when people call me that. I think it's demeaning." Brian's defensive attitude caught Tim off guard. He immediately pulled his free hand back to the steering wheel.

"I didn't mean anything by it. You're little and you're a dude. So you're a little dude, nothing to get upset about."

"Don't you get offended when someone calls you lurch?" Brian replied, averting his attention to the passenger side window. He began tracing an invisible outline of something he imagined to be a dead pine tree on the bottom right part of the window.

"What I said was just a comment." Tim said. "What you just said was intentionally hurtful."

Brian placed his hands in his lap and without looking back up he apologized. "I'm really sorry. I just get sick of being told how short I am. My family does it. My roommates do it. It seems like every guy I'm with makes it a point to mention it or they flat out compare me to their other and better past partners." He lifted his head up and peered back out the window.

"Well I wasn't doing that." In good humor, Tim's right hand ruffled Brian's hair, his big sweaty hand that could swallow his own when they shook hands. "To be honest I like short guys. I think a lot of tall guys do actually."

"Really?" Brian didn't want to believe this.

"Yeah. Just like guys want girls to be shorter than they are I believe gay guys, like ourselves, are the same way. After all we are guys. We may have different sexual preferences but we are still guys. I have a penis. You have a penis. I know. I've seen it."

Brian winced.

Tim smiled. "And it's a good penis. In fact one of the better one's I've seen."

Brian attempted to give Tim a hug but was restrained by the seat belt. Tim felt the sentiment and extended his long arm around Brian. Brian wished he had limbs long enough to do this but knew his limitations.

He'd learned that while it felt good to feel so sad over things like this he knew it was just a waste of energy.

He is who he is.

And he hated who he is.

He is a guy after all.

A guy with a good penis.

Tim was lying.

Tall people have no feelings.

The atmosphere was laid back and quiet at The Breakfast Queen out on Santa Fe and 6th. It was a retro diner kind of place where the waitresses wore poodle skirts and the décor was vintage fifties. Brian insisted on paying before they had even gotten into the door but Tim told him not to worry about it. It was his treat.

Both men at this point were getting increasingly frustrated with one another. Brian was angry because his new friend wouldn't fall into his preconceived notions of what he felt Tim should and what he felt he represented in a gay man. Tim was getting sullen over how his new friend seemed to have little to no self esteem and felt as if he were judging him on everything he did.

Tim didn't have to be nice to him. He could of just fucked him and told him to go home on his own.

As they sat down they were immediately confronted by an overly cheerful Hispanic woman who wanted to know what they wanted to drink.

"Water." Tim said with a smile.

"Diet Coke." Brian never took his eyes off of the black and white checkered table.

The lady nonetheless thanked the two and gave them laminated menus from which to choose their breakfast selections.

"So what's good here?" Tim asked while covering his face with an open menu.

"The pecan waffles are always a good choice." Brian felt he was being ignored by Tim because the man was covering his face up from him.

When Tim finally put his menu down he smiled and exclaimed that he would like something with meat.

"I'm a carnivore!" He proudly exclaimed, smiling while bearing his teeth out like a rabid raccoon.

Brian tried to change the subject.

"So how long have you been working at the theater?" Brian put his right arm up and propped his head on the table, staring Tim straight in the eyes.

"About four or so years,"

"So... How old are you?" Brian immediately felt bad about the comment and coiled back into his seat. "I mean, it's not important or anything you know."

"That's fine. I'm thirty years old as of six weeks ago." Tim began to trace the lines on the place mat.

"That's cool." Brian struggled for what to say next. "I'm twenty four. I'll be twenty five in February."

"I never minded a younger man."

"Well, yeah, I never minded my guys to be older. I don't like it when they're young and all they do is party."

Tim reached for Brian's hand and he let him grab it. He didn't hold onto it very tight and Brian could of easily maneuvered it free but he let the man do it. He liked it when he touched him. He liked his semi permanent sweat layered palms. When they covered his own tiny appendage he felt safe. He couldn't explain it nor did he want to.

"Why are you always so down on yourself?" Tim asked while meeting him eye to eye.

"You know..." Brian didn't want to go to this subject but he felt an obligation to tell him at least a little bit. So he wouldn't seem as weird as he was probably coming off as. "Broken home, bad childhood, lots of beatings, a partridge and a pear tree." He no longer could look Tim in the eyes.

"Well it's OK." Tim's hand tightened its grip on Brian's. "I will never do anything to harm you. I just want you to know this."

Yeah right... Brian thought. "OK."

"Good." Tim let go. The sweet rush of blood flowed back into Brian's hand and it immediately felt prickly. "What say we get ourselves something with sustenance."

Brian hated feeling so confused. So many guys before had promised him safety only to be the first in line to give him a black eye and a broken heart.

He thought about Ryan and couldn't help but believe that a relationship built on sex was somehow easier and safer than a relationship built on a bond, a bond that usually was only in his eyes and never reciprocated by the other party.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence the waitress finally came around to take their order. True to his word, Tim ordered the steak and eggs plate. Brian ordered his pecan waffles with blueberry syrup.

"You're going to be all skin and bones eating like that!" Tim joked. Not aware of his mistake.

Immediately Brian seized up and pulled out his legs and held them to his head. He sniffled a few times but finally composed himself enough to return to his natural sitting position.

"What was that all about?" Tim asked, his concern lost on Brian.

"I'm fat." Brian confessed.

"You are not. Come on? Is this some kind of joke?"

"I used to be over three hundred pounds."

"Well you're not anymore. I think you look great." Tim filed this back in his head under the department of never to bring this shit up again. "I didn't see anything wrong with you and I've seen all of you."

Brian put his hand on the table hoping that Tim would once again hold it. But after a minute or so he begun to realize that the mood had changed. He blamed it solely on himself and was contemplating on asking for a ride home. Maybe once the bars opened up he'd hit those and just get plastered and go to bed early.

Tim meanwhile averted his attention to the people coming and going from the front entrance. Brian accepted that the scene had passed and joined in the people watching.

Tim then slowly turned around to gaze at the side of Brian's head, who was oblivious to his diverted attention.

"What's your number?" Tim pulled out his phone and readied it for number entering.

Brian, taken off guard, had to give himself a few seconds to recoup from the sudden, out of nowhere, question. Brian slowly recited it twice, to make sure there wasn't any confusion with the numbers. He then asked Tim to give his cell a call so he could also get his number.

After numbers were exchanged and entered the food finally came. Both had steam rising from the plates and the contents themselves sizzled and popped with grease.

Tim told Brian that there was a cool flick he'd been wanting to see that was playing at his theater but he just hadn't had time to see it yet. He offered Brian free popcorn and a ticket to see said film. Brian smiled and told him that he would gladly accept his offer.

Despite the happy exchange they both ate in silence. Tim made good on his promise and picked up the check. Brian feeling guilty, left the tip, unbeknownst to Tim as he filled in the tip slot on his credit card receipt.

Chapter 13: Dr Neven: Session #22

(Click)

Dr Neven: How are things going with you Brian?

Brian: (Long pause) OK I guess.

(Long period of silence)

Dr Neven: You've been pretty quiet today. What's bothering you?

Brian: I don't know. I really can't even say anymore what triggers my depression.

Dr Never: Every episode has a cause Brian. Is it your room mates? Is it Mike? Paul? Another one night stand that didn't go too well?

Brian: (Sighs) I've met someone.

Dr Neven: Congratulations! What is his name?

Brian: Tim. He's the same as all of them are but this one calls me every other day.

Dr Neven: By the same do you mean this individual is tall and supposedly skinny? Like how you want yourself to be?

Brian: (Long pause) Yeah. He's perfect. He's everything I'm not.

Dr Neven: Do you think you seek out men of this caliber because you never had a strong father figure in your youth?

Brian: If I knew that I wouldn't be paying you a twenty dollar co pay to talk to you.

Dr Neven: No need to get defensive Brian. But I'm beginning to think you are seeking people who you think can protect you in ways that your father never did.

Brian: I guess... But if that's the case then why am I so attracted to guys like that? I mean from what you're saying, my father gets me hard!

Dr. Neven: That's not what I am saying at all. You see Brian, according to Freud, heterosexual men tend to look for attributes in their women that closely resemble that of their mothers. Do you follow me?

Brian: I really don't want to hear this!

Dr Neven: The more you know, the more you can help yourself Brian. You see straight male individuals seek out women who are most like their mothers. In a sense because their mother protected them when they were a child and gave them the love they needed to grow they instinctively seek out females who can emulate this sense of unending nurture.

Brian: So you're saying since my father beat me then I am seeking out big guys in hopes that they'll kick the shit out of me?

Dr Neven: Not exactly. I think you are looking for the father figure you never had. You equate tall with power because your father had power and at a young age he would of appeared to be a lot taller than you are.

Brian: OK.

Dr: Neven: You equate skinny men with perfection because as a child you were extremely overweight...

Brian: Morbidly obese.

Dr Neven: Brian do not interrupt me. You see thin males as somewhat of the perfection of masculinity. If I am remembering correctly this friend you had, John was his name right?

Brian: Yeah... What about him?

Dr Neven: You see from an early age you viewed him as the only person who would care about you. Without a stable father figure in your life you took whatever cues of masculinity you could. You saw this person grow right in front of your very eyes. You saw him go from a little boy to a young man.

Brian: He's more man than I ever will be.

Dr Neven: Exactly. This kind of thinking is brought on by the fact that while you were still waiting for yourself to grow and hit puberty you witnessed him become a sexually active man. It was your jealousy of him that you, from then on, equated tall, thin men as being the very definition of masculinity.

Brian: How can you be so sure? If I took cues from him then why am I a fucking fagot?

Dr Neven: Everyone develops individually. There are some studies now that suggest that the introduction of the hormone androgen during embryonic development may have something to do with it. This hormone has also been linked to penis size.

Brian: If I was introduced to this stuff then it did my dick no good.

Dr Neven: Do you have issues with your penis size Brian?

Brian: Sir I reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaally do not want to talk about this.

Dr Neven: It's an important part of the male psyche Brian. Tell me. Do you feel inadequate?

Brian: Yeah, I guess so.

Dr Neven: Why is it you think?

Brian: Because everyone I meet has a huge fucking dick!

Dr Neven: Now you don't have to yell Brian. Are all of these males tall?

Brian: Yes. Everyone is taller than I am.

Dr Neven: So you not only see tall skinny men as being perfect but they also all have large penises?

Brian: Every fucking one of them!

Dr Neven: Brian do you think that maybe you only see what you want to see? Let's say out of ten men you encounter, how many are above average?

Brian: All of them are bigger than I am.

Dr Neven: I'm sure that is an overstatement. If you don't mind me asking, how big is your penis erect?

Brian: OH GOD!!!

Dr Neven: Brian it is just a question between two guys. This is not a competition.

Brian: Oh man... I don't know. Six, six and a half.

Dr Neven: I want to let you know that, from recent worldwide surveys, you are normal to above average in a lot of respects. Let me ask you another question. What is the length of your flaccid penis?

Brian: (Long pause) About an inch or two or something like that.

Dr Neven: I think this is close to the heart of the situation here. I will tell you that normal flaccid size is three inches or three and a half. I think you are comparing yourself to other men based on that and not the erect length. This could be the root of some of your problems.

Brian: What? I have God damn fucking penis envy?!

Dr Neven: You very well could have. I want to let you know that as a doctor I've seen my fair share of the male anatomy and I can tell you with honesty that almost every man is ashamed of what is between their legs in some form or another. Even these men you see who are bigger than average. You never know what kind of problems they run into. Like say during sex. The average female vagina only goes four to six inches deep. Many of these bigger males you see probably have a lot of trouble inserting themselves into these girls without the female experiencing great pain.

Brian: I don't have a vagina though. I have an asshole.

Dr Neven: If a man is too large do you let him in?

Brian: Not if he's too big I guess. Last guy that did that ripped me open and I couldn't sit down for a while. I cried when I went to the bathroom the pain was so bad.

Dr Neven: If you know it will hurt and cause you physical damage then why do you allow certain individuals to insert their penis into you?

Brian: I don't know. I guess I just want them to like me.

Dr Neven: At the expense of your health?

Brian: I don't matter anyways so what's the point.

Dr Neven: Brian have you been doing your self esteem building exercises?

Brian: Doctor, I feel so fucking stupid doing those things!

Dr Neven: They work Brian.

Brian: I feel like a fucking idiot doing them. What's the point of giving yourself positive reinforcement if you don't believe a God damn word you're saying!

Dr Neven: Brian please tone down the language. We are recording this conversation.

Brian: I know. And by the way I hate that!

Dr Neven: It's part of our agreement Brian. You are an adult and you consented to it. You know that by being part of my study you get the discounted rate I provide you.

Brian: I know.

Dr Neven: And that no other counselor will work with you like I have. Your constant bad attitude in therapy has left you no other choice.

Brian: I don't like the idea that I was too hard to handle so I was handed off to someone who CAN handle me.

Dr Neven: It's not that they cannot handle you, it's that they are ill equipped to meet your needs.

Brian: Whatever. So back to the beginning. You think I'm seeing what I want to see? Like all these tall guys are just a figment of my imagination? How can that be when I've had them in my hand. I know what I saw.

Dr Neven: Do you seek out tall male individuals or tall and lanky male individuals.

Brian: What's the difference?

Dr Neven: Tall males are somewhat proportionate in their height while certain tall and lanky males have most of their height in their appendages. Such as a male with Marfan Syndrome. It's rare but you may just be picking out the people with this or like disorders. Another possibility is that the person you are with has Foot-Hand-Genital Syndrome cause by abnormalities in the HOX genes. Appendages such as the penis are elongated as well as arms and legs, fingers and toes. A normal person is proportionate and you should not compare yourself to someone who has an abnormality. Tall and lanky people are not that common. Males over 6' are not that common. So I would suggest you stop seeking them out.

Brian: You think I'm purposefully seeking them out?

Dr Neven: Maybe not consciously. But you very well may be. Now that you know this I want you to take inventory of the men you find attractive. When we meet next week I want you to tell me your findings.

Brian: I don't think the guy I'm seeing has this Malfoy syndrome. He seems thick in the legs and has a muscular midsection.

Dr Neven: That may be. Certain people like that may just be lucky. I don't know what to tell you.

Brian: Do you think I need a medication change?

Dr Neven: What did we do last time?

Brian: I think we upped my Geodon.

Dr Neven: Did that help at all.

Brian: Not really. I don't know. Maybe I just need to lighten up.

Dr Neven: Then that is what I am prescribing you this week. A large dose of chill the hell out. (Laughs)

Brian: (Laughs) I suppose. Maybe I could go on more walks?

Dr Neven: Exercise is always helpful. Releases endorphins that promote a sense of well being.

Brian: So is this it for today?

Dr Neven: I'm afraid so. I want you to do what I said. And remember that the men you see who have large penises are not in the norm. As I said I think you are overstating some of your encounters. Maybe a little exaggeration to make yourself feel small? I think you like being the victim. But we'll go more into that the next time we meet.

Brian: Whatever. (Long pause) OK. See ya I guess. (Door slams)

Dr Neven: Patient Brian Oldman, possible penis envy and definite worsening of his body dysmorphic disorder. He was notably less alert than previous visits and did not take his eyes off of his shoes. Patient demonstrated lack of enthusiasm for most of the subjects we talked about but seemed to respond negatively to the idea that he may be quote, unquote, dating his father. Subject has a torrid and abusive history with parental father, as noted in previous sessions. I was met with a great deal of hostility with his closing remarks.

(Click.)

Chapter 14: Paul, the great heretic.

Brian didn't know what the hell he was going to do for Thanksgiving. He had been invited to both his parent's house for the celebration and to Tim's parent's house. While he liked the idea of going with Tim, he couldn't help but feel like a possession being shown off to others. He imagined Tim bringing him out to his folks and going "Look mom! Look dad! I'm gay!" This made his stomach hurt.

On the other hand if he went to his parents it would just be so uncomfortable that he would no doubt have an attack. He hated those. Not only did it make him look like a fool but his whole body would fuck up on him. His heart would race and the water works would come. His legs and arms would tense up and he wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd most likely go cold everywhere and pass out from the lack of oxygen. He'd been asking Dr Neven for a while now if he could have some Valiums or Klonopin but he had refused. He said they were too much of a temptation if Brian ever thought about killing himself. But this led him to find other, more inventive ways to release tension.

Like the guy outside of McDonald's on the 16th St. Mall in the morning who sold pills. He'd usually get a Xanax for about three or four bucks a pill. It all depended on whether or not the man was desperate or not. But every morning, Monday through Friday, like clockwork, he was there.

Then there was that time a few months ago when he tried smoking heroin off of a piece of foil. He fell in love with it so much that he promised himself that whenever he'd do opiates that this would be the one he'd choose. A five dollar balloon of heroin was a lot more effective and a hell of a lot cheaper than five bucks a pill for Percesets.

Brian wanted the junkie who was with him to show him how to shoot it up but the guy only had one needle and it was dirty. Brian passed but decided to find him again when he next set out to do the drug.

The next day though he acquired a new needle and the man showed him how it's done for a balloon.

Right now his mind wasn't exactly set on being a junkie as it was finding a painless means to expire. He knew the moment he passed out from injecting that shit that this was the way he was gonna go. It was like going under for surgery.

It depressed Brian a great deal thinking about it because he remembered that both times (Going under and passing out) had just felt like a blink. He wondered if death was like that. There was no dreams or any white light when you passed out. Even from asking a guy he knew who went through a coma he had said the same thing. It's like blink you're one place then blink you're in the hospital, only now you're a few months older and a lot hairier.

Brian wondered why they didn't shave coma victims. At least give them that dignity.

Coma is derived from a Latin word that means, little death.

Little death, man that sounds cool.

He closed his eyes and dug his head deeper into his pillow and thought about what it would feel like to experience the big death.

He supposed that if you just blinked out you wouldn't necessarily mind. You'd be dead anyways. Not bad or good, just gone. It would definitely be sweeter than living in the body of a deformed child.

Penis envy my ass. I'm just fucking small.

Brian rolled onto his back and grabbed the sides of his bed. He could hear the door opening and one of his roommates entering. It sounded like Paul and Shelly. They sounded really drunk. Brian hated it when he drove drunk and wondered if he did that night. But that moment wouldn't be the right time to ask. Right now he had to get his thoughts together and get to sleep.

But slumber eluded him.

He could hear them in the kitchen making noise with a pot or a pan. Then he heard Paul's door close and the noises stopped.

Brian wished he was like that. Normal. That he'd find chicks and bring them home to fuck. Knowing Paul they were probably going to cuddle up and watch a movie. Brian thought about it for a few minutes and decided to go to the living room. He would turn the TV on low so he wouldn't disturbed the two.

He got up and pulled on his pants and headed for his door, which was only a few steps. The hardwood floor was cold on his naked feet and it took a few wince inducing steps to get used to it.

Once in the living room he turned on the big screen and rummaged through the Blu Ray DVDs for something to watch. He eventually settled on Donnie Darko and put it into the player.

He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and sat back on the couch. As the movie began to go to the menu screen he could hear some rather loud bumps coming from Paul's room. He paid it no mind and started the movie.

He hoped that Jake Gyllenhaal could help ease his lonely existence. Maybe he'd decide on what to do for Thanksgiving. As the movie rolled on the noises in Paul's room got louder until there were moans of pleasure coming from both Shelly and Paul.

Brian turned the volume down and listened to them make love. He began to get an erection and put his hand down his pants to feel around for it. He didn't want to get his pants messy so he capped the tip of his penis to prevent the pre cum from ruining his boxers.

As they went at it Brian imagined Paul's big sweaty body pumping to a beat in his own head.

Her on bottom. Tiny little Shelly and big thunderous Paul. His body engulfing hers and his head a good four inches above hers. How he would settle himself on his forearms as to not suffocate the poor girl with his mass.

Brian didn't realize it but he began to stroke himself as the noise went on in the other room. If he'd known he would've stopped before he got too far. But he was caught in the moment of his own imagination.

As the voices got louder he could feel himself enjoying it more and more. He finally snapped out of it and realized that he had a big wet spot already forming in his jeans.

"AWE FUCK!" Brian said aloud, not caring who heard him. They were still going at it and Brian decided to go to the bathroom to finish the job. He capped his penis inside his pants and awkwardly stumbled to the bathroom near the kitchen. Once inside he pulled down his pants and underwear and slid them across the floor.

He closed the door and got some tissue paper to wipe off his right hand. He threw it in the toilet and pulled a longer sheet from it and put about three layers of tissue before him as he knelt. He reached up and squirted some hand lotion into his right hand. He then got to business. It took him all of ten seconds to cum on the toilet paper.

In the afterglow Brian sat there for a few moments.

Then the door opened behind him. "OH GOD!" Shelly's voice cried. Then the door shut again and he could hear her crying over and over about how sorry she was.

Brian's body went numb and he couldn't move for a few moments. Before he could throw the tissue into the toilet he heard a knocking at the door.

"Brian? Are you ok man?" It was Paul. He was laughing. "Shelly needs to use the restroom man if you don't mind."

"Yeah." Brian could feel tingling in his teeth. He flushed the toiled and pulled back up his pants. He then opened the door and made a bee line to his room, trying not to pay attention to the two laughing at him beside the bathroom door. Once inside, he locked his door and fell to his bed face first. He rolled over to his side and curled up into the fetal position. He was sure he was going to die of a heart attack. He was fucking sure that his heart would burst from embarrassment! It just would not slow down or let up!

Brian immediately reached for his blue and black checkered duffel bag to see if, by any chance in hell, he had any benzodiazepines left. He needed them now. He was going to pass out from embarrassment without them if his heavy labored breathing and the beating in his chest were any indication.

He got so frustrated with his lack of success that he just turned his whole bag upside down and dumped the contents onto the hardwood floor. He then sifted through the mess of Westwords, Onion newspapers, notebooks, laptop, and finally he found an Ativan. In his mouth it went.

Then he found two Xanax pills.

In his mouth they went.

Then, nothing. He'd gone through everything in his bag and couldn't find anything in the pile of junk before him. He began to cry and crawled back into his bed where he resumed the fetal position and held onto his legs tightly.

I could always cut off my dick?

His crying must have alerted Paul because he was knocking on the door a few minutes later.

"Brian? Are you OK? It's OK man! Everyone does it!" Paul tested the door and found it to be locked. "Come out buddy! We didn't mean it. It just caught us by surprise is all."

"GO AWAY!" The snot from his nose was now reaching his mouth. It tasted salty and disgusting. Brian let it drip down his face without intervening. "JUST GO AWAY!" He shouted.

No one likes you Brian!

"Man, it's ok! Mike caught me the other week but I didn't cry like a fucking baby about it!" It sounded to Brian like Paul punched the door with all his might. Part of the door frame came off of its fitting, plaster from the ceiling sprinkled the floor below. "Just come out man! Stop crying God dammit!"

Why don't you just overdose and end everyone's misery!

Brian knew better than to unlock his door and let someone in who was bigger than he was and a hell of a lot madder. He got up off the bed using his right leg balanced with his left hand. The pill box behind the mirror should have some Tylenols. Kill your liver and burn the meat.

That's too painful, why don't you save the big guns for when you're ready...

Brian sighed deeply, his whole chest moving with the rhythm of the panic attack. In, out, in, out...

Breathe Brian...

Slowly he calmed himself by closing his eyes and imagining himself in the mountains with his bigger brother hiking. A forest of evergreens lay before them.

"Dude," His bigger brother said, pointing to a clearing in the distance. "Look at that!" Brian looked toward what he was pointing at and saw a dirty white mountain goat grazing on the dead grass below it. He wanted to pet the thing but thought better of it.

He could feel the fast acting pills taking effect. "I'll be OK. I promise." He didn't feel like he would be but he said it anyways. Sweet numbness was overcoming his body.

"Man." Paul pled, his baritone deep with worry. "I sent Shelly home. She's out front waiting for a cab. Listen man I'm just drunk, I didn't mean to get angry. You just frustrate me sometimes with all this whiney bullshit you know?" Paul's voice began to decline in volume and intensity. He hit the door again but this time without conviction.

"I'm OK." is all Brian could muster in his small high pitched voice. He didn't know how many milligrams of the pills he had just taken but he knew at that moment that it was probably too much. The world wobbled and his vision doubled. It was hard to keep balanced. He didn't know if he'd just accidentally overdosed or not. Surely not off of three pills?

"Come on out man. We can talk about it." Paul offered softly. He once again tested the door knob to no avail.

"One second." Brian couldn't feel his body too well, he was feeling loose and he could tell his breathing had slowed considerably. He got up and steadied himself on the dry wall. Absentmindedly he pulled down his wet pants and cum stained underwear and slid them beside his bed with his left foot.

Naked from the waist down he got on his knees and searched for some suitable underwear. He found a pair and put it to his nose to smell if it was clean. A little funky but right now he didn't care what condition they were in as long as they didn't have a huge embarrassing sticky wet spot on them.

It was a struggle to pull them up but he managed. Then he found a pair of jeans that he knew were dirty, but again, he didn't mind. After taking almost a minute to put them on and acquire a belt he asked if Paul was still outside the door.

"Yeah man. Come on man, unlock the door OK?" Paul's voice sounded resigned.

Brian wobbled to the door and unlocked it. He slowly pulled it open and saw a very drunk Paul barely standing on his two legs. In his underwear again no less, as if he had no time to put on any clothes during the confusion of the moment. Paul extended his arms and Brian walked into them. He hugged him a little too tight and Brian had to let him know that he was choking him.

Paul let go and walked over to the living room where he plopped onto the couch with a noticeable thud. Brian slowly and deliberately made his way to the other side and carefully sat down. Making sure he was a good distance away from Paul.

"Why are you moving like that?" Paul asked, forever the EMT.

"Can you overdose from two Xanax and an Ativan?" Brian questioned the only person in the house who was qualified to answer such a request.

"Why? Did you take something again?" Paul scooted up near Brian and gave him a light slap in the back of his head. "Why do you do stupid shit like that?! I told you it would be OK man!" he scorned, clinching his teeth in anger as he did.

Brian was too stoned to cry at this moment. He just let himself fall into Paul's side. Paul pushed him away. Taking that as a definite no, Brian made his way closer to the other side of the couch.

"Dude, none of that cuddling crap tonight OK. Why did you take that shit?"

Brian gave a deep sigh. "I didn't mean to take so many. I just wanted to calm down. I was having an attack."

"A panic attack?" Paul's teeth separated and the lines in his head grew across his forehead.

"Yeah, I just wanted to calm myself down. It felt like I was going to have a heart attack."

"Dude, it's a panic attack." Paul used both hands to grab Brian's head. He pulled Brian's face close to his. Brian could smell the alcohol on his breath as he nearly slurred. "You can't die from a panic attack. You may think you are dying but you aren't." Paul gave another, albeit lighter than the first, slap on the back of Brian's head and sat back up. He stared at the TV, which was still playing Donnie Darko on low, while Brian got his thoughts together.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." Brian said monotonously.

"Dude that's your problem. You don't think."

"You're drunk. How come I can't take pills every now and then?"

"Because you weren't prescribed them were you?"

"Yeah." Brian lied.

"Bullshit." Paul challenged. "Let me see the bottle."

"OK, OK I don't have a prescription. Dr Neven won't give me one." Brian couldn't care less about the scene that appeared to be playing on 16mm film right before his eyes. The frames jumped and skipped and had a grainy quality to them that he'd seen before on TV shows that showed old home movie footage. His head felt heavy and he laid it to his left side.

Paul picked it back up and slapped him again. "Man, you fall asleep on me and I'll take you to the hospital."

"You never answered my question." Brian's eye lids had trouble staying open.

"No I guess not." Paul hated himself for saying this. "You can't overdose on that much. You just fuck yourself up."

"That's what I thought." Brian said softly, almost inaudible.

"Yeah." Paul was at a loss for words. He then perked his head up and looked back at his roommate. "Did you hear us fucking?" Paul asked with a large toothy grin on his face.

"No." Again Brian lied.

"You sure?" Paul asked, laughing at the moment. "You sure that wasn't why you were jerking off in the bathroom?"

"I never heard you two." Brian mumbled.

"OK. So I guess I just told on myself didn't I?" He said with pride, his chest rose and fell like a champ.

"You sure did you man whore." Brian said with a straight face, making an ill attempt at dry humor.

Paul smiled at this and ruffled Brian's hair until it was no longer staying in place.

"I guess I am aren't I?" Paul said. "I know how to get'em don't I?"

"You sure do." Brian fell back into Paul's side but this time he didn't push him away. Even through the haze of alcohol Paul began to think seriously about his little friend. He's been acting strange lately. He normally comes to him when he's sad. Something like tonight would never have been enough for Brian to take pills over.

Paul wondered about his private life. Who was he seeing? Was a man the reason he had gotten so weird? He honestly couldn't relate to Brian's lifestyle but he assumed it was the same sort of feelings he himself experienced with girls. At least he hoped that was what it was like. He couldn't imagine some sort of foreign to everyone but gay people love that defied empathizing with.

Paul raised his arm and let Brian fall further into his chest. Brian was still a little conscious and knew that his head was now in between Paul's hairy underarm. For some reason this turned him on a little but he was too weak to get aroused. He always did like guy's underarms. Everyone has their own thing he supposed.

Paul grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned the sound up. It was halfway through the movie and he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to finish it without passing out like Brian.

Paul nudged Brian's head to see if he was awake.

"Man," he used his right hand to shake Brian's head from side to side. "man are you asleep?"

Brian mumbled something incoherent and put his arms around Paul's naked torso. Paul felt a little more than uncomfortable by this so he peeled Brian's arms off of his body and stood up. Brian fell limply into the cushions where he sat.

"Nothing like a little narcotic scare to sober someone up." Paul said to himself and put one hand under Brian's back side and one hand under his chest. It took a little bit of effort but his weight lifting had paid off and he was able to pick Brian up above his waist. He awkwardly balanced himself with his friend and made his way to Brian's room. The door was still open but he still had to push it a little. He accidentally bumped Brian's head on it but he didn't seem to care. Paul stood for a second, waiting for it to wake him but he never did.

Paul laid Brian, clothes and all on his mattress and stood above him wondering what, if anything, he could do for his friend. He decided that he should probably at least take his pants off so he didn't sweat in them throughout the night and pulled them off of his legs. While he was at it he pulled off his shirt. He looked at his friend for the first time that night as a vulnerable human being. He lay there near nude and it made Paul feel sad. He couldn't figure out why but it did.

Paul pulled a sheet from underneath him and placed it gently on his body.

"Aren't you gonna kiss him goodnight?" Mike asked behind Paul in the doorway. Laughing out loud like an idiot.

Paul looked around and scoffed at his roommate. "Shut up man."

"Hey just saying, if you two need some time alone I'll," Paul punched Mike in the chest. Mike took it as a joke and backed away a little. "Hey man I understand, I'm cool with you two getting together!"

Paul put up his fighting stance and Mike mockingly followed suit. Within a few seconds however they were both laughing and walking toward the living room.

"He OK?" Mike asked. "What did he pass out drunk or something?"

"No." Paul looked back toward Brian's room. "I just gave him something to calm down. He's had a bad day."

"All right man!" Mike extended his hand out for a high five but Paul just passed him by on the way to his room. "I mean, you know, I just mean that you never let me take non of your shit. I think this is growth."

"Yeah." Paul told Mike that he was taking medication to calm him down but never mentioned it to Brian. He was fearful his friend would snoop into his stuff and take a ton like he had before when his doctor gave him a prescription for Valium. Paul only told Mike that they were his because they'd have another scene like the last one if he knew that Brian had brought illegal drugs into the house.

"Well, you going to bed man?" Mike asked as he sat on the couch, remote in hand and anxious to see what was on cable. "What is this shit? Donnie Darko? Fuck me!" He giggled deeply and turned the movie off, settling instead on a MTV reality show.

"Yeah I am. Good night." Paul walked to his room and locked the door behind him, he immediately fell into his bed. Lying on his stomach he grabbed his pillow and hugged it tightly. The high thread count cover over the stiff feather pillow felt like gripping onto a cloud, a very resistant and sorrowful grey cloud of doubt. He could just feel it in his gut that this was just the beginning of Brian going under. He didn't know why. He never saw it coming before but he just knew something was up.

"Good night little buddy." Paul laid on his back, putting his hands behind his head as he got comfortable. "You better not be planning something stupid." He said to no one as he closed his eyes and drifted off into an intoxicated slumber.

Idiot Colorado

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

I was never a part of your scene

Whatever you did it preceded me

I remember being up front

Being drunk

Having fun

And singing along to all of your songs

I was never a part of your scene

Displace, feeling displaced

Running around

My headache is lasting too long

Stomach hurts

Burning food

Everything is the same old song

Now I know the trick

How to get into your clique

When I was paying the door

I was your paying whore

I was never a part of your scene

Whatever you did it preceded me

I remember being up front

Being drunk

Having fun

And singing along to all of your songs

I was never a part of your scene

Buy a toy

Break my back

I never wanna find my way back

Get a shirt

Drinking in the van

You never wanted me as a fan

Why do I always fuck up the room

When I think I've come in too soon

Run away and eat Chinese

Stomach explodes

Find my way home

This is why I'm always alone

When will I never learn

I was never a part of your scene

Whatever you did it preceded me

I remember being up front

Being drunk

Having fun

And singing along to all of your songs

I was never a part of your scene

I was never a part of your scene...

I was never a part of your scene...

I was never a part of your scene...

I was never a part of your scene...

Chapter 15: The afterlife of the party.

The Hi Dive felt dead that night. There are a ton of people here but it's like watching lemmings run off a cliff. Whenever Brian thought of this analogy he always thought about how that video of lemmings going off a cliff was just part of a big set up that some Disney wildlife show created back in the day to make the little bastards seem more interesting, or whatever was their motive, the thought lingered though... When you think about it the same things they wear are the same things that were cool twenty years earlier, aside from some slight moderations, fashion is very much circular. Instead of being loose fitting t-shirts and baggy jeans it's now tight shirts with tight jeans, and even those are starting to look dated.

The hipster, the man always either has the perfect bed head or the tightest off center bowl cut in which the bangs ever so slightly cover one of his amber colored eyes. Extra points if they are baby blue or dark brownish black.

Girls still fancy long hair but they've ironed it straight and put product in it. You don't use moose or pomade anymore. You use product. The difference? You pay more for pomade that is called product than you do for hair wax that is just called pomade. You get product in higher scale stores. One funny thing about hair products is that almost all shampoos, conditioners, and hair stuffs contained pork products in one form or another.

Eat that you vegan shitheads.

If hipsters pose as people who are supposed to be living the indie rock dream then how can they afford to lavish their hair with such garbage? How can they spend $30 on a used shirt from a second hand fashion store instead of going to a Goodwill? Even their messenger bags and man purses are top of the line vintage. Why pay less for something when you can have something made in a sweat shop especially for you?

These people are dressed to kill on weekends but they wear a suit and tie on the weekdays. This is their escape. They believe that they are cool and hip when in reality they could give a rats ass about Veganism and who the hell William S. Burroughs was. As long as they can recite his name and tell people they eat Tofu and prefer Naked Lunch over Slaughter House Five then they'll be just fine. These are the true posers.

Brian's stomach churned. He stared at the make out couch in the back. It was apparently cool to make out in public now. The Hi Dive even hosted kissing parties and there was even a local band named "Kissing Party" and surprise, surprise, the hipsters flocked to their shows like ants to a discarded hot pocket thrown on the ground.

He had been thinking about altogether just avoiding this place during his last days but Tim had dragged him out of his house and into the tiny venue slash bar. If the man didn't give him the attention he craved ever so much he'd just say fuck this and read one of the many books he has but has been neglecting.

Brian hadn't had much to eat today. After being able to see a good looking man naked on a regular basis it made him feel the need to keep up with Tim's body even if it meant making him sick in the process. After all, who doesn't want to leave behind a beautiful corpse? He had also been walking a ton more. He hasn't asked for a ride from Paul in over a week and a half. It's just been nonstop walking from his place to work almost every day. Then after work he'd take the long way home by foot. His feet are now pocked with broken blisters and callused with inch thick skin. More than once he took off his shoes only to discover a now useless pair of bloodied socks. His toes marred with holes in the skin between the cuticles and the toenails that bled every he stepped on them. To some people that would be considered over the line but to Brian he felt like he was slacking. He'd come to the conclusion that if he didn't wear out or bloody a pair of socks on any given day, then he was severely lacking in motivation.

Bill wasn't working tonight and it was some new girl. Brian pondered shortly whether or not to even drink. The drink eventually won over when he realized that in order to be around these people he'd have to be a little sauced tonight. He ordered a cranberry vodka from the new red headed lady. It took him a few shouts and an additional couple of minutes to get her attention but she finally poured and served him a tiny assed high ball. Disgusted with the size of the glass and the disproportionate price of it he left her a five dollar bill on the bar and left for the front of the stage.

I hope you rot in hell bitch...

Of course it wasn't crowded up there. It was un-cool to be seen dancing in front. To do the hipster thing just right you had to stand back a little and have a constant look of contemplation on your face as you watched the opening bands perform. Extra points if you bash the headliner and name drop a more obscure act that did what they did first and better.

At least Tom was with him up there. His camera was ready to take some more Westword blog ready shots. Brian had always tried to give the man space and to never ask him for favors. He wasn't cool to begin with and the last thing he wanted was to be seen asking a journalist to cover his music. He never had done this and in all honesty felt like he had a little bit of a friendship with the guy but that sense of paranoia never left him.

Speak only when spoken to.

Brian downed his weak drink in two gulps and sat it on the elevated stage. When Tom looked his way he gave an unenthused smile and felt judged. Tom walked over to Brian and put his hand on his shoulder. He was face to face with the cool little Asian man. At least he was his size, a bit more than overweight but his size none the less. It was yet another reason he felt connected to the man. Short people have camaraderie the way he supposed left handed people people had.

"So are you and Tim together now?" Tom asked, not looking up from the view finder in his digital camera.

"Where did you hear that?" Brian asked with great perplexity. He hadn't remembered talking to anyone about it, not even Paul.

"Oh you know how it is." Tom looked up and smiled. "Things get around fast around these parts. Denver's not that big you know."

"Yeah," Brian could feel himself blushing "I guess we're together. He hasn't kicked me out of bed yet."

"That's good. I didn't even know he was gay."

"Do you think this will score me some scene points?"

Tom laughed. "I don't know about that. You should ask him if you could open for him some time."

"I'm kind of taking a break from music for a while." Brian averted his attention to the stage. "I just can't seem to get motivated any more about music."

"Then why did you come down here if music doesn't do it for you at the moment?"

"I dunno. I just wanted to be with Tim. Tim was playing and he asked me to come. I don't get asked to do a lot of things you know." Brian pulled out his cell phone and pulled up his call log. He showed it to Tom who met the item with curiosity.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tom asked.

"Look through it and see all the incoming calls." Brian tried to hand Tom his Droid cell phone but he refused to take it.

"I don't get it." Tom said.

"The only incoming calls I've had in over two or three months have been Paul my roommate, and Tim." He turned off his phone and put it back into his pocket. "And even with Tim and Paul it's them calling me back because they missed MY call in the first place."

"Don't let it get you down man." Tom put his hand on Brian's shoulder but he gently nudged it off. The sentiment wasn't lost on Tom whose cheery demeanor immediately soured.

"I could die and no one would notice. I bet if I had a brain aneurysm in my room it would take my roommates a few days until the stink alerted them to the fact that anything was wrong."

"I doubt that. That's bullshit." Tom scoffed and waved his hand as if he was brushing off a nasty spider coming down onto his arm.

"No man. As I said even with Tim I have to call him. He says he likes me but he never calls me unsolicited." Brian kept his eyes on the empty stage. The bright lights were making his vision spotty from staring at them so long.

"I think he's just busy and he knows that you will call him. Or maybe he thinks it's not appropriate to call every day. Don't pass judgment when you don't know where he is coming from. Are you acting depressed around him?"

Brian sighed. "I really try not to."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be around you when you are in certain moods. I know I don't. And I'll tell you I don't. And I have the feeling now that I should leave you alone to stew until you get your head back together." Tom edged away a little and began examining his camera again.

"No man." Brian pleaded. "I'm just in a bad space tonight. I'm not depressed."

"So what happened with your band? I heard Fizz didn't show up."

"Well he did but it was too little too late."

"Has he made an effort to call you or get in contact with you about doing another show?"

"No." Brian could feel the juices in his stomach churn and boil. The drink was going to come up sooner or later, this he knew, the night was going THAT well. "He hasn't. He's probably off smoking pot."

"Well that's a young man for you. Don't be so harsh on him. Didn't you ever party when you were younger?"

Brian laughed. "Dude I'm twenty four."

"Right, I keep forgetting." Tom finally laughed. "You don't act your age."

"But I look like I'm fifteen." Brian had to look away from the lights because he was getting a throbbing sensation in his right eye.

"Grow a beard if it's that much of a bother to you."

"Nah, it just comes in all patchy and I look like a nut case on Colfax when I let it go for a few weeks."

I could use the razors to slash my wrists,

"I just don't look good with facial hair."

Tom looked up and stared at him a little while longer and then went back to checking his view finder.

Feeling the momentum of the conversation slip Brian tried to joke about how he still gets carded for R rated movies.

"Uh huh." Tom was completely immersed in what he was doing.

"Yeah..." Brian picked up his glass and told Tom that he was going to get a refill. Tom waved goodbye to him but never did take his eyes off of his Nokia.

Brian went to the bar but instead of getting another drink he just laid it on the counter and pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the back where the stairs to the green room was. He wasn't even a little buzzed which frustrated him. He had spent four dollars on a drink and gave her a dollar tip and he wasn't even the slightest bit impaired.

He made his way down the steps two at a time and felt his feet land hard on the concrete basement floor. He looked around and could see the bands mingling with each other and drinking the PBR's provided by the venue for their imbibing pleasure.

It didn't take him but a second to spot his friend amongst the others. Tim was talking to a girl whom Brian knew to be the bassist in some band not playing tonight.

Whore...

Brian compared Tim's size with the rest of the people in the room and thought for a split second that Dr Neven may have a little validity in his wisdom. He just might be seeking out tall guys for some reason. Oh how Fraud would have a field day playing with his mind.

Brian shook his head as if to clear out the self depreciating thoughts and walked over to where Tim was standing. Totally immersed in his conversation he all but jumped when Brian put his arm around Tim's thick body.

"Oh, hey you." Tim leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. "Robin do you know Brian?" She held out her hand but seemed pained to shake hands with him. Brian just looked at her like she'd just asked for two pints more of his blood than was safe to donate.

"Yes, I know him from around." Robin retracted her hand and stood there for a good minute while the awkward silence was drowned out in the noisy downstairs area. She then told Tim that she should probably go find her boyfriend and prevent him from getting too drunk and left the two by the couch.

Tim seemed oblivious to what had just transpired and motioned for Brian to sit with him. Once down on the couch he put his long left arm around Brian's neck and let it hang there.

"So what's up, yooooooooooooou?" Tim slurred. Brian wasn't sure if he was getting drunk or if he was just acting goofy.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd be cool with us leaving after you play?" Brian confided.

"Awe. Why?" Tim took another sip of his beer.

"I dunno." Brian confessed. He wasn't sure himself. He knew he could face it and make it a good night, he just had to throw up some and pretend to be a wooden board standing in the middle of the crowd for just a few more hours, but he was just not into that idea that night. "I just don't like the vibe here."

"Well I got to stay at least till the second band finishes so I can get paid. Then we'll head out. Do you want to go back to my place or your place?"

"Your place if we can." Brian bent over and stared at his black and white Converse Chuck Taylor shoes.

"Awe, come on. I've only been to your place once and that was to pick up an extra set of clothes for when you spent the night the other time." Tim took another sip of his beer then placed it on the floor next to the couch. "If it's about your roommates you know I wouldn't mind whatever they had to dish out to me."

Brian said nothing and felt his heart physically sink lower into his chest. "I just don't want to go home tonight."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Tim asked, taking another sip.

"You know I don't work on weekends." Brian felt for the bottom of Tim's shirt and slid his hand underneath, caressing his hairy stomach in slow circular motions.

"That's right. I knew that." Tim kissed Brian on the head but this time Brian didn't react in any way noticeable to him. He just kept on messaging his belly until his hand went numb from the friction.

"I'll see you play but I want to come back down here when you're done."

"Why?" Tim sat a little straighter. "What's wrong with you tonight? Why are you being pissy?"

Brian sat straighter as well. "I'm not being pissy. I just don't feel welcome here anymore." He confessed. Brian took his hand out of Tim's shirt and placed both arms between his legs.

"Don't mind what people say about you. I don't." Tim tried to be helpful but realized his mistake as soon as he said it.

"Why?" Brian's facial features stretched out in horror. "What are people saying about me?"

"Nothing man." He finished off his beer and got up. "No one is saying anything. Just have a good time. You want a beer? I'm going to get another. They're free." Tim bolted up from the couch and left his friend where he sat, not even looking back.

Brian put his hands in his lap and felt a silent and painful wave of resignation come over him. "Sure."

Tim, ever the popular one, was immediately pulled aside not even two steps from the refrigerator and began talking to some other short red headed bearded guy whom he recognized from yet another local band that also wasn't playing tonight. He assumed that he would probably keep him until show time so Brian got up and helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator.

He stood by Tim and gave the bearded man a nasty look, one that the man didn't appear to notice, and got out his phone to check the time. It gave him a perverse pleasure in breaking up the two by noting that Tim needed to go up like right that moment.

Tim thanked Brian and shook the bearded man's hand and walked up the stairs. When Brian began walking after him up the stairs, the bearded man called his name. He looked back and descended the stairs to see what the guy wanted.

"You're um... Um...." The bearded man was at a loss for what Brian's name was. He had a pot belly too big for his tiny athletic fit t-shirt. Ever so ironically it said that he was only there for the beer.

"David." Brian extended his hand. The man smiled and shook it.

"That's right David! From the Shakes right?"

"That's exactly right man. I'm David from the Shakes."

At least get my fucking band's name right you waste of egg and sperm.

Brian smiled and took a long gulp from his beer can.

"Yeah that's right! Remember me?" The bearded man waited in eager anticipation to be recognized. It disgusted Brian. He could feel the beer coming back up and burning his nostrils.

"Yeah, you're Adam, from Helpless Nina." When the man smiled he knew he nailed it. For some reason faces and names eluded him but he was thankfully dead on target at this second.

"Yeah totally man! We should play a show sometime!" The man smiled and it was at that moment that Brian realized that he must be either drunk or stoned. His eyes were dilated so it could be any number of things. Alcohol, coke, crack, meth, superglue. He just smiled and continued to shake the man's hand in between long gulps of his piss tasting PBR.

Brian announced that he was going to get another beer from the bar and head upstairs. The man shook his hand yet again and began to ascend the stairs in a hurried fashion.

The green room was almost completely empty now. Aside from a couple on the couch making out he was the only person left. He crumpled up his can and threw it in the metal trash can and headed for the refrigerator for another beer. Once there he could not find it in him to open the door. He just stood there and listened to Tim warm up upstairs. He banged his head hard on the fridge a few times then stepped back to put pressure on the spot on his head he smacked. When the pain subsided he opened the refrigerator and took out two beers.

It was going to be a long night and for sure as hell wasn't going to go through it sober.

By the time the second band had finished, a slightly inebriated Brian accompanied a more than annoyed Tim to get his cash from the door man.

"Great show tonight!" The guy said as he counted the door's take from his cash register. "How are you tonight Brian?" He asked without looking up.

"Fine. Just awesome." Brian smiled and laughed despite his shitty mood. Even though it was an act it cheered Tim up a little to see him at least looking like he was in better spirits.

"Here you go Tim. Forty three dollars." He handed Tim the money. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? You never know. It could be a little more when the night's over with."

Tim looked at Brian and just smiled. "Nah man. We're pooped." He put the cash in his wallet and led Brian through the door. It was getting colder at night and this particular evening was a little windy. Neither of them had thought ahead and brought a jacket because it was so hot during the day. Brian couldn't really feel the cold though being as slushed as he was.

"So did you wind up having a good time?" Tim asked, making small talk as they walked to his car in the adjacent pay parking space.

"I did indeed." He slurred. "I want you." Brian drunkenly hugged Tim in mid stride and held on as they walked.

"Then you shall have me." Tim pulled Brian off of him and held onto his hand as if he were guiding a child across the street.

"Tim?" Brian asked.

"Yes?" Tim never took his eyes off the sidewalk.

"What do they say about me?"

"Nothing really. Some people are just taken back by your eccentricities." They were getting close to the parking lot. The wind whipped through their hair and they both covered their faces from flying debris and dirt.

"So they think I'm weird? Is that why no one talks to me anymore?" Brian could not contain his excitement anymore and begun to tear up in his eyes. Getting drunk never helped him when he was depressed like this.

"I don't think they think you're weird per say. I just think people need some time to adjust to how you work."

"Do they like my music?"

"Yeah they do. You wouldn't get shows if no one liked you. You should get back together with Fizz and play another show. Then I'll be the one coming to your show instead of you always going to mine."

"Oh man, I hate Fizz." Brian was getting better at keeping steady. Tim felt he was OK enough to walk on his own and let go of his hand.

"Just give him a call. You never know until you ask." Tim reached his car before Brian did and unlocked his side of the door. He got in and undid the lock for Brian. It took him a second but he got in successfully and put on his seat belt.

"I think you're going to have a hangover tomorrow Brian." Tim put the keys in the ignition and started the car.

"I think you're right." Brian laughed. "I hate those. I can feel my head hurting already!" He put his right hand over his right eye and applied pressure to it. Even when he's sober he's been having a lot of these types of headaches. When he breathed in through his nose he could feel the air wisp against his right eye ball. Sometimes he'd cry on purpose to relieve the pressure but he wasn't about to do that in front of Tim. Many of his past relationships had been ruined by him crying in front of his potential suitors and it never turned out well.

Fucking crybaby.

The headache was minor now but he could tell it wasn't going to stay that way.

"Do you need something when we get to my place?" Tim asked absently as he pulled out of the small parking area.

"Do you have any Vicoden or codeine pain killers?" Brian asked, desperate for an opiate to kill what was coming.

"I actually have a few Demerol pills that I was saving for a rainy day, but I suppose we could take some and watch a movie." Tim didn't like using up his supply but he saw potential in it. He could easily have sex with Brian without hurting him if he was doped up. After all that's what Brian wanted to do anyways, he was always offering himself up to him like a piece of pork loin on sale. You can't rape the willing, he thought with a smile.

Still, he felt bad for him. Something was wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it. Over the past three weeks he's slowly become a different person altogether. He's talking less and asking for him to talk more, which is nice because no one in this town listens to one another but it was still something he hadn't gotten used to. Brian would talk about all the things he had lined up and what he was feeling and those conversations were slowly drying up. All they did anymore was watch movies, cuddle, eat, and have sex. Brian always insisted that Tim be the one who penetrated, which was fine with him if that was what he wanted. But something was different.

Maybe he was being thick headed about it.

Maybe he was wrong about it.

Maybe he was imagining all of it. After all he's only known the guy for less than a month.

They drove in silence during the short trip back up to Tim's place on Capitol Hill.

Tim unlocked the door to his tiny studio apartment and used his right foot to take the left foot's shoe off. Brian stood behind him, checking his phone for text messages. As he thought initially, no one had texted him. He had tried to contact Paul earlier about the possibility of going with him to his father's for Thanksgiving but he either hadn't had time to answer him or he was ignoring him. He's been pretty sore ever since Brian took those pills.

Once Tim's shoes were off he walked over to his fridge and took out a hand full of Oreos. Brian put his phone back into his pocket and came through the door. He slowly and deliberately untied his shoes and laid them neatly next to the wall by the door. He could smell the stink of his socks and hoped that it didn't get as far as Tim's nose.

Tim plopped down on his futon and grabbed the TV remote off the low glass coffee table and turned it on to the History Channel. Some show about the pyramids was on and he laid the remote back on the table. He put his feet up on the table and put his arms behind his head.

Brian stood at the door as if waiting for permission to make his next move.

"What are you waiting for?" Tim snorted, not taking his eyes off of the TV. Brian snapped out of his trance, closed the door behind him, and walked toward the couch where he sat down next to his beau. He scooted close and laid his head on Tim's chest. He could feel Tim's body expand and contract with each breath. He didn't know why but he began to wonder about what would happen if his body happened to forget how to breathe. He obsessed over this for a few minutes until Tim put his right arm around him. He kissed him on the side of his head.

"Is this show alright with you hun?" Tim asked, as if Brian had a choice in the matter.

"It's fine. Not much to watch at this time at night." Brian rubbed Tim's stomach over his International Noise Conspiracy t-shirt. He felt for his abs but his stomach was bent and all he could feel was folded skin. "What movies of yours have we not watched yet?"

"Hmm..." Tim got up and went to his DVD collection below the table where the 32" flat screen TV sat. It was a low table so he had to kneel to reach into his milk crate full of unsorted DVD's. He looked through what they'd already watched and realized that they were running out of options. With Brian coming over almost every other night he was only left with about ten DVD's to choose from.

"I'm in the mood for something sad." Brian said.

"Why would you want something sad? You already seem bummed as it is." Tim said with a touch of resentment as he plundered through his disc boxes.

"Misery loves company". Brian said in a small, apologetic voice.

Tim held two boxes up for Brian to choose from. One was Interview With A Vampire and the other was Fight Club.

"Fight Club." Brian answered. "Edward Norton is a little hottie."

"Edward Norton is indeed handsome in that dorky sort of way."

"He's not dorky!" Brian said in mock offense. "He's all man!"

"I could take him." Tim looked back at Brian and smiled. He put the movie in and took the DVD remote from the TV table that sat low to the ground. He sat on Brian's lap and Brian let out a cry of pain as the big man crushed him from the waste down. He began beating on Tim to get off but Tim just laughed and rubbed his bottom deeply into Brian's crotch. Brian began laughing while he was trying to catch his breath.

"This is comfortable I must say." Tim pushed the play button on the remote and held out his arms and placed his hands on either side of the ends of the couch. Brian screamed for mercy but Tim just laughed.

"Come on man! You're like two hundred pounds!" Brian cried, his legs were bound to snap like twigs at any moment.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Tim joked. He finally let up the joke and took his weight off of Brian. Brian immediately doubled over and tried to catch his breath. Tim sat next to him and patted him on the back. When he was able to breathe again, Brian punched Tim in the side of his arm.

"Ouch! That hurt you little shit!" Tim laughed.

"You fucker!" Brian wrapped his arms around Tim's neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Tim's head turned toward him and he kissed him on the lips. He did it again. This time his hand slowly went for Brian's head and held it steady as he licked his lips. His tongue went from Brian's chin up to the tip of his nose. Brian looked down then he put his hands on Tim's face and kissed him for a good minute. Then Tim's tongue came into the equation and Brian could taste the beer on his breath from earlier that night.

Tim's greedy hands felt for Brian's belt and finally found what it was looking for. He undid his belt with just one hand and reached into his pants for the prize. Brian didn't exactly want to go there so he pushed his hand away. Tim looked at him with disbelief but Brian kissed him again.

"Let me." Brian undid Tim's belt and unzipped his pants. Tim was already hard when he pulled it out of his pants and put his erection in his mouth.

Tim wanted to return the favor but he waited in silence while Brian went to work on him. After a few minutes he felt himself get near climax and he warned Brian that he was about to cum. Brian didn't respond but true to Tim's word, he came in his mouth. Brian milked it for a few seconds to get it all out and got up and headed for the bathroom.

"Thank you sweetie." Tim always didn't know what to say after someone did that. What could you really say that would be appropriate? Anything you say for like ten minutes after the act would just come out weird and he really wished he had just sat there and said nothing.

Brian spit Tim's stuff into the toilet and pulled some tissue from the roll. He wiped his tongue clean and threw that into the toilet. He searched Tim's cabinet for some mouthwash and found some Scope. He swished it for a few seconds and in the toilet it also went. He peered down at the contents of the bowl and felt slightly disgusted with himself as he flushed the toilet.

When he walked back out into the room his own erection subsided a little and he no longer had to tuck it between his legs, which made him walk funny when he did.

He sat down next to Tim and put his arms around his big buddy. Tim sighed and held onto him in response.

"Why won't you let me do anything for you?" Tim asked. The movie had started and was currently at the scene where Edward Norton was detailing the contents of his apartment.

"You don't have to." Brian dug his head in between Tim's arm pit.

"What if I like doing it too?" Tim asked. "What if I like being the bottom some times? I want you to feel good too. This isn't a one way street you know."

"I know. You just don't have too." Brian said quietly. He caressed Tim's hairy arm for a few moments before looking back to the TV.

Tim's hand went for Brian's belt but he protested. Tim, frustrated pushed Brian's hands away and unzipped him. Brian kept repeating that he didn't have to but Tim didn't want to hear it.

"What? Are you afraid you'll enjoy it? Are you afraid that you may get off for once?" Tim said, disgust in his voice as he forcibly pulled off his pants and boxers.

Brian tried not to get an erection when Tim put his flaccid penis in his mouth but it was no use. It felt good. Really good. Brian didn't want to cum in his mouth. The idea disgusted him. He was so used to giving and receiving really took his brain for a loop. He just didn't like it.

He's raping you Brian. You deserve it you little shit.

"I just don't feel right letting you do this!" He said with gusto but Tim kept going. Brian sat there watching his head go up and down to a steady rhythm. In less than a minute he could feel himself getting close. Not only was he getting head but he was going to come too fast. He tried to hold it back but it was no use. He moaned involuntarily and his whole body shivered as he shot his load.

Tim's head stayed where it was for a few seconds. Brian wondered why Tim wasn't going to the bathroom to spit it out.

"Where'd it go?" Brian asked in honest confusion.

Tim wiped his mouth with his left hand. "I swallowed it."

This made Brian cringe in horror and Tim slapped his lap with a loud thuck in frustration.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Tim screamed. His arms went up and his hands were clenched in fists.

"I just... You didn't have to!" Brian pulled his pants and boxers back on and stood up. He went toward the corner of the room and just stood there, not looking at Tim.

"But I did! And you know what? I liked it! And I would like to do it again! Goddamn what is your problem!" Tim got up and stomped on the hardwood floor. His voice was near hysterical and he ran over to Brian and grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to face him. When he did he saw that Brian was crying and his face was very red. His eyes were blood shot and snot was dripping from his nose. This scared Tim. He had never seen Brian like this before.

"You didn't have to!" Brian cried as he shivered.

Not knowing what to do or say, he said the first thing that came to him. "Listen, man." Tim shhhed at Brian, trying to calm him down. "Listen I'm sorry. I didn't know it meant that much to you. I didn't mean to do anything you didn't want me to. Are you OK? Talk to me Brian!" He embraced Brian and held onto him for a good minute before he let go and looked into Brian's eyes.

"I'm sorry." Tim couldn't hold eye contact with Brian. "What happened to you that made you like this?"

Brian's tears just wouldn't stop flowing down his red cheeks. "You'd just laugh."

"I promise I won't laugh. I would never laugh at anyone's pain." Tim led a very fragile Brian back over to the futon. He sat him down and went to the bathroom for some toilet paper to be used as tissue. He came back and dabbed Brian's eyes and gave him a wad of toilet paper. "Tell me."

"I..." Brian couldn't bring himself to say it. "I..."

"Have... Have you been forced to have sex before?" Tim asked. Brian responded to this by wailing with sobs. Tim understood at once and held onto him. He thought about the Demerol pills he had and got up to get them. He could hear Brian's sobs subsiding as he entered his bathroom, which made him feel better. He took the prescription bottle from the mirrored cabinet. He had gotten them from his mother's bout with breast cancer and she had been very generous in sharing with him. He took out two pills and swallowed them dry then got two more pills and held them in one hand. With the other he poured some water into his red plastic bathroom cup and drank a little to get the pills down. He refilled it and walked out to the living area and offered the pills to Brian.

"Take these. They'll help your hang over." Tim held out his hand and Brian cautiously took the pills and placed them in his mouth. He took the plastic bathroom cup of water and drank it all down.

As Tim watched Brian take the pain pills he secretly hoped that it would ease Brian's mental anguish. He couldn't bear to see him in this state and it was all he knew that would surely make the pain a little more bearable. He couldn't imagine going through what he believed Brian went through. He wanted so badly to feel empathy for him but he just couldn't muster himself to feel for the man tonight. He had basically ruined the mood of the night, not that he was complaining, he got a blow job out of it at least.

The possible scene of what may have happened played in Tim's head over and over but each time he over took his attackers, he couldn't quit bring himself to be in the victim's mindset. He's always been able to fight people off. But looking at Brian made him wonder how his life would have been if he'd been a smaller guy.

Would he have been able to ward off all the homophobes in his school?

Would all those fights he's had have had a different outcome if he wasn't a good head taller than his opponent? He'd like to think not. After all, it's about skill, not size.

Right?

"That's good. You'll feel better in a few minutes I promise." Tim took the cup back to the bathroom and came back to his friend.

"Are you hot?" Tim asked as he took off his shirt and pants. "I'm hot." It was an in joke between them because Brian would constantly tell him how good looking he was. It was a futile attempt at cheering him up and it actually brought a small chuckle. Brian was hot too and he contemplated whether or not to take his clothes off as well.

Tim's hands took Brian's shirt by the bottom and asked if this was cool. Brian nodded and Tim peeled off his sweaty shirt. Then he got up and undid his belt and unzipped him for the second time that night. Then he pulled off his pants and lobbed them into the corner next to the TV. They both sat on the couch in their underwear but neither of them were aroused by the scenario.

Tim wanted to make him feel a little more at ease and took off his underwear and pulled Brian closer to him. Within ten minutes they both could feel the effects of the pills they just took and a wonderful, loving warmth came over them. Just touching one another felt orgasmic.

Brian was stoned and sweating. He took off his underwear and dropped it by the foot of the couch. Now they both sat there naked watching Brad Pitt and Edward Norton go at it in the basement of a bar.

"I'm sorry." Brian's words slurred slightly.

"You don't have to be." Tim kissed his head and held him tighter. "I just wish you would of told me sooner. I thought you were, well to tell you the truth I didn't know what to think."

"I just don't like to be touched sexually." Brian took a deep breath. "I mean, I don't like down there to be touched. I don't mind it when you do me. I just don't like using my thing."

"Wow. I couldn't live with myself if I couldn't work my dick." In another conversation this comment would of come off as a bad joke but Tim said it with great empathy. "Do you ever jack off at least?"

"Yeah. Not often though." Brian dug his head into Tim's side and tried to breath steady.

"It's OK honey. I won't do it again." Secretly this was fine with him, although it does get a little monotonous being the man of the relationship.

Brian felt bad that and tried to lift his spirit. "I will say that that was the best blow job I've ever had."

Tim looked him in the eyes and smiled crookedly. "Yeah, I've been told I know how to work it."

"You sure do." Brian played with Tim's penis but seeing as they were both stoned out of their minds on opiates they had a very large case of narcotic dick. You just can't feel it or get it up when you take stuff like Demerol, Vicoden, or Morphine.

Well some people could, just not these two.

Tim returned the favor by rolling Brian's little champion between the fingers of his right hand absentmindedly as they watched the movie.

"You want to tell me what happened to make you so broken?" Tim's head fell to the side and propped against Brian's head.

Brian didn't respond, he just held on tighter to his boyfriend.

Was it possible to live like this all the time with the person you loved? Or did it end when the junk wore off? He never wanted this feeling to go away. This euphoric feeling. The only happiness he had felt in recent memory. This drug induced happiness.

I wish I could be like this all day, every day.

Brian wondered why he hadn't used heroin more often. It was basically the same thing only stronger.

Tim let go of Brian's penis and put his arm around him. They sat watching the movie until Brian fell asleep in his arms.

When the movie was over Tim pulled Brian to the side and got up to turn off the TV and Blu Ray player. He came back to the futon and tried to stir Brian awake but his efforts were met with mumbles and grunts. Tim put one arm under his chest and the other under his buttocks and lifted Brian from the small futon. It surprised him a little because he didn't feel like he weighed as much as he said he did.

Tim gently transported Brian over to his bed and laid him on the side nearest the wall. Looking at him lying on his bed naked turned him on a little bit. He still couldn't feel much down there but he was getting a little hard. Knowing it would probably take forever he figured Brian wouldn't mind much if he did anything to him. He IS his boyfriend after all and he is passed out on pain pills. It wouldn't hurt him to do it.

Tim begun pushing Brian from side to side to try and wake him. When Brian finally opened his eyes Tim asked him if he could sleep with him. Brian was stoned for sure but he was still pretty conscious of his surroundings. He extended his arms for Tim to lay with him but Tim misunderstood and walked away and went into the bathroom for some water based lube.

Brian could only watch as he did this. He knew he was too out of it to fight back and it was too much like the last time for him to bear. He began to cry but didn't want Tim to feel bad about anything. So he turned his head to the other side and wiped off the tears and dried his face with a pillow.

It's always about making the other person happy.

Tim came back and Brian could feel him lather up his anus with the lube. Surprisingly enough he could feel this very vividly. Brian closed his eyes and got ready to embrace his well endowed boyfriend.

It's always about making the other person happy...

Tim hesitantly gave Brian six Demerol pills to take with him. He wrapped them up in tin foil and placed them in a roomy pocket in his messenger bag.

They had both dressed and were sitting on the futon, both in a post narcotic haze. Brian wanted to take some more but Tim advised against it. Brian didn't want to tell him that he really wanted them because of the pain he still had from last night. That would hurt his feelings though, to know he caused his friend pain. So he kept it to himself and took two Tylenols.

There was less than six days now to Thanksgiving and Brian had to decide on what to do. He could go with Tim and possibly have a good (albeit awkward) time with his folks or he could go home to his father's place and fulfill family obligations.

The latter caused great distress with Brian because of how his father had handled the situation where he found out his son was gay. That coupled with the years of mental abuse just didn't paint a pretty picture of a close knit family portrait. But there was still a small part of him that felt like he should honor his family. As fucked up as they were they were still his family.

Mother would be too drunk to stand.

Father would be in denial and try to talk to him about sports and girls.

His little brother would be with his girlfriend who is now five months pregnant. Father couldn't be happier for him. Mother probably would be if she wasn't so wasted.

Thinking about all this made Brian hug Tim so tight that he actually couldn't catch his breath.

"What was that for?" Tim laughed as he peeled Brian off of his lanky body.

"Just thinking about what to do with Thanksgiving. I'm really in a bind." Brian confessed.

"How so?" Tim begun playing with Brian's hair.

"I want to go with you but I feel like I have to go see my folks."

"How about..." Tim made an exaggerated gesture of contemplation by rubbing his thumb and forefinger on his chin. "How about we go see your folks first then we run up to Boulder to see mine?"

"I don't know. Let me make a call to them later and I'll let you know." Brian actually liked this idea. Only one problem though, it would mean that he would have to come over with Tim. He didn't know how his parents and brother would take it. And if his older step brother was there with his niece he'd never hear the end of it. How he ruined Thanksgiving by bringing a man to the festivities.

You can always over dose with a noose around your neck.

"I'm not sure I want you to meet my family actually." Brian said without thinking.

"Why?" Tim asked.

"It's just... I'm afraid they'll make you and I feel really bad about being together. My family may even run you off. I don't want you to feel bad when it could have been avoided."

Tim laughed. "If I couldn't take the abuse I would of never come out in the first place. You're making too big of a deal with it."

"You sure?"

"I'm fucking positive." Tim ran his hand through Brian's hair again. This was something that was beginning to become somewhat of a habit with him.

Brian sighed and took out his Droid cell phone. He didn't want to talk directly to his dad but he texted him with the question of whether or not he could bring a friend.

"It's in God's hands now..." Brian said with a soft whimper.

Homosexuality in the Bible

1 Timothy - 1:10 For whoremongers, for them that defile themselves with mankind, for menstealers, for liars, for perjured persons, and if there be any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine;

1 Corinthians - 6:9 Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

1 Corinthians - 6:15 Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ and make them members of a harlot? Certainly not!

1 Corinthians - 6:16 Or do you not know that he who is joined to a harlot is one body with her? For "the two," He says, "shall become one flesh."

1 Corinthians - 6:17 But he who is joined to the Lord is one spirit with Him.

1 Corinthians - 6:18 Flee sexual immorality. Every sin that a man does is outside the body, but he who commits sexual immorality sins against his own body.

1 Corinthians - 6:19 Or do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own?

1 Corinthians - 6:20 For you were bought at a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God's.

Leviticus - 18:22 Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.

Leviticus - 20:13 If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.

Jude - 7 Even as Sodom and Gomorrha, and the cities about them in like manner, giving themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.

Jude - 8 Likewise also these filthy dreamers defile the flesh, despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities.

Joel - 3:3 And they have cast lots for my people; and have given a boy for an harlot, and sold a girl for wine, that they might drink.

Chapter 16: Thanksgiving Day blues.

So it was decided that they'd break the day in two. The first part of the day would be spent with Brian's family and the second would be with Tim's. Paul had offered to let Brian go with him again this year to his family outing but for the first time ever Brian had the opportunity to be with someone he could call his boyfriend. Not just a friend but someone who was both with him and for him.

Paul was an amazing guy and Brian loved him dearly but whenever it felt like they were getting close Paul's defenses would come up and he would be even more heterosexual than he was to begin with. Why was it that whenever a man felt like his masculinity was being threatened he would put on a macho façade and play it like he was God's gift to women? Brian couldn't understand why someone would have to play a part to make themselves feel better.

You could still hug another guy and not be gay? Maybe it was just his own weird sense of masculinity, although even thinking about that word gave Brian chills. He didn't think of himself as a man.

A real man was big and strong and could defend himself.

A real man got what he wanted and was dominate.

A real man was straight.

Although he viewed Tim as a real man., it least physically he was. It was like he had the body of a pro athlete but the mind of a fairy. A very horny fairy but a still a fairy non the less. Brian hated himself for thinking that he was defected because of his size and sexuality. He honestly viewed other homosexuals as being who they rightfully were. Why was it so hard for him to come to terms with himself yet he was happy with who everyone else was?

These questions clouded his thoughts as Tim was driving him to Wheat Ridge Colorado. They were on I-70 and going fairly slow considering the holiday congestion on the highway.

Brian sat and stared out the window. It was cloudy and cold today and he felt oddly at peace in the gloom. It had threatened to snow a little but all they'd gotten so far was a few minor flurries.

Tim could tell Brian wasn't feeling too good about the trip and he put his hand over Brian's left knee.

"Things will be alright. Just you see!" Tim encouraged.

Brian remembered the text he had gotten back from his dad about the possibility of Tim coming over. He had just said "sure".

At least he could count on his mother not contributing much to the anxiety. With any luck she'd be in her bedroom passed out by eleven.

He could just hear it now though... His father would be all over his brother for being such a man and giving him a grandbaby. His stepson and Brian's step brother would be there leeching off them for the food and the possibility at getting a few dollars from his dad in the process. His niece would be in the corner complaining about how there was nothing to do around the area.

Brian liked his niece. At least he hoped he still did. She always had been so nice and supportive of him but lately from what he heard she was becoming more and more like his bigger step brother's new girlfriend, testy and combative. He just hoped that she would still be the sweet cartoon loving little girl she was when he last saw her two years ago.

As they pulled into Kipling from the highway Brian could feel all his muscles tensing up and he began to breathe heavily. Tim could see that Brian wasn't doing too well and instructed him to do his relaxation breathing.

Tim had become more interested in his mental health since he had let on that he wasn't all roses a few nights ago and had inquired more about what he could do to help. His interest felt more academic than personal though. While he had had some thoughts about maybe their relationship was becoming strained he also hoped that things like this could be worked through.

Brian did his breathing and counted backwards from one hundred. When that didn't help at all he reached into the back seat and grabbed his messenger bag.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked.

"I'm going to take a pill. I can't handle this!" Brian said loudly as he plundered through his black messenger bag.

Tim bit his lip and cringed. "That's a waste of those things man. I mean, is this really going to be that bad for you? I think you're over reacting just a bit!"

Brian took out two of the six pills he had and swallowed them dry. Then he wrapped the rest up back in the tin foil and put them back into his bag. He then threw his bag back into the back seat and braced himself as they drove into the entrance of Julius Square Apartments. The pills weren't working fast enough for Brian but he held on hope that they'd at least show some effect before they got to the main entrance to the complex.

Tim found a parking spot near the dumpster and parked his VW. As they were unbuckling their safety belts Brian grabbed Tim by his wrist.

"Can we just wait a few minutes please?" Brian pleaded.

"Oh come on!" Tim said in exasperation. "We're here. So let's go!" He got out of his side and walked over to Brian's door and opened it for him. He begrudgingly got out and led Tim into the third building in front of them.

As they came into the entrance Brian could smell the familiar tinge of pesticides and white wall paint that had plagued him most of his first few years in Colorado. They walked down the hallway and up to apartment four, Brian stopped for a moment. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and a purple tie. His pants were pressed black trousers and he had on his nice black dress shoes that he normally saved for the days he had to dress up for special events such as weddings and funerals, that is if he ever had any friends who actually did that sort of thing.

Funerals... Brian couldn't even begin to imagine what his would be like. He was thinking about nothing but putting a gun to his head at this moment in time.

Brian straightened Tim's suit jacket and evened out his tie. He was also dressed to impress with his three piece suit.

Tim returned the favor by evening out Brian's tie, which he had objected to at first when he suggested he wear it, but it actually worked with his dress shirt.

With a long breath and a few moments of delay Brian got up the courage to knock on the door.

No one answered. Brian looked at his phone and saw that it was almost ten thirty in the morning. He could hear the TV through the door so he knocked again.

"Wait a cotton pick'n minute!" The familiar and scary voice from his childhood boomed and vibrated through the wooden door. Brian took a big gulp of air. Tim wrapped his arm around Brian's shoulders but before the door opened he quickly shrugged it off.

His father answered the door in his tight white underwear, showing off his enormous hairy belly. "Hello." He had a beer in his hand and took a long swig from it as he looked at the two men before him.

"Looks like we over dressed." Tim laughed. He extended his hand. "My name is Tim. Happy to make your acquaintance."

"Uh huh." Brian's father mumbled and walked back to the couch. Brian led Tim through the door and closed it, making sure to lock it as he did so. Inside he could see his mother and father on the couch drinking beers and eating pumpkin pie on white paper plates . Next to the couch was a big blue leather recliner that held Brian's little brother, who had seemingly grew over night, sitting with a big plate of turkey and stuffing in his lap.

Sitting on the floor were his niece and his brother's girlfriend, who was very pregnant indeed.

"Where's Aaron?" Brian asked, Aaron was his bigger step brother.

Without taking his eyes off the TV screen his father replied. "He's at Target looking at the video games."

Brian looked at his younger brother and laughed. "Fred why aren't you with him?"

Fred looked at him with a face full of disgust and replied "Because I don't have any money. I have a baby on the way remember?"

"OK." Brian said silently almost to himself, he didn't know where they could sit but Tim seemed to take his niece's lead and sat on the floor next to the low coffee table on the side nearest the Plexiglas patio door. Brian walked pasted his niece and Fred's girlfriend and sat a few feet from him. Making sure not to make contact with him in the vicinity of his family's judging eyes.

Brian's niece scooted closer to Tim, looking him up and down she introduced herself. "My name is Cindy." She smiled. She was in the middle of eating her own pile of turkey on her plate, which was all she had gotten.

Tim smiled. "It's very nice to meet you young lady." She smiled and Tim felt for a moment like he was able to finally integrate into the dynamic a little.

"So I hear that you're pregnant." Tim said to Fred's girlfriend. "Congratulations!" Tim extended his long arm to have his hand shook but she did no reciprocate. She looked at him like a deer lost in a headlight and Fred was the one to reply to the statement.

"Her name is Stephanie. Stephanie shake his hand!"

Tim wasn't sure whether to withdraw or not but she obeyed her beau and meekly shook Tim's big hand. Tim marveled at how small she was compared to him and could just imagine what Fred must see in dominating such a little girl. He almost felt bad for her but supposed that it must just be the way they've worked out the axis of power in their relationship.

"There's food in the kitchen." Brian's mother slurred, already drunk at this time in the morning.

"I'm good." Tim said. "We're actually going to my folks place after this."

"What? You'd eat from them but you wont from us?" She challenged.

"No mom." Brian got up and walked to the kitchen on the other side of the room. In big pots and pans were an assorted array of sides and meats. There was a big dry looking turkey that looked as if it had already been picked half clean, a mostly used up baked ham, tons of mashed potatoes that for some reason were still mostly there. There were few vegetables left but Brian picked what he could to make two little plates of food for him and Tim.

He got some plastic forks and brought them over to Tim and they sat in silence picking at their plates while the football game raged on the obscenely huge flat screen.

Tim, ever the diplomat introduced himself to the group. "My name is Tim. I met Brian at one of my shows." He smiled and waited for a reply.

Brian's father took the bait first. "I'm Ronald. Nice to meet you." He sounded like he was talking to a cashier that had short changed him. "Yeah, Brian plays the guitar real good. What do you play?"

"Oh I play the cello sir." Tim offered.

"Why don't you play the guitar too?" Fred asked. His mouth still full of turkey.

"Well my parents wanted me to play either a stringed instrument or the piano. I wound up learning the piano anyways but I chose to learn the cello because I felt like its sound was close to the human voice. It just drew me in because it's so versatile."

"Uh huh." Ronald mumbled, looking at Tim like he was from another planet.

"Brian plays his guitar good but he needs to play some metal." Fred said.

"I like what I play." Brian defended himself. He was feeling better because he could feel the pills kicking in. He knew that this would happen. They were already starting to attack him. He was just glad that he was growing numb to it all.

"I think Brian is pretty cool." Cindy said absently.

"I like what you play too. Did you know that Brian has played the Bluebird Theater?" Tim gloated.

"What's that?" Brian's mother asked as she took another long sip of her beer.

"It's a pretty big venue. It holds about five hundred people." Tim patted Brian on the back. Brian immediately shot him a look of disgust. Tim wasn't sure what it was he just did wrong.

"Well Korn plays the Pepsi Center." Fred countered.

"Well who knows? Maybe Brian will play there someday." Tim said.

There is no God. When I die it will be peaceful, nothing, blackness.

"I remember seeing Willie Nelson at Red Rocks. Have you ever played there son?" Ronald asked.

"Not yet. But I may next year if I can get on the Monolith Festival." Brian's head was low and he did not want to look anyone in the eye. He just continued eating what he could even though he had lost his appetite.

"What's Monolith?" Ronald asked.

"It's a festival that mixes local bands with bigger acts. It takes place at Red Rocks every year." Tim took the first bite of turkey from his plate. He wasn't expecting it to be so dry and it caught in his throat. He longed for a drink of water.

"So it's just local bands huh? What is it like a pity party where they let people get on stage and feel important?" Fred said as he got up to get himself a beer from the refrigerator. Stephanie and Ronald chuckled at this but it left Brian's mother in confusion.

"What is Red Rocks?" She asked. She took a final sip of her beer and asked Fred from across the room if he could get her another.

"Mom it's a big concert hall out in Morrison. The Beatles played there." Brian said without taking his attention off his mashed potatoes.

"I remember the Beatles!" Brian's mother's face began to light up. "I remember them being big when I was a girl. They were so hot!"

"Mom!" Fred warned. He opened her can and gave it to her and sat back down in the recliner.

"So what is your name?" Tim asked Brian's mother.

She took a few long sips of her beer and put it down. "My name is Victoria. My maiden name is Schlobert."

"Nice to meet you Victoria." Tim extended his hand but saw at once that Ronald was staring at him with angry blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you too." Victoria lit a cigarette and took another long gulp from her Coors.

Tim retracted his hand and began to feel the energy of the room steadily grow colder. An awkward silence was inevitable at this point and lasted for a good ten minutes or so. Brian studied his plate of food like he had to break it's code or something. Tim looked around uncomfortably and noticed that everyone would occasionally look at him as if they were seizing him up as to whether or not he belonged there.

Ronald turned the TV up a little louder and the Thanksgiving day football game filled the living room with the frantic announcements of the two game commentators. Whenever the commercials would come on it would always be just a little bit louder than the main program yet Brian's father made no attempt to turn it down.

A knock on the door broke the monotony and when no one made an offer to get it Fred took it upon himself to go see who it was.

When he opened the door Aaron came walking in with his arms spread wide and greeted Fred with a hug.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!" Aaron said to everyone in general.

"What did you get?" Fred asked with great curiosity.

"I got that new World War 3 game that just came out!" Aaron proclaimed proudly.

"Where is it?" Fred asked.

"Well dude it's in the car."

"OK. The food is ready." Fred pointed toward the kitchen.

"Cool." Aaron went in and fixed himself a plate. Upon returning to the living room he made a motion for Ronald and Victoria to scoot over to give him room to sit on the couch. He immediately dug into his food, eating the turkey slices with his bare hands was among the many horrid table manners he was exhibiting.

When he had a break in between bites he looked over at Tim and made a small laughing sound in his throat.

"Who are you?" Aaron asked as he took in another slice of ham from his plate.

"My name is Tim. You're Aaron right?" Tim smiled and extended his hand for the umpteenth time in hopes someone would reciprocate. Once again he was met with a rueful stare and Aaron's eyes went back to his plate.

Brian reached for Tim's arm and pulled it back. Ronald and Fred noticed this gesture and immediately butted in.

"Don't touch another man in this house!" Ronald yelled.

"I wasn't doing anything. I was just... I didn't mean anything by it!" Brian defended his action.

"I know you're a fagot and all but please don't fucking do it in this house!" Ronald put his plate down on the coffee table and rose to his feet.

Fred followed suit and also rose after placing his dish on the table. "Why did you bring him here Brian? Are you trying to show us how gay you are or something!?"

Brian's face flushed with embarrassment and Tim's face grew red with anger.

"We're here as friends..." Brian said meekly. "I needed a ride didn't I? Why is it bad if I brought a friend? I can have friends too!"

"We all know what this is!" Fred shouted. "This is all about you trying to cause a stir between us all! And it's not going to work!"

"Shut up Fred, and sit down!" Ronald ordered. He then turned his attention to Brian and Tim. "I want this man out of this house right now! You are not to see him ever again!"

"You can't tell me who I can and cannot see!" Brian's voice rose for the first time since getting there.

"I brought you into this world and I can sure as hell take you out of it" Ronald went for the belt on his pants that were on the floor next to the couch. He pulled it out and curled it like a whip. "I want this man out of this house right now and you are going to listen to what I say boy!"

Brian could feel himself getting to the point of near tears and tried to say something but he just couldn't get the words out of his throat without croaking."I..." Brian tried to say something.

Cindy put her hands over her face and began to cry. Brian looked at her and hoped this all would resolve itself before things really got out of hand. He started to breathe faster and faster and seemed to have a hard time controlling himself. His eyes were already beginning to well up.

Brian was in the woods on the snowy mountain top in Boulder, it was way too cold to be wearing the light hoodie he had on. Aaron was out of breath not even twenty yards from him. The whiteness of it all was simply breathtaking. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"YOU DON'T ZONE OUT ON ME BOY!" Ronald said, almost screaming at this point. Brian's trance was broken and he tried to recreate the scene with his eyes open to no avail. There was simply too much unwanted stimuli in the room to get back to where he was going.

Tim could see that Brian was about to freak out and he decided to take control of the situation. He grabbed Brian by the face and stuck his tongue deep into his mouth. Everyone around was too shocked to say anything for the few moments Tim violently Frenched Brian. Once he was done with his display he rose up and grabbed Brian by the arm and brought him to his feet. Brian was too stunned to do or say anything but blindly obey the directions given to him.

Tim led Brian across the room and halfway to the door Ronald confronted him and blocked his way.

"Where are you taking my boy? I could call the police right now and take your queer ass to jail for kidnapping!" Ronald threatened.

Tim rose to his full height and towered a good few inches over Brian's father in a display of aggression. He poked Ronald in the chest and said "Sir if you don't get out of my way I will choke you with your own belt!"

Ronald's face grew red with anger and he made a fist and suspended it in the air as if he were about to strike him. Tim stood there and waited for the blow to ignite the fight but it never came.

"I thought as much. You sir have an amazing son that you do not give any credit to. Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused him by being a dumb ass bigot redneck?! Now get out of my way before I throw you out of it!" Tim pushed Ronald to the side and led Brian to the door.

Ronald grabbed Brian by the arm. "Son if you walk away from us today you can believe that you won't be coming back!"

Tim pulled Brian from his grip and snarled at the man.

Brian's tears finally begun to flow as Tim opened the door. As he left the room Brian turned around and screamed "I HATE YOU ALL!!!" and ran passed Tim down the hall and toward the exit that led into the parking lot. Tim caught up with him in halfway to the car and grabbed him by the arms. He turned him around and shook him violently.

"It's OK!" Tim shouted as he handled Brian. "It's going to be OK! Just fuck them you know?"

Brian's eyes were red and swollen with tears and he could not speak. He looked into Tim's dark green eyes for almost a minute and then buried his face into his chest and let out a long and pained wail. Tim was at a loss of what to do. He'd never really been through something like that involving someone else's family. Let alone dealing with another guy being so upset before. He wanted nothing more than to slap Brian across the face and tell him to man up, but he knew better.

He let Brian cry for a little while longer before gently pushing him away. Brian apologized for his family and all Tim could think of saying at the moment was that it would all be fine. They walked to the car and Tim got in first. He unlocked Brian's side door and let him in.

Once inside Brian went for his bag and Tim had a feeling about what he was looking for. If he'd been honest with him then he only had four pills left. He didn't really want to deal with Brian's emotions today so he let it slide. He did however tell him that if he was going to take them again so soon then just take one. Brian did not answer but he put something in his mouth and swallowed, presumably the pill(s).

Tim felt bad for the man he's been sleeping with for a month but at the same time he seemed to have an awful lot of baggage and he wasn't certain whether or not he could really continue taking on a relationship with him. Not wanting to let his feelings leak to the surface he put on a happy façade and smiled at Brian, not saying a word.

Brian leaned over and wrapped his arms around Tim. "Thank you for being there for me. You have no idea how much it means to me." Brian's voice was subdued but full of sincerity. Tim couldn't help but smile for real this time. He felt a little more important now that Brian had vocalized his admiration for him. He wondered whether or not he could get a blow job before they left but this too he let pass out of respect for the situation.

Everyone wants to feel important to somebody. This was the first real time that Brian had let him know how special he was to him. It felt good.

Maybe there's some grease still in this machine after all, Tim thought to himself. He returned the hug and told him that he too admired Brian's strength.

When Tim kissed him on the mouth Brian's greedy hands held onto his head and he began kissing deeper into him. Tim's tongue entered Brian's mouth and swept around like a chimney sweeper trying to get the last bit of soot out. Brian liked the way Tim's mouth was so minty fresh and it almost tingled to kiss him.

After a few minutes Brian broke the lock and Tim laid his forehead on top of Brian's scalp. They spent a few more moments just reflecting and figuring out what to do next.

"Are you ready for my family?" Tim asked as he started his car, turning around in his seat to pull out of the parking space.

"Only if they're as awesome as you say they are." Brian replied, wiping his mouth clean of spit with the collar of his dress shirt.

"And then some! Ha!" Tim ruffled Brian's hair and gave him another kiss on the cheek. Brian smiled contently as they drove out of the parking lot. The three pills of Demerol he took had taken full effect and he could feel the warm numbness spring up forth from his stomach into his extremities. As if to test the numbness he chewed on his finger as they headed out onto I-70 going toward the Boulder turnpike.

Tim could tell his friend was nodding out but made no attempt to wake him when he did. He figured he needed to rest after what had just happened. It was also kind of cute to have him speak and just nod out in the middle of a sentence.

While Brian was taking one of his many little cat naps Tim reached over to rub his stomach. To his amazement there was a little less of Brian to touch and Tim couldn't help but feeling like he may be losing some weight. He figured he hasn't really seen him eat lately. Aside from today he's been eating like a bird. He wondered if this was intentional or not.

He wondered if something was wrong beyond the scope of what had just happened. He rubbed his stomach again and let his hand stride upwards toward his chest. He could feel the ribs.

Why hadn't he felt these before?

He's just on a diet or something, he told himself. He's always talking about how fat he is and maybe now he's just taking action to finally do something about it.

Still though, losing a lot of weight in such a short time kind of worried him a little, he figured he'd ask when he woke up. However he wasn't going to force him to wake until he got to his parent's house.

For now he deserved a little rest. He's had a long day already.

Chapter 17: Brian's Diary: It's all too much sometimes.

I don't know if I can take it all much longer. I caved in and took Tim to see my parents and they totally ripped us a new one! I can't believe I was so stupid!

I'm finding it hard to eat or sleep anymore. The only solace I can seem to find is in drugs. I have three pills left and I'm trying to be stingy with them but they are a big temptation. I'm actually thinking about hitting up some homeless people for some heroin again.

I could have a painless suicide. That is if I still want to commit suicide. Oh man I'm so confused right now... I want to overdose with a noose around my neck.

I've never had such a wonderful relationship as I have with Tim. Plus Mike is off my back and Paul is as supportive as ever. I never get to see him anymore because my time is always spent between Tim's legs or at work.

If I would complain about anything it would be about Tim's sexual appetite. I'm not sure I can hold up much longer without getting physically scarred from him. It's hard enough to even walk when he's done with me. But on the other hand he treats me so good that I'm afraid of seeming like an ungrateful fag if I don't let him sleep with me. I could personally go forever without having to get off but he seems to want to do it every time we meet. Are normal guys like that? Do they always want sex so often?

I suppose I'm the one who isn't normal. I remember John always talking about sex when we were still friends. I remember him talking about the first time he'd ever done it with a girl.

Unlike my awkward and hurtful first time he told me how he fucked her so hard that he made her bleed out on his bed sheets. I told him that most virgin girls bleed (Or so I'd read at the time) and he told me that the bigger you are the more they'll bleed. I still hadn't gotten any pubic hair at that point so I was still very ashamed of myself for not growing at the rate he was.

Also it was around this time that my psychiatrist decided that I should go on Zyprexa. This would be the beginning of the end for me. But for the mean time I didn't receive any residual effects. I may have been short and underdeveloped but at least I was still a skinny little thing.

To my surprise the girl John lost it to didn't even wind up dating him. I think we were both around thirteen or fourteen when this all took place. He was already around six foot and I was still a paltry five one, five two. At the time I didn't think anything of my size until John began making fun of me.

Then the day came when my mother took me to the doctor for some tests. I would ask her what was wrong and she would tell me that I'm just due for a checkup. They poked and prodded me for hours on end and finally the doctor came in and told her that I was normal. She then asked him (In front of me no less) why I wasn't growing at all.

The doctor told her that it could be the multitude of medicines that I was taking for my psychiatric symptoms. He then told her that I was indeed short for my age but short people lived normal lives just like anyone else and that I would be fine.

Then it dawned on me that I was in fact different. I asked the doctor if this is why the other kids won't talk to me. He told me that kids could indeed be very cruel and not to worry about it.

Not worry about it? This was me he was talking about! I began to get upset because I knew at that moment that even my mother thought I was weird. I then asked if I could speak with the doctor alone and he said that he could make a few moments for me personally. When he asked my mother if she could leave she made a big stink about how I was going to talk about her behind her back and I told her that I really need to ask a personal question.

She left on the condition that he notice that I have no bruises on me and whatever I may say is probably influenced by the fact that I had yet to get the new Mega Man video game. Her accusations tore the hole in my heart even further than it already had been torn.

Once alone I asked the doctor why I hadn't yet gotten pubic hair. This alarmed him and he asked to see my genitals. I refused but he told me that it would be the only way he could determine if something was wrong. I begrudgingly took off my pants and he put on those white sterile latex gloves that I would grow so accustomed to over the next few years.

I had to look away as he lifted my nut sack and stretched out my penis to measure it. He then told me that he needed to talk to my mother alone. I knew it was something bad and I told him that I wanted to hear it too. He told me that nothing was wrong and that he just needed a few moments with my mother. I cried and told him no but he quietly escorted me out to the chair beside his office door where my mother sat and we exchanged seats. As she rose to go into his office she swore to me that I'd get a butt whooping if I even as much as mentioned any abuse to him.

I promised her in tears that I had not done such a thing and she was led into the doctor's room. I stifled my sniffles enough to where I could be quiet enough to hear what was being talked about in the next room. I placed my ear on the door and listened. From what I could make out he was telling my mother how I am not developing normally and that I could either stop the medications and see if that would work or I could just wait it out and see what happens. She thanked him and I ran back to my seat.

When they came out of the door the doctor asked me if I was too old for a lollipop. I told him I was and left with my mother.

On the car ride home she was telling me that I must be doing something wrong with the way I'm eating or something. I asked her if I could stop taking my meds so I could be like the other boys and she told me that I'd have to ask my other doctor first.

I knew something was wrong with me early on and this just proved it without a fact. I was too short and there was something wrong with the spot between my legs. I don't think I ever could feel anything but ashamed of what I have even to this day. I will forever look at my own dick and think of it as underdeveloped and not as good as anyone else. After that happened it's been so hard to even touch myself without thinking of the doctor touching me or his hurtful words.

That weekend when John spent the night he had yet more stories to tell about his new found sexuality. I remember looking at him while he played my video games as he told me about his escapades and thinking to myself that it would be amazing to be him. To have his long and lean body. To have his normal sized thing. To be attractive to girls. I couldn't help staring at him. I wanted to be him.

Something else knocked me over the head that weekend. I remember looking at him take off his shirt to go to bed on the couch (At this point we were taking turns with my bed) and I was sitting by him when I first really noticed his skinny body. I stared and stared and he laughed and asked me what was up with my staring and I told him that I didn't know. He asked me to give him a back rub and I obliged.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was easing up his tense, big muscles on his back when I just had the urge to get on top of him. As I rubbed deeper into his back I began to thrust and it felt good. I began to notice that I was getting hard down there and I immediately got off of him and fell to the floor.

He laughed and told me I was a dork but I wasn't laughing with him. I was really scared. I was on top of a guy and it felt good. I immediately wrote it off to the fact that if it had been a girl I'd of been even more excited. This wasn't anything to worry about I thought frantically.

As he fell to sleep I waited on the floor for my erection to go away. But as long as I was looking at him lay there in his boxers I just couldn't get it down! Even when I looked away the image of him showing me how to masturbate stuck and was burnt into my retinas. I couldn't escape the pictures in my mind! When I was sure he was asleep I ran to my bed room and tried to calm my beating heart down. It wouldn't though.

The erection wouldn't go away and the only way I knew how to get it to subside was to stroke it. Although if I did that though I was scared I would think of him. I decided if I had a picture of a girl in front of me I could look at that and it would make it all better. So I reached under my bed and got out a Play Pen magazine and went to the bathroom with it. I locked the door and took a long strip of toilet paper from the roll and folded it a few times to give it some thickness. Then I placed it in front of me within shooting distance.

I stood and pulled down my pants to my ankles and waddled closer to the bathroom counter where the skin lotion was. I was happy at that moment that my mother had such horribly dry skin thus having so much of the stuff. I squirted some onto my right palm, got down on my knees, and went to work.

It seemed like no matter which page I turned it to, the girl could never take the place of John in my mind. I began to get angrier and angrier at myself. Why wasn't he going away when there was a centerfold of a girl opening her twat to the photographer right in front of me?! It wasn't fair!

The more I fought it the more I saw him. With each breath getting deeper and coming faster I imagined him stroking it alongside me. With each repetition he'd do it too. We synched in my mind and were one and the same.

"No! You are a hot girl!" I kept telling myself. They were only words though. I felt myself getting close to climax so I opened my eyes and forced myself to stare at the naked female in the photograph.

I focus all my being into her breasts, into her vaginal cavity.

Then I lost it.

As I sat there staring at her it finally took hold. I was looking only at her and it was then that my erection subsided. I knew I didn't come and there was no proof that I did. With a peaceful resignation I leaned against the counter and began to cry.

I must have been sobbing for a good two or three minutes before I heard a knock on the door.

"Are you OK?" I could hear my mother ask through the door. "What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing!" I said loudly. I had to hide the Play Pen! So I opened up the cabinet beneath the counter and stuck it in there. I could hear the lock being picked and I had to move fast. I pulled my pants up far enough so I could get over to the toilet.

As soon as the door opened (My parents had the key to all the doors in the trailer.) I was sitting on the bowl. She staggered in and nearly fell on the floor.

"Are you OK?" She slurred again.

"Yes mom!" I shouted. "Get out of here please!"

"OK. Just go to bed."

When she closed the door I could hear my father's voice from the next room asking what was going on. "He's just taking a painful shit." My mother ever so gracefully answered before I could hear her thud onto the bed.

It was then I noticed that I had not even bothered to lift the toilet seat up. I was sitting on the lid. I wiped my hand dry with the towel on the sliding shower door and took some extra paper from the roll to clean off my penis.

I kept replaying the event in my head and it just didn't add up. I was getting really hot when the picture of John was in my head but when I finally concentrated on the girl I totally lost it.

There must have been a mistake here. There must be something wrong with me I thought.

The time before when John explained to me how he felt about gay people kept running through my mind...

"What if I turned out to be gay?" I had asked myself with a heaviness in my stomach. "Would you still be my friend?"

John paused the game and turned around toward me. "No." He said to me. "I would have to kill you. You've seen me naked and I couldn't let you get away with that if you were gay."

"Are gay people really that bad?"

"Yes they are."

Chapter 18: Tim's parent's house

By the time they got to Boulder, Brian was pretty much checked out for the day. When Tim tried to awake him his first two attempts were unsuccessful. After a third shake Brian came around.

"Yeah?" He said drowsily. Tim's big sweaty right hand pushed and pulled at Brian's left shoulder.

"We're here. Get up." Tim said slightly annoyed.

"OK." Brian unfastened his seatbelt and opened his side door. He nearly fell out but this gave him enough of a shock to sober him up a little. He straightened himself up and aligned his tie with his shirt. "How do I look?" He asked.

"You look just perfect." Tim said sternly. "You could maybe have combed your hair though."

"I thought you liked my bed head?" Brian asked, bewildered at Tim's sudden interest in his appearance.

"It's just that while my family IS accepting, they're still a little hard to please. So be on your best behavior OK?" Tim checked his curly fro (Cut short for this special occasion) in his driver side door mirror. After all was satisfactory they walked up the to the door of the two story brick house and Tim rang the doorbell. Brian tried to wrap his arm around Tim's but he pushed it off just in time for the door to be answered by his mother.

"Hello Timothy!" She greeted him with open arms and they both hugged for the longest time before loosening their grip on one another. A tall women she was about three or four inches shorter than her son. She looked at Brian with what could have been construed as a judging eye but she eventually smiled at him. "Aren't you adorable in your outfit!"

"Um, thanks ma'am." Brian smiled and extended his hand. Tim's mother just up and hugged him without warning and squeezed just a little too tightly for his tastes. Now Brian knew where Tim got it from.

"So are you two..." She paused, looking at Tim then Brian then back to Tim.

"Yes mother we are." Tim said stoically.

She stood there for about three seconds before her smile returned. "Oh good! We have plenty of food here!"

Brian wasn't sure but he could sense a bit of fakeness in her presentation. He wondered if they were all this guarded.

Once inside they were instructed to take off their shoes. They did so and sat them by the entrance and Tim's mother led them down the hallway and into the living room where there were three men and two women. One of the men was a big guy with grey curly hair and wore thick brown glasses. This was obviously Tim's father.

"Hello my name is James." Tim's father shook Brian's hand.

Then Tim led Brian to the front of the room and introduced Brian. "Everyone, this is Brian. He's my new friend I've told you guys about."

One of the men in the room was holding a glass of brandy and looked like a taller, more muscular version of Tim spoke first. "He's kind of puny don't you think?"

Tim immediately defended his boyfriend. "He is who he is Donald, just like you can't help being a damn giraffe on steroids."

Donald took another swig of his drink and Tim told Brian not to mind him, he's a lush. Brian never the less shook his hand and told him that it was nice to meet him. The lady sitting next to him was the next to introduce herself.

"My name is Stacy. I'm Donald's wife." She smiled and held out her hand in a manner that Brian assumed she wanted him to kiss. He looked over at Tim who smiled and shook his head. Brian kissed it anyways and she smiled. Apparently it's what she wanted him to do.

"See Donald, they know how to treat a lady!" She nudged him in the elbow and he put his meaty sweater clad arm around her.

The next up was a slightly skinnier guy with straight jet black hair in tight blue jeans and a very tight T-shirt that had the Rufio logo on it.

"My name is John." He said, not offering his hand.

"I once knew a John." Brian said. When he got no response he tried another tactic. "I used to really dig Rufio. Didn't they break up?"

"Yeah. Sucks but what can you do?" John got up and walked over to the bar that was on the other side of the living room. He poured himself a scotch and soda. Brian could already feel himself being judged by the would be hipster.

The girl who sat on the couch next to him was wearing a black fedora and the same skinny shirt / jeans combo that John wore. She was smoking a cigarette very slowly and holding the stick over an ashtray the entire time they've been there. When everyone looked at her to introduce herself she rolled her eyes.

"My name is Beth." She said as she took another drag.

Brian stood there awkwardly in front of the group alongside Tim for a few minutes until Tim's mother joined everybody in the living room. "Who wants appetizers?" She asked holding a tray full of pigs in a blanket. They were tiny hot dogs wrapped in a readymade biscuit. Red and sweating they were straight from the oven apparently. Tim reached for one and so Brian thought it to be rude to not take one also.

When Brian was done chewing his bit he asked Tim's mother what her name was.

"Oh Tim you haven't told him already?" She looked at him disapprovingly and placed the hot metal plate onto the glass coffee table that sat between the living room couches and the huge assed flat screen. "My name is Samantha. It is nice to meet you dear."

Brian smiled and noticed the awkward silence that followed. No one else was picking at the plate and Brian didn't want to seem like a fat pig by trying another, when Tim finally felt like sitting down he guided Brian over to the couch where his father sat alone. He sat down first, making a divide between his father and him, which was OK with Brian seeing as he was uncomfortable sitting next to anyone he didn't really know in the first place.

On the TV was the movie Knocked Up. Which judging by the resolution, was a Blu Ray DVD. Brian couldn't believe how clear the picture was and wanted to ask how they got it to be so life like. Both his TV and Tim's weren't even in the same league as this one. You could literally touch the people on the screen. Brian wanted to desperately to know their secret but he knew better than to ask a stupid question like that, especially when everyone was watching it so intently.

James paused the movie and rose. "Does anyone want a drink?" He walked over to the bar and got out the good spirits and some assorted sodas from the little refrigerator at the bottom right of the counter. "Brian would you like something?"

Brian began to speak but Tim interjected. "No I think he's good."

Brian nudged him and asked him what the deal was.

"You've already had three pills today! Narcotics and alcohol don't mix!" Tim whispered into his ear.

Brian waved him off and told the man what he wanted. "I would like a White Russian if you could make one?" He asked.

"That is perfectly doable." James began to mix Brian's cocktail.

"That's a pretty sissy drink." John hissed as he took another long sip of his own drink. "You might as well advertise it on your forehead."

"The dude drank White Russians in The Big Lebowski!" Brian countered. "It's stronger than what you have."

"Yeah but it doesn't make it any less effeminate." John lit a cigarette and took a long drag before tapping it on the ashtray in front of Beth to remove the excess.

Donald laughed. "I think John's just jealous he didn't think of it first. If you don't mind pop I'd like one too." He made eye contact and winked at Brian. This made him feel a little more connected with at least one member of Tim's family.

"Coming right up," James said without taking his eyes off the bar.

"I think it's great you two found each other." Stacy gushed. She too had a drink but Brian couldn't determine if it was alcoholic or not. He dared not ask.

Only an idiot would think of asking something so stupid!

"Thanks. Yeah Tim's super awesome. I like him a lot." Brian responded.

"Awe that's cute," Beth sneered.

"What is up with you two?" Tim directed the question toward John and Beth by looking at them from where he sat. "Don't pull that jaded hipster crap on me tonight. I've played with more Pitchfork Media approved bands than you've ever had the privilege of trashing for selling out because they moved onto a label that could actually afford to release a real CD in a real store."

They did not reply. They both sat on their respective couch and smoked their cigarettes, all the while not looking at anyone in particular. James came over with two drinks in his hand. Since Donald was nearest to the bar he got his first.

"Thanks dad!" Donald took a long purposeful sip from his nice crystal high ball glass.

James then sat down at his couch and extended Brian's drink to him from across the coffee table. Brian barely grabbed hold of it, only spilling a drop or two in the process. No one seemed to mind though and Brian took his first sip.

"Wow!" Brian exclaimed and coughed to counter the burning in his throat.

"Yeah he makes them like you wouldn't believe!" Donald laughed as he took another manly sip of his own concoction. He then shared his drink with Stacy, who made a wincing face the moment after taking a drink from it. She handed it back to him and he laughed. He kissed her on the forehead and downed the rest of the drink in three gulps. He then gently placed the glass on the coffee table, careful to put it on a coaster.

Brian wanted to appear as if he was one of the flock and tried to down what he could in the fewest amount of gulps possible. He got halfway down before a little came back up and out of his mouth. He sat the glass down at his end of the coffee table and reached for one of the cloth napkins that sat on each end of the low rectangle table. He wiped up what he dribbled out and then blotted his dress shirt to get the excess moisture out.

"I'm so very sorry." Brian said apologetically.

"Nothing wrong happened. Just couldn't hold your liquor is all." James mused. "Tim here can down them with the best of us!" Tim's head shifted toward the source of the praise and he nodded his head in agreement.

"I'm not sure if a high tolerance for liquor is a good thing though." Tim said. "I mean, it makes me a pretty expensive date."

"Which one of you is the female in the relationship?" Stacy asked, Brian could tell now that she must be drinking something alcoholic to have asked such a stupid question.

"That's a pretty archaic way of looking at modern homosexual relationships!" Donald offered. Then he smirked and let it out, "but since we're on the subject Tim, who's the bitch?"

Brian saw this as an opportunity to make a little fun of the situation, being on pain killers also didn't help his inhibitions any. "I suppose I'm the bitch here. Tim is my big man and he takes good care of me." He laughed and hugged Tim, who warded off his advance with his arms.

"No don't." Tim said. His face was blushing and he decided to get up and get himself a drink from the bar.

"Awe, come on Tim," James said playfully, "we're just having a little fun here!"

"Well I don't think it's something to laugh at." Tim said sternly as he got himself a highball glass from the bar cabinet.

The rest of the family sat in silence as he made his drink. Donald finally broke the ice by turning the movie back on. Tim finished making his drink and walked over and sat by Brian. However he was a bit farther away from him this time than he was the previous. Brian felt bad and wanted to talk to Tim but he knew it would only make him feel more ill at ease if he spoke to him during this time.

Brian took in Tim's family as they watched the movie. He was jealous of their unity, of their good looks, and if Tim was any indication, their special areas of reproduction. He couldn't help but feel as if he had been genetically robbed out of a good life, a loving family, a body that he didn't have to be ashamed of. He wanted what Tim and so many others had so desperately that it almost physically hurt to even think about it all. As the depression sunk in, he began to feel very nauseas. He wanted to go home and hide under his mattress for a few days.

Overdose with a noose around my neck...

He missed John. As horrible a friend he wound up being he was still his first ever real friend. When the medication made him gain so much weight no one would talk to him but John. Not even his parents cared enough to explain to him what was happening to his body. His mother once mentioned to the pharmacist that she needed cream for stretch marks and Brian didn't even know what those were or why she needed them for Brian.

He remembered seeing those horrible red lines appear vertically all over his body. He had an idea of what they were but he tried to believe that they were just the result of his body growing so fast. His mother told him he wasn't getting fat. Why would she lie about something like that?

Brian's sullen mood finally caught the attention of Tim, who decided to move a little closer to his friend and put his arm around him. Everyone looked at them when this happened but they had the common courtesy to say nothing and just feel happy that their son and brother had connected with somebody.

When dinner was ready Brian asked if they could leave afterwards, Tim, understanding how bad the day had been for him, agreed. They walked into the massive dining area holding hands and James was empathetic enough to give up his seat in the middle so that the two could sit together.

It was little things like that that depressed Brian so much. John was a mean spirited punk but still had enough heart in him to not come between them. He suffered the abuse he dealt him after the medication change stoically.

The sides had all been set up on the long dining room table and everyone had their own little clothe napkin and set of shiny silver forks and spoons to go through. When Samantha brought out the turkey it was set upon a fine silver platter and still had the steam rising from its skin. The whole family clapped and congratulated her on a meal well done.

Never before had Brian seen this much unity in a family. He began to feed off their energy and was feeling better about being with them. When everyone around you is in a good mood you can't help but feel it too. Like ionic absorption, it was all too intoxicating.

Everyone was poured a glass of fine white wine, which James gushed was more expensive than most people's house payments, and it was absolutely delicious. The turkey was moist and flavorful. Brian couldn't help but ask '"Samantha how did you get it so juicy?"

Samantha blushed. "Why I brined it in a Gatorade barrel with a solution of water that was equal parts sugar and salt. I let it soak up for about twenty four hours. You generally cannot screw up poultry that has been brined!" She laughed and everyone followed suit.

The conversation ranged from topics such as politics (Which Brian gracefully bowed out of but still listened to intently.) to the plight of the working stiff (which both Brian and Tim talked about with heated fervor.) When the topic came up about Tim's degree in psychology Brian was shocked.

"You never said you wanted to be a psychiatrist?" Brian said, feeling hurt that his good friend had never brought up this little bit of information.

"Why do you think I can put up with you so well?" Tim laughed as he took in another fork full of stuffing onto his plate.

"Tim was going to school to be a psychoanalyst for some time before he decided to go out and find himself." James said proudly.

"Why haven't you ever talked about any of these things with me?" Brian asked. The mood of the table changed ever so slightly as to Brian's question.

Tim wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin and placed it back onto his lap. "I don't know. It just never came up." His face was solemn and his smile nonexistent.

"I've asked you a ton of times about your life and you've never once said any of these things to me." Brian stared at his plate and played with his mashed potatoes.

"I would've said it some time or another. Don't feel bad. You know me. I don't like talking about myself a lot." Tim patted Brian on the back.

"It's true." Donald offered. "Tim has never been one to blow his own horn."

As the dinner progressed Brian begun to feel like an outsider who's just way below the level where he would even deserve these people's attention, all the while they chatted him up and made him seem like an important figure for the moment but he just couldn't shake the feeling that they were all preprogrammed with the manners and attentiveness that they exhibit. To Brian it just didn't feel natural.

After the desert had been served the topic of conversation went off on a tangent about what one person could possibly accomplish in this vast government system of ours. John smartly pointed out that anyone in Colorado can get something on the ballot if they registered the idea and got enough votes.

This debate heated up to the point where people we raising their voices. Brian hadn't touched most of his dinner and he didn't even take a single bit of his triple chocolate fudge cake with white chocolate filling. When he looked at it, his stomach flipped and it caused him a little discomfort. Even though Brian was still riding high on narcotics and booze it was doing nothing for his appetite nor his mood.

Brian excused himself from the table and decided to find a bathroom. As he walked into the living room he could hear laughter coming from the dining room and Brian could feel his heart sink into his chest. He chose to at least try and ignore it all but it was getting pretty hard NOT to compare his life to that of Tim's.

Brian walked by the fire place and noticed a row of pictures in nice silver frames. Upon closer inspection he saw that most of them were of the three boys as younger kids. Taking the frame off its nail, he held it close where he could see the little details. The stained white shirt on John, the brown dress shoes on Tim, Donald's manila khakis. He could tell them apart from the height and marveled at how wild Tim's afro had been at that age. The other two had curlyish straight hair and were of varying sizes. Donald being the biggest he was shown in one picture holding John in a headlock and administering a noogie. In all of the pictures they seemed to be genuinely happy.

One particular one was of interest and showed Tim in his graduation garments at a restaurant. What causes somebody to abandon their career aspects to work at a theater, he thought to himself. From Tim's explanation he wanted to live amongst the poorer working class people as to get a better understand for his thesis. Only problem is, is that he related a little too well to their plight and had fallen into sort of a rut, one that his parents would no doubt help him out of.

Brian put the picture back onto the mantle and thought about his own life. What had he accomplished in his time on this Earth? He dropped out of high school and every now and then made a decent paycheck from doing a little freelance graphic design for people, bands, and businesses. But the whole rat race of trying to collect customers and keep up with trends and just dealing with people in general drove him to get a day job. He regrets choosing the job he has now but at least it pays the bills. When he does deliveries on the restaurant's bike he makes some decent tips from the wealthier clients charging everything to their corporate account.

Brian reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. Upon opening it he saw that he only had two twenties and three ones left until payday. With a sigh he put it back into his pocket and continued on his search for a latrine.

As he walked into the hallway by the stairs he was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh my God!" Brian gasped, turned around, and realized who it was.

"Didn't mean to scare ya bud." Donald laughed. "Are you looking for something or just checking the place out." He appeared to Brian as if he were appraising his motives or something to that effect. Maybe he was going to steal something? He would be surprised if he felt that way seeing as his best clothes still look like a poor man's attempt at dignity.

"Just... Just the bathroom." Brian said.

"Well let me show you where it is." Donald smiled and walked in front of him. He led him down the hall and to the second door on the left.

"Just remember to wash your hands." Donald said as he walked away.

Brian felt condescended to but said nothing.

The bathroom was cold and sterile smelling. The whites of the walls and the cabinetry appeared as if they had been bleached for that extra shade of nothingness. Brian felt as if the room was too good for him and hesitated when he saw the toilet across from him. After a moment or two he lifted the shag covered lid and undid his belt. He decided to sit down and pee because he just seemed to be able to go better when he did that.

As he evacuated himself he thought about the day's events and about his family. Somewhere deep down inside them is love, and he knows it. However they just never had the family that would've encouraged openness themselves and therefore continued a long and terrible cycle of abuse and ignorance. How could you not love something that is in essence mostly you to begin with, unless that person hated him or herself to the point that the child was just another stupid reminder of their meager existence?

His father had always been a truck driver and during his childhood, whenever things got tough, he threw himself into his work. His mother would deal with the situation by giving them a pill. An act that he didn't think was all that alarming when it had happened but could explain a lot now about his drug seeking tendencies.

When Brian finished he stared down into the bowl between his legs and saw the top part of his pubic region. He'd recently trimmed it to better suit his activities with Tim but for some reason he wished he hadn't right now. At least when he had a lot of hair down there it covered up his inadequacies. He got his penis in between his fingers and stretched it out. It only went so far before it began to hurt and he let go.

A tear ran down his right cheek and he immediately sought out the toilet paper near him. He first wiped his face then the tip of his penis. He then threw it in the bowl and got up. Flushing the toilet he then walked over to the mirror and stared at himself.

Twenty four and nothing to show for it.

If he died right now he would have nothing to leave behind to anyone other than the memories of that sad guy who awkwardly tried to butt into conversations.

His eyes were red from the tears and he rubbed them with his arm. There was a knock at the door which caught him off guard. Brian replied "What?"

"Just checking on you bud." Donald said through the wooden door.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Brian unlocked then opened the door and walked right past the enormous body of Donald. When he reached the living room he found everyone back in their spots and talking about what knot. Samantha was missing and Brian thought briefly that if she was washing dishes then maybe he could join her and help out. He didn't feel too comfortable sitting with everyone again. He was wearing down in the self-preservation department and didn't want to bring anyone down by saying something odd or just plain looking sad.

"Come on over!" Tim patted on the seat cushion beside him. Everyone joined in the taunt and Brian felt as if he had very little say in the matter. He did as he was told and sat beside Tim, who for the first time in front of his own family hugged Brian. When Brian did not reciprocate Tim felt a little rejected but only showed it in a small facial contortion for half a second.

Brian was drowsy and nodding in and out from the medication. Tim's excuse to the rest was that he'd just had a long day. They accepted this and continued to talk about how successful each other has been over the course of their existence.

Brian felt as if he was going to burst if he had to hear any more of it.

"Can I go out on the back porch and get some air?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Sure you can!" James said and pointed to the patio door over in the dining room.

"Thanks." He said and got up. He glanced at Tim to see if he had caught the hint but he was still deep in conversation with Beth and John, who were talking about some older punk rock bands from the early nineties or something. Now it was his turn to feel rejected to as he swiftly maneuvered around the group of people and headed for the patio door. Upon opening it he felt a nice cool rush of air come out like the breath of an angel. He didn't realize how hot he was until he stepped out into the cold night air. It was a time like this that Brian sort of wished that he smoked. It would make for a seemingly perfect moment. Instead he just had the clothes that were on him and what little money in his wallet he had managed to save after all the bills. He walked over to the balcony that overlooked the back yard and underground pool. He wasn't sure at first, but after a few moments he was pleasantly surprised to see tiny snowflakes falling from the sky. He could see his breath in the air where he stood near the porch light.

Tonight he felt like he was totally alone in the world despite being with Tim and his family. He knew he didn't belong and it hurt him because he just didn't know where on Earth he could belong without feeling the way he does now. He began thinking about his finances and it left a sour taste in his mouth. Fact was that he had to at least give his roommates a month or so worth of rent before he went and did it. He owed them at least that. He could have already saved almost one month's worth of rent money by cutting down on his food and other expenses. Although he probably would have saved money lately anyways since he wasn't eating much or even going out all that often. Almost every time he had gone out in the past month was largely due to Tim's influence.

Brian crossed his arms and closed his eyes. When you begin the first stages of hypothermia your body begins to conserve energy and you become very sleepy. Most people don't even realize they are dying because they are usually asleep by the time it happens.

Brian thought about taking a bunch of pain killers and laying in an alley on a cold and snowy night. He'd pass out from the drugs and wouldn't even feel the encroaching coldness overcome his small body. This made him feel warm around his chest area and he savored the serenity of the thought.

Trying to not think about anything only brought up many things that he felt bad about. If he was going to do it then he would have to find Tim a better boyfriend than he could ever be. Someone tall like him and who had a big penis. He remembered reading studies about how men and women thought differently about penis size. For the most part women tended to not mind it 75% of the time as long as they liked the guy they were with. For men though, it was everything to about 80% of the male population. Where had he read that? It's even more compounded by the fact that guys are not only obsessed enough over their reproductive organ when they are straight, but it was definitely something that most gay guys sought out. To a gay guy a big penis is very attractive no matter how badly it would hurt if it would be stuck up your butt.

Brian didn't believe that he cared all that much. In fact he felt like smaller penises were better just because they wouldn't rip you open. Smaller ones also allowed him to actually take some pleasure in the act along with the person performing top duties.

It seemed like everyone he got with though was extremely blessed in that area. He felt like he never got a good sense of what it's like to be normal because for some reason every other guy he met was huge. And the other half was border lining on the massive side. He just couldn't compete, he felt.

Hand, foot, genital syndrome...

Why did everyone have to be so much better than he was? He cursed having to take that medicine when he was a kid that stunted his growth and made him so incredibly fat. He never got to form a real relationship with any of the other kids after John left because he felt like he couldn't relate to anyone else anymore. Every other kid either liked video games, sports, girls, or massive amounts of television viewing. What was a fat kid who read too much to do? Nothing, that's what, plus the fact that he lived in the middle of nowhere with parents who would verbally attack anyone who dared to come over didn't help matters much. How come it was OK if his little brother brought people over yet he was chastised whenever he even brought the subject up?

Playing the Devil's advocate he tried to think about it from their view point. If he'd been talking about bringing girls over maybe they wouldn't have been so harsh with him. Brian felt like his parents had their suspicions since his early teens. Plus he had to admit it was a little creepy how he seemed to obsess over John.

Maybe there is something that happened to his father to make him so outspokenly hateful?

Thinking about that side of the story only made Brian feel worse because he was actually empathizing with the bastards. It made him feel like a total failure as a son and a human being.

The snow began to come down slightly harder and Brian stuck out his tongue in hopes of catching a flake. After a minute or so his tongue got sore and he gave up. He heard the door open behind him but he made no move to see who it was.

"I hope it's not going to be snowing too hard on the roads when we leave." Tim said as he stood by Brian. He put his arm around him and they stood silently in the cold night air.

"Tim," Brian said, "you are just so perfect you know?"

"Nah." Tim replied. "What IS perfect anyways? I just have it better than most. But it's not your place to go comparing yourself to anyone. You are who you are and that's as close to perfect that anyone could ever ask of you."

Brian felt a sniffle coming but he fought it back. He instead embraced Tim and held his arms around hi thin yet wide chest area. Tim too held onto Brian and they held their embrace for more than two minutes, when Samantha opened the door and announced that they were going to be playing Monopoly in a few minutes.

"You want to play?" Tim asked, less than enthusiastic.

"Actually I need to work tomorrow." Brian said glumly.

"Probably best if we left then." Tim squeezed Brian tightly for a second or two before letting go of him completely. "Come on. Let's go say good bye."

Before they reached the patio door Brian stopped him. "Listen, can you actually take me home tonight?"

"You don't want to spend the night?" Tim appeared hurt.

"Well... If you want me to I can. I just have to open tomorrow at like 9pm." A total lie but Brian's mind could only come up with very little at the moment.

"OK. I'd like you to stay over but if you want to go home I can do that no problem."

Brian felt he knew what Tim's reasoning was about and offered him a compromise. "We could spend a little time at my place before you leave."

Tim smiled. "Wouldn't we wake your roommates?"

"I think they are both spending the time with their families." This was true. He would be all alone in the house. He felt like he needed some time alone to reflect and plan things out.

Tim tickled Brian and got a few giggles out of him. He then picked him, up above his head and put Brian over his shoulder. Brian struggled and fought but the man was too strong to be persuaded. They entered the living room as such and it brought a great deal of laughter and comments concerning their separate rolls in a domestic situation.

Tim finally let Brian down and Brian felt dizzy.

"We're going to leave now guys. It was great seeing you all again and I can't wait until Christmas." Tim hugged everyone sequentially and told them each individually how much their love and support meant to him.

The scene was enough to stir up Brian's fragile emotions but he ventured forth and said his goodbyes. Personally giving each of Tim's family members (And the girlfriend and wife respectively) a good, hearty handshake.

"If you have no family obligations on Christmas by all means come back over here!" James said as he his grip on Brian's hand became unbearably painful. "I mean it! No one should have to go through what you go through during the holiday!"

That comment made Brian go cold. Tim had spoken to them about his family. He immediately became embarrassed and headed for the door.

As he exited everyone's eyes were upon Tim.

"I don't think that's really something you should bring up again Dad." Tim said softly, gazing out the open door at Brian, who stood by his car out in the cold snowy night. He couldn't help but get angry with the little guy for his constant boo hooing.

"I didn't mean anything. Have him come back here and I'll apologize." James honestly wanted to make right with Tim's companion but he assured him that Brian would be OK and that it would probably do more harm than good to bring it up again.

James understood and the family stood motionless for a few moments before everyone began telling him goodbye for the second time. Another round of hugs was administered and Tim exited the door and walked to his car. It was snowing a little bit harder and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees.

"You OK?" Tim asked as he opened his side of the car.

"Fine," Brian said apathetically as his door unlocked. He opened the door and slid into his seat. Once Tim started the engine he pondered on whether he should talk to him about the day's happenings or not. As he got onto the highway he got up the courage to initiate the conversation but when he looked to his side he could see Brian curled up into himself, using his jacket as a pillow. Tim patted him on the head and quietly reassured him that everything was going to be alright.

Was it though? He thought. He wasn't sure anymore.

As Tim's car pulled into the four bedroom house he shook Brian awake.

"We're here." Tim said as he nudged on Brian's shoulder.

"Oh." Brian replied drowsily. "Do you still want to come in?"

"Do YOU want me to come in?" Tim asked coldly, staring forward toward the house.

Brian felt bad because he knew that after a long day all, Tim probably just wanted to bust a nut. He personally never could relate to these sorts of feelings that every red blooded male had from time to time but it didn't make him any less sympathetic. Tim needed a warm hole to stick it and he might as well be that warm hole. If for anything he wanted to experience the closeness that the act provided. Tim was usually good about laying with him afterward and hoped that this would be the case.

But he had second thoughts. He really wasn't in a good space but he still didn't want to disappoint his (possibly?) boyfriend. He finally caved in and told himself that by doing it he would at least be making one of them happy.

Brian nodded his head and exited the car. Tim followed suit and they stood by the back entrance in the snow as Brian fumbled for his keys.

Once they got in Brian instructed him to take off his shoes and leave them by the door. Tim complied and soon they were headed to Brian's bedroom for yet another romp.

As Brian laid on his stomach, receiving Tim, he felt an emptiness come over him. The pain of Tim's penis thrusting in and out of him was the only real proof that he was still alive at all. He was actually feeling like he wanted Tim to go in further and harder because the more it hurt the less he had to feel.

Brian was too spent to even speak afterwards. They laid in the bed naked and Tim ran his fingers across Brian's nipples and spoke softly about how things were going to turn out just fine. Tim took this opportunity to tell Brian about how he was feeling concerning his sudden weight loss. "I think you're losing a lot of weight lately. What's going on?"

Brian smiled. "You think I'm losing weight? That's so sweet." It was the first time that day where he genuinely felt flattered.

Tim knew it would be pointless to voice his concern and just continued to lay with him. The clock now read twelve thirty and Tim got up off the mattress and put his underwear back on. He then rummaged through the mess on the floor and found the rest of his clothes. Once he had put them back on he looked down at Brian, who was lying on his back and sitting up against the white painted.

"So, I guess I'll call you tomorrow." Tim said as he buttoned up his shirt.

"That would make me feel really happy." Brian said in a low, defeated voice.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?" Tim asked.

"Just, just not right now OK?"

"Well I want you to call me if you feel like you want to talk before I call you." Tim kneeled down to where Brian sat on his bed and kissed him on the forehead. Brian put his hand on his shoulder and then let his arm fall. Tim stood back up and took in a long hard look at his friend. Brian stared at the wall in front of him and slowly inched back under the sheets of his bed.

"Thank you." Brian said softly.

"It's no problem." Tim leaned against the door and tried to think of anything else he could say to make the situation a little less awkward. When he couldn't he said goodbye and left Brian lay in his bed, partially covered by a thin sheet. After a few minutes Brian began to cry.

Tall people have no feelings...

Chapter 19: The world according to Paul.

Brian couldn't sleep at all the night before. When he would finally fall asleep he would then be awakened by a nightmare or a dream of him falling. Another one of the dreams included Freddy Kreuger of all people. It however ended abruptly when Brian asked him to kill him. Freddy didn't like to hear his victims ask for death so he walked away from him. It was at that moment that Brian fell off into a hole that appeared out of now where. As usual he woke before he hit the bottom.

Brian paced around the kitchen area in his socks and boxers and was talking to himself. Repeating numbers and phrases to himself. There was no one in the house at the moment and Brian was feeling a little touch of cabin fever. He felt like he was in no shape to be around anyone yet he craved attention at the moment very badly.

He wanted Paul to come home. He knew that his flight would not come in until five that morning. He wanted to talk to Paul. He wanted to hear all about his family excursion and about how Shelly went along with him.

Hell, he'd settle for talking to Shelly. Maybe even if he got more desperate he would even consider hanging with Mike, anything but having to deal with his own psyche all alone at four in the morning after Thanksgiving Day. He should've stayed with Tim. He'd been with him all week and he had forgotten how lonely the night was without him. Even if it meant he would've been his personal human pin cushion four or five times a night he still wished he was with him.

Brian decided to make himself some breakfast and headed for the cupboards. They had a good deal to choose from this week but he just couldn't decide on anything that looked appetizing. Looking at the assortment of sugary cereals made his stomach feel sick. He thought about just getting a glass of milk but that too churned his insides a little bit.

He settled for a glass of ice water and headed for the living room. He set his glass down on the coffee table and turned on the flat screen. He used the light radiating from it to take a look at what Blu Rays and DVDs he had to choose from. He couldn't find anything that fit his mood until he ran across "28 Days Later". It was perfect for two reasons.

1: It's a movie about a lone survivor after an outbreak.

2: You get to see Cillian Murphy's penis for a full second or two in the beginning.

The second reason wound up being the true deciding factor and it brought Brian a little joy to feel as if he was being naughty. He placed it in the player and sat back into the couch.

He wasn't sure but it must have been around the part when they meet the father and daughter combo that he fell asleep for the first time that night.

After hours of feeling sick and tired he was finally able to rest.

"Hey man!" Paul's voice jolted Brian into consciousness.

Brian looked up to see the familiar face looking down on him and smiling. It was nice to see Paul again after almost a week. Brian got up and hugged his friend, who at first rebuffed his effort but finally caved in and let himself be held.

"What are you so excited about man?" Paul laughed.

Brian let him go and sat back down on the couch. He turned the DVD player off and patted the cushion next to him, an obvious invite to sit with him, which Paul accepted.

"I just had a pretty lousy day yesterday." Brian admitted.

"Why? You didn't see your family did you?" Paul asked.

"Yeah... Tim insisted and so did they."

"Man you know they're bad news right? Why do you put yourself into these situations."

"Do you know the official definition for insanity?" Brian asked.

"Nope. But I have a feeling you are going to tell me though." Paul smiled.

"You keep doing the same things but expect different results.

"Sounds like you." Paul patted Brian on the shoulder and stood back up. "I need to unpack man. Are you working today?"

"Yeah."

"Need a ride?"

"That would be great. I don't go in until twelve though."

"Perfect! That gives me a few hours to take a nap." Paul said as he walked to his room across from the living area. Brian sunk back into the sofa and scratched his right elbow. Once again he was left alone.

He wanted to look at Paul in his boxers again but knew better than to go into his room while he slept. Paul was the perfect man and Brian hated himself all the more because he knew he could never look or act so fucking cool as he just naturally does.

Brian looked at his sparsely haired stomach. It protruded from him like a bag full of jelly beans and it made him physically ill to see. No matter how much weight he lost he'd always have that portion of skin hanging over his waist.

Brian put his head into his hands and begun to cry lightly. Making sure he wasn't making too much noise he turned the TV onto the morning news. His sobs mixed well with the weather report, which called for more snow in the coming days.

He wiped his eyes with his right arm and got up to get some clothes on. It was a crime against nature for him to be seen in such a vulnerable state. His body was never to be admired but to instead be a reminder to the rest of the population of how bad they could have it if they slipped up.

The Pansy Division shirt seemed to be the best choice for this morning seeing as it was black, and black is trimming. He put it on along with the skinny jeans he had laying on the floor. God only knows when they were last washed, but they smelled alright to him. A little musky but not enough to throw it into the dirty clothes pile he had by his book shelf.

Once dressed he took his messenger bag from the side of his mattress and unzipped it to take a few items out so he could make room for his work shirt, he saw his laptop first thing and wasn't too sure when he'd last used it. He also saw his diary notebook. He's been slacking on it and really should keep it up some more but he just honestly felt like he had nothing to say anymore really. He knew that he had plenty more life to document but he just couldn't bring himself to put it down on paper.

Right now he'd rather cut off his toes then to revisit anything after yesterday's events. Just the sight of the damn notebook made his heart physically hurt.

He remembered the time that he'd tried to make friends with this one guy a few years ago. He wasn't in a band at that time but was actively seeking people to possibly play with him and he'd run into this guy at the Hi Dive during a Hot Iqs show. His name was Dustin and he instantly attracted Brian into his little circle of friends. The man was slightly built and about five nine, five ten and had to weigh no less than one hundred and thirty pounds. He had the coolest scruffy facial hair (Which was and still is the style in most scenes.)

Brian introduced himself and offered to buy this amazing looking new guy a drink. Dustin accepted the offer and they introduced themselves. He talked a mile a minute about how he felt the scene was going to blow up and just went on and on about how he knew this person and how he knew that person. He was totally entrancing to be with and Brian soaked up every second of the encounter.

Brian brought up the subject of playing guitar and looking to form a band but couldn't start one up until he could find a damn bass player. Upon further inquisition Brian discovered that Dustin in fact had a spare bass guitar and amp. He offered his services to play that but Dustin told him that it would just be a demotion if he gave up the guitar. This hurt Brian because he had started off playing the bass and he told him this. The guy relented and told him that he would let him play bass in his band, which wasn't even real at the time.

Excited with the prospect of being in a real band Brian kept the drinks coming. When the Hot Iqs went on stage the two men got up from their barstools and headed for the front.

The band rocked and they rolled and they sang about how hot girls with high Iqs turned them on, which was a little bit funny seeing as they had a girl drummer.

Being in the presence of Dustin was like being in front of a movie star. It was intoxicating and exciting to the very core. Dustin asked for another drink but Brian was running low on funds. When he told him this Dustin took out his credit card and gave him a playful wink.

"This round is on me!" He said as they went for the bar.

When the drinks were served they were fairly sloshed as it was and Dustin proposed a toast, to their new band. May they be indie sensations and never sell out. Brian could drink to that and he did.

When the subject of going home was brought up Dustin insisted that Brian could sleep on his couch seeing as he only lived like seven or eight blocks away. This intrigued Brian and he got all sorts of erotic thoughts in his head about what the invitation implied.

As they exited the bar Brian decided to test the boundaries a little by putting his arm around Dustin's neck. To his surprise Dustin did the same and they walked down the street West of Broadway and sang obscure songs from bands no one but they had heard of.

Brian hadn't been touched by another man since the year before when he'd been attacked. It felt good to get back in the saddle again. Along the way he tickled Dustin's stomach and he laughed. Brian felt good about this and couldn't wait till they got back to his place.

Being as drunk as they were, Dustin fumbled for his keys and it took him almost five minutes to get into his apartment. The place was immaculate and Brian was told to leave his shoes by the door. Once inside Dustin pointed toward the couch and went into his room.

Brian sat on the couch and felt the room spin a little but he didn't let that slow him down from what he anticipated next. He began taking off his socks and looked into his wallet to make sure he had a condom. No one ever seemed to have one and the idea of not using one scared him.

He put the wallet with the condom back into his pants pocket as Dustin came out of his room. He was stripped bare aside from a pair of red boxers which adorned his thin waist. He sat down next to Brian and he could feel his heart racing like a humming birds and it sobered him up quite a bit.

Dustin sat beside him and asked if he wanted to watch a movie or something. Brian's eyes made contact with Dustin's and he slowly inched toward his face. Dustin seemed to be under some sort of spell cast by Brian because he too slowly inched forward.

With a soft kiss on Dustin's mouth Brian pulled his head back and ran his fingers through his hair. Dustin looked so damn drunk that Brian wondered if this was even right. He closed in again and this time stuck his tongue into Dustin's mouth.

Dustin made no move to push him away so he kept at it. His busy hands worked their way down his flat stomach and to his crotch. Brian could feel his erection and put his hand inside his boxers. He could feel his erect penis in his hand. It wasn't all that big, at least it didn't feel that way in his fingers, but Brian liked him even more for it.

Brian's kisses went from Dustin's mouth and down his chest until finally his lips reached his cock. He pulled down Dustin's boxers to his knees and put it in his mouth. He could taste the pre-cum coming from the tip and he worked hard to get him closer to climax.

Then Brian felt a tug at the nape of his neck. He pulled off and was brought face to face with his new friend. The guy had a look of horror on his face.

"No man." He kept repeating. "No."

Brian was at a loss for words and immediately felt as if he had done something wrong. Dustin's reaction was scaring him. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'm just... I'm just not that way man." Dustin said and put his face into his hands. Brian could hear him crying and he didn't know what to do. His own tears were close to coming as well and he asked him again.

"What's wrong?" Brian's own face was now wet with tears.

"I think you need to leave." Dustin said. He took his face from his hands and it was beet red and shiny with wetness.

"But it's..." Brian talked through his sobs. "It's so late at night. I wouldn't have a way home!"

"Please," Dustin begged. "I can't do this. I need you to leave. I'll pay for a cab if need be but you need to leave and I don't want you ever touching or looking at me again!" His voice rose as he spoke this and Brian's heart had never felt so shattered.

"I'm really, really, really sorry!" Brian tried to say. "I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry!"

"I'm not a fagot!" Dustin yelled. "You're a fucking fagot and I want you out of my apartment!!!" He got up and walked briskly to his room. Brian could hear him talking to someone on his phone and after a minute he came back into the living room fully dressed aside from his bare feet.

"Get out of here. A cab is going to pick you up at the right corner of the complex." He wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "I am not a fagot. You're lucky I'm not going to press charges on you, you fucking shit packer!"

As Brian got up he held his stomach in his arms. It felt like it was about to drop out of his body and it made him very sick. He continued to beg for forgiveness from Dustin but got no sympathy.

"Please! I'm so sorry!" Brian wailed. He walked closer to Dustin and he retaliated by slapped him square across the face. Brian stood there for a minute while all the information processed through his mind.

"Get out of my apartment." Dustin said coldly.

"OK." Was all Brian could say. He put his socks back on and walked to the door get his converse shoes. Once on he unlocked the door and opened it. He stood in the door way and looked back toward Dustin. "You're not a fagot." was his final words before he left the apartment and headed down the stairs.

When Brian's thoughts had cleared he realized he was sitting on his right leg while sitting up in his bed. He touched his face and realized that he'd been crying while he was reminiscing about Dustin. He had never felt so rejected in his life. Worst of all he knew he made somebody else feel even worse than he could ever feel himself in that situation.

What hurt even more was that about six months later Brian saw Dustin holding hands with another man at another bar. He wasn't sure what he was seeing until they kissed. He then realized he was just another bit of road kill on somebody's highway to self discovery. He didn't have it in him to feel happy for the guy.

If anything it made him feel worse.

What was it about me that Dustin had rejected?

Why did I let myself go so fast for him?

Dustin was the first person after his attack that he had let close to him and it just blew up all over his face. If life had taught him anything it was that everything will end up bad at some point. He couldn't count on Tim to be with him for any long period of time. He also felt that his friendship with Paul is also fleeting. Nothing is permanent and every new turn he makes on the road of life leads to pain and tragedy.

Brian was shaking so bad that he finally had to lay down. He wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or his intense emotions. He pulled his covers over himself and curled into the fetal position.

Dustin's angry face was all he could see.

His hurtful words were all he could hear.

Fucking fagot!

He could still taste the saltiness of his penis in his mouth. But he could also taste the copper and bitterness of adrenaline when he yelled at him.

He could still feel him right now.

All over his body he felt him.

And he felt terrible.

Paul had agreed to pick Brian up that afternoon and they'd go out for coffee. Neither had seen much of each other over the course of the month and this was a way for two friends to sort of reconnect after being isolated from each other for so long. It was all Brian could think about as he rang up customer after customer at Roger's Subs.

With each transaction he felt more and more despondent and ready to go. He would automatically ask the person how their day was going and either they told him they were doing fine or just ignore the question all together and spout out their order. No one ever asked him how he was doing yet in the rare instance that someone did he'd just make a horizontal hand motion and say "Meh." The customer never questioned any further than that though. It was just a common courtesy and in no way reflected any real sincere appreciation on their part.

He was their slave, and they used him accordingly.

As five o'clock reared its beautiful face around there was a bit of tension in the air. The manager and one other employee had already been out back to smoke their joint and possibly had sex and Brian was all finished with the cleaning duties.

He would've asked if he could get off sooner if he didn't already have a set time for Paul to come. Instead Julie was honored with the privilege of going home early. Lord knows why, Brian could suck dick better than she could. Problem was, was that Roger was a very, very straight man and he would never in a million years be able to demonstrate how skillful he could be, which suited Brian fine seeing as he was a forty year old hippy pot head asshole motherfucker.

Brian didn't go for beards. And he was quite sure that Roger's was in violation of many health codes. But he knew better than to bite the hand that feeds. Maybe if he ever got fired for whatever reason he may bring it to the attention of the proper authorities. Not that he was a snitch or anything, he just didn't like the guy.

Julie went into the ladies room to change into her regular clothes and must have been in there for over ten minutes. This irritated Brian because it couldn't possibly take anyone that long to get dressed or even to pretty themselves up. He knew she was in there making a mess that Roger would make him clean up before he left for the day.

With a sigh Brian leaned against the counter and thought of topics he could discuss with Paul. It used to be that he couldn't even stay in the same room as him for too long because the attraction he had for him was so strong. It physically made him sick to look at the guy for longer than five minutes. Brian wondered if that's how a straight guy felt when he was in the presence of a hot chick. He's sure it was but he would never really know now would he?

The first time Brian met Paul was a few years ago when he got severely hammered one night and decided to take the bus home, even though he could barely walk and had enough money for a cab back to Lakewood he was quite sure that he was fine for the task. The Denver PD obviously did not feel the same way and they stopped him alongside sixth and Broadway at eleven o'clock at night.

"You're a bit wobbly young man, are you drunk?" The cop had asked with a menacing smile. Brian wasn't sure but he thinks that he remembered him laughing at him.

"Yeah, but I'm going to go home on the bus." Brian slurred. "I have some dollar bills and I want to go home on the bus. Can I go home on the bus?" The world spun as he stood there.

If the cop had any shred of decency he would have just let the poor drunk little man go but he decided that a sobriety test was in order.

"But I'm not driving? I just want to take the bus." Brian pleaded with the chubby male cop.

"Son I'm afraid I have to. It's just policy." The cop said joyfully.

"But I told you I'm really drunk. I just want to take the bus."

It was then that the cop's partner had stepped out of the police car with some handcuffs and told Brian to turn around and put his hands to his backside.

Brian began to tear up and pleaded to them that he just wanted to take the bus, but before he even could slur out the apologetic request he was in custody. He had asked if they could just take him to the bus but the cops were already frisking him and snatching up his wallet.

"You don't look twenty one." The cop's tall black partner mused. "I was sure we had an underage drinker on our hands."

"I did too. You're lucky kid," The chubby prick laughed, "Looks like it's off to detox for your lily little ass."

The black cop escorted Brian to the back seat of the police car and he was able to only hit his head a little bit on the car door's frame. Even though Brian was drunker than hell he still felt uncomfortable in the back seat of the PD cruiser. The seats were made of plastic and had a little indentation for your handcuffed appendages in the bottom part of the seat where you sat against.

Despite Brian's tears and pleads, he was driven to detox against his will. All because the cops thought he was a drunken teenager. The world didn't make sense before and it sure as hell didn't make any sense now.

When it was apparent that he was going nowhere he watched as the city zoomed by through the window of the car. The handcuffs were way too tight and even though he asked nicely, the two cops wouldn't loosen them up any.

"You're going to be there in a minute, man up you pussy!" The tall black one said as he drank coffee from a large 7-11 cup, complimentary no doubt. All that was missing was the stereotypical box of donuts that should have been between the two.

They pulled up to a one story white office looking building with a red canopy over the entrance. The two cops got out and the tall black one opened Brian's door.

"Get out." He said. Brian complied and scooted out of the cop car. The building had a large sliding door in the middle. The chubby officer took Brian by his left arm and led him through the doors. Once inside the tall black cop undid his handcuffs and told him to sit in one of the four hard plastic chairs while one of them got an employee to check me over.

The next part is a bit blurry because Brian passed out for a few moments before he was woken up by a large black man in green nurses scrubs. He complied with the big man and walked over to the desk where the man took inventory of all the items he had on him, including the contents of his wallet, which Brian knew he still had to have had at least fifty dollars left on him. He wasn't sure how much he had spent at the bar. Alcohol rose and descended in his throat and Brian wasn't sure he could maintain much longer and desperately wanted to go to the bathroom before he made a mess.

After inventorying his stuff, the man got out a blood pressure cuff and took his vitals. Brian was upset but very tired by the time they were finished.

"Have you done any drugs tonight? Will you be going through any sort of withdrawal?" The man asked him.

"No sir." Brian said without raising his head. He was too ashamed to make eye contact. "Can I go to the bathroom? I need to throw up."

The man said nothing and got him up and led him down a hallway where he was given a scratchy wool blanket and taken through a large metal door that required a card key to get into.

The room was very large and had almost thirty to fifty men either laying in their little dark green metal cots or over by the TV where they were watching some sort of wrestling match.

Before Brian realized where he was the man had already disappeared. A woman in a tight blue shirt and jeans led him to his cot that had a very thin looking mat supplying the support and she told him that this was his bed for the night. Brian said nothing and when he looked back toward her, she too had already gone back to her desk.

Defeated and depressed Brian lay down on the mat and cried himself to sleep. The man who was in the cot behind him taunted him the whole time. Calling him a mother fucker and threatened to kill him if he ever told the CIA about him.

Eight long hours and a few horrible nightmares later Brian awoke to the sound of a booming male voice calling for everyone to line up for breakfast.

Brian bolted up and sat in his bed for a few minutes, not realizing at first where he was. When he remembered what he could from the night before and could only make out bits and pieces from recollection. What he did remember was how humiliated those two cops had made him feel. The thought of it made Brian want to hang himself.

At least I didn't throw up.

He got up and slowly made his way to the line. Everyone in front of him were dirty unwashed older men. Many smelled like they had bathed in schnapps and grain alcohol. The man before him seemed to feel him staring at the back of his head and turned around. He accused Brian of trying to get him and promised he'd take him out if he even so much as laid a finger on him.

Brian stared stupidly for a moment longer into the man's eyes and took him his features. His long, gray beard and dingy hair, his shit colored eyes and rotted yellow and green teeth. It was just too much to look at so Brian diverted his attention to his feet below him.

It wasn't enough for him to look away and the man began pushing Brian backwards. He didn't fight him and continued to look down but the man kept at it. He told Brian that if he was going to fight him he'd better be a man about it and do it now. That was when the first punch was thrown and it knocked Brian down to his knees. He held onto his stomach and it felt as if he'd been hit by a battering ram.

The man began to scream at him and Brian's only reaction was to shield himself from further attacks by holding his arms across his head and cowering.

It was then he heard that same booming male voice saying to stop it and he looked up to see Paul taking down the small, dirty drunk.

His large arms held the man tight while another big bald man came around with some handcuffs and detained the crazy person.

When the man was taken away Paul helped Brian to his feet and asked him if he was OK.

"Yeah I guess so, scared me more than anything." Brian replied. Truth was he was in terrible pain from the punch to his stomach.

Paul smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Aren't you a little young to be in a place like this man?"

Brian laughed. "Aren't you a little young to work in a place like this... Man?"

After the exchange Paul let Brian get some breakfast (Which consisted of corn flakes and decaf coffee) and checked up on him when he got back to the main room.

Brian noticed that Paul had on a shirt of a local band he liked and from that mutual interest they struck up a conversation. Paul seemed to take a liking to him because he wrote his number down on Brian's admittance bracelet with a sharpie. Brian gave him his cell number which he put into his phone directly.

"We should go see a show sometime man." Paul said after he put his phone away.

After Brian was released a few hours later he was still smitten with the cool detox guy. He was insanely attracted to him but knew better than to let him know so soon. Brian has always been bad at reading other people's signals and he had learned not to act on any impulses until he knew for certain that his advances would be accepted.

He abided by the three day rule and called him after the third day of receiving Paul's number. A few shows later and a about a gallon of alcohol consumed Paul let him in on the fact that he needed a new roommate. Their old one had been a bum and not paid rent in two months so they had to kick him out, which in of itself was a difficult task because he wouldn't leave. They had to get the authorities involved with that one which by all means severed any possible future contact between him.

It would be over three months before Brian get the money up and leave his current living situation (He was living in a group home through his mental health center) and move into the house up on Lawrence Street.

As Brian reminisced he didn't hear Roger's fat bearded butt called his name from the back. After a few shouts Brian caught on and went to his office to discover what the hell he wanted.

"You called?" Brian said meekly to his boss.

Roger was on his computer and looking at what appeared to be a spreadsheet or something. Without looking away from the screen he asked, "Would you be able to work Saturday this week?"

"But we're closed on Saturday sir." Brian was confused.

"Well we've got a big catering deal that just came through and I need you to help make fifty Italian submarine sandwiches by two o'clock that afternoon."

Brian thought about his plans to be with Tim and grimaced. "I'm not sure I can sir."

"If you want to keep your job you will." Roger turned around in his swivel chair and looked up at his lower class citizen of an employee.

Brian couldn't look him in the eye when he spoke. "I'll be over forty hours sir. You do know that right?"

"No you won't." Roger smiled.

"But I will. I've already clocked in almost twenty six hours and it's already Wednesday."

"With some creativity on my part you'll be just fine." Roger turned around and began typing on his Imac computer.

"Is that even legal?" Brian whimpered.

"Listen, Colorado has a law saying I can fire you for anything I can think of. Hell, even if I don't like the color of your eyes. It doesn't matter. If you want to continue getting a paycheck then I'd suggest you show up bright and early at eight in the morning on Saturday."

Brian moaned. "Will Julie or Matt at least be here to help out?"

"Julie and Mike have the day off. It's Saturday after all." Roger laughed and raised the back of his hand to Brian and he got the hint. Brian stomped back into the dining area and checked his cell phone for the time. Five oh nine, time to leave this shit hole.

He clocked out on the register and got his bag from the back. He didn't even bother checking the ladies room as he headed for the male facility to change. His work shirt smelled like pepperoni and there was an olive oil stain from two days ago that was still prominent on his shirt sleeve. He had brought along a plastic bag to put it in because he didn't want it soiling his messenger tote. It barely fit in there after he had traded it for his Pixies t-shirt. If he hadn't brought along his laptop it would of slid right into it but he never went anywhere without his computer. Aside from being his life line to the internet world, it had cost him almost five hundred dollars brand new. He had high hopes of writing the next great American novel with it but so far he'd just amassed a ton of nudie pictures and a virus that took him a week to find and delete.

By the time he changed and exited the single toilet room he saw Paul pressing his pretty face on the glass entrance and making exaggerated faces, leaving behind oil marks. Brian grimaced and walked over to the door and let him in.

"Hey man! Are you all ready?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, let me just go get a towel to wipe off the door. Roger will shit himself if he sees it there." Brian headed over to the counter and retrieved a blue spray bottle and a brown paper towel.

"Sorry man. I didn't mean to." Paul frowned as he watched his friend clean up his mess.

After Brian finished he walked out of the establishment as fast as his little legs could take him. Paul followed suit but was unprepared to keep up with Brian's momentum.

Once in the car Paul asked Brian whether or not he wanted to go to the Starbucks on sixth or if he'd rather go to the Jumping Bean near Colorado Blvd. Brian chose the Jumping Bean because the small chain café had the best caramel latte's he'd ever tasted. Although it is to be argued whether they are comparable with Starbucks's caramel Frappacino, but at that moment Brian wanted something hot so he could sip and prolong the experience of being with his buddy.

During the ride over Brian was unusually quiet. Paul noticed this but said nothing. He wasn't sure if Brian had just had a bad day or what was going on. He compensated by putting his MP3 player to his Arcade Fire mix. It was appropriate to Brian seeing as it was dark and brooding music.

They both felt something bad brewing in their presence and the sounds of the minor chords of the album Neon Bible was almost like the start of a coming storm.

As the city blurred before him through the passenger side window Brian couldn't help but think about how little he'd done in his lifetime. How little he would accomplish if he would continue to live further down the line. He didn't see anything special in his future. He even doubted that his relationship with Tim would last much longer.

Nothing is static. Everything changes, and change for Brian was almost always bad.

Brian closed his eyes and pretended he was in lying on a cloud of fluff, taking Percosets and drinking a fifth of whiskey, then passing out in a haze of irresponsibility.

Brian scouted for a table while Paul went ahead and stood in line. The Jumping Bean wasn't too packed but it was filled with the usual assortment of artists, college students, and writers all typing and clicking away on their laptops. Even though Brian was also guilty of spending too much time absorbing as much of the free wifi he could from cafes such as this one he still was taken aback by the sheer amount of people with high priced Mac computers. It must be a requirement to have one if you are going to use coffee shop internet connections or something.

Brian found a nice table by the bathroom and took his seat. While he waited a young girl with a laptop in tow asked if she could take the adjoining seat and Brian had to respectively tell her no. She walked away in a huff and Brian just looked on as the crowd of people sat and went about their business.

There were some pretty hot guys in here today but sadly most of them were with girls or sitting with children. Brian had been told that the only requirements he had for someone to be considered hot were that they were tall and thin, or just thin. Even if they had a little Buddha belly it didn't deter him from staring a little too much.

Without warning a crushing wave of sadness spread out through his body and the once warm feeling of his flesh grew cold and clammy. This sort of thing has been happening a lot and it usually was more severe when he was in social settings. A major feeling of inferiority came over him as he watched all these beautiful and normal people go about their lives in complete ignorance of him. He meant nothing to any of these people and they'd for sure beat him and leave him for dead if given the chance.

Tall people have no feelings...

Brian could feel it in his bones that this was true. And it wasn't just them. It was short people, thin people, fat people, and pretty much anyone in between. No one would care if he'd die and it wouldn't even make the obituary section in the newspaper because he was so insignificant.

Everyone wants me dead.

He could pass away in his room and no one would notice until a week later when the smell would get so strong that Mike and Paul would be alerted. Even then he bet they'd just curse him for stinking up the house and throw his body in the dumpster in the back along with anything that they weren't able to pawn for booze money.

Bastards...

Paul walked over to the table and sat the drinks down.

"I hate you..." Brian said under his breath.

"What?" Paul wasn't really paying attention but he noticed that Brian had said something.

"Nothing." Brian said as he took a sip of the very hot caramel latte. The top had a little more foam than he liked but it tasted great anyways.

"So how've you been man? I haven't seen much of you lately." Paul slowly stirred the sugar in his black coffee with a long wooden stir stick.

"Yeah, I've just been with Tim most of the time, working the other bit, nothing much."

"I bet it must be nice to finally have someone." Paul mused. "I know that when I'm with Shelly, time seems to stop."

"It's not really like that I don't think." Brian sighed. "I think I'm just a warm and willing hole to stick it in."

"That's a little too much information man." Paul laughed but Brian's demeanor stayed solemn. His smile faded his lips went straight, he composed himself in a more serious manner. "So things aren't going so well in that area?"

"Things are going fine. I just... I dunno. I guess I shouldn't complain. I have someone who likes me. I have you as a friend. I have a place to sleep at night, food in my stomach, a stable job."

"How IS your job going by the way?" Paul put the stir stick aside and took a long sip of his house blend coffee.

"The same as usual, I would like to look for another job but it's just been hard you know?"

"Yeah I know how it is. Before I came upon my job I was a full time student and a part time McDonald's employee." Paul laughed and took another sip.

"Things could be worse. I really feel shitty about complaining. Dr Neven says I'm making progress and blah, blah, blah."

"Well at least you're looking good. You're losing weight. I can see it in your face."

"Thanks. I'm just not as hungry as I used to be. I don't know, maybe it's just a phase or something." Brian thought about his diary and a pang of guilt ran throughout his nervous system like an electric shock.

"Well don't lose too much weight man. You gotta be healthy."

Brian took another sip of his caramel flavored drink and was silent for a moment before speaking. "That's easy for you to say. I bet you've never had a weight problem in your life."

"Man I wish I could gain weight." Paul giggled as he patted his washboard stomach. "I eat and eat and eat and I don't gain an ounce. I've been one hundred and sixty six pounds since I hit my growth spurt back in seventh grade." Brian detested the smug look of satisfaction on Paul's angular face.

"Yeah whatever." Brian looked down toward his cup of hot flavored milk and espresso. He felt as if he was slowly getting heavier and heavier with depression the more he sat there. He took another drink of his coffee and looked Paul square in the eyes. "Do you think I'm a good person?"

"What kind of question is that?" Paul said with a nervous laugh. When Brian looked back down at the table he realized that he was serious. "I mean, yeah. You're a great guy. Why? Has Tim put you down or someone else I don't know?"

"No... Forget it. I'm just being stupid." Brian put his finger in his coffee so he could feel the burn of the hot liquid. It wasn't enough to warm the coldness running through his veins though so he retracted and put his hands on his lap.

"You're not being stupid. I think you're just in a mood is all. You'll snap out of it." Paul smiled and waited for Brian to respond. When it became apparent he wasn't Paul shook his head and became flustered. "I brought you here so we could talk you know? Catch up and shit. Don't pull this whole sad routine on me now."

Brian looked up and sighed. "I'm sorry. Really I don't have much going on. You're right. I'm just in a weird mood right now. It will pass." Brian finished off his drink in two long gulps. The burn felt good in his throat.

"So is there anything you want to talk about?" Paul asked.

"Actually I'd like to hear about what's up in your life." Brian said. "I mean, I've been talking about myself all my life and I think it's about time I listened for once." For the first time that day Brian attempted to smile to the best of his ability, even though the best he had wasn't even half as good as he could had he been in a better frame of mind.

Paul ran his fingers through his hair and gave up. "Well I suppose. Today we had a repeat offender come in totally wasted and..."

Brian listened and was sympathetic to what Paul had to say. He said he understood when the time was appropriate and nodded at all the right moments. He genuinely was interested in what his friend had to say yet he couldn't help but drift further and further into himself as the minutes flew by. Self reflection finally took over him and he had to excuse himself to the restroom because he just couldn't keep up the façade any longer.

He walked about seven steps to the bathroom next to where they sat and carefully shut and lock the door behind him. He was hoping for a mirror to look into but there was none.

Brian got down on his knees and began to breathe deeply. He felt his heart race and started to sweat profusely. He was feeling the onset of a panic attack and wanted nothing more than to go back out to Paul's car, get his bag, and take the rest of the Demerol pills he had left. But even then it would take about fifteen to twenty minutes for him to even feel the onset of their effects. He rocked himself back and forth as he did the breathing exercises he'd learned in therapy but he just wound up hyperventilating. He closed his eyes but did not even try to fight back the tears that flowed from them. He let it all get out but he did however try to not make too much noise.

To offset his whimpers he turned on the faucet and continued to console himself. He was even desperate enough to use self talk to try and shake off these awful feelings.

After about five minutes there was a knock at the door.

"Are you okay in there man?" Paul asked. "There's a guy out here waiting to use the bathroom, not to rush you or anything."

Brian got up and got some toilet paper to wipe his eyes dry. "I'll be just a second." He said in his most composed voice, it must've sounded somewhat forced he imagined. He was still shaking slightly when he opened the door. Paul must've sensed something was awry because he asked him if he was okay.

"I'm fine." Brian replied as he took a seat back at the table.

"Seriously, you look like you've been crying or something." Paul observed.

"Nah, my eyes were just a little itchy and I was rubbing them pretty vigorously." Brian attempted to laugh but it came out fairly weak.

Paul was not fully convinced but wasn't sure he was really in the mind set to counsel his friend if he was indeed upset. He felt as if Brian was crying out for help and he wasn't really feeling that he could be all that useful in dealing with him. Then again, he could've just been rubbing his itchy eyes too hard. He didn't want to make assumptions and after a few moments of examination him he let it go.

"Well I think I'm ready to get back home and watch the game." Paul said as he stretched his arms above his head.

"I think I could use a little reading time myself." Brian said. His shoulders slumped as he looked on toward the people in front of them.

"You want something to go?" Paul asked.

Some cyanide?

"Nah I'm good." Brian said.

They got up and headed for the door.

Brian desperately wanted to grab a hold of Paul and tell him he needed help but he kept those urges at bay as they proceeded to his green minivan.

With each passing minute he felt more and more helpless.

All he could think about as they drove home was the three Demerol pills he had left in his bag. He knew at least one had his name on it tonight. Seeing as he knew they had a quart of Skohl vodka in the freezer he was fantasizing about the combination that would surely numb both the hurt of his emotions and the pain of his existence.

He couldn't wait to get home, get blitzed, and pass the night in his room...

Alone...

Rat Pact Race

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

Truth, lay me down to sleep

Truth, lay me down to dream

Truth, I'm sorry is never enough

Truth, who ever said life would be this tough

It's a rat, it's a rat, it's a rat pact race

To see who can get to first place

Just like the time I was raped

They did it to see the pain on my face

Kid give this six months and it will change x2

Truth, lay me down to sleep

Truth, lay me down to scream

Truth, it's hardly ever enough

Truth, who ever said there would be no love

It's a rat, it's a rat, it's a rat pact race

To see who can get to first place

Just like the time I was raped

They did it to see the pain on my face

Kid give this six months and it will change x4

I know that sorry is not enough

To undo the things I did

It's not supposed to end this way x2

It's a rat, it's a rat, it's a rat pact race

To see who can get to first place

Just like the time I was raped

They did it to see the pain on my face

Kid give this six months and it will change x2

:::December:::

Chapter 20: Easy come, harder to go.

It was a cold Monday night and the day had brought the first real snow shower of the year. Normally it would've happened sooner but Brian chalked it up to global warming or the cyclical heating of the Earth or whatever the hell scientists have decided this month on why everything is so messed up with the world these days. There had to be a good seven inches of the white stuff on the ground.

Brian had spent most of his time in his room lying on his back and plucking away at his black Ibanez acoustic guitar, singing softly to no one in particular. He wasn't breaking any new ground as far as songwriting was concerned but lately he'd been retreating into the activity as a means of occupying his free time when he was home.

Tim hadn't called since Thanksgiving and he figured that after all is said and done the guy probably got sick and broke up with him. The thought brought tears to his eyes but he reasoned that it was for the best because he possibly couldn't add anything to Tim's wonderful life anyways. He imagined that if anything, he was a detraction to it.

While he lay on the mattress that sat on the floor he stared up at the ceiling and tried to make out shapes in the plaster. If he stared hard enough he could see a lion, a space ship, some random polygons, and sadly... An image of Tim. He wondered if he should even attempt to call him. Would that make him seem desperate? He didn't want to find out.

Well... Maybe he would later. He couldn't decide. Maybe after a few drinks he'd investigate.

Paul and Mike were not home due to either job obligations or new social activity partners. Mike had found a girl to be with and all in all she wasn't that impressive. Dumb as a rock and slightly chubby, suited perfectly for that Neanderthal of a man.

When Brian had no more guitar playing ambition left in him he just let the acoustic sit on his chest while he closed his eyes and tried to think of the future. Was he so depressed lately because he was making himself depressed? Like, was he doing it to himself because he had made an off decision to himself to get rid of his sorry ass early next year or was he truly and honest to God actually feeling depressed right now? He'd been through things like this before where he'd promise to kill himself and would never go through with it. Well, he tried it one time but that wasn't really planned like this was. Now that he thought about it, planning your own suicide is pretty stupid. If you want to die you should just do it and stop bitching and complaining and planning. But he still wanted to be considerate this time if he on the slight chance succeeded. He'd hate to leave behind a legacy of bad debts and harsh feelings.

Brian thought about all of this as if he were planning out a trip to the store. He viewed it all with a certain detachment that most people who had ideations such as these. When you're prone to irrational thinking you don't think of things realistically, but more in a romantic sense of what you could accomplish if you just tried hard enough.

Whether it be that you are going to become a rock star, a brain surgeon, the love of someone's life who doesn't currently love you back, or suicide. You think of things more in black and white terms than you do in slightly varying shades of gray.

When the ceiling became too boring to stand anymore, Brian begrudgingly sat up and propped his guitar up next to the wall of his bed. He sat with his hands in his lap and looked at the holes in his jeans. His knees had become quite knobby which meant he was still losing some weight as the time passed. Normally he'd be all ecstatic about this accomplishment but he just wasn't feeling it.

Big deal.

His feet were also getting to be slightly thinner and he could see where the tendons were connecting to his toes and he ran his fingers alongside them as he stretched them out. They were wiry feeling. He'd never before seen them before and they looked quite novel.

Brian decided that if he were to even attempt to make contact with Tim he was to first imbibe at least two shots of hard alcohol. He got up and immediately noticed how cold the floor had gotten so he moved a few steps over to the right side of his room where his clothes had piled up. He couldn't tell if the socks he picked out were clean or not. They smelled okay and weren't really dingy. Unless you bleached the shit out of them they never really got white again after you've worn a pair more than two or three times. They were comfy enough and had only one tiny hole in the ball of the foot in the left sock. Not too big as to notice the frozen hardwood floor on which his feet stood upon.

As Brian walked into the living room it felt as it were almost a ghost house. A single lamp had been left on and it just felt empty and a touch eerie. He wasn't sure if the chill he was experiencing was because they were too cheap to go in for the heating bill or if he was genuinely creeped out by it all.

The sound of the blowing wind outside helped matters not, he was seven years old again and scared of zombies coming out of their graves and eating him. Although considering the mood he was in he wasn't sure whether he'd be scared of the monster or be happy to have something take enough interest in him as to shred his slightly boney body to pieces.

The holes in the knees of his pants were causing discomfort because it was making for a disproportionate amount of coldness on those areas as opposed to the rest of his body which was covered up in a nice soft black cotton Radiohead hoodie.

Never mind though.

Alcohol would warm him up enough. He thought this and couldn't help resist correcting himself as he walked into the kitchen. Alcohol actually constricted the blood flow thus making you colder, it just made you feel warmer for whatever reason. That was fine enough with him.

He'd used up one of the remaining three Demerol pills he had left and debated for a moment on whether or not he should take one now. Narcotics made him chatty and in his own mind, witty, and thus would be better equipped to talk to Tim, however common sense ruled that out and he grabbed the ever presence bottle of vodka from the freezer.

From the cabinet he pulled out a shot glass and sat it on the counter. The jug was heavy but he was able to pour himself a shot with minimal spillage, nothing he couldn't wipe up with a single stroke of the towel that rested on the handle of the gas oven.

Down the hatch, the shot burned nicely in his throat and he made the obligatory disgusted face and gagged slightly.

The second went down easier however.

And the third even better still.

As to whether or not he was going to go for a fourth, he decided to wait and see how he felt in about ten minutes.

The jug of cheap vodka went back into the freezer and he opened to see if any soda was available. Lucky for him there was something more than Mike's two liter of Mountain Dew (Which neither he nor Paul were allowed to even think of touching.) There was a twenty four pack of classic Coke. Brian preferred to drink Diet Coke but now was not the time to split hairs. Besides he wasn't too worried about calories since he'd only had a bowl of oatmeal earlier in the morning. It was now about seven o'clock at night and he wanted nothing more than glorious, awesome, life giving glucose.

With a flick of the tab he ingested his first sip of cola and it was sweet and tingly. He could feel the alcohol starting to work its way through his blood stream and he smiled. He hoped he had not drank too much of the poison but he was soon to find out.

After about ten minutes and two sodas later he was properly buzzed and went to his room to grab his cell phone off its charger. Tim's number was the last one to have called him, making it easy to find in his inebriated state (He was a champion light weight) and recklessly hit the call button.

Tim's ring tone was stock classical music and it always slightly annoyed Brian whenever he called him. He'd much rather hear a normal ringing sound like he was sure most of the population did.

After almost five rings he answered. "Hey Brian, what's up!" Tim said on the other line.

Brian took in a long deep breath. "Hey! I haven't heard from you in a bit hear and I was just wondering what you were up to?"

"Well I'm at work at the moment and the rush is about to start. You know the seven o'clock showings and all. You know this."

"Yeah I'm sorry... Could you call me back or would you want me to call you back or what?" Brian felt like a drunken fool. He knew this yet he called anyways.

"I'll call you OK?"

"Okay. I was just missing you is all."

"Awe, you're such a sweetie!" Tim made a kissing noise and Brian heard the disconnection beep.

With resignation he put the phone in his pocket and walked back out to the living room where he went through the DVD's to see what took his fancy. After a few minutes and a few false starts he decided on The Dark Knight. He was in the mood for something dark to fit his demeanor at the moment.

As he watched it he began to pick apart the phone call he had with Tim.

Did he sound mad?

Was he being sincere?

Did he even work on Monday nights? He wasn't sure but he thought he remembered being at his house a few Mondays ago. He didn't really know but there really was no way of seeing if he did since he never had kept a day planner like Paul had always suggested. Then again maybe he was just being paranoid. He knew all too well how it was to be called into work on days you weren't scheduled. Still though, he was sure Tim didn't work Mondays.

Hopefully his neurotic question would be answered in about an hour or so. Until then Brian fast forwarded the movie to the parts where the Joker was on screen. Heath Ledger was genius in this movie and it made Brian incredibly sad that there would not be a sequel with him in it since he had died of an overdose back in 2008.

What a waste...

Brian thought about it for a minute longer.

Lucky guy...

For a moment Brian envied him. When he realized what he was thinking he shook the thought from his head but it wouldn't quite go away no matter how much he tried. He finally let it sink into him and he felt his entire body grow heavy with sadness.

Sadness for Heath.

Sadness for Paul.

Sadness for Tim.

Sadness for his niece.

Sadness for himself most of all.

He felt like giving up the ghost and hanging himself that very night. The thought dominated his mind for almost thirty minutes before he begun to get drowsy from the alcohol and recent lack of sleep.

When his phone began to vibrate it slowly brought him back into reality. He took it from his pocket and saw that it was Tim.

"Hey you!" Brian smiled.

"Hey! How are you doing?" Tim said. His voice lacked enthusiasm but Brian didn't care, it was enough that he had called him back.

"I'm doing fine I guess. I was just... I don't know. You haven't called in a few days."

"Yeah it's been super hectic in the world of Tim lately. My grandmother is in the hospital so I drove out to Boulder twice in the past three days."

"Oh man I'm so sorry to hear that! Is she okay?"

"Yeah she'll pull through. Just routine gull bladder surgery is all."

"There's nothing routine about surgery man. I'm sorry to hear it."

Tim laughed. "You're making it into a bigger deal than anyone else you know. She'll be fine. I promise you."

"I'm really not the one you need to promise to."

"I know. Anyways, I think it's cute that you missed me."

"I really did. Is that super gay of me?"

"Just a little but you know what, I'll let you in on a secret."

"Okay, lay it on me."

"I think gay guys are hot as hell!"

Brian smiled. "Thanks. That makes my night. What time do you get off?"

"About twelve o'clock tonight. Why? Do you work in the morning?"

Brian grimaced. "Yeah... I'm working forty hours again this week."

"Man, you must be raking in the dough, what with tips and your hourly wage and all."

Brian wanted to point out that it was still nowhere near as much as what Tim's family sent to him as a monthly per diem but thought against saying such a thing. "Yeah, I'm saving a lot of money lately."

"Any reason why you're on the savings kick?"

Yeah, Brian thought, because I don't want to leave behind any debts. "I'm just trying to get a little bit in the bank just for whatever."

"That's great man. I'm glad to see you taking things seriously."

"What do you mean seriously?" Brian sat up, offended by the comment.

"I just mean I'm happy that you are being fiscally responsible." Tim said defensively.

"I'm always fiscally responsible!"

"Listen, I didn't mean it that way. I'm just happy that you're happy okay?"

"Okay," Brian calmed down a little, "yeah I know. I'm just a little tipsy is all."

"On a Monday? What's the occasion?"

"I don't know. I'm just all alone in the house and I decided to take in a few shots."

"Don't go overboard with that stuff. You're a feather weight when it comes to alcohol and I imagine with all the weight you've been losing lately you're even more so."

This comment raised Brian's spirit. "You think I'm losing weight?"

"Yeah, I told you that already, don't lose too much more though. I like my men with a little meat on them."

"Thanks... I guess." Brian said quizzically. He was happy that Tim could not see the creases on his face as he frowned.

"Listen if you're that lonely I'll see what I can do tonight as far as getting off early. Although it sounds to me like you need to get your butt into bed a little earlier than I'd be able to get off."

"I know... When are you not working next?"

"I think tomorrow but I'm not too certain. Even then I may have to go up to Boulder to check on grandma."

Brian paused. "Could I go with you maybe?"

A moment of silence passed before Tim answered. "Listen man it's sort of a family thing." He said sternly.

"Yeah I know... I'm sorry Tim."

"It's okay buddy. I know you just want to spend time with me. As I said I appreciate it but I just don't think I'd really have the time until maybe Saturday night or Sunday morning. Take your pick."

"Could I maybe spend the night at your place Saturday night and come home on Sunday morning?"

"Oh yeah! Durr!!!" Brian could hear Tim smack himself on the forehead. "Yeah that's totally cool. I'll let you know for sure later. The schedule is in the main projection room and Leslie is in their right now working and running the movie projector."

"You mean she's on the internet and cannot be disturbed."

"Bingo." Tim laughed. "Listen man I need to go."

"Would it be all too bad if you came over tonight?" Brian said softly.

"I think it's best for both of us if you and I get some rest. We'll get together, don't worry!"

"Okay. Thanks anyways. I hope you have a great night..."

"You too!" Tim made a kissing noise and the phone beeped, signaling that Tim had hung up on his end.

Brian sighed and placed his phone on the coffee table. He sat back and began to feel a slight headache from the alcohol pass over his brain. He could tell that if he didn't lay down soon he'd be in for some serious pain come twenty minutes. He turned off the DVD player and the flat screen and grabbed his phone.

He went into the darkness of his room and switched on his light just long enough to see where his bed was and where the phone charger was laying. He then turned it back off and was able to successfully navigate his cell phone into the charger then fell down on his bed.

He took off his pants but kept on his socks. He thought about sleeping in his hoodie but he knew that come the middle of the night he'd be sweating in it so he took that off also and threw it into the right corner with all the other clothing he had.

Pulling the blanket to his chin he curled into the fetal position and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't come for a full thirty or so minutes but when it did it hit him like a ton of bricks.

His last conscious thought was of touching Tim's chest and twirling his fingers through his chest hair while he lay with him. But when he thought about it he felt no joy in it. Instead he felt incredibly depressed and passed the night away, drunk and alone.

Chapter 21: Brian's Diary: You know I'm fat like a politician but without the power it entails...

I was about fourteen or so when the newly prescribed medications began to work their magic on me. At first I just thought I was getting puffy. Then jeans and pants began to get a little snug. Then they wouldn't fit altogether.

I'm just growing up is all, that's what I told myself.

Shirts began to bulge and long red streaks began appearing on my flesh from stem to sternum. Then the man boobs began to form, man I never lived that one down.

I had begun to eat better despite accusations from my family that I was trying to be anorexic by eating just one slice of pizza instead of a whole God damn extra large meat lovers and a side of hot wings. I thought I was doing very well but the scale doesn't lie. I was gaining weight, and fast.

The only other friend I had besides John was my counselor and he calmed me down and told me that this is a natural side effect for the medication that I was ingesting daily. Weight gain is a very common side effect of many anti psychotics.

'Well couldn't I be taken off of them?' I asked.

'No. You're doing so well!' He told me. 'No outbursts have been documented since starting the medication and you seem to me like you are taking to it very well.'

'But I'm fat... I'm already short and now I'm getting fat.'

'You just got to take the good with the bad son.'

'But... I'm extremely depressed still.'

'We can work on that here.'

'My only friend is starting to call me names and he's not sleeping anymore...'

'Well then what kind of friend is he if he is acting that way?'

'My only friend...' I remember shedding a few tears during that meeting but all the counselor did was give me some tissues and changed the subject. It was like the problem had been discussed and that any further mention of how fat I was getting was just met with the whole spiel about how beauty is on the inside. Go fuck yourself!!!

I was a fucking blimp! I still have all the extra fucking skin from losing it all!!! I can't get naked in front of people without feeling like I am the ugliest fucking piece of shit on this whole God damn planet!

John came by less and less like I said and his attitude with me just sort of changed overnight. At least it felt that way. He would talk about nothing but girls and I would still be thinking the same thing I had been thinking ever since I got pubic hair. 'When am I going to like girls too?'

John would point out females he would deem "HOT AS HELL!!!" and I would just have to agree with him. I hated myself because I just didn't see it. I never did. And when I would stare it would be at guys who were considered good looking.

One time I was day dreaming and staring at this tall skinny guy playing basketball in the gym and he caught my gaze and came over to me in a huff.

'What the fuck are you looking at you fat fagot!?' he asked me.

I went cold with fear. The only thing I could say at that moment was 'I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how cool it would be if I could look like you.'

This must of caught him off guard because he looked down to his feet and told me to just never stare at him like that again. It wasn't nice.

Other guys in the dressing room had happy trails and I didn't. A happy trail is that line of hair going from the belly button to the pubic region. I was just sporadically haired and for the most part not that masculine looking what so ever. It was (and still is) hurtful to feel like I was missing out on small things like happy trails and being able to walk around without a shirt on. Even sandals and flip flops depressed me because my feet had ballooned up almost whole shoe size. Everything about me was (is) disgusting and the other kids made sure I knew it too. I was around the middle part of my sixteenth year when I hit the two hundred and forty pound mark. Mind you I was only like five one. I just couldn't stop the weight gain and the doctors told me that taking me off of the antipsychotics for that specific was not only shallow, but it was a very unwise decision to cut me off from a medication regimen that was working for me. Mentally at least... I could just kill them I swear!!!

I'm sorry, I'm a little drunk as I write this. I took about four swigs from the communal vodka bottle and it's made me a little loopy. But not enough to make me any less angry about what had happened to me.

I remember giving up and eating about two whole meals of Chinese food and the obligatory egg rolls and fried rice. What made me angry was that my body wasn't used to such a meal and I threw it all up later on that night. Here I was, about two hundred and forty pounds and I couldn't even hold down two Chinese food dinners! What a fucking joke I was! Of course after being so big for so long I began to not care about what I ate and just began to eat anything and everything I could. I couldn't stop gaining weight so why not?! It wasn't like dieting was going to help me any in the long run now was it!?

John however was extremely critical of my weight gain and I suppose now that he was just trying to help out in the only way he knew how. And that was to ridicule me to the point of where I was reduced to hysterics... You would think someone would have just a little bit of sympathy in them, but not John.

Our relationship deteriorated over the course of two years to the point where he wouldn't even acknowledge me in the hallway. When I did hear from him it would be that someone told me that he was making fun of how big I was and how short I stood. The more hurtful thing though was his vicious rumors about the size of my penis. He saw me when we mutually masturbated and I assumed that was something that two friends would take to their grave.

Instead everyone knew that I was underdeveloped and all the guys would clamor for me to show them what I had in the locker room. Even the fucking gym teacher joked about me at one time when I guess he didn't think I was listening!

He was around all the basketball playing kids (Tall, thin, fucking perfect!) and he was telling them something about how at least they could feel good that they weren't a short chubby bastard like that Brian kid! I put in a complaint to the school but of course it got swept under the rug.

As high school dragged on I just began getting more and more depressed. Near suicidal at times. When I'd tell my counselors and shrinks about this sort of stuff they just told me that kids will be kids and that kids are cruel. They'd feed me bullshit about how everyone grows at different rates and that I had nothing to be ashamed of about my body.

FUCK YOU!!!

I remember being told that being seven inches was the normal size of a guy's penis and I believed it. Mind you that I've since learned that five to six is normal, however I've only personally seen about one or two of these so called normal sized packages. Everyone else I meet is fucking hung like a horse and it just goes to show me that I am a fucking little freak with a small dick and sagging skin around my waste!

Fuck Tim and his telling me that I'm perfect! I bet he's cheating on me right now because I'm just not man enough for him anymore! I bet he is... Oh God what if he is? He's not spending any time with me anymore...

Anyways... I was nearly eighteen and I had no friends. My grades were sinking and I had no hope at going to college. I both couldn't afford it and I couldn't seem to make the passing requirements.

I think the most hurtful thing about high school was watching all of the people I had known since elementary school grow up into men and women. The guys grew tall and got facial hair. The girls grew too and got boobs and such. The guy's voices deepened and became manly while my voice stayed high and squeaky until I was twenty one. Not only did they physically become adults but most of them got cars, jobs, and were headed to college. They were finding their identities as sexual beings and exploring their emotions like any normal teenager while I was left alone to read my books and spend my nights dreaming about a way out of this horrible world.

I tried religion, I really did. It didn't help though. I just couldn't see an all loving God not only send people who didn't know about him to hell, but how could he allow a shit like me to exist for the sole purpose of suffering through life? Where's his empathy? Where's his compassion? When you have one out of a million prayers answered it's considered a miracle. However when every other prayer you send out goes unanswered and you are left suffering its considered God's will. I don't think I'll ever be at the point where I can say "FUCK GOD!" but I know I'm pretty damn close. Even though I now identify myself as an Atheist it's still hard to shake off the many years of being reared as a Southern Baptist.

The stories of hell fire and brimstone stood in stark contrast to the stories of God's love. How in some stories in the bible (Like in Genesis I remember...) a man's daughters would get him plastered on wine so they could have sex with him and bare his children. Or how in one other story God told David's army to pillage a village or city or whatever and kill all the men and children but take the women as their wives. And if they weren't satisfied with that then they should go into a clearing and wait for a pretty girl to come by and take her away against her will. I've been through the horror of rape before and I just can't imagine how those poor women must of felt. Why would God want that for them? Why would he be so sided with male's getting off and women were not even citizens, but a means for men to display power over?

It's not just all that though... What got me most was the verse... Man I remember it by heart. It was:

Leviticus - 20:13 If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.

I was coming to a point in my life where I couldn't ignore how I felt when I looked at other guys. I remembered praying and praying for help and it never coming. I felt like I was a sinful little shit and that I was going to go to hell for something I couldn't help thinking! I still foolishly think like this sometimes! Why would God make me this way when he obviously hates people like me?

I hate it when people ask me why I would choose to be gay. Who would choose to be something that would make you the constant butt of jokes, ridiculed, and sometimes flat out threatened to the point where you fear for your safety?! You don't! But you can't possibly make some people understand this. They can't seem to get the comparison of when they see a hot girl or guy, their body reacts accordingly. They can't seem to understand that when you are gay the same thing happens, only it's backwards! Even when I try to explain it like that they still get defensive and throw God in my face.

I'm through with God. When I die I am just going to blink out of existence and that will be that. Hell it's better than having to meet your maker who obviously made you that way only to have him ask you why you are the way you are.

If God is all knowing and created everything then do we really have free will? How come God asks people in the bible who they are? Doesn't he already know the past, present, and future?

Dear lord I hope some religious nut doesn't find this diary and burn it. I'm not meaning to be a stickler or anything, I'm simply expressing how I feel. And I know this is wrong when it comes to religion but... I don't know.

If there is a God out there and when I do kill myself I would hope that he would understand why I did what I did. That he would have some empathy for me and that he would soothe me and tell me that all my pain and suffering were not in vain. That I have a place in his heart and he will love me forever and ever to the end of time.

If there is a God I believe he wouldn't hate something he made. He made me the way I am for whatever his own reason may be. All I can say though is that it certainly does suck to be made the way I am.

I can't go on much longer anyways. The pain of just waking up in the morning is simply too much for me sometimes. Lately I've been crying for no reason and I simply cannot eat anymore. I've been living off of crackers and coffee. At least I'm saving tons on my food bill. That's good at least.

I miss the friendship I had with John.

I miss the closeness Paul and I used to share when we first met.

If Tim IS cheating on me then I hope he's happy with that person and can be satisfied in the ways I couldn't do. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt, because it totally fucking does. I'm just saying that when it comes to your life you have to take in account how other people feel. If he's happier this way then I shouldn't hold a grudge.

After all I'm just a mistake anyways, the result of some drunken grope fest where the roughness of the intercourse caused a break in the condom, at least this is what my mother told me. I know she was drunk when she did but still, who tells their thirteen year old son something like this? She told me I was once just a dribble down her leg... I remember her laughing about it and taking another sip of beer while I just sat there unable to talk. I'll always remember that. It makes me sick to think about it even now.

I don't know if I can ever come to terms with my past and my present before I rid the world of my horrible existence. You can't say that I'm not trying though because I really am. Oh God how I'm trying to justify myself as a human being! It's just not working!

I have no one to talk to about things like this. No one I can share my pain with. No one I can hold and let it all out to. I know I have Dr Neven but it's not the same as a good friend telling me that things will be alright.

I remember testing the water with Tim only to find out that he's not too much into emotions, which strikes me as amusing since he's a psych major. Funny how people always seem to pick the wrong career and they don't even see it themselves?

Paul, well I just can't talk to Paul about certain things because that would be too much to ask of him. Whenever I got too deep before he'd let me know and I'd pull back, feeling embarrassed and scared of what I just let loose upon his mind.

I love Paul. If he were like me I'd do everything in my power to be with him. When I see him with Shelly it makes me so incredibly sad because it just reinforces the fact that he's from a totally different world than I'm from. He grew up with nice things and became an amazing looking straight guy while I somehow morphed into the Brian you see today.

Even if he was I could never compete with what he has. I'm happy he's fucking Shelly. If it makes him feel good then I hope they get married and have a million little perfect children to repopulate this Earth. A million little tall skinny white boys who can get any girl they want.

I'm such a failure at life.

I'm such a failure...

I wish I had somebody to talk to.

I have nobody to turn to right now...

I am in so much pain...

Please, God, if you are real in any way shape or form, help me...

All I want to do is to talk to somebody...

Please God...

Chapter 22: Holiday cocksucker blues...

Brian must've left about ten messages on Tim's phone over the course of the week. He'd promised to hang out earlier but has yet to call him back. The best Brian can get is a few text messages every other day but it's not the same as it used to be when they'd talk on the phone every chance they had. It just wasn't fair.

Whoever is fucking him must be so much better than I am, Brian thought. Even this train of thinking wasn't super realistic and he knew down in his heart that Tim was probably just super busy with his grandmother and his job and his...

New boyfriend?

...family. He's a busy guy, a big busy beautiful guy with the coolest white boy afro in the world. With big hands and long legs and a smile that just melts your heart into liquid butter.

How did someone like him ever get with a guy like me?

Oh yeah... He put out. Brian hated himself for being so easy but at the same time it brought results.

Brian got up and checked his phone for the seventh time that day. It was after six pm on Friday night and he knew that Tim would be working the cashier position tonight until midnight when they began their midnight movie thing.

Maybe he could get Tim to go see it with him? They were showing The Nightmare Before Christmas for the umpteenth time and it was one of his favorite childhood movies. Brian remembered wanting to be a stop motion animator after he saw that movie and had seen a documentary about its making. He would spend all kinds of time and money on making armatures and molding liquid latex and such when he was younger. Even though he couldn't do this at home, he had a very understanding art teacher who let him have the run of things while the rest of the kids were doing an assignment. Brian was always ahead of the class and his extra freedom suited him perfectly since he really had none at home.

Besides, what was a fat kid to do without any friends?

Brian lifted his shirt to see his muffin top of a midsection puff out and he decided to wait a minute while he calmed down before trying to call Tim again. If the man didn't answer him then he would go up to the Hitchcock and get at him during his off hours when he would just either be reading or whatever anyways.

Brian decided to bring along a twenty four ounce iced Starbucks cup with him so that he could get a caramel Italian soda while he was at it. It fit snuggly into his messenger bag alongside his laptop and change of socks.

He'd been taking along extra pairs for a bit now since he discovered the joys of ten pair sock bundles for four bucks at Target. It was almost too good to be true and he was near the point of changing and throwing away a pair after two days. What with the high price of the laundry mat, it made sense to him.

Then again not a lot of things about how he had been acting lately really did make sense anymore. He would wake up at all hours of the night and not go back to sleep until the next night, only then to wake up again four hours later. He wasn't eating much and was finally losing the weight he wanted to lose, but only now it felt like an empty victory.

Even though Brian wanted Tim's attention so very badly, all he did when he was around him was think to himself that he is horrible by comparison and would feel defeated. All he ever did around him anymore was bend over and be a warm hole for Tim to put it in. The pain didn't even bother him anymore because it was the only thing he felt that even validated his existence with the man. If he was sore it was a reminder that he'd been with somebody and he felt like he had to hold onto that because his mind was no longer registering the fact that somebody had told him that he cares.

Does anyone really care?

Is it all a big colossal joke??

Ha! Ha! Very funny guys, you can come out now and yell surprise to me, Brian's mind wondered. He must of said it out loud because Mike hollered "Surprise!" from the living room in response to his plea. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad.

Brian decided to get on his nice shoes, the black and white Chuck Taylor's, and head on out. He grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulders and walked out of his room, making clacking noises as the hard rubber soles of his shoes hit the hardwood flooring.

Before he reached the door Mike told him that it would be best to get a heavy coat on because it was going to flurry tonight. Brian thanked him and went back to his room to get his Photo Atlas zip hoodie. There was a cool geometric design with illustrations of the band all screen printed on soft black died cotton. It was comfy and very thick. He hoped that Mike wasn't pulling his leg on the weather report just so he could die of heat exhaustion later on that night.

On the next attempt to exit the house Mike told him to have a good day "Buddy". This froze Brian momentarily and he looked back to see him on the couch stuffing his face with Doritos. He didn't look back at him to confirm what he had said and assumed that he must've imagined himself hearing it.

Upon exiting Brian could feel that Mike was not making anything up, it was cold as the Antarctic outside. It's funny because earlier that day he had to wear a short sleeve shirt because it was so hot out. That is the beauty of Colorado. It's so hot you can fry an egg on the side walk one minute and then cold enough to freeze ice pops the next. Nothing surprised him anymore and he didn't even try to think about it.

This did sort of throw a monkey wrench into things though seeing as he wanted to walk to the Hitchcock. He may have to settle for a bus if it starts snowing and he has to be wise about it too because after six pm the buses around his area only ran every hour or so. If he could make it down two blocks and over on he could catch the next one coming in ten minutes.

This required some fast walking on his part, not that he was in any danger of being late, but he just liked to be there early on the off chance that the bus driver was there sooner than expected and thus ruining his night.

As he maneuvered himself through the two blocks of the inner city projects in the industrial section of Denver, Brian couldn't help but feel the desolation. Many of the plants around here had been closed a while ago and most of the warehouses were being rented out to groups of artists and musicians. He never did quite fit in with those guys. It always made him feel stupid when one of those guys would tell him that he wasn't hip enough to hang out with them. Even though they never used such words as "hip" or "cool" it all basically meant the same thing. They'd go on about how they grew up without nobody understanding them and all that crap yet when Brian would try to tell them about his past they'd turn up their nose and walk away. Apparently if you grew up middle to upper class and had distant parents and were in a community too conservative to have any sort of thriving art scene you were considered to be an outcast. However if you were lower class to just plain poor and you actually went through some real pain then you were considered trash too low even for the self proclaimed tortured artists.

Brian just couldn't fit in anywhere. How the hell he was able to become friends with people like Paul and Tim he'd never know. Paul was a preppy athletic guy while Tim was like a local god in the music scene here in Denver. Brian had seen most of the shows he played since getting with him but he did slack a little and had missed the last one.

Just one missed show shouldn't end all be all though should it? As he wracked his brain he got to the bus stop just in time to see the lights of the vehicle in the darkness of the twilight ahead of him about six or seven blocks down the road.

It was times like this that Brian wished he could use the MP3 function on his phone and listen to some music to help pass the time. His current phone wasn't compatible with his computer's operating system and he didn't know anyone with an older OS on their computer. While it would be nice, it would definitely detract from his reading habit, which he was going to feed once he got on the bus.

Right now he was reading a book from the eighties about the first ever openly homosexual police officer in the LAPD called Outside The Badge by Grobeson. It's a great read but when it talks about what the guy went through, it gets a little unbearable when the villain of the story captures, tortures, and kills his male prostitute victims. It's always been hard for Brian to even try and imagine such pain being inflicted on another person. He knew how it felt to be violated and it made his heart sink to hear about other people's tragedies. Real or not.

The book, like the many he bought before it, was purchased at Mutiny Now! book store down on Ellsworth and Broadway. The owner is just the coolest in Brian's eyes as he peddles older out of print and controversial books and is very outspoken against the moral majority. He liked people who could speak their mind and not care what other's thought of them. It was something Brian knew he could never fully embrace and he envied people who could.

His bus pass was already feeling the wear and tear of constantly being taken out to show the bus drivers because he had no clear plastic pocket in his wallet that could display it visibly. With a sigh he got onto the public transportation vehicle and showed his pass to the driver. It wasn't that packed so he was able to get a seat up front near the operator. Not that he wanted to talk to him, but he was normally left alone when he sat in those seats.

With a jolt the bus sped off onto the street. Brian looked around and took in all the sad and busy faces on it and it gave him a sense of hopelessness. Let's say he grows old enough to be like the guy in the middle, with his long white beard and dirty brown trench coat, what would he be in life at that point? An alcoholic with no hope for recovery?

Would he turn out like the lady near the back with a cat in a carrier, sitting alone and smell so bad that no one wants to sit near you? The only company you have had in months is an animal that eats and eats and eats and gives little back as far as affection?

Would he be like the black man in the back just staring blankly out toward the front. No soul in his eyes and wearing sandals without socks in the frigid environment that is winter in Denver Colorado? Brian wanted to go up to the man and give him some money but he knew from how he looked that the money wouldn't be used for anything that would help his status any. He hated assuming things but then again when he thought about it, the act of assuming things was probably a defense mechanism created over millions of years of evolution to help protect us against possible threats. That and most likely sex... Freud said that everything comes around to sex.

It's why you get the car you drive...

It's why you groom yourself, get a good job, go out of your way to appear special...

It all comes around to fucking. Brian wished he could cut off his genitals and tell the world to go fuck its own self for a change.

However that sort of thinking passes and animosity fades into deep seated resentment for his own being. Brian tried to get out the book and read but he was too preoccupied with what he was going to say and do when he met up with Tim face to face. Would he be mad or happy to see him?

Brian felt alone and he desperately wanted Tim to greet him with a hug and a kiss and a promise that everything will be alright.

The dusk turned to night as he got off downtown at the 16th Street Mall at the California stop. He walked over to the other street going south to catch the 6 bus that went by the theater. However if the 0 bus came first he thought maybe he'd just get on that and get off on sixth and Broadway. It's only like ten blocks and Brian felt like he could use the extra boost that exercise gave him.

An older white man with prematurely graying hair stopped by him and asked for change in which Brian politely declined. When the man insisted further he threatened to call the police on the man and the bum wound up walking away and cursing under his breath in response to Brian's threat.

The man's pupils were pinned. Whenever you see somebody on the street asking you for money you should always take a good look at their eyes. If they are pinned then it is most likely because they have taken heroin or other like strong opiates. If they are dilated and it's a pretty sunny day out you can bet your ass it's either cocaine, crack, or meth that they're on. It made Brian deeply sorrowful to think that there are people out there wasting their otherwise good life away by being a slave to such things.

Then again who was he to talk? He was a slave at this point to his own depression. It gave him a sick sense of purpose to wake up in the morning only to hate everything that comes his way. The world needs cynics, at least this is what he told himself to help make his existence more tolerable.

In 2009 there was a discovery by some psychologist in some journal he read that said grumpy people are much better decision makers than those thinking more positively. Hell yeah! He thought. May the realists rule the planet...

The light wasn't totally gone from the sky and it was an eerie shade of dark orange and it cast a low purple light on the town. Many of the city's lights had already been switched on but there were some that stood destitute and lifeless.

Brian could see his breath in the air. He tried to catch it with his free hand but of course that was just a fool's dream. Why was he doing it? You have to have some mystery in life otherwise you'd go insane knowing that nothing matters.

A cute guy with what looked like his girlfriend came up beside him and they were holding hands. Brian wasn't sure whether or not he should strike up a conversation with the couple but he thought better of it. They'd just hate him anyways so why bother?

Short...

Fat...

Ugly...

He felt like his vernacular was bigger than his IQ and it made him feel like a dummy. You can know all the big words you want but it doesn't help you in the real world when it comes to living and loving everyday life.

The young guy tapped Brian on the shoulder, spooking him slightly. He turned around to see the guy standing face to face with him. If anything he was happy that he wasn't being towered over like some common peasant by a giant who could tear you limb from limb.

"What up?" Brian said in a low detached voice.

"I like your hoodie!" The guy told him.

His girl chimed in "We love The Photo Atlas! Did you get that from one of their shows?"

Brian smiled. "Yeah, I actually know the guys pretty well. I was in a band myself."

They ignored the latter statement but seemed impressed to know that he knew the band. They questioned him further about the four guys who happened to play music and it made Brian's lungs feel cold and constrictive because they just flat out ignored the opportunity to talk about his own musical endeavors. Anyways... At least he was talking to actual human beings.

"Yeah, Alan is an awesome guy." Brian said, looking out to the side of the road hoping to see a bus coming, nothing yet so he was stuck with them for a minute or so longer.

Damn!

"He's such a great singer!" The girl gushed, "And they are all way hot!"

Brian agreed with her and again looked onward.

"Yeah man." the boy said, "even I think they're pretty good looking!"

Brian felt defensive, he didn't like it when straight guys played gay people up to be the fool.

"Would you fuck them?" Brian asked in a hard clipped sentence, not looking back at the young blond haired man.

"Um... What?" The guy stood there as if he'd been hit in the stomach.

Brian turned around and stared straight into his eyes. "Yeah, would you suck them off? I did."

"You mean they're... Gay?" The girl said with a disappointed look on her face.

"I for sure know that most of them are. Hung like hell." Brian was lying through his teeth but he took sick satisfaction at their reactions. "That doesn't change what you feel about their music does it?"

"Well..." The guy stumbled for words. "It's cool and all. I just don't like it when gay people hit on me."

Brian's blood really got boiling with that statement. "Exactly how many guys do you feel like hit on you?"

"Um... I'm sure a lot of gay guys want me." The guy scratched the back of his neck and looked to his girlfriend for support. She still had her head down and did not notice the visual clue.

"That's pretty narcissistic don't you think?"

"No... It's just... I don't have anything against gay guys you know!"

"What if I thought you were hot?" Brian said with a lisp.

"Um... It's cool. Just don't touch me okay?" The guy looked around as if he was looking for help.

Brian blew. "Do you think that every gay guy wants to fuck you? Do you really honest to God believe this!? That every time you see a gay guy he's thinking 'damn I'd like to tap that!' Do you really think you are that hot to everyone!? When you are around a lot of girls do you feel like they are looking at you?!"

The guy turned deep red and backed away. "Sometimes..."

His girlfriend finally got her head up and responded to him. "So you think that all the girls think you're hot stuff huh?"

"Well... I..." The young man was lost for words at this point and backed away further from both Brian and the girl.

"Well if you think you're so hot that all the girls want you then you can just find another bitch to fuck tonight mister!" The girl put her purse upon her shoulder and began to walk away. The boy ran alongside her and apologized profusely as they went.

At least they weren't going to be on the same bus as Brian anymore. If they ever were that is... One could only hope. He DID have a nice butt and he wished he could've told him that before he left with the other breeder. Brian always thought of something clever to say after the fact and this situation was no different.

The confrontation brought him no satisfaction however. The ignorant bastard must feel like shit now and Brian couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. It still wasn't his place. For some reason almost every guy on the planet is built upon the principle that they must nut inside a warm body or they will physically die or something. It sickened him but he didn't discount the feeling just because he never personally felt that way.

Maybe he should be more receptive to Tim's advances? Just because he didn't want to do it as much as he did didn't mean that it's not a real life complication of relationships. He receded and felt an understanding with the fact that it's what guys do. Men are programmed that way from millions of years of evolution to just breed whenever they can find a willing mate.

The act of a guy holding you tight during intercourse is something scientists believe comes from the fact that in most species, sex either hurts the female or she gets bored and tries to break free. The man has to hold on while he does it so that he can ensure his mate gets inseminated.

Brian wondered why gay guys do it too? Why do gay people even have sex if it's not for procreation? Is it some messed up wiring in the brain or is there a simple logic to it all that no one has figured out yet?

Homosexuality occurred in nature as well. Most all warm blooded animals have a small minority that exhibit strictly homosexual attributes. The biggest offender is bats. They seem to have a bigger per capita of gay and lesbian groupings of any of the other animals in the world.

If it's wrong and amoral then why do animals do it? Didn't God make the animals without free will? As far as he knew free will is strictly a human kind thing and did not apply to animals. Does that mean God programmed other species of beasts to occasionally hump one of their own gender? Why would God let them do that and not mankind?

Again he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of an all loving God excluding him from the wonders of heaven just because he's somebody he can't control being...

It's just not fair...

Then again who ever said life was? It's always going to be the middle to upper class white Christian majority that will rule everything. From priests to politicians, Brian felt extremely empty and sad about the current state of affairs in the world. Why should he suffer so much so willingly? Even though he had doubts about his plans he was still thinking about it a lot as the time drew closer. He may just abandon it all together. Burn his journal and all. At least he got out what he got out in the first place. All those hurtful memories, at least he felt like he did a good job at that. Maybe he would go further into it and get to the real hardships and finally face them. He still hasn't told Dr Neven about the rape and the only other person who knew about them was Paul.

He could see a bus in the distance and it looked to him to be the 0 bus.

Oh well, he'd just walk. He needed to get out and clear his head.

As he boarded this particular bus and showed his pass to the driver, he couldn't help but again feel sorry for the relationship he probably screwed up between that guy and girl. No one deserves pain like that and a heavy guilt weight over him as he sat down up front. He looked out at the blackness of the city and could only make out what was under the lights. In the shadows lay the unwanted and the abused, the people who would steal from stores and rob you blind for another hit. Brian was surprised himself that he had yet to get to an addict status in his own life. He indeed loved his opiates but things just never really got out of hand like most people told him it would. In fact he still had the two Demerol pills left over from the six Tim gave him. He thought about taking one now but decided against it as the bus passed Colfax and Broadway, the major bus stop part of the ride until the Broadway station. From there you could get a bus anywhere in town. It was also where he knew some of the bigger drug dealers set up shop.

If he was going to do what he planned on doing then he'd have to decide on what to do and actually go through with it. He could go up to a junky and ask him where he could get either heroin or pills from. The thought of shooting up junk just made his skin crawl and he knew that smoking it to the point of overdose would be a poor choice seeing as you'd probably just pass out before any major damage happened.

The pills seemed higher class anyways. Some Dilaudid mixed with some Valiums with just a fifth of vodka should do the trick nicely. Then again what if he woke up the next morning or just went into a coma? He'd have to plan that out too. He didn't want to possibly wake up a paraplegic or a full on cripple and be that way for the rest of his life. Or worse, he could become mentally handicapped in the way that you can't control your arms, legs, and mouth. He'd knock out a high percentage of his IQ and he felt like he would still know who the hell he is, and that scared the living shit out of him. To be that way and know you were different before.

Scared the fucking living shit out of his very soul.

With a long hard sigh Brian fell back into his seat and waited for sixth avenue to be called. This bus was packed quite well with all kinds of bums, kids, professionals, and just plain old regular people who happened not to have the means to get a car. Brian never really wanted to get a car and had not in fact gotten his license yet, just a dinky learner's permit. No one ever would teach him so he just never got it. World's loss he supposed. At least if he could drive he would be able to go over a bridge or off the edge of the great Colorado Rockies.

Someone pulled the cord before Brian did and the bus halted at the stop between seventh and sixth on Broadway. He thanked the driver and got out into the cold dark night. It was chillier than before he had gotten on the bus and he hoped to God (or whatever is out there.) that Tim would be willing to either put him up for the night or take him home.

As he crossed the busy street he decided to get a cup of coffee from Starbucks on his way down. There was a nice little shop down at the end of the small hill and when he opened the door he felt the rush of warm air blow on his body. In fact it seemed that the shop may be over compensating by heating the fuck out of it, but Brian kept his mouth shut and just ordered his caramel latte like a good little drone.

He was relieved that the cashier and barista did not ask him as to whether or not he was having a good night because he wasn't quite sure how he'd respond to such a question at this point in time. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring anyone else down with him anymore than he already did.

The large coffee tasted pretty bland and he wished that there was a smaller independent café around here because they always had better latte drinks. Starbucks was good for Frappaccinos and Chai and very little else. Well, he liked their brewed coffee but he rarely drank that shit outside of his home environment.

The thought brought to mind the morning ritual he had with Paul and even Mike to a certain extent. Whoever got up first made the coffee and the morning newspaper was divided up for them each to look at, Paul with the main news and financial, Mike with sports, and lastly Brian with the cartoons and the entertainment section. They'd sit around the small dining room table and maybe mutter a few audible words before they each went their separate ways for the day. It was something Brian actually looked forward to every time he fell asleep at night. It was something he could count on during a time when you can't count on anything anymore.

At least the drink was hot to contrast the bone chilling temperature of the cold December night air.

He wasn't sure what he was doing for Christmas yet. He wondered to himself whether or not he'd be invited with Tim again but quickly dashed that seeing as it was just so very awkward for the both of them.

He could go to his parent's place. He'd be given the silent treatment or maybe even yelled at but at least he knew he could squeeze a few bucks from his dad during the holiday season. Brian figured that he was so emotionally barren that he equated "I love you!" or "I'm sorry" in the form of Benjamin's and checks.

For the past six or so years he had been getting checks and cash money for his birthday and Christmas. Brian wished he could sit his father down and tell him that if he could just hug him and tell him that he loves him no matter who or what he has become then that would make his holiday right there. He knew though that this would never happen. So thus would continue the tradition of dry turkey and handouts, of lost siblings and lonely nieces, drunken mother and a distant and violent minded father.

Violent like the time he found his journal... That was a scary period in his life because it just flat out changed everything between him and his family from then on. It had to have been about five years ago because he had been with Paul and Mike for about three years and before that he was a rotating cast member in his mental health facility's damn group home system.

He was left no choice but to give up his freedom and move in to those places every few months. He was always told he was either too negative or he just didn't fit in with the cliental. The main problem was that he was smart and couldn't be sedated and controlled like the other people who live in those places. He would ask why whenever somebody told him to do something. He'd come to the counselors with real life problems. They were used to hearing about small fights over food or how they missed their mommies and here comes a young man who is having an existential crisis so early on in his life. He can't imagine what a misshaped cog he must have been in those finely tuned machines of public housing. He was too much of a hassle and he knew it. Brian really didn't want to think about it so he filed the thought away for a later time to bring back up, maybe when he's writing in his journal or something. He feels like he still hasn't gotten out all the pain just yet.

His cell phone told him that it was now about six oclock. This meant that the seven o'clock rush is still an hour away and Tim should be free to chat for a while.

The walk was brisk and he finished his drink before it got too cold to be called a hot beverage. He found a trash bin and walked the next two blocks at a fast pace so that he could counter the coldness growing in this hands and feet.

When he got a block from the theater he could see Tim reading a big book near the window and he had to stop and think for a second. Was he doing the right thing? He knew that he'd personally love it if Tim dropped by his work and talked to him during his off time. Would Tim though?

He'd only ever came to the Hitchcock when Tim had invited him or when he'd asked beforehand. Sometimes that place showed some cool movies and the Friday and Saturday midnight movies were always a good time. It was nice not to have to pay ten bucks to see a two hour movie; then again it would be worth it if he had to pay the price. If anything so he could be next to him for any extended period of time.

This brought Brian's mind to life and with a smile he pressed the cross walk sign's button and waited for the signal. He was nearly skipping by the time he opened the glass entrance door. With a chime Tim was alerted to his presence. He seemed to look confused for a second until he recognized who it was and put his book down and walked around the cash register.

"Hey man! I just thought I'd drop by. I haven't seen or talked to you in a bit here." Brian said.

"Hey little buddy!" Tim wrapped his huge arms around Brian's small frame and nearly took his breath from him with his bear hug. When he let go he put his hands upon Brian's face and kissed him on the forehead. "How are you doing?"

Brian smiled. He was hoping for a positive reaction and it seemed to be happening. "I'm doing okay I guess. I just missed you."

"Awe! That's so sweet!" Tim gave him another tight hug.

"I was wondering what you were doing tonight? Maybe we could hang out you know?"

Tim's facial features went from happy to drawn and long. He shook his head "Not tonight man. I really got to get to the hospital again. My grandmother is worse off than I thought."

Brian felt his pain but tried to ask for alternatives. "Could I come with you?"

"It's really a family issue dude."

"Well... What about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow?" Brian asked.

"I don't think so. I'm working tomorrow night and I was thinking about staying up in Boulder for the night, so... Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the space above Brian's head, which was a glass door that let him see out into the street.

Brian couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the way Tim was approaching the subject.

"When do you think you'll be free again?" Brian asked.

"I really don't know." Tim continued to avoid Brian's gaze and he walked back around the counter and sat back at the register. "Wanna watch a movie?" He asked, chipper as if nothing had been said between them.

"Could I get a ride home if I do happen to stay for the movie?"

"I'm afraid not." Tim shrugged and began fiddling with a pen nearby.

Brian looked down to his feet and felt the crushing blow of defeat surge through his body. "What's playing here right now?" he asked as if he were pleading with a night club bouncer who had just flat out told him that he wasn't club material.

Tall people have no feelings...

Psychological Defenses

(Adapted from DSM-IV Adaptive Functioning Scale, American Psychiatric Association, 1994)

Defense mechanisms are automatic psychological processes that protect an individual from anxiety and the awareness of internal or external threats or stressors. People are often unaware of these processes as they operate (although others may be painfully aware of them!). Defense mechanisms can be classified into groups or levels that indicate how they affect an individual's functioning.

High Adaptive Level: Defense mechanisms in this group result in optimal adaptation to stress. The defenses usually maximize feelings of wellbeing and do not interfere with the conscious awareness of feelings, ideas, and their consequences.

Affiliation involves dealing with stressors by turning to others for help or support. This involves sharing problems with others but not trying to make someone else responsible for them.

Altruism involves dealing with stressors by dedicating yourself to meeting the needs of others. The individual receives satisfaction vicariously or from the response of others.

Anticipation involves dealing with stressors by anticipating the consequences and feelings associated with possible future events and considering realistic solutions.

Humor involves dealing with stress by emphasizing the amusing or ironic aspects of the situation.

Self-Assertion involves dealing with stress by expressing your feelings and thoughts directly in a way that is not aggressive, coercive, or manipulative.

Self-Observation involves dealing with stress by reflecting on your own thoughts, feelings, motivation, and behavior, and then responding appropriately.

Sublimation involves dealing with stress by channeling potentially disruptive feelings or impulses into socially acceptable behavior (e.g., playing rugby to channel angry impulses).

Suppression involves dealing with stress by intentionally avoiding thinking about disturbing problems, wishes, feelings, or experiences.

Mental Inhibition Level: Defense mechanisms in this group keep potentially threatening ideas, feelings, memories, wishes, or fears out of awareness. Diminished awareness can affect the person's ability to relate to others.

Displacement involves dealing with stress by transferring strong feelings about on situation onto another (usually less threatening) substitute situation.

Dissociation involves dealing with stress by breaking off part of memory, consciousness, or perception of self or the environment to avoid a problem situation (e.g., amnesia).

Intellectualization involves dealing with stress by excessively using abstract thinking and generalizations to avoid or minimize unpleasant feelings.

Reaction Formation involves dealing with stress by substituting behavior, thoughts, or feelings that are the exact opposite of your own unacceptable thoughts or feelings (which the person is usually not aware of).

Repression involves dealing with stress by removing disturbing wishes, thoughts, or experiences from conscious awareness. The person may still be aware of the feelings associated with the repressed issue, but will not know where the feelings come from.

Chapter 22: Existence is suffering and nothing in this world is static. Nothing...

For the first half hour or so Brian couldn't focus on the German subtitled movie about some girl who lost the love of her life in a car crash and had to pick up the pieces and blah, blah, blah... It wasn't keeping his attention long enough to distract him from what he felt was going on.

Maybe his grandmother really IS sick? He thought to himself during the scene where the new guy comes into the poor girl's life and makes her feel like she's never felt before and such. As the minutes passed he wanted nothing more than to storm into the lobby and ask Tim for a definitive answer on as when they could get together again. After another twenty minutes or so of the foreign romantic comedy Brian just couldn't take it anymore and picked up his bag and walked toward the exit door. He had to bend over as to not disturb the other patrons who actually had paid for their tickets.

When he was able to straighten up he did so, and threw away the plastic Starbucks cup he had brought and the small brown employee bag of popcorn. A few kernels were stuck in his back teeth but he paid no attention to the annoying feeling you get when that happens. He can floss at home; this must be dealt with now!

As he opened the door and walked to the front where the register was, he found it vacant. Brian looked around the small lobby and couldn't find anyone around. For a moment he thought maybe Tim had just gone to the bathroom so he walked into the men's room. He wasn't there.

When he came back out he called his name out as loud as he could without disturbing the other movie goers still in the theater. Brian waited for a few more minutes before he tried again, this time Emily, a short, black haired white girl who spoke slowly and sometimes incoherently as if she were constantly stoned, came out of the back door that connected the lobby to the concession stand.

"What do you want?" She whined, staring at him vacantly.

"Where's Tim?" Brian asked.

"Oh... I think he went home with his boyfriend." She said as she walked slowly passed Brian. He simply stood there, feeling his legs and arms grow numb and shaky.

"But..." Brian whimpered. "I'm his boyfriend..." He turned around to see Emily sitting at the cash register and playing with the same pen that Tim had been doodling with earlier.

"Oh okay." She sighed. "Maybe he's gone home alone then. I don't know. I just know he was with someone when he left."

"Was it his brother or something?"

Emily appeared to grow irritated with the questions and snarled "You have his number, call him, damn." She got up and walked by Brian, making sure she bumped her shoulders into his side as she did so, and walked back into the room connecting the concession stand and the lobby, where she disappeared.

Brian had to sit down on the green metal bench the theater provided near the entrance and collect his thoughts. 'This is going to be okay', he thought to himself. 'You have already prepared yourself for this before and it shouldn't be too much of a shock to you should it?' Still though, wow...

Brian had to also consider the idea that he could have just met with one of his brothers or maybe just an errant friend stopping by as he had. He really hoped and prayed it was the latter and he got out his cell phone to text him.

Brian: You went home early?

Brian waited for five minutes before he got a response.

Tim: Yeah sorry man. I'm just now getting out the door and I'm going to be on my way home.

Brian: Emily said you were with somebody when you left?

Another two minutes passed...

Tim: She must be smoking something man. I don't know what to tell you. I'll talk to you later.

Brian: OK. Let me know when you're free next please?

Ten minutes...

Tim: Will do. Goodnight.

Brian: Goodnight.

Brian felt heavy and sick to his stomach. The popcorn and soda was coming back up and he grabbed his bag and ran as fast as he could without tripping to the men's room on the other side of the lobby. When he got to a toilet he bent over and it all came out of him at once like an acidic atomic bomb exploding out of his mouth.

After he had heaved all he could he sat back up and against the stall door. The automatic flusher did its business and all the evidence of the night's popcorn and soda combination had vanished with a mighty flush.

Brian began to cry and he let out a few high pitched sobs before he put his hand on his head and stopped himself from making the situation worse. Maybe he was alone and Emily mistook something for something it wasn't. He couldn't know for sure.

But he could see for himself...

Tim didn't live that far away from the theater after all...

If he was on his way to Boulder then all is well...

If not...

Then he will have to do the one thing he fears most...

Confrontation...

With a heavy sigh he got back up and straightened himself up before exiting the stall. He went to the sink and got some paper towels from the dispenser to wipe his face off. His face was red from crying and his eyes looked a little puffy. Why does he cry like this so much? Why is he doing it more lately?

Because life sucks, that's why.

Brian put on the hood of his hoodie and walked out of the men's room and headed for the entrance. On his way to the door he heard Emily call his name.

"Yeah?" Brian didn't even bother turning around to face her.

"Tim didn't go with anyone," She said surprisingly lucidly, "I think I was just seeing things."

Brian turned around slowly and pulled down his hood, showing her his wet red face. Upon seeing him she looked down toward the concession counter and sighed.

"Please Emily... You have to tell me something." Brian said.

"Okay... What do you want to know?" She wasn't making eye contact still.

"Do you mean what you're saying..." Brian paused. "Or did he tell you to say that?"

She stood there for the longest minute of Brian's life before raising her head. "I'm so sorry Brian." Her voice was quivering. "He told me to say that."

Brian's body felt as if cement had been shot through his veins and completely bogged him down with concrete. He felt so heavy he thought for a moment he was going to tip over.

He did not however.

He didn't begin to cry.

He didn't begin to pity himself.

He just wanted to see it for himself.

"Thank you Emily." Brian said softly.

"If it's anything... I think he's a jerk." She added.

Brian sighed. "Thanks Emily. I guess this will be the last time we see each other for a while now huh?"

Emily went through the concession stand door and came out to the lobby a second later. She walked up to Brian and stood almost a half head shorter than him. Wrapping her arms around him Brian felt tingly all over from the sudden contact. He brought his arms around her and squeezed tightly and they held each other for almost two minutes before a customer came out of the bottom theater asking for popcorn.

"Just don't think this is your fault." Emily told him.

"What do you mean?" Brian wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Emily stood for a moment before answering. "He goes through boyfriends like you would shirts. So don't feel like this is something personal." She held eye contact for a few seconds more before going over the concession stand to help the customer who was waiting patiently for the little act to end.

Without looking back Brian exited the building and headed across the and over the street. He knew he was just setting himself up for further depression but there was just something primal in him that wanted to see for himself what was going on.

Brian's lungs felt cold and his legs were rubber.

Who was this other guy who'd be receiving Tim's cock from now on?

Was he taller?

Better looking?

Brian had to find out...

When Brian reached Tim's building he at once saw his four door VW on the side of the street. It sat there like a large albatross leading him to his doom. He had an overwhelming urge to just turn back and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He wasn't sure he could face him right now. Something he wasn't controlling was driving him to the entrance of the building.

He waited there for a few moments to see if anyone would exit the door and let him in because there was a lock on the front door just right after the mailboxes. As if it were telling him that he was no longer welcomed here.

He got out his phone and thought about calling him again but decided against it. Somebody had to come out sometime, and he would wait all night if he had to.

Luckily for him though a young looking girl in a tight red party dress opened the door five minutes later and walked passed him as if he didn't exist. Brian caught the door and let himself in.

Tim lived in apartment 227. It was on the second story and Brian could choose between the elevator and the stairs. He chose the long way down the hall and up the parallel set of stairs. As he walked by the closed doors on the first floor he imagined it being a jail where he was walking down to the electric chair.

"DEAD MAN WALKING!" The man in cell number 145 shouted.

"What a waste man." The guy in 167 said sadly.

It was if he were being led by a big macho guard with outrages sideburns and a large belly protruding from his tightly tucked in blue police uniform. He didn't look at him. He didn't try to speak with him or console him. He just did his job and led him to execution.

When he reached the stairs he paused and looked back at all the other cells that came before him. He imagined that inside each one of them was somebody from Tim's past, each giving him their own personal warning. Pleading him not to do it to himself.

Brian closed his eyes and when he looked back out into the hall the hallucination had passed. It didn't make things feel any more real though.

As he walked up the flight of steps he saw that they had become a large red tongue that led to the gaping mouth of a large dragon. Its sharp teeth were oddly inviting as blood dripped from their razor like tips. He again stopped in mid step and shut his eyes tight. And again when he opened them he was just on a stair well. That's all it was.

When he reached the second story his heart began to beat very fast and very hard. He could feel his pulse in his teeth and the taste of copper flooded his mouth like he had been sucking on pennies all day long.

His vision momentarily blurred and he had to lean against the right side of the hallway for a second before he could get it all back and keep walking.

Apartment 257: "Look what we got here! Fresh meat!!!" A tall red head shouted to no one in particular. When Brian passed him he made a hand gesture that mimicked giving a blowjob.

Apartment 255: "You don't want to do this kid. Trust me!" A shorter thin blond man with black rimmed glasses extended his right arm through the bars in hope that Brian would touch him, but Brian just walked passed him.

Apartment 245: "Ha! Look at this! Another sucker for the books!" A large light colored black man hollered and reverberated throughout the entire jailhouse. Brian winced at the volume.

Apartment 237: "Stop here little man and let me tell you my story." A man in a blue wig and dark red lipstick told him through his set of bars. Brian momentarily paused for him but the queen just began to laugh hysterically and chills went down his very spine.

When Brian looked to his side he saw that the guard was no longer a guard, but Emily. She looked to her side and gave him a slight nod and took him by the hand, leading him to apartment 227. Brian paused and looked over to her but she had already disappeared.

The whole delusion had gone from his mind but the feelings remained. He was scared of what was on the other side of the door. The moment had built up to an extraordinary scale and anything that could possibly happen just wouldn't really live up to expectation.

At least this is what he was hoping for...

After a minute of hesitation he went for it and knocked hard on Tim's door exactly four times, each time harder than the last.

He could hear laughing on the other side of the room and it nearly made him fall over to hear that it was coming from two sources.

The locks on the other side went off their hinges and a tall skinny white guy with short black hair and wearing nothing but blue and white striped boxers answered the door. For a moment they just stared at each other, seizing up what each of them could possibly offer to the one man they had in common.

With a scoff the man called out to Tim. "Tim it's for you!"

Brian stood frozen like a stone statue.

"Who is it?" The familiar voice echoed from across the room.

"Some little guy with a black hoodie and a bag."

As the footsteps grew louder Brian prepared himself for the worse. When he came into frame it felt worse than he could've possibly imagined it would. Tim stood in the door way next to the other man. He was about the same height as him and maybe an inch shorter but his white boy afro gave him an extra bit of vertical advantage.

"I told you I wasn't available tonight." Tim said in a low menacing voice. He nodded to the other man who took one last judging look at Brian and walked out of his sight.

Brian's breathing sped up but he still tried to keep composure. Tears began to run down his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay.

Tim shrugged in exasperation and took a deep breath.

"I think its best you left now." He said.

Brian didn't say anything. He nodded and gave a small wave before turning around and walking down the hallway. When Tim's door shut behind him he felt as if his stomach had been stomped on with Tim's size thirteen shoe.

Brian looked down at his feet and saw his meager size nine's. That other guy in Tim's apartment was everything he wasn't. Was he really that surprised? Still though, he had hoped that Tim had more to offer to mankind than just a high sex drive and an emotionally distant demeanor.

Tim was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to Brian. It was the first time he felt like he actually had a chance at something real. Why did he even believe for a second that this would last? He was a fool.

A short, fat, ugly, stupid fool.

It was if he was walking on air when he left the building's entrance. The night felt colder than it had before he got there and would no doubt just get chillier.

Alcohol didn't make you warmer, you just for some reason felt warmer when you drank it despite the fact that it actually constricts the blood vessels in your body.

I think we went over this already?

But the warmth was all he could think of at this moment. It was still only eight o'clock at night, plenty of time before the bars closed at two in the morning.

In his bag he still had the two pills. He rummaged through it in search of at least one but it took him a bit before he found it seeing as he could barely stand straight at this point in time. He managed to get one out and nearly dropped it. With a slight of hand he was able to nab it in time and procure it in his mouth. Swallowing it dry became a problem when it got a little stuck in his throat.

Brian mustered all the spit he could make to help it along its way and it felt like it got down fairly well. It still felt stuck but he knew that with a drink or two it would go down for sure.

He took one last look at Tim's building before heading off toward Broadway down Twelfth Avenue. He was sure that whatever was going on at the Hi Dive, he was about to make it that much more interesting.

Appearance and Personality:

Academic source: http://www.personalityresearch.org/papers/popkins2.html

Natural Characteristics That Influence Environment: How Physical Appearance Affects Personality

Nathan C. Popkins

Northwestern University

This paper proposes that physical appearance is a major factor in the development of personality, because people form opinions by what they see in a person physically, and respond to that person accordingly. In turn, people tend to fulfill the expectations they believe others have for them. Several examples are given of experiments and literature that support this assertion, and a method is suggested for more directly observing this phenomenon experimentally.

Environment and Nature

The debate as to whether a people's personality was more influenced by their genetics or their environment has raged for years. Current estimates in the nature-nurture battle place the weight of each at right around 50% (McMartin, 1995). One possible flaw in this estimate, however, lies in the fact that the question of how much people's nature influences their environment has been largely left unanswered. For this question to be properly answered, however, it must be determined what natural factors could possibly have a strong influence on environment. Once this cause and effect relationship is established, it should be much more convenient to accurately examine what causes people's personality to develop as it does.

Under the stated premise, it is necessary to examine what characteristics people possess that could possibly have an effect on their environment and that would, in turn, at least partially determine how the variable set of their environment (other people, basically) would behave. Naturally, one factor that could affect the responses of others is personality. Obviously, if someone is very antisocial, for example, people will not, in all likelihood, respond openly and warmly to this person (if given the opportunity to interact with an anti-social person in the first place). However, trends like this in people's personality tend to be self-perpetuating (Ewen, 1998). Because of this, describing how a trait affects the environment's response is best described by the trait itself, and it seems that not much useful information can be gleaned from such examining a loop.

The most promising source for understanding how people's natural or existing traits can affect the responses of the environment lies in the examination of the traits with which people are born, most notably physical appearance. Much the same way people's personality affects how others treat those people, so too does appearance. In some sense, certain elements of appearance (such as hygiene and selection of clothes) are also functions of personality, but for the most part, physical appearance, as something one inherits genetically, is independent of personality. Because of this, it can be said that physical appearance affects the environment that in turn affects personality.

Much information already exists on such topics as how physical appearance affects happiness, self-esteem, and success. It is only the next logical step to examine how appearance governs the environment in which people are immersed in by affecting the opinions of others.

Essentially, a two step cause-and-effect relationship should, hypothetically, describe the interaction between appearance and environment, and in turn, environment and personality. At an early age, perhaps before age ten or so, children have begun to recognize how others react to them. Naturally, people react with certain biases to people who look one way or another. Good-looking children are treated as social superiors, because in society, stereotype dictates that popular people are good looking. Conversely, children who are deemed to be not as attractive are often treated as inferior to the other children. For example, one study found that, "If teachers expect different behavior from students of different physical attractiveness, the students . . . develop accordingly to conform to these expectations. The result is very favorable for those students of higher physical attractiveness but very unfavorable for those lower in physical attractiveness" (Patzer, 1985, p. 57). In both possible cases, the children begin to conform their self-opinions to the opinions of those who interact with them, and eventually will even change the ways they dress and take care of themselves to conform to others' preconceived notions of them. Once personality finally conforms to others' notions as well, the cycle repeats indefinitely, with personality and outward appearance conforming to opinions, opinions being formed by personality and appearance. This situation clearly demonstrates a case in which environment affects people, but in which environment is heavily influenced by nature.

Support for the Theory

Support for such a theory can come from a variety of sources. One obvious means of support for this theory comes from common sense and logic. Other more concrete methods that can give support for such a hypothesis are existing literature and studies, and further experimentation. In fact, much data and analysis already exist on the topic of correlates between appearance and various measures of success, such as happiness and self-esteem (Kleinke, 1978). In addition to this, it is easy to conceive of ways in which this hypothesis could be tested and falsified.

Existing Research

Much of the support for this hypothesis lies in more than one step, as does the hypothesis itself. This involves first examining literature that correlates appearance to the opinions of others. Then, logically, it must be shown how the opinions of others affect self-esteem. Lastly, it is necessary to see how self-esteem and perceived views of the opinions of others affect personality.

How appearance affects others' opinions. Recent studies have shown that at a very early age, children began to pick whom they would like for playmates by such standards as facial attractiveness and body form (Fisher, 1986). Another study found that across several age groups subjects consistently ranked photographs of numerous people based on attractiveness with similar results (Ellis & Young, 1989).

The correlation between the opinions of others and self-esteem is somewhat more difficult to find documented evidence concerning. One study found that when subjects went through an approximately 20-minute long interview with an interviewer that they believed had a low opinion of them, their self-esteem was markedly lower after the interview (Eckert & Wicklund, 1992). As shown before, poor physical appearance leads to a lowered opinion by others, which, logically, leads to lower popularity, and, "Lack of popularity may undermine self-esteem and self-confidence" (Zuckerman, 1991, p. 220).

The relationship of self-opinion to personality has been recorded through many experiments. In one experiment, males had their self-esteem intentionally raised or lowered by receiving false reports on a personality test. The males whose self-esteem was intentionally lowered interpreted a positive evaluation from a female as affection more often than those with the higher self-esteem did. Experimenters interpreted this result by postulating that those people with lower self-esteem are more likely to cling to any positive stimulus, whether real or perceived (Kleinke, 1978). This interpretation makes it easy to see why people with lower self-esteem are more likely to embrace things like drugs (which give a temporary and false positive stimulus) (Ewen, 1998).

It has also been found that low self-esteem tends to perpetuate itself, and eventually becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. One experiment found that when, unbeknownst to the participants, a task in which success was guaranteed was performed, those with lower self-esteem were so uncomfortable with their successful results that they intentionally failed the task in successive trials to avoid discomfort (Kleinke, 1978). Obviously, there is a strong correlation between self-esteem and personality.

Possible Experiments for Further Support

To adequately support the proposed relationship, it would be much more convenient to directly correlate the effects of appearance on environment, and in turn, environment on personality. None of the surveyed experiments were conducted with this express purpose. Essentially, the proposed experiment would involve manipulation of people's perceived responses from others, and then analysis of how their personality changes.

Several means exist for measuring personality. For the sake of comprehensiveness, utilizing both questionnaires and surveys of others who have objectively observed the participants for personality traits. Then, some sort of setting should be arranged where the participants are intentionally made to look bad (dressed in clothes that fit poorly or are dirty, have their hair messed up, or, for women, forced to remove their make-up). The subjects would then be introduced to a group of objective participants in a social situation. Experimenters would record the reactions of these objective participants. During and after this experience, experimenters would also monitor the personalities of the participants, and see how they change. Conversely, this experiment could also be performed where the participants are given some sort of makeover and made to look very favorably.

Presumably, the participants' personalities would be altered to fulfill the roles they perceive the participants in the social group expect them to fill. Naturally, the social group participants would perceive the subjects in a certain light, depending upon which version of the experiment is being performed, and would likely respond accordingly. This type of experiment could very easily show that attractiveness does indeed play a major role in development of personality, and that nature, both mental and physical, plays an extremely important role in the development of personality because, ultimately, "nature" determines "nurture."

Conclusion

Certainly, how people are brought up and the environment in which they are constantly immersed affects their personality immensely. However, one of the greatest determining factors of how people's environment acts is those people themselves. People influence their environment by characteristics they naturally possess, beginning at a very young age. Perhaps the most influential and easily discernable factor that influences environment is physical appearance. This argument demonstrates that natural characteristics are ultimately the greatest determinant of personality, whether or not inherently linked to personality. Under this premise, those characteristics that most heavily influence environment would also indirectly determine personality. If supported sufficiently with experimental data, it seems this would tip the scales in the nature-nurture debate heavily towards the side of nature.

Chapter 24: Tall people do have feelings.

Paul's shift ended at midnight and it couldn't come soon enough. With thirty minutes to go he was working on pure adrenaline and couldn't wait to pass out on his nice queen sized bed at home.

Sooooo many drunks tonight and each one was more repugnant than the last! One man had tried to pee on him as he signed him in (the sign in nurse was out on lunch at the time) and he had to physically move the guy to the dormitory himself (seeing as the security guard was out taking a smoke.)

One interesting little fellow had been standing by his desk and had been talking ad nauseum about how the local politicians were hiding aliens underneath the grounds of the Denver International Airport. He would switch randomly to different subjects throughout the night but he always came back to it. It was one of the more light hearted aspects of his job. It made him happy to see that there were still some happy drunks in the world.

As the clock ticked slowly to quitting time he wondered how Brian was doing. He hadn't been in much contact with him lately, even though he was home more now he was still always locked away in his room playing random notes on his guitar. He hadn't seen him this bad since the time he had to pick him up from Boulder when he was attacked New Year's Day almost two years ago.

They'd just moved into the new house around that time and it was interesting to say the least. Brian had supposedly just come out of the closet a few years earlier and he was very nervous about being around him, especially since he had a habit of wearing nothing but underwear in the morning when he woke up.

One time when they both had gotten a little drunk Brian confessed to him that he did think he was a gorgeous specimen of manliness. This nearly made Paul fall over laughing but when he saw the seriousness in Brian's eyes he couldn't discount what he must have been feeling. He couldn't really relate to what he was saying but he knew how hard it was to be around a girl he thought was attractive. If only the other girls in the world felt the same way as Brian did about him.

Nevertheless, once the laughing subsided he took him aside and told him that it was flattering to think someone thought as highly of him as he did but he had to politely decline any sort of proposition that may come of it.

Brian was of course bummed about it all but Paul did his best to console his new friend, going as far as to promising to throw him an amazing twenty third birthday party. Which he soon would, but not before the tragedy of that holiday evening...

He'd gotten the call from Brian on his cell phone at about four in the morning on New Year's Day. He'd never heard anyone more panicked in his life than the poor man on the other line before. It took about five minutes before he could get a single coherent word out of him.

When he did say something intelligible, he could only make out the words "rape" and "Boulder Shooting Star Café." Paul took down the information quickly and went online to get the Mapquest directions to the place.

It took him nearly an hour to get there but when he saw his little friend sitting on the outside patio he knew he would never be the same Brian again. His pants were bloody and his face was bruised. Paul asked the barista what she thought had happened and she said that she just let him sit there and he used her cell phone to call him. She had offered to call the police for him but he vehemently denied any serious foul play.

He just wanted his friend there for him.

When Paul walked out to the seat he was in he saw that the barista must have made him a latte or something because he had one nearly filled to the rim on his table. Untouched Paul asked if he could get a sip. Brian nodded but said nothing.

Paul sat with him for nearly thirty minutes without either one saying a word. It was a harsh silence and finally Paul broke it by asking what had happened. Brian shook his head but Paul insisted.

When Paul got nowhere he told Brian that he would forcibly take him to the hospital if he didn't hear the whole story.

Brian looked up into his eyes and told him that he would, but only if he brought him home. Paul saw this as a reasonable request and helped his friend up from his seat. To his dismay he saw that the blood stains were all over his pants. Paul told him to wait by the door while he got some paper towels from the bathroom.

The ride home felt longer than any ride either had taken before. Still silent and introverted, Brian just looked out of his side window and seemed to see further into the night than Paul could even fathom.

Paul tried to make some light hearted comments but they were met with silence and sobbing. He figured it would be best to interrogate him in the privacy of their own home.

Luckily for both of them Mike had not yet moved in with them and it was just them two for the moment. He couldn't imagine what he would've said or did in that situation.

Not that he necessarily thought Mike was a bad guy, just very inappropriate and slightly bigoted in his views on the world.

But all that was on his mind at that moment was getting Brian home and looking him over.

They pulled onto the side of the road next to the one story stucco building up on Lawrence street and Paul helped him out of his car with great care. He would get the bloody paper towels he had sat on in the morning. Right now it was all about getting Brian safely inside.

He led him slowly into the house and asked if he could possibly strip for him. This was met with more crying and resistance but Paul affirmed him that he was a licensed nurses assistant and that he knew a thing or two about what he was doing.

When the sobbing wouldn't stop Paul did something that went totally beyond what he believed in and got out some of the Percocets he'd been saving for a rainy day when his neck was acting up. He knew that Brian must be in pain but it still went against his credo as a professional care giver.

He wasn't a doctor but he knew that whatever had happened would never be brought to the light of day if he took him to the hospital or called the police. He had to calm him down and at the moment this was the only thing he could think of.

Paul got a thick towel for Brian to sit on and laid it on the futon couch they had out in the living room. He then turned on the small TV they had at the time and put in Trainspotting for him. Not really the most appropriate movie of all time for the situation but he knew that Brian liked it.

Paul went into the kitchen and brewed up some Chai tea and crushed one of the pills into it. He held the other pill and brought them out to his friend. He refused at first but was persuaded when Paul told him what the contents of both the tea and the pills contained.

He sat with him for about twenty minutes before asking him if he was feeling it any yet. Brian nodded but then asked for a shot or two of vodka with a Coke tracer. Paul gave a little resistance but caved in to his request. Brian was obviously drugged even before he'd given him the Percocets but he was really only thinking in a straight linear line at this moment in time.

He brought out the bottle of Smirnoff Orange vodka and poured him a double shot and had a nice cold can of Coke a Cola in tow for a chaser. After the two drinks he sat with Brian for a little while longer until he appeared to shake from the sheer force of his own weight.

Paul knew it was now or never so he asked Brian if he could check him out. Brian resisted a little but then asked Paul to promise that he wouldn't laugh at him. Paul felt a pang of sadness that he was unaccustomed to before that time but nonetheless told his friend that he wouldn't laugh or make jokes or anything to that effect. He just wanted to help him.

Brian got up and went to his room where he came back out with a change of clothes and dropped them to the floor. Paul had gotten ready by getting out his first aid kit out and prepping it on the coffee table.

Paul could see that Brian was having difficulty taking off his clothes so he gave him a little hand in undoing buttons and zippers. Brian seemed to lack any strength at the moment but Paul knew the routine of helping somebody undress in stressful situations.

Paul was surprised to see all of Brian's stretch mark scars and for the first time saw what he was talking about when he saw his stomach. He didn't think it was funny but he now knew how his friend must feel about himself. Before seeing him naked he was sure that the whole being three hundred pounds at one time bit was just all in his head.

Paul asked Brian to tell him where it hurt and Brian began to cry. Paul could see the signs of bruising all over his body without him telling him where they were but was slightly shocked and appalled at where Brian pointed to as the source of his pain.

Paul lifted apart Brian's buttocks and saw a lot of dried blood. As he spread them further he could see what looked like a small rip in the anus and he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of it there.

Brian refused to be taken to a hospital and asked if it could possibly get any better on its own. Paul supposed it could but it would be best to have him seen.

Brian shook his head and picked up his clothes off from the floor. In his drugged and drunken daze he seemed to float on over into the bathroom where he closed and locked the door. A few seconds later Paul could hear the shower being turned on and he paused the movie on the DVD player and waited patiently for him to come out.

Rape victims should never wash away evidence...

After about thirty minutes the shower shut off and ten minutes after that Brian emerged, red and sweating. Paul imagined that Brian must've really turned up the heat because he had heard stories about people feeling unclean after being in similar situations, as if the hot water could clean away all the guilt and pain.

Paul asked what he had done to his wound and Brian told him that he put a small towel in between the cheeks. He stumbled over to the couch and sat beside Paul's towering frame.

Brian dug into Paul's chest and he put his right arm around his little friend. He wasn't sure about what he could possibly say at this point to make it better but he felt like there really was nothing left to say. They just sat there and fell asleep where they were.

Over the course of the next week or so Paul checked Brian's wounds and gave him decreasing doses of pain medication from his own personal supply. To his pleasant surprise Brian was letting him see his private areas without much resistance and he felt that at the time they were getting closer in some ways.

The rip was healing nicely and the pain medication was constipating Brian, which was a good thing since he most likely couldn't of handled a big bowel movement in the first few days afterwards. But after about three or four days it could of gotten dangerous so Paul put him on a regimen of stool softeners and heavy duty diuretics such as magnesium citrate, which makes you evacuate but in more of a liquid form as opposed to big hard chunks.

Brian never seemed to be the same man after that though. Paul could remember him smiling more. He was very happy to be out of his father's rule and out of the strict setting of his former group homes.

But his spark seemed to have died that night.

Although Paul really didn't have much to go off of but he knew that it's definitely not something you just walk away from unscathed. He was there for him when he needed him to be there but it was obvious that he could only do so much.

A few weeks later Brian tried to overdose on what little pain medication Paul had left in his room. He hid them knowing that Brian could possibly be tempted by them but he had no idea he would go as far as to take the entire bottle if he ever found them.

Paul found Brian laying on his bed face up (which can be very dangerous if one was to vomit in that position.) and unconscious. He had no choice but to call an ambulance for him.

He knew little about what happened next but he did visit him every day in the hospital and further still in the psych ward, where he stayed for about a week and a half. Paul knew better than to pry but it didn't stop him from trying to ask questions about what he was feeling.

Being a medical professional himself he built somewhat of a repertoire with the doctors and nursing staff taking care of him at Denver Health. He knew little about depression and posttraumatic stress before then but that was easily remedied when he began buying books on the subject and looking it up on the internet. Not that Wikipedia is the best source of information, but it's still a source nonetheless.

After a few medication changes Brian appeared to be doing a little better and he slowly came out of his shell afterwards.

What brought on all this reminiscing was the fact that Brian had been acting like he was acting after that time. Paul was worried because no doubt Brian should have learned from his mistake and would probably be more in tuned to what it would require to go the whole course.

But then again he was probably just over analyzing everything like he always does. Then again you could never be too careful.

As the clock neared the five minute mark he took in a long deep breath and looked over the large bunker like room at his patients and took a quick count. The head nurse had come out and told asked if he didn't mind staying an extra ten minutes while one of the other staff finished their smoking break.

All this smoking that went on with the staff amused Paul because they were in fact being paid to promote health and fitness. That and a new law had passed in like 2008 or something like that saying that you could no longer smoke on hospital grounds, which the Denver detox facility was considered. People had to walk all the way across the street to light up and it just seemed like way too much work to go through just for a lousy cigarette.

Whatever, Paul decided to check his cell phone to see if Shelly or anyone had texted him or given him a call. He was surprised to see a message was left for him by Brian. He opened it up and saw that he was down at the Hi Dive and that he needed a ride home.

Paul gave the room a quick look over before going out into the hallway, which required a key card, to call Brian.

It took two tries but he finally got a hold of him. "What's up man?" Paul said, slightly annoyed because he knew that if Brian was asking for a ride home at this time of night he was surely drunk.

"Tim's with another guy..." Brian slurred, Paul could hear a party raging on behind him.

"Oh shit..." Paul leaned against the white painted brick wall of the hallway and put his palm over his clammy forehead and sighed deeply. This was going to be sticky.

"I'm sorry Paul. I'm not that drunk. I'm just... I don't know. I need a ride home." Brian's sobs poked a hole through Paul's heart and it was hard to say no to somebody who was in real pain. Paul knew from experience how hard it is to break it off with somebody, especially when the other person had been cheating on you. He knew how little Brian thought of himself and could feel his self-doubt over the wireless connection of their smart phones.

"No," Paul comforted, "I'll be there. Just give me about ten / twenty minute's man. I'll be there. Don't take any more drinks and just wait by the curb okay?"

"Okay... Thank you Paul..."

"It's okay man. Just don't do anything stupid OK?"

"I won't..."

"Alright man, I'll be there in a bit, just hang on."

"Alright, I'll see you in a second then."

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye."

Paul pressed the off button and felt his lungs collapse a little. He turned around and punched the hard brick wall. He immediately felt the effects of it and regretted it immensely afterward. He wasn't really mad at Brian, he was mad at the situation.

Mad at that asshole Tim for hurting his friend so much.

And more than a little frustrated at Brian for not seeing it sooner, but that wasn't really fair of him to think that. With a few deep breaths he collected himself and walked back into the room. Thankfully no one had peed on the floor or had a code blue. Thank the universe for small miracles. Too bad the man with the DIA conspiracies had already fallen asleep. He would of made the extra few minutes fly right by.

Waffles

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

There's something cold and blank

About the way we wallow

Everywhere I seem to go

My dead cat would follow

And you were from another world

And I would know, I'm inane

Things would follow

And you were too far gone

To call me insane

We were once both

Connected hosts and we know

Well I don't know...

There's something cold and dark

About the way we swallow

Everywhere we seem to go

My dead friend would follow

And you were from another world

And I would know, I'm inane

Things would follow

And you were too far gone

To call me insane

We were once both

Connected hosts and we know

Well I don't know...

Take my hand and now we're overjoyed

Somewhere, I've found a brand new toy

(I have lots of knots in my stomach again)

Take my hand and now we're going away

Somewhere, I don't know, a brand new toy?

I have lots of knots in my stomach again...

I have lots of knots in my stomach again...

I have lots of knots in my stomach again...

I have lots of knots in my stomach again...

Chapter 25: It's the most wonderful time of the year... Almost at least.

Four days until Christmas, four long and painful days until he had to see his family again, have them ask him where his butt buddy was. Have them ridicule his very existence. Brian wasn't looking forward to it but being with family was better than being alone in the cold house on the morning of our lord and savior's birth.

God bless Jesus.

God bless the world.

God bless my fagot ass.

Brian had been lying in bed for little over three hours, completely dressed in his work clothes, ready to leave in exactly one hour, two minutes, and thirteen seconds in order to make it to the bus stop.

Paul had offered to drive him to work but he had refused it. Paul wasn't sure what to make of it and at first just chalked it up to Brian wanting to be alone right now and the fact that the holidays were so prominent on everyone's mind.

Paul, God bless Paul...

He was spending his Christmas with Shelly and her parents. His are all the way in Portland and didn't feel like making the trip this year. Besides, they took turns each year taking each other to see their respective families on a rotating holiday basis. It happened to be Shelly's turn, and her mother and father lived in Pueblo Colorado.

Mike was doing whatever Mike was doing and at least Brian could take solace in the fact that if he did stay home, he wouldn't have to see his sorry ass around.

Brian's father had texted saying that they were planning on going to Country Buffet for the big day. As always he asked what he wanted for Christmas but Brian for once honestly didn't know. Nothing could heal him at this point and putting the band aid of materialism on the wound would do nothing but exacerbate the problem.

He was in for a check anyways. Why did his father play head games like that? Even if he told him he wanted a cat or a fucking board game he'd just write him a check for $200 and be done with it.

Nothing like family during the holidays.

At least he wouldn't be alone where he could do something stupid. At least do something stupid prematurely. He had his doubts about the whole deal but now it was fucking set in stone. The world would be better without him anyways.

Tim would have his boy toys and Paul wouldn't have to pick his sorry drunk ass up all the time.

An errant tear ran down the side of Brian's face as he stared at the ceiling, making patterns out of the stucco. He wondered how it got so porous but didn't feel like investigating the matter. Stucco was the last thing on his mind that he wanted to delve into.

His back was sore from laying on it for so long and he needed to get up and stretch. He sat up and cracked his lower back better than any damn chiropractor could ever do. It felt good yet a tiny tinge of pain lingered in his spine. The hurt felt human. He wondered if he could've possibly damaged a nerve.

Wouldn't that be fucking awesome?

'Whatever...' he thought to himself. He got up and walked to the living room in his bare feet. The cold hard wood floor caused him some discomfort so he put on a pair of dirty socks from the corner of his room. He hadn't washed his clothes in a week and just didn't really feel the need to. He had stopped buying new socks as well, leaving him with pairs such as the ones he just put on. They stunk for sure, but he wasn't out to impress anyone.

Brian rotated the three pairs of dress pants and four work shirts he had as to avoid suspicion that something was amiss. They smelled like pepperoni anyways so it wasn't like anyone could smell his armpits through the stench of submarine sandwiches.

Samiches... Submawine samiches, yuuuuuuuuuuuuummy!

While he was at it he might as well put on his shoes and get all around ready for work. Maybe he'd just walk there today. He had time, but did he have the energy?

He didn't think so; he walked over to the couch and slumped into the left side. His bag was still in his room but he wasn't sure as to whether or not he was going to even bring it today. He wasn't even reading anymore, it just all felt like a waste.

With a tired and resigned sigh he grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV. Neither he nor Paul ever really watched cable TV but thank goodness for Mike, because on the rare occasions they did they always had Mike's contribution to the house to fall back on. He began paying for it in its entirety after a long and heated argument about how beneficial it would be to everyone to be able to track the it star of the moment's every move or hear about the latest pop band to grace the screen.

It was on VH1 when the television screen came to life and it was another frustrating reality show. The state of current programming added just that much more to Brian's current depression because he saw it as a decline of the human race.

You take someone's private problems, their pain, their struggles, and you exploit them for mass viewing. As messed up as these people were on TV it still didn't give anyone the right to view it and judge them without first knowing that what they were seeing was all an act or a real deep rooted anomaly of their psyches. People were so shallow on these shows. How could someone really, truly, honestly care about the name brand of their shirt or where their hair product came from? If living through the hell of his life had taught him anything it was that stuff like that doesn't matter when it comes down to who you are as a person. Obsessing over material things just showed the world that you know how to follow. You don't have a mind of your own and whatever the trend setters told you to wear, what to eat, who to fuck, and what the coolest things were to say, they were always right. How did one sleep at night with a job like that? Who died and made the designers the boss of everyone?

Then again Brian had to take into account that he was wearing dingy socks and working at Roger's Subs. Not exactly the pinnacle of what society would consider success. What did it matter though?

We all die.

We all biodegrade and melt back into the Earth. If what scientists say is true then we have a good five or so billion years before the sun became a red giant and swallowed up this hell hole of a planet in all of its fiery goodness. Maybe that was the hell the bible referred to. Then again the bible doesn't say much about what hell looks like. Heaven neither. What we consider heaven and hell mostly comes from Dante's Devine Comedy, part of which was a long ass prose poem about the seven layers of hell, each one being worse than the last, until you got to the bottom. There everything was actually frozen solid. You spent eternity in a block of ice. At least that's what he remembers hearing about it. He wasn't about to waste any more reading time on fact checking something stupid like that. If anything he would prefer to catch up on the latest Jeffery Deaver novel or something. How was old Lincoln Rhyme doing anyways?

Only one way to tell, Brian turned the volume a little lower and then left the remote on the coffee table as he got up and headed to his room. His most recent bank statement had come in and it surprised him how much he had saved over the course of a few months.

He worked forty hours a week at $8 an hour. That's $320 a week.

$320 times four weeks is $1280.

Take out a few hundred for taxes and you got $1080.

Rent, utilities and food ran about $500 to $600 a month so that left him with about $680 a month he'd saved. Times that by about three and a half months and you have around $2100. More than enough to leave a few month's rent for the guys while he took the plunge.

He wasn't sure what he was going to use the rest for though. He knew that buying the drugs for the event would cost him a few hundred dollars but that still left him so much. Maybe he'd just leave it under Paul's pillow or something? A nice going away present for the only real friend he ever had.

Brian put the statement back into his bag and sat down on the mattress that lay on the floor. He could buy a frame for his bed but what would the point of that be?

Maybe he could squeeze a few more books into his last days if he tried. Keep his mind sharp up until the very end he would.

Brian buried his face in his hands and began to sob to himself. What was he doing? Why was he here? Why was he so inferior to every other living thing on this whole damn planet?

He could hear Paul rustling in the kitchen so Brian wiped off his face with his blanket and got back out to the couch, didn't want to have the TV on without anyone watching it. That would be a little embarrassing.

Paul walked into the living room with a glass of milk and placed it on the low table. He was more dressed than usual; he had on a plain white shirt to go along with his normal barefoot and boxer's routine.

Paul noticed Brian staring and laughed. "It was fucking cold last night man! I'm not made of iron!" He patted him on the head and sat beside his friend. "What the hell are you watching man?" Paul grabbed the remote and changed it to the morning news.

"I wasn't paying attention to it anyways." Brian confessed as he dug himself further into Paul looked over to Brian and put his hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want a ride to work man?" He asked, Brian could see the sincerity in his face when he asked but he just couldn't bring himself to say yes.

"I'm sorry. I just need some alone time you know?"

"You're okay though right?" Paul said with concern.

"Yeah," Brian lied, "I'll be fine. Just going through a rough patch here you know?"

"Yeah." Paul sighed. "I know how it is. If you wanna ever talk about it just lemme know OK man?"

I'll let you fucking know...

"Sure..." Brian got up and walked to the kitchen where a hot pot of coffee had been brewed. He knew this for a fact because he was the one who made it this morning when he woke up hours ahead of schedule. It was pretty much the only thing he ingested anymore. That and sometimes a sandwich from work...

Samich

...and his daily diet Coke fix. Brian had always wanted to adhere to a strict diet but he never thought he'd be losing weight because he just wasn't hungry. He always had a pain in his stomach but he never had the urge to put anything into it anymore.

Brian stood by the counter where the coffee was and stared at the pot for a few minutes. He looked passed it and beyond the walls into the cold snow fallen ground outside. A chill went through him when he thought about walking through the ice and frost on his way to the bus stop. At least it shouldn't be too busy today or the next few days really. Most of the businesses around the store were closing up for the holiday season.

Brian did little lately but just ring up snooty customers and makes the occasional samich when things got busy. He didn't mind the work because it occupied his mind with something other than his depression.

One thing he could look forward to was getting off early on Wednesday. He had an appointment with Dr Neven at three thirty that afternoon, which meant he had to get off at least by one or two. Just in time to finish up the lunch rush. Maybe he would put him on some new medication to help ease him through the weeks to come?

Maybe...

Maybe not...

Brian got out a coffee cup from the cupboard and poured himself a strong dose of pure black coffee. He didn't even bother with sugar and crème and instead went right down to the main purpose of coffee. It wasn't to savor or anything stupid like that. It was there to give you a buzz. Just like you'd add cranberry juice to a shot of vodka or maybe some coke to your rum. You were just dressing up something to make it more tolerable, but it was still there for the sole purpose to fuck you the hell up.

He'd made it a little too bitter but it felt good going down his throat. The taste lingered long after the first sip and all the way to the bathroom. He put the cup on the counter and locked the door behind him. He took in a good long look at himself in the mirror and sighed. He proceeded to urinate and flush, just like he did about four times a day, every day, of every year, since he was born. All you did in life was eat, fuck, shit, piss, and sleep. You did things in between but they were really nothing more than filler. You wasted life between those things and it all amounted to nothing in the end when you were either six feet under ground or in an urn above somebody's mantle.

He took another sip of the bitter coffee and took a deep breath. After another look in the mirror Brian swallowed the rest in two or three long gulps. He nearly dropped the cup and shattered it into a million pieces when he did because the singe of the scolding hot liquid burned its way to his very soul. He placed it on the counter and had to sit down for a second while the burning sensation subsided in his chest. He tried not too but he began coughing and couldn't stop.

"Are you okay in there man?" Paul knocked on the door.

It took Brian a few seconds to answer but he did. "Yes I'm fine." He could feel tears streaming down his face from the pain but did not let on that it hurt. All he could do was wipe them off with the towel that resided on the handle next to where the shower was.

For the first time that day Brian was able to breathe clearly without congestion. Even if it was just for the moment it was still the best breath he'd ever taken. It felt fresh and cold and full of life that he never will have. It felt wrong to feel so good. He didn't deserve to have such a wonderful breath. With every clear breath he took there was some sucker with pneumonia out there feeling like a three hundred Brian was sitting on his chest.

Why should he take up the limited recourses the world had to give when there was always somebody out there more deserving of it all then him?

It just isn't fair.

Life isn't fair.

"Are you sure you're okay in there man?" Paul called from across the door.

"Yes."

It just isn't fair.

Chapter 26: Dr Neven: Session #26

Dr Neven: So how are you feeling right now?

Brian: Do you really want to know?

Dr Neven: (Laughs) Yes Brian, I really want to know.

Brian: (Sighs) I'm fine.

Dr Neven: Are you sure? You don't look fine. You're losing a lot of weight and you appear to be paler than the last time I saw you.

Brian: It's just the cloudy weather. It'll make anyone white as snow.

Dr Neven: Uh huh... Tell me about your plans for the upcoming holidays, if you have any that is.

Brian: I suppose I'll go home and have dinner at the restaurant my father picked out. Nab the check he'll write, and go home.

Dr Neven: What about New Years? Are you going to be safe?

Brian: Of course. I don't really drink anyways.

Dr Neven: Well let's just hope that what you're saying is true.

Brian: Why would I lie?

Dr Neven: I don't know. Why would you?

Brian: Ha! I hate this sort of psychotherapy bullshit and you know it.

Dr Neven: (Laughs) I know, I know. But you have been known to be a little impulsive in the past. I understand that you and your friend Tim are no longer seeing each other. How has that affected you?

Brian: How do you think it affected me? I let him in every time he asked and he dumped me for a bigger, shinier, newer model than me. When I saw his new boy toy it validated everything about how I feel toward myself.

Dr Neven: That is what I'm worried about Brian. I'm afraid that you are willing to put yourself in a position, such as seeing your family in such a fragile state, and furthering your depression for the sole purpose of having somebody to be with. Can't you possibly go with Paul or maybe somebody else?

Brian: I think I'll be fine. If anything happens I promise to check in to the hospital or call an emergency number I swear. Besides, you know it's a myth that more people commit suicide during the holidays anyways.

Dr Neven: Yes I know this.

Brian: Besides, suicide never really works out the way you want it to anyways. I'd just fuck it up or something like that. It's not worth it.

Dr Neven: What brought about this mode of thinking?

Brian: You disagree with my madness?

Dr Neven: Not that I disagree with you. It's very true that it almost always fails, but it's just concerning that you're even thinking about such a thing as an alternative.

Brian: I'm always going to think about it. It's like how once you're an addict you'll always be an addict. I'm just being realistic about it.

Dr Neven: Are you sure about this?

Brian: Yes. Just drop it OK?

Dr Neven: Sure, sure. How are your medications treating you?

Brian: I don't know. I'm still depressed and all, not really sure what any more medication can do for me at this point in time.

Dr Neven: It could possibly ease the pain of the coming weeks a little. How would you feel about either raising your Lexapro or your Wellbutrin?

Brian: You mean I have a choice?

Dr Neven: What do you think feels like the better decision?

Brian: I don't know. The Wellbutrin makes me have more energy but the Lexapro gives me sort of a nice floaty feeling.

Dr Neven: Sounds like you want the floaty feeling.

Brian: I guess so. I dunno. You're the doctor...

Dr Neven: I think I will raise your dose of Lexapro from thirty to forty milligrams.

Brian: Sounds fine to me I guess.

Dr Neven: I want this to be fine with you. You tell me.

Brian: Yeah that's cool. Is there anything else you want to chat about or are we done?

Dr Neven: Is there anything you want to talk about more?

Brian: Not really.

Dr Neven: I would like to know how you would feel if I were to call your friend Paul and ask him to maybe join in on a session?

Brian: (groans) I really don't like that idea. I put him through enough as it is!

Dr Neven: I got his number from your emergency contact information and he said it would be fine with him. He's concerned about you Brian. He says that you were acting this way before you had your little misstep.

Brian: What!? You called him!? That's horrible! Why did you do that!?

Dr Neven: You signed a release as an emergency contact. Now if you don't want me talking to him then I wo...

Brian: NO! I don't want you talking to him!

Dr Neven: That is fine. I didn't mean to upset you Brian. I just want to get a better understanding of how you are really doing in between sessions.

Brian: As I said, I wouldn't lie to you! Are we finished yet?

Dr Neven: (sighs) Yes I suppose we are. Even though we technically still have twenty minutes left. I'll send the prescription over to the facility's pharmacy. It should be ready in an hour.

Brian: Thank you! (Door slams)

Dr Neven: Patient appears to be more hostile and deflects most suggestions he is given. I'm going to make sure I check in on him somehow over the holidays to make sure he isn't thinking impulsively.

Chapter 27: Christmas Eve at the house.

No one was home but Brian.

Mike was off to see his sister up in New York while Paul and Shelly were already halfway to Pueblo. The house was cold and dark with the air of holiday depression clinging to every porous surface to be found. A half-eaten enchilada and Spanish rice Lean Cuisine sat on the coffee table while a bottle of cheap no name red wine sat with minus two coffee cups worth of juice. The only light on in the house is that of the flat screen TV which at the moment is putting pictures to the signals it is receiving from the Blu Ray player.

Tonight is the night for depressing movies and Brian has his top three favorite mood movies in queue. First up is Brokeback Mountain, which is about at the part where Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal leave for their first "fishing trip." He wanted to see the part where Jake died in the end. Next up will be Remember Me, the Robert Pattinson movie about the lowly poor rich kid college student who falls for a policeman's daughter, he then dies in the end. Then last but not least, the mind twisting Donnie Darko, another Jake Gyllenhaal masterpiece, where also, he dies in the end.

Brian wishes he could be Jake Gyllenhaal. The six foot Norwegian / Jewish actor is his favorite star. His slight body in Donnie Darko would be what he would aim for if he had more control over how he looked. But he doesn't so he's left to dream about the life he could be living if he could just be thinner, taller, and more handsome looking. Maybe not so stupid as well. Then maybe Tim would be there with him right now, no doubt wanting to screw but at least he'd still be with him. As much as he wanted to stop thinking about him, he just couldn't. It was impossible to get rid of his image.

His perfect body.

His perfect smile.

His just all around perfectness.

Brian was not about to cry right at this moment but he could feel it coming at any anyways. Maybe when the scene his sweetheart dies in Brokeback Mountain he'll be able to let it all out. For now though he's keeping it to himself and sipping red wine from a coffee cup.

Classy...

Brian tried to piece together the events that led up to the split up. He always put out; he always told him what he thought he wanted to hear. He tried to be perfect but he knew that sometimes he got emotional.

That new man of his is perfect. How could he compete? He couldn't. He was just a stupid idiot for thinking he could ever have a lasting romantic relationship with anyone.

In Dan Savage's book "The Kid" he makes a point that most straight people don't consider gay sex an act of love. He knows how Paul feels about it and he supposes Dan is right. It's pure masturbation when you can't make babies. Anything he felt during those times he was in bed with anyone he was just over analyzing the whole thing. At least he hoped that was the case.

Are we meant to be monogamous? Men are built to do it anytime and anywhere and scientists believe that this comes from man's need to spread his seed out as far as possible in order to increase his chances at procreation. When a guy is in a club and he's hitting on a girl on the dance floor or screwing in the bathroom hiss real ambition is to try to make a baby with as many people as possible. At least this is how evolutionary biology worked. This could be argued but Brian didn't really want to think about it anymore than he was already. When he got drunk and depressed he thought up too many stupid and useless arguments.

Was William S. Burroughs an important author?

Why does The Great Gatsby suck?

Should he like Led Zeppelin just because it's cool to like them?

What constitutes a hipster?

Stupid things...

Meaningless things.

Things with no meaning.

Brian got up and switched on the living room light so that he could maneuver himself better toward the bathroom. Once inside he urinated and took stock of his current appearance. His hair was pretty shaggy and oily. The right side of his face was red from lying on it. His shirt was two days old and had a Lean Cuisine sesame chicken stain on it from the day before.

He wouldn't go as far as to say he was a mess but he was getting there. The thing of it though is that he really didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered to him right now. Why should it?

I'm not a good human.

Never was...

With a sigh he went from the bathroom to his bedroom and grabbed his messenger bag from the side of his mattress. He brought it back to the coffee table in the living room and got out his computer. He thought about checking his email really quick but that soon turned into a long battle with Stumble Upon. Every time he'd think he had seen enough of the tool bar option, it would bring him another interesting site.

They solved the Bermuda Triangle thing with the theory that it was all a big methane bubble or something.

Some videos with kittens are always welcome.

He had to stop himself because the movie was about over by the time he got to a Wikipedia entry about cognitive behavioral therapy, which was fine with him. He wasn't sure he had it in him to go the whole night as planned.

He shut off his laptop and slid it back into his bag. He lied back on the couch and caught the rest of the film. It was a bummer that he missed the only scene where he told himself that it was okay to cry at. He could rewind it but it's not the same.

With waning interest he turned the movie off, placed it back in it's case, and put in the next movie. He took his bag back to his room. The whole night just felt pointless and he supposed he might as well put another entry in his journal. But when he got it out and plopped it down on the table nothing came to him...

Brian's Journal:

I'm a big fat son of a bitch who can't keep a boyfriend because I'm stupid and short and ugly and fat and stupid and short and fat and ugly and stupid...

Fuck off...

Christmas Eve... continued

He was saving the last of the pills that Tim had given him for tomorrow. If he knew anything for certainty it was that he couldn't be around his family sober, romantically speaking if Brian took the last of the pills then that would be the last remaining proof of their time together.

He'd made such a ruckus last time with Tim that he wasn't sure how Christmas Day would fall through. If he knew his family, then he knew that not a word would be mentioned, out of sight, out of mind. That was the way they rolled...

Without anything else to think about Brian rested on his side facing the TV, watching Robert Pattinson woo the love of his life on screen. He was another guy Brian wishes he could be. With that thought the tears came. If he were straight he wouldn't be thinking stupid things like this now would he?

Would he?

Brian got up and poured himself another cup of wine, but his hands were too shaky to even hold the damn thing. He placed it back on the table and the last thing he remembered about the night was Robert Pattinson falling asleep in his girlfriend's arms.

Like men are supposed to do.

Like normal men.

Normal men who like girls...

Because you're supposed to like girls...

And Brian didn't.

And he finally cried.

Chapter 29: Christmas Day

Brian woke up with a slight hangover at about seven am Christmas morning. The food was still lying on the table still only half eaten and the bottle of wine was nearly empty. Maybe one good cup left.

At least the room wasn't spinning or anything like that. He got up and looked into his coffee cup and was dismayed to see that the remaining wine he had in the container had mostly congealed. He would just wash it later he supposed. For now he poured himself the last of what he had and downed it in three long gulps and got up to get ready for the day.

When picking through his clothes that lay on the floor he decided he'd play dress up today and took the only thing he had on hangers out of his closet. It was a nice pinstripe suit he'd bought from somebody at the group home he was at for like fifty bucks. It fit great but was obviously custom tailored for the person it was meant for.

Before he changed into it though he supposed it would be a nice idea to take a long hot shower. He undressed in his room and took a towel from his drawer. Along the way out he nabbed his cell phone off the charger and took it with him.

The hardwood floor was extra cold this morning and it made walking very uncomfortable to his bare feet. When he got to the bathroom the linoleum was a little better and he prepped the water for the shower. It always took a few minutes to get hot.

Stupid old house.

While Brian waited for the water to heat up he looked down at his goose bump covered body. He was suffering from shrinkage and it did little to help his self-esteem. His stomach was thinner than it had ever been at this point but the skin was still there, the last he was told, he'd have to get surgery to get rid of it and that ran anywhere from five to twenty thousand dollars.

He knew of another guy he talked to once (and blew in the bathroom) that had said he got extra skin removed after losing a lot of weight. The man looked nice, if not a little old for him, but nice none the less.

It took very little to impress Brian.

Just be slightly skinny and tower at least an inch over him.

Not exactly hard for ninety nine percent of the male population to do, he'd gotten to a point where he hated himself so much that everyone, no matter what shape or size, was incredibly beautiful by comparison.

How did he get so low? He thought to himself. How did he get to the point where he was wishing he was anyone but himself. Other people didn't know how lucky they were to be themselves.

They could have it worse.

They could be me.

With a deep air filled sigh he tugged at his sac trying to make the shrinkage go away but he supposed that would just have to be cured with a hot shower.

What the hell was he even thinking though? Brian punched the wall where the towel rack was. Why in the hell would he be caring about such a thing when he would never have anyone to be with ever again anyhow? He grabbed his hair and screamed as loud as he could for as long as he could. Once he settled down he sat on the toilet and began to cry.

"You're such a fucking fuck ass!" He told himself over and over again.

The bathroom was filling with steam and had been for a bit now. If he didn't take advantage of it now the hot water would get depleted. He had to pull himself together, if for even a few minutes, while he cleaned up. His body hadn't been washed in about a week. Not because he was normally like that, he had just lost interest in personal hygiene. Anything that he could do to better himself was last on the list of his current priorities.

The shower was hot but it felt good against his skin. He used a dollop of hair shampoo on his mess of hair and did a quick rinse. He used an old dingy wash rag in the corner of the tub to scrub away his filth. It had errant hairs on it from real men who have used it before, real men who had deep voices and drank beer and watched sports. He didn't deserve to use the same wash cloth as they did. Depressed at the thought he put it back in the corner and rinsed what suds he had left off of him.

After drying off he threw his towel on the toilet and headed back to his room. His raised body temperature helped out a little with the cold floor but not by much. Once in his room he sat on his mattress and put his head in his hands. As he sat there naked he felt more vulnerable than he had ever felt before. He is who he is and who he is, is a little naked man who can't stop crying about how the world hates him. He knows it's stupid but he just can't kick it. He knows it doesn't make sense to hate himself when he did nothing wrong but he just... Can't... Do it!

Wiping the tears away from the corners of his eyes he remedied the situation by grabbing the nearest pair of boxers by the bed and putting them on. He didn't even bother to do his sniff test to see if they were clean. He just put them on and instantly forgot about it.

The pants of the suit were loose fitting and it surprised Brian a little. You can see that you are losing weight and you can see it on the scale but it doesn't really become real until you put on something that used to be tight and it's not anymore. If he was finally losing weight then why in the hell was he so damn unhappy? For the first time in his life he was less than one hundred and sixty pounds and it did nothing to make him feel even the slightest bit better. What the hell is wrong with him? Wasn't this what he wanted?

He supposed it was, the only problem is that you can spray all the air freshener you want on a pile of shit but it's still always going to be a pile of shit.

In an almost zombie like trance he proceeded to dress as fast as he could without messing up too bad. When it came time to put on the tie Brian couldn't help but think of it as a noose.

This must be how people working desk jobs or in corporate offices must feel like? Their suit is their execution garb and the tie is the noose. He could easily take the pills and get a chair that would get his neck close enough to the door frame and close it in on the tie, kicking the chair away and just dangle there until every last breath had left his body.

The thought didn't pass as he put on his shoes. The nice dress ones he stupidly wore the day he went to interview for Roger's Subs. They must have done the trick, he got the stupid job. Day in and day out he worked for next to nothing doing stupid shit for rich people who could give a half rat's ass about who he was or how he was feeling. As long as they got their fucking subs and diet Cokes into their over stressed, Xanax filled bodies.

Brian checked his phone for the time and saw he had about twenty minutes to get to the bus stop, an act in of itself that only took five. For the long bus ride over he decided to bring along Tim's book 'A Scanner Darkly'. It was a horrible reminder of the time they had together but it was still a book that interested Brian. Since he wasn't about to bring his laptop or some stuffed toy to his parent's place it was the best thing he could think of to give him the slightest bit of relief. Even if he didn't get to read it, just having it around was good enough for him.

Brian pulled his bag to his side and took out the remaining pills. He chewed on one and swallowed the other dry. He got up and took the book from the pile near the door and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He needed something to wash down the pill and get the chalky taste of the crushed one out of his mouth. He wished he had more wine or something alcoholic because he sure could use it for today.

There was nothing in the freezer and Brian supposed that either Mike or Paul had taken the bottle they normally kept with them for the long trip they had ahead. He bet at this time right now they were fucking chicks and watching football and drinking beer and having a great time with their loving families and all that stupid shit.

Fuck them.

And fuck me.

He needed to jet to the bus stop. He didn't have time for himself right now.

The bus ride became more tolerable once the pills kicked in. The euphoric warm feeling was a nice contrast to the drafty 44 bus. He knew he couldn't read in this condition but he held tight to his book anyways. As if by holding it, it would ward off any evil spirits that may come his way. He knew many would in the coming hours. They'd come to rip apart his soul and piss on the remains of his burnt body.

He took in the view from the bus, watching the world blur by him at thirty of so miles an hour. The same could be said for his heart, it was breaking at increasing speed.

Opiates decrease breathing but whenever he took any he felt as if he breathed better than at any other time. Same went for drinking, which was another respiratory depressant. Brian was prone to getting infections and one time last year got pneumonia. He remembered it as one of the worst experiences of his life. It was as if he his chest made of iron the entire time. It felt impossible to take a deep breath and at times he would turn white or nearly blue in effort to get a big gasp of air.

But that, like many things in his life, has passed. He was better now. Doesn't mean it won't come back though. Things like that usually did over the course of a lifetime. Things come back. Would Tim? If life had taught him anything, it was that the past alwaysrepeats itself.

What the hell is he thinking about? He shut his eyes and pressed them with both hands until he saw stars and when he opened them back up the world outside the window was once again one big motion blur.

Brian got up from his seat in the back of the bus and walked to the front seat. There was only one other person on the 44 and he was busy listening to his headphones in the middle of the aisle.

When Brian took a seat he looked first toward the bus driver then toward the road. It had a less of a blurry effect when everything was coming to him and not past him.

"Seeing family today?" The lanky bearded bus driver asked.

Brian held his head up and didn't bother looking at him. "Yeah."

"Yeah, when I'm done with this route I'm off to see my little girls." He grinned and was obviously full of pride.

Brian's head went down and he felt like a dick. "How old are they?"

"One is five and the other will be seven next month, Sherry and Karen, the loves of my life."

"Are you married?"

"Divorced actually, seems like marriage doesn't mean much to women these days."

"I thought it was mostly the men responsible for infidelity?"

"I guess, I don't know. She was special but things just happened the way they did. You got to deal with the cards you're dealt with and play the best hand you can."

"That's one way of looking at things I suppose."

"It's the only way if you ask me."

"You're a handsome guy. Why would she leave someone like you think?"

The man sat in silence as he drove for a few minutes before answering. "I suppose we just weren't meant to be together. The pieces just didn't fit right, you know what I mean?"

"More than you can believe." Brian laid his head on the partition between the door and the aisle.

The man glanced over at Brian and smiled. "Do you have a girlfriend son?"

"I guess you could say that my pieces don't fit too well either."

The man sighed. "I think I know what you mean. You're a handsome guy as well..."

Brian laughed out loud.

The man continued, "You're a handsome guy. I'm sure whoever you set your sights on you can obtain."

"I don't like viewing people as objects to obtain."

"Sometimes you got to take some possession if you want somebody to know you're theirs and they are yours."

"What if they're big enough to crush you in their arms?"

The bus driver laughed and slapped at the wheel. "You must like them meaty don't ya boy?"

Brian wiped his wet, red eyes and simply agreed with the man. Nodding at whatever he said during the questions that came next.

"I bet you're into all sorts of things with big women." He joked.

"Sure." Brian halfheartedly agreed. He wanted to go back to the rear of the bus again.

"What makes you like them like that? Is it more cushion for the pushion or is it an embrace thing?"

"I guess you can say I like it when they embrace me."

"I know what you mean. Me on the other hand, I like them tall and skinny."

"That's mostly what I go for too." Brian laughed under his breath.

"I don't like them too skinny though." The bus driver corrected himself.

"I like to see their ribs through their chest."

"I guess that's good when it comes to taking them out to dinner but I'd hate being poked by bones when making love."

Brian couldn't help himself and he began laughing loudly.

The bus driver didn't get what was so funny but he tried to smile anyways.

Brian pulled the cord and the bus driver slowed down a little bit in preparation for the stop. "You have a great day OK?"

"Thanks..." Brian said as he got up to exit the bus.

Before the bus door closed Brian turned around and motioned for the guy to listen to something.

"Yes?" The bus driver smiled.

"I like being fucked in the ass by huge cocks on tall lanky pieces of hotness like yourself!" He turned around and walked away without seeing the driver's reaction to his proclamation. He set off down the lonely destitute road of Garrison down past the I-70 bridge, where his parent's apartment was.

It was cold enough that he could see his breath in the air. He purposefully walked slower than normal as if he were delaying a horrible punishment on himself. In a sense he was. He was putting up with the intolerable for a few hundred bucks and it really didn't feel worth it anymore to do this every year. Maybe it was just a sense of tradition? Any way you slice it, it's always going to come back to family. Love them or hate them, they're all you have and that can sometimes suck the life from you.

The homes along the street all appeared to be either abandoned or adorned with nice mid decade cars. People were no doubt enjoying each other's company. Little Johnny and Cindy were opening presents and screaming with joy over the latest video game or whatever the current model of Barbie may be at this point in time, the parents sipping alcoholic eggnog while one of their cousins' regale stories of how they met their significant others. Perhaps the parents of parents were in house to perform dated magic tricks and help with cooking the holiday feast.

Brian almost wanted to go up to somebody's window and see how people really did it on this day. How normal people acted when they loved each other. How they'd hug you for no other reason than that you are yourself.

Even through the fog of opiates Brian could feel a pain in his chest. They say that there are some neurons in and around the heart muscles, making it able to connect with the brain. People who practice meditation have been doing it for years but it recently just came under the eyes of neuroscientists and cardiologists. When you are sad it affects the way your heart functions. Obviously the heart works better when you're happy but it can do some serious work on someone who is severely depressed. It gave a whole new meaning to dying of a broken heart. It's exactly what can happen to some people if left unchecked.

Another cool thing was that you also have neuroreceptors around your stomach, which gives you the gut feeling you get when something doesn't seem right or a plan appears to be just perfect.

Everything in the human body connects to each other beautifully. Working in harmony for the sole purpose of either keeping you alive, helping you stay alive, or growing cancer for you. It is both an amazing and terrible machine. Able to orgasm and experience the wonders of love yet not so low as to support an inflamed prostate or reject your own ovaries.

What terrible machines we are.

Brian only had to knock once to get the attention of his mother, who always sat at the couch by the door. He could hear her unlocking the various dead bolts and locks before opening up. It took all the effort he could muster to smile at her.

"How are you baby?" She spread her arms, expecting to be embraced. Brian complied and gave her a halfhearted hug back. She held on for a few seconds too long and he had to pry her off.

"Where's Fred and Aaron?" Brian asked as he walked into the apartment's living room.

"Oh they're out at King Soopers getting a few things for me."

Brian knew that this meant beer. The liquor stores may or may not be open that day but the grocers still had a reliable stock of 3.2 piss water. You had to drink twice as many of them to get a buzz but he's sure his mother is up for the challenge.

They sat on the couch and didn't say another word to each other until Brian heard the toilet flush in the bathroom down the hall. He heard the door open down the hall, signaling that his father didn't bother to wash his hands before he left. He walked out of the room, wearing nothing but a tight pair of white briefs and showing off his big hairy gut. He scratched his curly gray hair and noticed an extra person in the room. He stood in front of the hallway and stared for a good three or so minutes before responding.

"How're you doing son?" He mumbled as he made his way to the green faux leather recliner. Brian waited a moment before answering. At least his was being civil to an extent."

"I'm doing good." Brian held onto his knees and leaned forward, staring at his foot. "Just working a lot."

"That's good." His father grumbled. A very uncomfortable silence drowned the room for a good ten minutes before the front door opened up and his brothers spilled in.

Fred appeared to have grown a little redish brown beard since the last time Brian saw him and it looked oddly appropriate on him. His girlfriend didn't seem to be in tow and that worried him a little because he felt that his brother should be helping take care of her in her vulnerable condition.

Aaron held two cases beneath each arm and sat them down in the kitchen. Cindy walked in behind them texting away on her cell phone. She didn't so much as say hello to him as she passed by. She sat in the corner of the living room and continued on typing to her friends or whoever was on the other line.

"Duuuuude!" Aaron walked over to the couch and extended his arms. Brian got up and hugged him, then made room on the couch for the two of themselves.

Aaron and Fred were much taller and bigger than Brian was. Fred had to be about five eleven while his bigger step brother stood six two. Although it also has to be said that they are both a little on the heavy side, but Fred had lost a little bit of weight since they moved to Colorado. He was still husky though while Aaron was getting to the spillage point. His father was pretty tall when he was younger and was quite imposing. Now though he suffered from arthritis and had begun to walk with a stoop. He was also a heavy guy but he held it all in his stomach.

The couch was cramped with everyone sitting down on it at once so Brian sacrificed his own comfort by getting up and sitting near Cindy.

"Hey." She said without looking up from her cell phone.

"Hey you." Brian said in a low whisper like voice.

Everyone seemed to be watching the cooking show on TV and no one made any mention as to what was going to go on next. Such is his family. Unless you ask or say something it will never be said. Too many times before when he and Fred were younger had their father promised to take them to a movie. They would wait for hours and hours, all dressed up and everything, only to finally walked into the living room at eight o'clock at night to ask why they haven't left yet. When they did that though they'd either get yelled at or a spanking. Sometimes both. Just for asking the man to keep his promise.

It was never fair growing up and he didn't expect today to be any different. Although now he could and would file for assault if his father laid a finger on him, Brian took it upon himself to break the quiet after sitting patiently for over twenty minutes.

"So are we going to Country Buffet or what are we doing?" He asked.

His father got up and made a motion to hit him but stopped half way. "God damn it Brian we're gonna go when we're damn good and ready! You can't get everything right this freaking minute!"

Aaron came to Brian's defense for once. "Well dad we need to get going before they close. The place closes at three o'clock and it's twelve right now."

Ronald put his hands up in exasperation and said to everyone listening "I suppose I'll just go put some God damn clothes on I suppose."

When he left the room conversation immediately picked up. Fred was the first to ask, "Where is that other guy you had with you last time?" Brian's mother got up to get a beer and Aaron scooted over in her place to better hear his answer.

"We um..." Brian didn't know how to word it, "we aren't friends anymore."

"Well maybe it's for the best dude." Aaron said. "Maybe without him you can work on getting someone without having some man around telling you how to act and feel."

Brian sighed. "Where's Stephanie?" he asked.

Fred got out his cell phone and hit a few buttons before replying. "She's at her dad's place for Christmas."

"How's the baby coming?" Brian tried to sound sympathetic but it took a lot out of his stoned self to do it.

"It's good, should be here soon." Fred looked toward Aaron and smiled, displaying his coffee stained front teeth. "Hey Aaron, have you played that new Warrior Alliance game?"

Aaron's face lit up with joy. "Nah dude! I want to though! Do you have it!?"

"Yeah!" Fred slapped his knee. "I got it off of a torrent website! I can text you the address!"

"Yeah dude! Do that!"

Fred turned to Brian and giggled softly. "That torrent thing you told me about is the best thing ever. I haven't had to buy any movies in a long time."

Brian felt a tinge of guilt and had to say something. "I still buy movies if I like them."

"Why?" Aaron asked. "I mean, unless it's higher definition than the computer support, then I would buy them."

"Yeah, I do too, but it's nice not having to spend so much money on them. We don't make enough to buy every cool movie that comes out."

"I dunno." Brian shrugged and breathed softly.

Opioids suppress your breathing frequency and volume.

"Just something about having a real physical thing in your hands you know?" Brian finished. He was starting to get a touch sweaty and wiped his forehead with his right hand.

Fred laughed. "I bet you know all about having things in your hands huh?"

Aaron laughed with him and Victoria made her way back to the couch. "What's funny?" She asked, slightly slurring her words.

"Nothing you'd like mom." Aaron told her. He scooted back over and let her reclaim her seat to which she promptly fell into.

Ronald came back into the living room with everything he needed to go out except for socks. His toe nails were long and a deep yellow color. "Let's go now. It's all I fucking hear out of you people. Can't wait for a God damn second when you got money in your pockets can you?" Ronald grumbled something inaudible and picked up his shoes by the front door. He sat back into his recliner and slowly put on his black work boots, which stood in stark contrast to his dark blue dress pants and Orange T-shirt with the slogan "This ain't a beer gut, it's a fuel tank for a sex machine" printed in big bold red letters. He had a few trucker hats lying by the side of his chair and chose yet another item that had offensive writing on it.

Jesus may love you, but everyone else thinks you're an asshole...

Fred laughed at the hat and Ronald grunted in response.

With his father dressed to the best of his capabilities they all rose and headed for the door. Ronald had to go out first for some reason and they let him have his wish. Brian had to remind his mother to take her purse along. Brian and Aaron were the last to leave the apartment and Brian took it upon himself to lock the door. Aaron stood by him, towering over his little brother and eyeing his every move.

Brian looked up at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Aaron shrugged and made his way down the hall. When they were all out of sight Brian punched the the hallway wall as hard as he could and it was enough to make the woman two doors down come out of her apartment to investigate.

"Is there something wrong out here?" She asked, her voice quivering with fear.

"Nothing..." Brian told her. He looked up and gave the best smile to his ability. "Merry Christmas." The lady went back inside her door without replying. Brian held his head low and at his feet as he walked down the hallway, out the back door, and toward Aaron's massive purple SUV. The irony was not lost on Brian.

Overcompensating are we?

They had to wait for about ten minutes before the host at Country Buffet could seat a group this large. They had pulled two tables together to accommodate. After she led them to their seats and they were situated she told them that the waiter will be with them shortly.

"Tell them I want a Coke." Brian's father said as he got up from his wooden chair and walked in the direction of the buffet.

"I want a Diet Coke." His mother said before leaving.

Aaron just said he just wanted water and Fred and Cindy told Brian that they wanted sweet tea. They left Brian there to order their drinks without ever asking him if he'd do so. Brian accepted his ill fortune and sat down to wait for the waiter to come by.

Just because I'm doing this doesn't mean it ain't a cotton picking pile of horse shit.

Brian paused for a moment and grimaced at himself using a southern accent in his inner monologue. The very thought made him want to crawl under the table and die.

All around he could see happy families going about their holiday with great enthusiasm. Mothers feeding their infants mashed potatoes. Father's asking their kids if they had enough to eat. Children content with their soft serve ice creams. It sickened him how people could be so affectionate and loving to one another. He hated them because he wished he was them. Envy comes from a place of want and need and there was no shortage of those two things with Brian.

He looked toward the middle of the big dining area and saw a particularly attractive boy. short, blond and with black facial stubble, Brian wished that he could go over there and introduce himself. He knew it would never amount to anything other than maybe a hearty handshake.

Brian liked guys who looked and acted like guys. When you're gay they are in short supply because some stereotypes hold true in some situations. He hated gay bars (at least the popular ones) because they promoted queen like behavior. The staff always called you sweetie or honey and the clientele was generally satiated with the sounds of the current popular singing divas backed by annoying techno beats.

Dance music can go suck a fuck.

"Can I get you something to drink?" A tall brunette waitress asked, interrupting Brian's pity party.

Brian looked up and stuttered a little when he told her what the rest wanted to drink. He told her he wanted a diet coke. She looked down at her small paper pad and walked away without looking at him once.

Brian leaned over and shouted "Thank you!" But she did not look back or even acknowledge that he had said anything. By the time she had disappeared from sight, Fred and Cindy, respectively, took their seats in front of Brian..

"Did you tell her I wanted sweet tea?" Fred asked. Before Brian could answer he started on his fried chicken and bacon, cheese, and sour cream stuffed baked potato. He did not bother to add any chives.

"Yes. I'm not stupid." Brian said quickly as he got up to get his food. He walked down the crowded room to where the food was and took a plate from the end of one of the buffets. Upon investigation he spotted the last piece of baked salmon over on the third bar. He maneuvered himself over to it as quickly as he could but was beaten to it by his bigger brother Aaron.

"Sorry dude. I like fish too." he laughed as he took the last piece. Brian left the section in a huff and decided to fill up on the sesame chicken that they offered there. It was dark and hard and it looked inedible, but Brian didn't care as long as it filled him up and gave his mouth something to do other than talk.

With some steamed rice and raw broccoli with ranch sauce on the side of the plate his meal was complete and he headed back to the table, where everyone was well into their meals. For some reason his chair was missing and to his utter lack of surprise the group sitting next to them had an extra person at their table.

Brian put down his plate where he WAS sitting and went to the entrance and asked if they had any extra chairs he could grab. The host up front just told him to find a chair where ever that wasn't spoken for and take it. Brian scoured the dining room for any available seats but came up short. He saw a family in the back right corner who looked like they were almost done with their meals and he waited a by the desert bar for them to evacuate their home base. It was a man, woman, and two kid deal. The father had dark brown hair and a thin grey goatee and the mother was a beautiful short Hispanic lady, their kids looked like brown haired twins in matching red shirts and blue jeans. Even their Sketchers shoes matched. They had to be no more than six or seven years old. This perfect family had on their best Sunday clothes and had not a speck of food on their faces. The mother wiped off the sides of the left twin's mouth while the other appeared to be sharing a joke with his father.

Knock, Knock.

Who's there?

Stupidlittle.

Stupidlittle who?

Stupid little shit, man up and stop staring for Christ's sake!

Brian knew that assuming they were an original member family in this day and age may be a little traditionalist and behind the times, but it made for a nice contemporary little picture in his head. How he wished for domesticity. To find a nice guy who could help support him both financially and mentally. He'd be nice and educated and have liberal values. He'd work with computers or may be an engineer. Maybe something to do with English perhaps? They'd talk about books and current events in bed after sex and go out for sushi at Go Fish down on Broadway and Ellsworth every other Tuesday for all you could eat. He'd hold him at night and never let him go until the morning sun rose and shined through their window. It felt like too much to ask for in his past experience and it made him feel extremely empty inside. Brian took out his Droid cell phone to check and see if he still had Ryan's number in his contacts. Did he erase it? He wasn't sure. He finally founr it and felt like calling him up right now, but decided against it because he knew that it would be a grossly inappropriate day to do so. Beside's he'd just want sex anyways. However, in Brian's current state of loneliness he supposed he would be up for pretty much anything as long as he got human contact in the deal. Maybe when he was done with his family obligation he'd hit up Broadways downtown. It's one of the hipper gay bars and it was always open, holiday or not.

I hope there are more masculine guys there than queens.

Brian thought twice about the thought and corrected himself angrily.

Queens can be fun sometimes. The only thing that he was really not into was that it seemed like most of the ones I've met were bottoms. I haven't played pitcher in a very long time and I want to keep it that way!

When the menace in his head faded he thought that maybe he'd find someone as lonely as he was today, somebody with short red hair and green eyes who wasn't hard on the yes.

When the family got up to leave, Brian snapped out of his trance and gave them a minute to disappear before swooping in and taking one of the seats. He looked around to make sure no one else was coming back and took a wooden by the top and dragged it four rows up to where his family was seated.

Finally able to sit down, Brian suddenly found himself very uninterested in what was on his plate. He picked and poked at the sesame chicken but it tasted rubbery and it was hard to chew. The rice had a good buttery flavor to it but the most satisfaction he was getting was coming from the broccoli.

"Why didn't you get more?" Ronald asked, he still had half a piece of fried chicken in his mouth. "I'm paying ten bucks for you to eat and you better not waste my money!"

Brian nodded and did what he could to his meal but it felt seriously forced.

"Can I get ice cream dad?" Cindy asked her father in her finest good little girl voice.

"Eat your food first." Aaron said absently as he viciously attacked his meat loaf with his steel fork.

"But dad I don't like what you got me." Cindy moaned. Aaron made the plate for her, like usual, and would normally only get one or two things for her, but in keeping with the spirit of getting the value from your money he added on unnecessary things to her meal in order to justify the price. Even Brian hated fried steak.

Brian thought for a second and went for her defense. "You know it's unhealthy to eat more than you are hungry for." he said, not looking up and staring intently at the monstrosity that was his sesame chicken.

"You don't tell me how to raise my kid and I won't tell you how you are going to hell OK?" Aaron said, suddenly very offended at the remark. A long silence was experienced as a response to the animosity.

Finally Fred came around to Brian's aid. "She's just a little girl Aaron. You shouldn't be making her eat more than she can."

"She just wants ice cream. She can eat her food. She does this at home all the time." Aaron said calmly. This irritated Brian because he got a snappy response for basically saying the same thing as Fred. Only his little brother was more favored by his older than he was and he knew where he stood on that issue. Nothing he can really do about it except for taking it like a man.

Like a bitch you mean.

Ronald, Fred, and Aaron got up in unison to go get second plates while Cindy and his mother were left behind, both still had a lot of food on their plates. Victoria smiled politely but had nothing to say to her middle child. She was pretty much passive when it came to showing affection. Even though she told them that she loved them on occasion she never really put any effort into showing it all. The smile was enough for Brian though at the moment. He smiled back and looked over to see his niece mindlessly stirring her mashed potatoes with her fork.

"Wanna go get some ice cream?" He asked her.

"Yeah. What about this food?" Cindy asked.

"Here, let me have it." Brian took her plate and quickly finished off her mashed potatoes and green beans. He did this a little too fast and almost choked on some of it. He didn't eat the fried steak but he wrapped it in a wad of napkins in effort to hide it, putting it on the floor between his feet under the white and red checkered table cloth. When he was done he put the plate back over by her signaled her to get up with him.

"Thanks." Cindy smiled warmly. Brian smiled back and patted her on the shoulder as they walked over to the desert bar. He got a plain bowl of vanilla ice cream with some caramel topping while she made herself an elaborate chocolate ice cream Sunday with what looked like every damn candy topping they had. Once she was finished stacking her desert five inches high she went for the chocolate syrup, which dripped out a little from the sides of her bowl.

The men were back at the table when they returned. Aaron gave Brian a look of contempt that frightened him a little. He sat down and attended to his treat while Fred started up a conversation about some Michael Bay film. It ranged from Bad Boys to Transformers and it repulsed the hell out of Brian.

The minutes passed and Brian finished his desert. He knew that three other men were going to get thirds and possibly fourths before getting their desert so he quietly sat back and watched the people come and go from the side of his seat.

All the smiles... The happy couples, the content families, even the single people sitting alone seemed to be in the holiday spirit.

Brian wanted to get back to their apartment, get his check, and go home. He remembered that the year his family found out about his secret life he didn't get a check for Christmas. In fact it took almost a year and two case managers to get him back into contact with his father.

And it all happened because of his stupid diary.

Brian had started the ritual of writing daily about his feelings and goings on in cheap eighty cent notebooks that you get at the grocery store when he was around nineteen, the year that things really took a nose dive.

At first it was just to appease his high school counselor but soon took on a life of it's own. By the time they had moved to Colorado he was about eighteen and writing in his journal had become a full blown habit.

Brian had always knew he was gay but he would never acknowledge it to himself. He remembers wanting to be with John so badly that he physically felt chest pains just by thinking of him.

He was all alone when he got to Colorado and he reached out to anyone that was willing to hear him speak. This made a few good friends, a couple of acquaintances, and a lot of bad influences. The people most willing to talk were kids like him who came from wayward families and did drugs and such. Not Brian's real idea of a good time but at least he found out through a kid with a blue Mohawk that opiates were... well... just great.

Brian discovered the wonders of pills during his nineteenth year on this planet but never let himself fall too deeply into it. There were a few times where it got out of hand for a week or so but he had been able to stop himself before he would experience any serious withdraw.

He was also without psychiatric help because they had just moved there and since he was over eighteen and not in college, he was ineligible for his father's insurance. He eventually overcame this hurdle when he went to the emergency room at Denver Health on a particularly bad day. After about ten hours he was not admitted to the psych ward but after a few days he was referred to the Denver public health offices. A week later when he got out he sought the Denver mental health care provider and after a lot of paper work and a few weeks he qualified for a grant to receive services free of charge. The counselors were free of charge at first but the combination of his inability to elaborate on his issues and a bad attitude eventually led him to 'Dr. Twenty Dollars A Session.'

One of the first things his first case manager did when she did the initial interview was ask him if he was gay. Brian denied it at first but she could tell that he was hurting inside with shame and that he was in fact reaching out about the subject because he brought it up all the time that his family thought he was queer.

Through friends of friends he had at the time he met this one guy named Thomas. Thomas was beautiful and milky white with soft blond hair. He was also over twenty one so he was able to lure Brian to his place most days with promises of getting him drunk. He would get him anything he wanted and all he had to do was hang out with him for a few hours at a time.

Brian felt an intense attraction to him, but he didn't want to admit it to himself and was fucking scared to even think about it, but he was. Throughout the course of the first few weeks Thomas would ever so slowly crawl closer and closer to Brian when they sat together on his brown leather couch and even the hangers on could see something heavy was brewing.

It was around July of his nineteenth year that he finally took the plunge. He was drinking with Thomas and they were all alone in his apartment when a very inebriated Thomas placed his long, lanky handon Brian's shoulder. He told Brian that he was going to give him a massage. Brian immediately felt an erection coming on and shrugged Thomas away.

"What's wrong?" Thomas had asked him.

"This feels just... I don't know." Brian was severely confused and angry with himself for feeling the way he did.

"Don't you like me?" Thomas had asked.

"As a friend, yeah..." Brian couldn't look him in the eyes. He tried with all his willpower not to get hard but it was full on before he knew it.

"Well, do you like me more than a friend?"

"I don't know..."

"Have you ever been with a man before?" Thomas asked. Brian got up and walked over to the entertainment center in the middle of the living room. He remembered the cleanliness of the one story home. Everything was so ordered and in its place. When Thomas finally realized that Brian had walked away from him he stood up and went over to where Brian was standing.

"No..." Brian whimpered.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" Thomas asked. He put his hand on Brian's right shoulder and could feel the sloshed little man shaking like a baby rattle.

"No..."

Thomas laughed. "Trust me, they're over rated." He maneuvered his hand from Brian's shoulder to his chest but he made no move to take push it away. As Brian stared, very scared and still, Thomas slowly moved down his shirt and to the buckle of his belt. Brian closed his eyes and inched forward, so nervous that he could feel his heart beating in his teeth.

"Let's go to my room ok?" Thomas said softly into his ear. He undid Brian's belt and pulled it off. Holding it up above his head he displayed it as if it were a prize trophy.

"Can... Can I have a few more shots?" Brian whispered softly. He felt like he could've passed out any moment from hyperventilating. Thomas told him that whatever he wanted he'd grant. They each took a shot of top shelf Grey Goose vodka. When the bitter taste subsided Brian took two more shots in a row before finally giving up the ghost, He told Thomas that he was ready and allowed himself to be led into the bedroom by the lanky blond man with a white muscle shirt and manila khakis.

When they got into the room Thomas closed the door and motioned Brian to come over to him. Brian heisted for a minute before slowly making his way to the man he felt like was going to change his life forever. When he came upper chest to lower chest Thomas made his move and held onto him gently. He was wrapped around Brian for the longest time before leading him over to his bed with his hand on Brian's. It had a plain white quilted comforter and the mattress had to be king sized.

"Do you want me to take off my clothes first or do you want me to take off yours?"

Brian took in a long breath of air and shook his head violently. "You..." His pulse was racing faster than it had ever raced before. His whole body felt light and electric with adrenaline. The copper taste in his mouth got so bad he was sure he was going to throw up all over Thomas.

"Look at me as I do it." Thomas said. He pulled off his shirt to reveal a very thin and wiry body. It was very white and he lingered as if to show off his physique. His rib bones made Brian feel faint. Thomas's happy trail was thick and light blond like the rest of the hair on his body.

Brian sat down gripped the sides of the mattress. He could feel himself getting harder and harder, and he hated himself all that much more as he stared at the strip tease playing out before him. With one swift motion Thomas pulled down his pants and underwear together and let them fall to his ankles. Brian saw for the first time since he was thirteen, another man's penis. It excited him and he was gasping for every breath he could. He didn't want to stare at him as much as he did but he simply could not look away from this beautiful man.

"I want you to touch it." Thomas said sweetly. Brian was running on pure instinct at this point and he extended his right hand begrudgingly toward Thomas's nether region. Thomas came closer and rook it, placing it on him. His six and a half inches of manly appendage. Brian could feel himself about to nut in his pants and he quickly withdrew.

"I can't..." Brian said, turning his head away from him.

"Yes you can." Thomas said in a soft, reassuring voice and kicked off the clothing from around his feet then climbed onto the bed with Brian. He slowly reached for Brian's head and went in for a kiss. Brian did not resist but he felt like he should of. Thomas used his right hand to draw Brian's face toward him. He looked into his eyes and put his lips on Brian's. The taste of mint toothpaste and vodka radiated from Thomas's mouth. It felt right. Brian felt like a broken engine that had been brought back to life after so many years of neglect.

Brian's hands went to touch Thomas's head too. He began to kiss back and he liked how he was feeling. He had never felt as good about himself as he did at that moment. He wanted it to last forever. His hands navigated down toward Thomas's silky soft mid section. Thomas disengaged and looked Brian in the eyes and undid the zipper on his pants and pulled them off then threw them to the floor beside the bed. Then he came back to Brian's face to kiss him a little bit longer before he finally stood up and took off his boxers. Brian had never felt more nervous excited than he did at that very second.

Brian slowly lied on his back and immediately tried to cover up the pubic area with his hands but, Tim just took them and guided his hands away. Brian felt ashamed of his aroused naked self, he wanted to die. He looked up at the ceiling and took long, deep breaths. He could feel his penis inside Thomas's mouth and it felt really, really good. Thomas stopped after a minute or so and got up. He then climbed onto him and Brian wished he had the guts to tell him to stop, but he let Tom take control because he appeared knew what he was doing.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Thomas whispered into Brian's ear. Brian just closed his eyes and tried to imagine a warm worn hiking trail in the mountains, where he was all alone and fully clothed while walking up the thousand foot high result of plate tectonics. He was not here right now at this time in bed with another man. He wasn't like this...

Thomas repeated it into Brian's ear. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Brian couldn't feel his head anymore. The room spun and he impulsively said "Yes..." He opened his eyes. Thomas was holding himself above Brian with his too skinny arms on both sides of Brian's shoulders. He smiled and rose from the bed, kissing Brian's stomach before finally got off. He went over to his drawer and pulled out a condom and a tube of water based lubricant from it. Brian watched him do this and couldn't stop staring at the man's body. He was finally letting himself take it all in like he never would let himself do before. His butt was toned and small, his body so thin and white, his genitals so foreign and exciting.

Thomas bit the top of the condom packed and pulled out the little white round disk looking thing of latex. He put it on top of Brian's penis and slowly slid it down the shaft, covering up everything with sensitive rubber. He then opened the lube packet and squeezed a few drops into his hand before massaging it slowly onto Brian's modest member. He then instructed Brian to get up and stand on his knees. Brian did as he was told and felt like he was going to fall over being as drunk as he was. That was it right? He was just drunk? Thomas bent over and lathered on the lubricant on and around his anus. Brian was scared out of his being but did his best to keep from shaking and going off too early.

"Put it in me. You're body will know what to do next." Thomas said playfully and looked forward.

Brian held his dick in his hand and maneuvered around the opening until he felt the slightest penetration. He immediately pulled out and sat back down. He suppressed himself from vomiting; it was hard seeing how anxious he was. It almost felt like a panic attack coming on.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, not moving himself from his position.

"Am I hurting you?" Brian could only imagine what it would feel like having one inside him. That thing wasn't meant for this. He felt very sure that he had scared his friend for life.

"No... It felt good. Do it again. Go deeper." Thomas instructed with a soothing baritone.

Brian got back up and slowly repeated himself until he felt the opening again. He closed his eyes and plunged forward. Thomas let out a gasp and Brian could feel the tightness of his colon around him.

"Do it.." Thomas commanded and Brian pushed further in. Then out. Then in again. It felt... odd to him but it was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. This wasn't like masturbating in the slightest. Brian opened his eyes and saw that his penis had disappeared into this man. He closed his eyes again and went for it. Gaining speed with each progressing thrust.

Instead of hearing Thomas cry out in pain he appeared to be enjoying it. He commanded that Brian do it harder and faster and he did as he was told. Just when it felt like too much to bear he felt himself convulse with orgasm. He involuntarily let out a moan of pleasure and fell forward onto Thomas's back. He laid there for over a minute before he felt Thomas move away. As his penis slipped from Tim it had a weird sensation of being squeezed.

Brian fell back onto the bed and stared up at the mosaic of patterns in the white paint of the ceiling. He couldn't believe he had just done this. Not only was it his first time but it was with a man!

"I'm so sorry!" said, as if he had just killed someone.

Thomas snuggled beside Brian and began to laugh. "Don't be sorry. How did it feel?" He asked.

"I don't know... I'm still... I don't know." Brian couldn't bring himself to say that it was the best fucking thing he'd ever done in his life. He wasn't that way...

"I know you liked it." Thomas said as he traced his finger around Brian's nipple. "I want to do it to you now."

Brian slowly tilted his head toward Tom's face and grimaced. "I don't know... Will it hurt?"

"It will a little." Thomas confessed. "But it will start to feel better as it goes along. I promise." He kissed him on the forehead, his vodka and mint breath from where he was above Brian.

After almost ten minutes of awkward silence he hesitantly nodded and Thomas got up to get out another condom and put it on himself. He then asked Brian if he wanted to bend over or have him do it face to face. Brian said nothing. He just lied there motionless. He wanted to see him do it so he just stayed on his back and closed his grey blue eyes.

Thomas poured the rest of the lube in the packet onto himself and lifted Brian's legs to rub the stuff between Brian's butt cheeks. When he touched his anus it sent jolts of electricity through his body. He wasn't this way!

"I'll do it slow OK?" Thomas said. He then grabbed the two pillows from under Brian's head and stacked them under the lower half of his body, giving him a bit of a life. Then he spread Brian's legs and raised them above his ears. Brian was surprised at how flexible he seemed to be and was momentarily distracted. Then he felt Thomas's penis wondering around and then when it came, it REALLY came.

Brian gasped in both fright and pain when it slipped in. It happened so fast that he wasn't even sure what was going on. Then Thomas began to go in and out very slowly. Brian felt immense pressure in his bottom and it felt like it was stretching to the ripping point. He gritted his teeth and allowed himself to be fucked. Tim gradually gained speed and began thrusting very hard.

"That really, really hurts!" Brian said, but Thomas didn't appear to be listening because he just kept going faster and faster. "PLEASE STOP!" Brian pleaded but the man paid no attention to his cries.

Throughout the pain there was something that felt really good about it. It was unlike any experience he'd ever had before. It was uncomfortable but he could see himself enjoying it if only he was more experienced...

Brian's eyes watered and he began crying through the pain and pleasure. Thomas was moaning and saying things like "You fucking whore!" and "I'm fucking your asshole!" Before he felt he couldn't take any more of it he saw Thomas's clean shaven face contort and stretch. He put in a few more thrusts before collapsing between Brian's legs. Which also hurt. He stayed inside Brian for another minute or so before taking it out. It felt weird and satisfying when he disengaged. He then rolled over to Brian's side and began breathing deeply, as if he were recovering from running a mile in five minutes.

"Thanks man." Thomas said.

Brian just laid there and began thinking about the severity of what just happened. The pain was gone but what lingered felt really, really great. He couldn't believe he had just done this.

Brian shut his eyes and took himself back to the path in the mountains, the one where he was with his bigger brother when they'd just first moved there. He was showing them how great Colorado was by bringing himself and his brother out hiking. The fresh air was intoxicating as it was thin. Your lungs have to work extra hard up at such a high elevation and just by the act of living in Colorado they became stronger.

Brian felt a hand on his chest and opened his eyes, coming back to reality. He tilted his head toward Thomas and found him smiling contently.

"I know you liked it." Tom said. "Tell me you did."

"I..." Brian gulped and froze for the longest time. When he gathered himself he said softly and with deep regret "I did..."

Brian watched as his father and brothers leave to get their deserts and he felt a burning hatred grow out of control inside his belly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, counting backwards from a hundred, and thought about some nice things he could do once he got home, like slit his wrists...

He opened his eyes to see a nice black haired guy standing by the ice cream machine. He had a nifty looking faux hawk and he appeared to be dressed a little TOO immaculately. Brian decided to get up and go for another bowl of chocolate / vanilla mix soft serve. When Brian got close to him his heart skipped a beat when the guy smiled in his direction. Brian walked up to where he was and grabbed a bowl from the metal counter, he then turned back toward the slightly freckled man in front of him.

"I'm sorry! Am I in your way?" he asked. Brian smiled and told him that it was no big deal.

"Are you here with your family?" Brian asked as he lifted the lever on the soft serve machine, trying to pass it off as a casual question that held no importance to him.

"No, actually I was supposed to meet a guy here but I guess he blew me off." He smiled and Brian felt this was some sort of an invitation. He took it.

"My name is Brian."

The cute black haired young man extended his hand and Brian took it. He had a firm but loose handshake, this was novel to Brian and his hand thanked the man for being so gentle.

"My name is Adam." He said.

"So where are you sitting?" Brian asked.

"Why?" All of a sudden the guy looked slightly nervous. Brian wasn't sure whether or not to proceed. When the nervousness grew to fear he realized that he was still holding onto the man's hand.

Brian let go quickly. "I'm so sorry. I really am!" He couldn't look him in the face.

"It's OK man. Really." Adam shrugged and looked away. "Happens all the time. You know, the hair, the way I dress. It's cool. I promise." He cleared his throat and turned around. "It really is man." He said with his back to Brian. Before the awkwardness had a chance to grow any more enormous than it already had, Adam walked away at a very brisk pace. He headed over to a table with a pretty red headed girl in a green dress and sat down next to her. He said something because Brian could see him lean over and saw his lips moving, the girl bent over to hear what he was say, they then looked over where Brian stood beside the soft serve machine. He felt himself become very, very sick to his stomach and looked away from their just eyes. He collected himself and walked back over to his family's table.

This day is just too perfect...

Chapter 30: Decisions, decisions.

Brian had been pacing back and forth all day in his room alone, thinking to himself about what he would do that night repeatedly. He was invited to a party being thrown by Shelly and he would definitely have a ride home since Paul was going. He was also an EMT so that's always a comfort. The only thing that worried him was the chance that if he were to drink himself to alcohol poisoning, Paul would bring him back to health.

Anyways... if worse came to worse and Paul got too drunk and stayed over, he'd slept on Shelly's couch before. It was big and comfy and blue. The only problem the whole situation was that he didn't like parties, too many bad associations that came along with it, too much pain. On the other hand he had a ton of money available to him. He could go out to a bar and if he didn't find anyone to be with then he could totally just get a cab home. He was leaning toward that idea because in his desperation for human companionship he's been finding himself fantasizing about lying in bed all day being held by a man, any man. It made him sick to his stomach because it brought him so much distress.

If he was really desperate he could always call Ryan. He wasn't even sure that his number would still work and to be honest he barely even remembered meeting him that night at Broadways.

Man I was plastered!

He knew what a night with him would entail. And quite frankly he was at a point where he didn't care if he had to give it up, he would in a heartbeat just to be with someone. But he held out. He weighed the pros and cons of the two choices and was leaning so far to the latter that he was in danger of tipping over.

"I guess it's off to downtown..." he spoke aloud to no one. He was in the same Vines t-shirt / plaid boxers combo that he had woken up in and still hadn't changed into anything even though it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon, he'd yet to come out of his living area the whole time since. A part of him just wanted to blow the whole thing, go to the emergency room, get pain pills, buy a bottle of schnapps, and wake up in the gutter tomorrow morning. It would be fit him more than anything else he could think of at the moment.

He got on some white socks and put on a pair of tattered blue jeans and opened his door for the first time that day. He hadn't even gone to the bathroom since last night and he was holding on by sheer force. The bathroom was his first stop.

Once he had relieved himself he wondered if anybody would be downtown selling pills or heroin. He felt the need to be numb for the evening and knew that alcohol alone wouldn't do the trick. He had to hit up an ATM though because he had very little cash on him.

He hadn't been shopping for anything since he bought Paul and Mike fancy packs of argyle socks and high end chocolate boxes, what little he ate these days came from work and if he went hungry at home he'd just make some white rice. They had a ton of white rice. Rice and Ramen noodles. Two things no bachelor pad could be complete without.

Paul was sitting at the couch with Mike by his side and they were talking about how the Denver Broncos were doing this year. Brian was totally not interested yet he stood in the middle of the living room soaking up the conversation. It was just nice to hear some human voices. Mike looked over toward him and must of felt nervous or something because he called Brian out on it. "What's your problem?" he asked.

Brian shook his head and frowned, his forehead long ago had etched a new deep worry line right before the hairline. "Nothing... I don't know."

Paul patted the seat next to him "Come have a seat man." His smile was inviting but Brian had little motivation to sit with two grown men, talking about sports.

He stood for a few more moments before walking back into his room. He closed his door and plopped himself down on his bed and delved deep into his thoughts.

"Are you ok?" Paul shouted from behind the door.

"Fine." Brian yelled back, "Just tired is all."

There was really nothing left of his life anymore, he was wasting away and no longer growing either physical or mentally. He'd lost all desire to even read and his books lie by his bed, unread and unused. He had to make up his mind quick so he could spend another two or three hours stewing over the decision. His journal had been neglected the past few weeks because he felt like there was really nothing more to say without going to that dark place from which he felt that he may not return. But even if he did go there and find himself in a deeper, darker place than he already was, would it be any deeper and darker than where he already was?

He decided on the bar tonight and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and making out pictures from the stucco.

Brian's Diary: New Year's eve stuff.

Life sucks. There is no hope and I want to blow my head off with a shot gun. I want to go out, get fucked in the ass, and lie in the cum stains while the man tells me I'm a stupid little shit and all I'm good for is for being a warm hole for him to rip open.

That's all I am... I am nothing more, nothing less.

The Edge

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

Blaming it all on you

Blaming it on you seems to be all you do

You know you do

You do

The kids feel warped and hurt

Turn it around and upside down

And now it's dirt

You do

You do

You do...

Blame it on the birds and the bees

Blame it on the edge, it brought it out in me

I don't want no one to see me this way

I don't want no one to see me this way...

Like you do...

I hate myself even more

I hate myself and hope they broke the mold

Like you do

You do

Blaming it on the pole

I got skewered a while ago and now I'm cold

You know you do

You do

You do

You do...

Blame it on the birds and the bees

Blame it on the edge, it brought it out in me

I don't want no one to see me this way

I don't want no one to see me this way...

Like you do...

You do...

You do...

You do...

Chapter 31: New Year's Evil

Brian decided to walk downtown that evening to the bars. He needed some exercise to clear his head but so far all it's done is expose him to the chilly December weather. He was wearing his most fashionable hoodie (The Radiohead one) and his tight hipster jeans. As if he were adhering to a distant mating call, the bars on downtown Broadway were beckoning him from down the road.

Thinking about the times he spent with Tim made his belly physically ache. He liked him so much and he just, he just did what he did. He had never been so close to anyone in a relationship before and it was just hard to come to terms with what had happened. He knew he should move on, but in all honesty he didn't really have anything to compare it to, to make him feel any better. No past experience that he could look back on and go "Hey! At least it wasn't like that!" Brian had only ever been with people who subscribed under the whole "friends with benefits" line of thinking.

His first real shot at something cool and he blew it. Brian had tried sending Tim text messages and emails asking where he went wrong and had gotten nothing in response. Tim's silence hurt more than any words he could ever say to him.

If I weren't the person I am...

Maybe if he was like the person he had seen him with last, maybe then he would have had a chance. Instead he was a little man with a little bulge in his waist area and a little pecker by comparison with almost every guy he's ever met. He was the one who was abnormal here, he felt. All the talk from his counselors, psychiatrist, and case managers has always leaned toward the possibility that he was the average one and that there was nothing technically wrong with him. He felt though as if nothing was extraordinary about him... He was just Brian and being Brian meant that you weren't special in any way, shape, or form.

The cold air burned his cheeks and it began to snow lightly in the afternoon sun. Brian tried to catch a snow flake on the tip of his tongue but to no avail. He couldn't even do THAT right... Never really could for that matter. In doing so just brought back painful memories of being on Tim's parent's patio.

Once he had reached downtown his legs began to ache and he felt as if he needed a short rest before heading further. One of the good and bad things about downtown Denver was that there was a Starbucks practically on every other corner. It wasn't the most ideal place he could spend his money, he thought, but it sure was comforting.

Under the big shining light of our corporate savior, Starbucks is thy God. May you bless the migrant workers in your bean fields in Africa and giveth away your better than average health insurance to your baristas. May you forever bask in the glory of coffee grounds and Frappacinos. Amen.

Brian replayed that in his head about six times before finally reaching the chain café on the corner of Market and 16th.

Go suck a fuck Brian.

To his surprise there was no line in the store and two workers were standing by the register talking with much animation in their gestures. Brian walked slowly to the counter and stood there for a few moments until the taller black haired man beside the cash register noticed that he was even there.

"Sorry about that!" he said, smiling. Brian smiled back and nodded his approval. "What can I get you this fine New Year's Eve?"

Brian laughed and felt as if he could just get a gun and blow his head off in front of the barista for insinuating that anything was fine about today.

"A new boyfriend." He thought it was funny but the black haired guy looked at him with unease. The blond girl next to him grinned and laughed a little.

"What can we get you?" She said matter of factly. Brian knew when he was persona non grata with the guy at least, so he cut to the chase.

"I would like a Venti Chai tea latte please. With soy milk and a ton of caramel sauce on the bottom." As she wrote down the order on the cup Brian interjected, "could you stir that too?"

"Sure." She told him and went to work on the drink. The tall black haired guy rang up the order and had charged Brian extra for the caramel sauce, a practice he noticed that was mostly voluntary since they really didn't need to charge because they never really did full inventory at most of their stores. They usually just ordered a steady shipment of supplies and milk and all that because they constantly ran out every day.

Must be nice to be that popular...

The blond girl put the drink up on the far left counter and did not even bother to call it out, Brian saw it though and went to take it. He walked over by a partition and sat down to rest his legs and sip his drink. When he looked over at the counter he could see the two looking at him and talking amongst each other, the girl began to laugh loudly while the guy just sort of stood where he was and frowned. He got a washrag and started wiping off the front counter. Brian felt even more horrible about himself than he did before. He had to excuse himself from his drink and went to the bathroom to wipe off his eyes.

To his dismay he found that the bathroom required a code to get into. With much deliberation he decided to go ask for it up front.

"What's the code to the bathroom?" He asked the tall black haired man.

"4559." He said so fast that Brian needed him to repeat it.

"Thanks... Why did you get those installed?" Brian asked.

"Junkies have been overdosing too much in our downtown stores so all of us got the code machines installed." the blond haired lady told him. "We trust you though." Her wink gave Brian a little bit of a boost but the black haired guy was still heavy on his mind.

If I looked like him I wouldn't be such a dick to people...

Satisfied enough with the answer Brian walked back over to the bathroom and put in the code. After two tries he heard the click and opened the door. His tears had left him but the sentiment remained. What was he doing? He thought. Was he really expecting to find anyone tonight? Brian sighed, washed his face with warm water, and walked back out to his seat where his latte sat, getting colder by the minute. He could not bring himself to drink anymore of it so he left it sitting there while he collected his thoughts and made a definitive game plan.

The thought of calling Ryan kept repeating in his mind so he finally caved in and took out his phone. With a deep and resigned sigh he pressed all the right buttons and the phone began to ring.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said.

"Hey man," he took a deep breath. "this is Brian. You may not remember me but we hung out a while ago, like in September."

"Oh yeah! Hey man!" He sounded excited

A good sign?

Brian shook his head. "Yeah, anyways, I was just wondering what you were up to tonight?"

Ryan sounded like he was talking to himself or someone and Brian couldn't tell what the words he was saying might be, when he returned he said "Well I WAS going to go hit up the bars but it would be nice to maybe see a movie or something instead."

Brian went for it, "Is that an invitation?"

"It can be if you want it to be." Ryan laughed.

"Cool. Where are you now?"

"I'm still at my apartment getting ready. Where are you?"

"I'm downtown at the Starbucks on 16th and Market."

"Oh OK. Do you want me to pick you up or would you like to meet somewhere or what?"

"Um... Where do you live?"

"Down by 9th and Sherman."

"Yeah, if you could pick me up that would be super cool of you."

"Oh OK! Give me..." He sounded like he was rummaging through something on the other line. "about ten or fifteen minutes and I'll call you from the corner over there okay?"

"That's great man."

"Do you got anything or do I need to go out and get some?" The question broke Brian's heart but he bit his lip and responded.

"I don't have my bag with me... You'd have to get some stuff." Brian felt like a total douche now.

"Alright! We'll stop by the pharmacy on the way back to my place. Or do you want to go to your place first?"

Brian winced his eyes in frustration. "Yours. I thought you were going to take me to the movies or dinner. Or are you going to go to the bars?"

"Well yeah," he paused. "afterwards." He laughed and told him he'd be there shortly and Brian heard the click of disconnection.

Brian put his droid in his mouth and bit down as hard as he could. Once his teeth started to hurt he pulled it out and slipped his phone back into his pocket, the he buried his head in his hands. He was too numb to cry and too mentally exhausted to really think about what had just transpired.

It's always about making the other person happy.

Brian looked up for a second to see if the tall black haired guy was still staring his way. To his pleasant surprise, he wasn't.

Dick...

He quickly downed his drink and stood up to leave. To his utter shock, as he was walking out the door the tall black haired barista waved good bye to him. It was a nice gesture even though he knew it was just him being courteous.

A wind had picked up outside and the coldness felt harsh against Brian's soft pale skin. He felt his face with his right hand and could feel it freezing up from the surrounding air. His hands were beginning to feel the chill so he put both hands into the pockets of his hoodie and balled them into fists to try and collect what little warmth he could from his own body.

While he waited on the side of the street he saw people stumbling around the pedestrian mall, obviously celebrating a little early, but none the less they looked like they were having fun. They were always in groups of three or more. It made Brian remember a line from the Golden Girls that went something along the lines of "you need to kiss somebody at midnight on New Year's Eve for good luck." At least he would have somebody tonight.

That should ease the pain a little. Right?

Twenty minutes into the wait Brian began to get impatient and was about to take out his phone to call Ryan when he heard a honk from down the road, the man had apparently just went by him and had stopped where he could without interfering with traffic. Brian recognized the black car but didn't quite remember the make. It was one of those new Explorers that were extremely roomy and plush. He forgot what Ryan did for a living but it must be something cool if he can afford such a nice vehicle. The thought made him perk up a little more.

Brian walked down Market Street then up to the side door and got in. Ryan sat in the driver's seat and focused on him with the biggest shit eating grin he'd ever seen somebody possess. The man was bigger than Brian remembered. Taller, with black hair, a definitive five o'clock shadow, and almost all muscle. He was wearing an athletic fit plain black shirt and his hair had been spiked for the occasion. At least Brian thinks it's for the occasion, he can't recollect anything about that night other than he was tall and he caused him to walk funny for a few days

"How are you doing sweet heart?" Ryan asked and reached over to kiss Brian. He let him and even found himself initiating some tongue action.

When they separated Brian spoke. "I'm doing okay I guess. Thank you for being with me tonight. I was very lonely." Ryan smiled and kissed him again. After the kiss he held onto Brian's head for a few moments while he looked him in the eyes. His wide smile made him a little uneasy, as did his musky cologne for some reason.

Ryan sat back into his seat and started the engine. They took off at moderate speed down the street where he turned right.

"So... Anything in particular you want to do after we leave my place?" He asked without taking his eyes off the road. The question sent electric shocks throughout Brian's head.

"Not really. I want to get bombed though. Seems appropriate." Brian couldn't help but notice the pronounced veins in Ryan's arm, which was holding onto the stick shift. Thin people had veins that showed. Brian had them on his arms as well but he was still stuck in the mind set of a fat kid and never acknowledged their presence.

Brian for sure wanted to get drunk before the man stuck ANYTHING into his bottom. He wished for more narcotics but had used them all up on Christmas. The outing proved fruitful however because he now had an extra $250 in his checking account now. What was he going to do with all that money? He couldn't take it with him if he really went through with his plans. He didn't really want to think about it right now though so he began to prep himself for whatever Ryan may have in mind, as if he couldn't imagine it in horrible detail already.

They drove off of Broadway and 9th and took a left to Sherman. From there they pulled onto the side of the road next to a lavish looking apartment complex and exited from the car.

"I thought you wanted to go to the drug store first?" Brian said with a little worry in his voice.

"Do you really need me to wear one?" Ryan said, his wide mouth wrinkled into an even wider frown, appearing to be hurt by the suggestion.

"Well... Yeah. I'm sorry but I don't do it without a condom." Brian paused, "Anymore..."

"We'll be fine man. I don't have anything." Ryan smiled and came closer to Brian with his arms stretched out, ready to hug him.

"Well I have hepatitis." Brian lied. Ryan stopped where he was in mid hug and paused for a second. His head went low and he kicked a patch of grass in front of him. "I guess we have no choice then. What kind is it?"

Brian thought quickly. "It's spread by blood on blood contact."

Ryan smiled. "Well I'm not bleeding."

"Yeah, but you are really fucking big and last time you ripped me a little."

"Really?" Ryan said, as if he were proud of the comment just made.

"Yes." Brian said sternly. "I want you to wear a condom."

Ryan stood and pondered for almost a minute before speaking back up. "Okay. I'll go to the store really quick and get some. Do you want to stay here at my place or go with me?"

Brian thought for a second. "With you I guess. I don't want to be alone."

"How about you stay at my place and get comfortable while I go out and get the supplies."

Brian shrugged with defeat. "Alright I guess."

"Besides, I may have an extra one somewhere in one of my drawers. You never know."

Brian nodded in defeat and Ryan took him by the hand. He led him through the front entrance and put in his special pass code to get in the big glass door that separated the call room from the front hallway. From the looks of the hallway alone it appeared to be an upscale development. Brian was impressed. The man obviously either had serious cash or very, very loving parents. Ryan took out his keys and unlocked his front door. When they came in he turned on the light and Brian at once saw that this man MUST have some money. It was furnished with minimalist modern art and couches. The recliner was one of those high end deals where there was no arm rest. The whole place just looked expensive and Brian hated places like this because he was always afraid to sit on or touch anything.

"Let me check in my room really quick, okay sweetie?" Ryan said as he went into the room adjoining the living area. Brian sat down on one of the two zebra print couches and looked around in awe at his surroundings. He now hoped that Ryan was out of condoms so he could sit by himself for a little while.

The paintings looked intricate and well done, they alone must have set him back thousands of dollars. If they weren't originals then they were very, very high end prints!

Brian heard an excited yelp from the bedroom and his heart sank deep into his gut. Ryan came back into view with a unopened condom wrapper.

"Magnum!" he said proudly and immediately began to take off his pants. Before Brian could even register what was going on Ryan was already naked and sporting the biggest erection he'd ever seen before. Well, the biggest one he's ever seen sober.

With hesitation Brian tried to stall for a second. "Do you have any lube? That thing's barely going to fit as it is!" Ryan shhhed him and went to the room next to the one he had came out of. He came back out a second later with a bottle that said 'Personal Lubricant.' With a name like that it must be generic, thought Brian. If he lives so lavishly why did he buy low end product?

Brian gave up and began taking off his clothes while Ryan slipped on the condom and began stroking his massive member.

After taking over a minute to undress, Brian was naked and he immediately compared his small chubby body to Ryan's tall built figure.

It just not fair...

Ryan came over and Brian thought he was about to kiss him when he turned him over and pushed him onto the big orange corduroy couch. Brian cried in surprise but Ryan didn't seem to hear. He held him down on the sofa and before Brian could even get out another word he felt Ryan's big hand lather on some wet cold stuff, the lube, onto him. Brian tried to say something but the front of his face was being held to the cushion. When he was finally able to turn his head he felt the painful pressure of Ryan's penis sliding into his bottom. It took away his breath and he wanted him to stop right there but the man immediately fell onto his back and pinned him to the couch.

For almost two and a half minutes Ryan vigorously pumped and thrust his huge body into Brian while he tried with all his might to catch a gasp of air whenever he could. This was going so very wrong and Brian was crying in pain, which Ryan must of mistook for moans of pleasure because he kept at it and was getting very, very rough with him.

The flash backs of the New Year's Eve ran rampant through his mind and Brian began to have a panic attack while being pinned underneath the large man.

Pun intended.

Just when it was becoming so unbearable that Brian felt he was going to pass out, Ryan collapsed onto his back and he could feel his erection getting softer. After a few more unenthusiastic thrusts he disengaged and stood up. Brian was still in pain and his tears had soaked through the cushion where his head had been pinned down. Brian didn't say anything though, when his head crept back up to see where Ryan standing there he saw that he was gone. He then heard the bathroom door shut and the water faucet running. Brian felt around his anus and could feel something wet. He hoped to God that it was excess lubricant but with the way that man was doing him he wouldn't be surprised if he could scrub off a mound of his own colon from there. To his utter surprise he saw that it was just lube. He couldn't believe he had just taken that and came out of it barely scathed. He sighed in relief and tried to sit up, but it was definitely awkward feeling after the pounding he just took.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry about what just happened. The thoughts that ran through his mind were so scary that he was afraid his heart would explode.

Ryan came back out with a small hand towel and threw it to Brian. "Wipe yourself up could ya?" he said as he walked naked into his kitchen. Brian did as he was told.

"Where do you want the towel?" he asked.

"Just on the floor." Ryan went to his refrigerator and took out a jug of milk, which he drank from. Brian tried to get up but it felt too weird at the moment and had to sit back down. He watched as Ryan gulped down the dairy and he couldn't stop staring at him in utter contempt.

He is amazing looking though...

Ryan put the milk back into the fridge and walked over to the couch. He sat by Brian's side and put his left arm around him. "How do you feel?" he laughed.

"Good I guess." Brian lied.

"Good. We'll have all sorts of fun tonight." To Brian's surprise Ryan took out a pack of cigarettes from his pair of pants on the floor and proceeded to light up a smoke. Brian held his disgust to himself, not wanting to mess up the mood.

"This is a nice place you have here." Brian said, trying to make conversation. "You must spend a ton on it every month."

Ryan smiled contently. "Just a little over twelve hundred. It's a nice place I agree but I'm thinking about upsizing."

"Wow..." Brian said. "What on Earth do you do for a living?"

"I'm actually a corporate lawyer believe it or not." Ryan said proudly. He took another long drag from his cigarette.

Brian could believe it. "You mean stuff like offshore accounts and all that? John Grisham stuff right?"

Ryan made a look. "Yeah sort of like that. It's nothing you should be concerned about. I'd never sue someone like you." When he pinched Brian's cheeks and he immediately felt like barfing.

"I got to warn you about tonight though." Ryan said in between puffs of his cigarette. "I'm not a bottom." Brian sighed and fell into the side of Ryan's chest. He shut his eyes tight and tried to imagine a cold snowy wonderland, with evergreens and wild brown rabbits contrasting in the powdery white surroundings. He could almost feel the coldness of the air.

He was brought back to reality when he felt Ryan's finger slide up his ass.

The night went pretty much as he had expected it to be. Ryan had infiltrated him a few more times before Brian had to plead with him to give him some time to rest. He offered Brian a few valium to calm down and he took them without thinking twice. This was on the condition that he wouldn't drink with them and Brian felt that he'd rather be stoned than drunk anyways.

At around nine o'clock Ryan told him to get dressed because they were going to go downtown and party. Brian, numb to everything, got dressed and had to be led hand in hand to his car. Ryan appeared to be loving the control he had over him because whenever Brian would stand still for too long Ryan would laugh and pick him up and hoist him above his shoulders. He was super strong and Brian could only imagine how much time this man spent at the gym. Tyler Durden in Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club" had said that self improvement is just masturbation. Brian could just imagine Ryan reaching orgasm while lifting a dumb bell and kissing his sweaty forearm with each repetition.

What other attraction did Brian have other than physical to this man the night he'd met him at the bar? He couldn't remember jack shit other than being extremely flattered that he was hitting on him. It didn't take much to flatter Brian because he saw himself as such a waste of sperm and egg as it was and it really did surprise him every time somebody would compliment him.

Ryan was talking on his cell phone as they drove and what Brian could make out from it they were heading to a party down in Littleton. It was amusing to Brian because from the sound of it, it could be very near where Shelly lived.

When he hung up he looked over toward Brian and ran his fingers through his hair short brown hair.

Why do people always play with my hair?

"Looks like we're going to this chick's house for a party!" Ryan said with excitement. He reached over to his dashboard and took out a stick from the pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"My roommate's girlfriend lives in Littleton too. It would be funny if you said we were going to the exit off of I25 and Columbine!"

Ryan began laughing at great volume and he slapped his knee with such velocity that Brian felt like he could hear one of his bones snapping through his tight black jeans.

"Actually that IS where I'm going to get off at! Is her name Shelby or Shelly or something?"

"Yes..." Great, Brian thought, he was going to end up there anyways. "How do you know Shelly?"

"I actually don't." With one free hand Ryan another puff of his cigarette. How could Brian have missed his smoking before? "I know a friend who knows a friend who is a doctor at Denver Health. Apparently she is dating this guy who works at their detox facility."

"Yeah, that's Paul." Brian sighed. He breathed on the window and got some condensation. He wrote "Help Me" in the window.

"Is he hot?" Ryan asked.

"I think so." Brian said with great sadness.

My heart is breaking at increasing speed...

"You think he'd want to fuck or something?"

"He's..." Brian had to think for a second for the right words. "very, very straight and madly in love with his girlfriend."

"Do they fuck a lot?" Ryan asked quizzically.

"Yes. I hear them every time they are around the house." Brian felt like crawling into the back seat and choking himself with his shoe laces.

"That's hot!"

"I guess so..."

As they drove Ryan regaled Brian stories of boyfriends past. He spoke of them like conquests and the more he talked, the shallower he appeared to be. He had a vanity job with a vanity lifestyle. A young gay professional living up every stereotype he could think of. It was hard enough for him to try to explain to people he met who were ignorant enough of gays that their perceptions were wrong without men like this roaming around the scene. With a numb face and a broken heart, Brian listened to him drone on and on about boys and cars and night life as they drove south on the highway. Heading for the very party Brian had told himself he would avoid.

Brian was greeted at the door by Paul, who gave him a red party cup of beer. "It's from the keg out back!" He exclaimed, apparently more than tipsy. Brian liked him drunk because he was more willing to hug when he was inebriated.

Ryan put his hand on Brian's shoulder and took the drink from his hand. "I told you not to drink with what I gave you!" He smiled but Brian could tell he was a little peeved at him. He didn't want to make someone who could bench press him any angrier than necessary so he gave up the drink with no hesitation.

"Hey man!" Paul said, offended. "That's for my little man here!" He attempted to take back the beer but Ryan held it high above where Paul could reach.|

"Your little friend here has already done enough partying for tonight." He smiled at Brian and he gave the best one back that he could muster.

"Oh ok!" Paul said with a small laugh. "Yeah this man can hold his own!" He patted Brian on the shoulder and the three of them stood by each other's side for a full minute or so, awkwardly looking in different directions and listening to the DJ out back play the current top forty smash hits through the PA system Shelly had rented for the occasion.

Ryan gulped down the beer in four or five swift motions and crumpled the cup in his big meaty hand.

Paul began raising his hands in the air crying foul. "Whoa! Whoa man! Party foul! Don't waste cups! It's bad for the environment!"

"Sorry." Ryan's mouth creased into a sly grin. "Didn't know it was a taboo." He condescended.

"It's alright man!" Paul slapped him on the back and laughed nervously. Brian could tell that he was annoyed with the man.

"Why don't you throw this away and get me another drink sweet cheeks?" Ryan gave Brian the ruined cup and patted him on the ass. Paul looked from Brian to Ryan and back. He frowned, but said nothing to help out the situation any. Brian felt resigned and he nodded. Then he headed away from the two as a discussion was starting about how they both know the little man known as Brian. Paul was digging for information about Brian's dickhead beau.

Through the throngs of people Brian could make out a few familiar faces but no one really caught his eye except for Shelly, who was by the keg and talking to two guys in CU letter jackets.

"Hey Shelly." Brian extended his arms for a hug which she happily reciprocated.

"Hey sweetie! Where's Paul?" She asked when the quick hug was exchanged.

"He's over by the door talking to my date."

Shelly stood on her tip toes and peered over the crowd, being five foot ten had its advantages. "Oh he's by that tall black haired guy huh?"

Brian sighed. "Yup."

Shelly put her hand on Brian's hair and messed it around. "He's a cutie!"

"Sure... I think he's trying to fuck him though." Brian said with contempt as he threw the crumpled cup into the trash receptacle next to the table where the keg and cups sat.

Shelly bit her lip. "I think I should go over there and stop him from doing anything stupid."

Brian's heart sank.

Shelly took her drink from the table and excused herself from the two guys she was talking to and headed toward the front. Brian took an empty cup and filled it with Pabst Blue Ribbon. So cheap that it was ironic and cool to drink.

To hell with Ryan!

Brian filled the red cup up with beer and drank it all within less than a minute. Then he poured himself another, then another. After half of the fourth one he was too full to continue on any further. He filled the rest of it up and headed out into the crowd to find his date.

The party was filled with hipsters and people who dressed to the teeth in the latest fashion. Some had unapologetically vertical hair dos while some of the girls sported cool highlights and shorter, boyish cuts.

Brian maneuvered himself the best he could through the crowd without spilling anything on anyone and would have been successful if it hadn't been for a drunken lady dancing too wildly in his way. It only resulted in minor spillage and she didn't seem to notice or care.

By the time Brian had made his way back to the door none of the three were to be found. He looked around the living room and couldn't really see above the taller people in the room. He finally got frustrated went to stand on the couch to get a better view. He saw Ryan's black hair over by the stairs and he went toward his direction. When Brian got there he saw that Ryan was talking to a gorgeous short blond man with buzzed hair and blue eyes. Brian immediately felt inferior and pondered whether or not to just leave them alone.

Ryan saw him standing next to his big body and took the drink from his hand. "Thanks babe!" he said as he took a long gulp from the cup. When he was done he smacked his lips and introduced his new friend to Brian.

"This is Sam." Ryan said, motioning for the two to shake hands.

"Hi, my name is Brian." he extended his hand but Sam seemed to be fixed on Ryan. When he finally noticed him with his hand reached out to him he took it and shook his hand violently.

"My name is Sam!" he said with a drunken slur.

"I know. I'm Brian."

Ryan smiled and laughed. "We were thinking about all going back to my place in a little bit. You'd be up for that right Brian?"

Brian shrugged and Ryan took it as acceptance. He hugged Brian and finished off his beer. Handing the empty cup to Brian he ordered him to go off and bring him another. Brian felt like a stupid useless slave boy but did as he was told none the less. He decided that before he got him his next drink that he would try and find Paul. After careful examination of the front living room and the bathroom that was adjacent to the kitchen, he tried the back yard. The music was even louder out there and Brian wondered how in hell Shelly had gotten her neighbor's approval for such a shindig.

He finally found Shelly sitting in Paul's lap on a lawn chair near the pool. They looked like they were having a good time and Brian didn't feel like bothering them anymore than was necessary. He went back inside and poured Ryan another beer from the keg.

For what seemed like ten minutes Brian wondered around the party searching for the two men. He'd almost given up and drank the beer himself when he decided to check upstairs for them. When he got to the top half of the house he could hear moaning coming from Shelly's room. He rapped softly on the door and the moaning stopped. Sam answered the door naked as a jay bird and sporting a half hearted erection. Probably was too drunk to get it all the way up, but at least it wasn't massive like someone he knew.

Ryan came to the door in the nude and took the drink from Brian's hand. He drank it until it was finished and threw the cup to the side of the room.

"Come on in baby!" Ryan gestured Brian to enter the room and he walked cautiously into the room. Sam sat on the bed and patted the side of where he was sitting on the mattress and Brian took it as the cue to sit down, which he did with apprehension. As he sat there, flanked by the two highly fit and naked men, Brian felt very scared for his well being. His heart was doing back flips and he could taste the adrenaline in his mouth. This was not going to end well.

You deserve this you little shit.

"This is Shelly's room guys." He said nervously.

"It's okay!" Ryan laughed. He kissed Brian on the side of his head. "We're only going to be in here for a few minutes longer.

"I want you..." Sam's hands reached for Brian's crotch. He pushed it aside and Sam became offended. "What's wrong!?" His voice rose.

"Nothing..." Brian lied. "I just... I don't like to be shared." He wanted to defend himself in this situation but the words just did not come to him. In truth this was too much like the last time he was under the influence of drugs and alcohol in a room with two or more naked men.

"We don't have to share." Sam whispered into Brian's ear.

"I just want to watch." Ryan said softly into the other.

Brian gulped and shook his head. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster and it was just becoming too much for him to handle. Even through the haze of Valium and booze he could feel himself begin to panic.

"Come on baby." Ryan caressed Brian's chest from under his shirt. "How about you let me do you while Sam watched?"

"Actually," Sam interjected, "I am so horny right now that I will explode if I don't bust a nut soon!" he slurred. His hand reached back down

Brian closed his eyes and tried to imagine some place far, far away from here. "I can't do this guys!"

Sam moaned and took Brian's head with both hands and kissed him hard. Brian broke away and tried to get up but he was held back by Sam's muscular forearms.

"Please guys no!" Brian pleaded. Ryan didn't appear to be listening and reached for Brian's belt.

"It's okay baby..." He cooed. Brian flipped and kicked Ryan in the face and broke free from Sam's grip. Ryan rose and slapped him hard across the face and sent Brian to the floor.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" He screamed. When Brian looked back up toward him he could see that he'd drawn blood from his lip.

Sam became angry and fell to the floor and tried to wrestle the clothes off of Brian. He fought hard and tried to hit him wherever he could make a clear shot but the blond man was too strong.

"HELP! HELP!!!" Brian screamed and Sam put his right hand over his mouth with his other holding onto his midsection. Brian bit down hard and was able to break free just enough to kick him in the shins. Ryan made a grab for Brian's arm but missed, falling to the floor.

Brian was able to open the door just long enough to scream for help out in the open. He was quickly taken back by a red and furious Ryan. Sam shut the door. He was then thrown to the bed and pinned where he lied by Ryan.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!? Are you trying to get us in trouble!?" Ryan screamed. He let go for a split second to bitch slap Brian across the face, leaving a large violet hand print over his forehead.

Sam began to put on his underwear and went crawling for his pants. "You have one fucked up friend right there man!"

"He's not my fucking friend, he's just a dumb slut with a small cock!" Ryan punched Brian in the stomach and got up from the bed.

Before he could find his own underwear the door opened and the two big guys in the CU letter jacked rushed into the room. Sam had already managed to get on his pants but Ryan stood there naked like a roman god.

"What!?" Ryan bellowed. The two men looked at Ryan, then to Sam, then to the little guy on the bed crying with a busted nose.

"Holy shit man!" The taller brown haired guy said loudly to the other. The shorter black haired guy came in and went to Brian's aid. Brian was sobbing uncontrollably and the guy rocked him back and forth in his arms.

"What did you guys fucking do!?" The taller brown haired man asked.

"We didn't do nothing!" Sam screamed as he put on his shirt. "He was all for it and suddenly went ape shit on us!"

Brian kept shaking his head and saying no but Ryan went along with Sam's version. "This little shit doesn't know what the fuck he wants!" He said, "I'm leaving!" Ryan quickly dressed and stormed out of the room. Sam went to the door and looked back. He spat in Brian's direction and went out of their sights.

"Are you okay dude?" The black haired man in the CU jacket asked him. Brian just shook violently and couldn't stop hyperventilating.

"Man, I think we should get Shelly." The brown haired man said as he left the room.

Within a few minutes Paul and Shelly ran into the room with him. Shelly took him from the shorter black haired man and held Brian in her arms while Paul tried repeatedly to get the story out of him. Brian couldn't speak very well because he wouldn't stop crying. The only thing that he would say was "I'm a little shit!" This frustrated the two of them because all they knew about what had happened was from what two guys told them who came in at the tail end of it.

"Do you think we should bring him to the hospital?" The taller brown haired man asked.

"Nah, I think he'll be alright. I think he just needs to go home right now." Paul said and gave a quick glance toward Shelly. She nodded in agreement and got up from the bed. She helped Brian up to his feet and put her arm around his shoulders.

"You want us to bring you home Brian?" She asked.

Brian nodded and she sighed. "Okay. Paul do you want to take him or should I?"

"Brian," Paul asked, "who do you want to take you home? I'll do it if you want but one of us has to stay here."

When Brian didn't answer Shelly comforted him and told the guys in the room that she would do the honors. "I think the last thing he needs right now is to be around any men. No offense guys."

"None taken." The black haired guy said with his arms crossed and a concerned look on his face.

"I'll go see if those creeps are still here." The taller brown haired guy offered. Paul told him that if he found either of them to physically throw them out or if they had to, call the police. He agreed and left the room.

Shelly slowly guided Brian from the room and led him down the stairs. Brian did not bother to look up the entire time and put his complete faith in Shelly to lead him out of the house without hitting him or cussing him out.

No one loves you Brian!

He followed her feet to the front door and they stepped outside into the dark cold night. It was beginning to snow a little heavier than before and the wind was picking up. For the first time since leaving the room Brian looked up to see where he was going. They followed the concrete pathway from the entrance over to Shelly's old station wagon where she unlocked the door on his side first before she did the driver's side. Brian slowly and deliberately eased himself onto the freezing faux leather passenger side seat. Even in the frigid temperature it felt as if it was clinging to his bottom. When she got in on her side she asked again if he was okay. Brian nodded and she started the car up. They waited a few minutes for it to warm before she began to drive off.

"Tell me what happened up there?" Shelly asked. When Brian did not answer her she tried again three more times. On the fourth try Brian took.

"They were trying to rape me." Brian sobbed.

"Are you sure?" Shelly asked.

"Well, it felt like it." Brian tried to control his shaking but wasn't succeeding very well. "It felt like the last time it happened."

"You were raped before?" Shelly asked in shock.

Brian immediately hated himself for saying it and he began to cry harder. His tears were freezing his face as they dried up in the cold night air.

Shelly sighed and promised Brian that everything would be okay. Brian didn't believe her but agreed with what she said anyways.

"No one should ever be allowed to live after doing something like that to anyone! I don't care who they are or what the circumstance! Rape is a horrible sin against humanity!" She was trying to comfort Brian but it was having the opposite effect on him.

"Please, just, I don't want to talk about it please?" Brian pleaded. Shelly took a deep long breath and let it go. She started out of the driveway and they drove in silence toward the single story house on Lawrence. Brian wanted nothing more than to go into his dark room and cry himself into oblivion.

Fucking people...

Fucking life...

Tall people have no feelings...

:::January:::

Brian's Diary: New Year's Day

Happy New Year's... Everyone can just go to hell!!!

Chapter 32: Take this job and shovel it!

As the next work week was about to begin Brian found himself wondering if he should even show up. It was about two hours until he had to be in and Paul had offered to give him a ride over there. Brian could always say he will just walk there and spend the day at the library or something. Maybe use the internet at one of the many local coffee shops presiding downtown.

He could just call in sick too.

Call in dead...

Brian sat on his mattress fully dressed in his work clothes and wrestled with the decision until he had a minor headache. He lied back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, as if he would decipher some sort of hidden code that lay in the stucco formations that would help him come to the answer to his dilemma.

The guitar that lay on the floor began to tempt him so Brian sat back up and grabbed it. He picked at random notes but soon found himself not really that interested in it. Feeling uninspired and defeated he put the guitar up in the corner of the room and propped up on its side against the wall. Brian looked at it with boredom for almost five minutes before getting up and walking into the living room.

Mike had already gone to work and Paul was still in his bedroom. Brian assumed that there must be at least one cup of coffee left in the pot and preceded to the kitchen. He could still smell it from across the room yet when he attempted to pour himself a cup there was none left Brian slammed his fist down on the counter and cursed. When he realized that he had just made a loud noise he waited for Paul to respond. When he didn't he figured no harm was done and went to the cupboard to grab the open Starbucks bag of caramel flavored coffee. He measured out a strong cup's worth and put in just enough water for one serving using his blue coffee cup.

While he waited he went to the dinner table to see if Mike and Paul had saved the funnies for him. To his dismay they hadn't, all that remained was the sports and financial sections. Brian sighed and took a seat. He stared out the window from the dining room and saw the winter wonderland outside. People who have never seen snow look at a scene such as this and think 'Wow! Snow!' while somebody who has lived in Colorado for more than two years will immediately go 'You mean I have to trek out in this bullshit?' The snow had lost a little bit of its magic for Brian. He remembered seeing it for the first time and wanting to spend all day outside playing in it. This was when he was almost nineteen mind you, a grown man playing in the snow made for an odd sight. At least this is what his parents and a few onlookers had thought at the time, but Brian didn't care, he still had his innocence.

When the coffee was ready Brian let it sit in the pot for a few extra minutes to make sure the filter had completely drained. He could smell the strong aroma and it whetted his appetite for caffeine. After the two minute mark he took his blue coffee cup from the kitchen counter and poured himself some. Milk and sugar were added to make it complete and he took his first sip of coffee for the day. Even with the addition of cold milk he still singed his tongue a bit. He put in on the table to let it cool down for a second before attempting another go. Brian left it there while he walked back into his room to pack up his computer. He supposed that he might as well go to work. He was already dressed and had a ride and all. Why not?

Brian put the messenger bag around his shoulder and carried it back to the dining area in the kitchen and sat it by the chair nearest the window. He still had about an hour and a half or so before he had to leave and he wondered if he should spend the free time jacking off. He wasn't in the least bit horny but it was something to do that wouldn't make him cry.

If anything it would lift his mood. He decided that this is what he was going to do and left the table in a small hurry to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and pulled down his pants to his ankles. He saw his limp dick hanging in the air and began to stroke it in an effort to get a rise out of it.

He grabbed the bottle of hand lotion by the sink and gave his right hand a few spurts. Brian began to rub himself with the lubricant yet still couldn't feel anything. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a hot young man, hairy and tall, manly yet effeminate. The more he tried the less that came. The only image that came to mind was Ryan's big naked self and it gave him too much anxiety to even picture him in his mind.

It was no use. Brian let go of himself and took some toilet paper from the roll. He wiped off the excess lotion and pulled his pants back up. He sat on the toilet and supported his head with one hand below his cheek and sighed.

There was a knock at the door. "Hey man, are you in there?" Paul asked through the two inches of wood.

"Yeah, be a minute." Brian said with his best manly tone.

"Alright." Paul replied.

Brian flushed the toilet and turned the faucet on for a few seconds to give the illusion that he had done something other than sit on his knees and stroke himself off. When he opened the door he saw Paul in all of his shirtless glory and smiled. Paul returned the gesture and walked passed him and shut the door. Brian took a deep breath and went back into the kitchen. The coffee had gotten a little cooler and he was able to drink it all down in four or so big gulps.

When Paul had finished his morning ritual he walked into the dining area and sat down with Brian.

"How are you doing today man?" Paul asked.

"I'm okay." was Brian's halfhearted response as he looked down at the table and sipped his coffee. Paul knew that there was something more going on under the surface but he was unsure of how to approach the subject of Brian's depression. Paul nodded in response and got up. As he walked toward his room he stopped and glanced back at Brian. Brian responded to the look with a shrug and a "What?" Paul shook his head, got up, and went into his room.

Brian sighed and got up to take his coffee cup to the sink. He poured what was left down the drain and put the cup into the dish washer. His phone told him that he had about thirty minutes to get his butt in gear if he wanted to get to work on time. That is if Paul didn't drive him. He still wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to burden him with the undertaking.

Brian took another look at his phone and decided that he just did not have it in him to make the trek through the snow today. With resignation he went to Paul's room and told him through the door that he would like a ride to work. Paul shouted okay and Brian went to his room to wait.

With his bag still on his shoulder Brian plopped down onto his bed and shut his eyes. He imagined he was embracing darkness and feeling no pain whatsoever, just nothingness.

The rush had started somewhat earlier than normal and Brian was caught off guard. Julie had wanted to take an early break and Roger let her. They were paying for his decision now as an influx of customers crowded into the small restaurant.

Brian had trouble keep up with everything people were saying because they were either talking on their cell phones as they ordered or talking in groups.

One girl wanted the BLT but with guacamole.

"No wait! Tuna! Tuna BLT!!!?" she corrected herself.

"And I want the Italian!" the man beside her said as he was talking to somebody on his cell phone. As soon as Brian got the sandwich in the computer the person would either change it or shove their credit card in his face before he'd even gotten their order! With all the people in the store the volume became almost unbearable and Brian wondered when he'd crack open and scream at each and every one of them.

To make things worse, people would get their sandwiches and then tell Roger that he had made put them into the computer wrong, which in turn would cause him to yell at Brian because he felt that he mistook the order. Brian knew this was bullshit and wanted to tell him that if people would just get off their god damn cell phones he would be able to get a coherent sentence out of them.

When Julie got back things didn't get any easier. She was doing her part of the sandwich making process so slow that Roger asked Brian and her to switch positions. Brian took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten before getting off the register and putting on the plastic servers gloves.

My world for a percoset...

This did little to help out because she was somehow even worse as a cashier than she was being on the sub line. Roger for some reason began taking it out on Brian who didn't know what the hell he had done to warrant such verbal attacks.

"Damn it Brian go faster! You're screwing everything up!" Roger shouted above the the other voices in the store. Brian was on automatic pilot and tried not to hear his boss speak to him in such a manner. He just kept churning out sandwiches by the dozens as the orders kept coming in, and getting messed up.

When Roger raised his hand to Brian, he finally snapped. "Why are you yelling at me!? Julie's the one getting everything wrong!"

A few people in the line stopped talking long enough to catch the tail end of the outburst.

"Don't yell at me or I'll dock your pay!" Roger threatened.

Brian completely shut down for a full minute while Roger called out his name. He closed his eyes and imagined himself laying in the snow, making angels and getting wet. It was so white out that he had to wear sunglasses.

"Brian! Answer me!" Roger said, his voice beginning to quiver with worry. Brian wasn't responding and when he opened his eyes he let everyone in the room have it.

"Roger here is fucking seventeen year old Julie here!" He shouted. Everyone in the store stopped talking at once and froze in place. "That's right! Thirty three year old Roger is a fucking pedophile! He's fucking seventeen year old Julie here!" Who knew if this was true but at the moment Brian wanted to cause as much trouble as he could.

Roger stood with his mouth open and unable to speak. Julie shielded her face with the back of her right hand but it was not enough to shelter her from the attention being brought upon her.

"And Julie here is fucking up all your orders over there because she's fucking stoned off her ass on marijuana! She's a fucking dope head! Look at her eyes and tell me I'm wrong!"

Julie went blank and looked around the room for anyone to help her. When the silence and judging eyes became too much she began to cry and ran into the back office of the restaurant. Roger looked on helplessly as his best employee went even further with his tirade.

"And to top all that off," Brian had everyone's undivided attention. "Roger doesn't wash his hands after he comes out of the bathroom! And you know what? The guacamole isn't fresh! It comes from a fucking plastic baggie!"

Brian untied his apron and threw it to the floor. He walked back into the office where Julie was doubled over in tears and grabbed his bag from the floor. When he came back out into the lobby everyone was still silently staring at the young man who had just had a very bad breakdown.

Brian stopped by the entrance door and turned around for one last word with his listening public. "You all can go suck a fuck!"

How exactly do you suck a fuck?

He opened the door and walked right out into the cold January day. Without looking back Brian walked up to Lincoln one block from Broadway where he worked and went to the bus stop. He had a sick sense of accomplishment running through his veins and for once he felt powerful.

Then the severity of what he had just done hit him like a ton of bricks. He began heaving until he eventually threw up the crab cake sandwich he got earlier before lunch all over the side of the bus stop. When he couldn't continue anymore, Brian sat back into the bench and began sobbing loudly.

Inferiority complex

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

An inferiority complex, in the fields of psychology and psychoanalysis, is a feeling that one is inferior to others in some way. Such feelings can arise from an imagined or actual inferiority in the afflicted person. It is often unconscious, and is thought to drive afflicted individuals to overcompensate, resulting either in spectacular achievement or extreme schizotypal behavior, or both. Unlike a normal feeling of inferiority, which can act as an incentive for achievement (or promote discouragement), an inferiority complex is an advanced state of discouragement, often embedding itself into ones's lifestyle, and sometimes resulting in a retreat from difficulties.

Contents

* Parental attitudes and upbringing – disapproving, negative remarks and evaluations of behavior emphasizing mistakes and shortcomings determine the attitude of the child before the age of six.[citation needed]

* Physical defects – such as disproportional facial and body features, weight, height, strength, speech defects and defective vision cause inferiority complexes.[1]

* Mental limitations – cause feelings of inferiority when unfavorable comparisons are made with the superior achievements of others, and when satisfactory performance is expected.[citation needed]

* Social disadvantages and discriminations – family, race, sex, sexual orientation, economic status, religion, or color.

Chapter 33: A new hope.

Brian sat at the bar and sipped on his cranberry Sprite vodka and looked onward as the other gays at Broadways went to and fro from their tables to the other guys standing in the middle of the room. Brian saw a lot of good looking people and it made him very sad because he felt like he could no longer compete for anybody's attention anymore. For one thing he felt inferior to everybody in the room and two; he just didn't have any more fight in him.

What every spark he may have had before was now lost.

All our lives that shine strong, only last for so long...

He took another sip of his drink and laid it back on the counter at the bar where he sat. It was his second drink of the night but without any food in his stomach he was feeling a tad tipsy. Brian pushed himself to rotate around one hundred and eighty degrees in each direction with the mighty super powers of his rotating bar stool. It has been almost three days since he walked out on his job and he spent most of the time he had off alone in his room getting drunk. He would tell Paul that he was off to work and just lay in bed all day. He'd taken up the habit of drinking bottles of Nyquil at noon and spending as many hours as he could unconscious.

He managed to buy a few pills of Dilaudid from a short white kid on the 16th Street Mall earlier that day but had yet to take one. He was saving it for the likely chance of rejection. He's already been shot down by two guys, but they didn't count, he thought. They were old and one had a big belly. Cute face though...

Brian polished off his cocktail and decided to switch over to beer. Before he could get the bartender's attention a tall skinny red headed guy pushed his way next to him and raised his long emaciated arm to motion that he would like to order something. Brian sat almost touching him and it was getting him excited. He liked red heads, and this man was a red head, might as well.

"What are you getting?" Brian asked. The red head didn't appear to hear him the first time so he tapped him on the shoulder.

The pale young red head looked over Brian's way and smiled. "Yeah?"

"What are you getting?" Brian asked again, returning the smile. He was beginning to regret the advance and tried his best to conceal the nervousness in his demeanor.

"Whiskey sour!" He must have worse hearing than Brian did because he was yelling far louder than the background dance music.

"I'll buy it!" Brian shouted back, playing the same game as he was. The red head smiled but shook his head. The bartender came up to the bar and he gave him his drink order. When he came back with the cocktail Brian took out a five dollar bill and handed it to the bartender. The red head bit his lip and took the drink. He looked at Brian and then did a quick glance around the room and shrugged.

"Sure why not?" He said. This was good enough for Brian. "You wanna go to the patio where it isn't so Goddamn loud?" This suited Brian, who didn't like the blaring techno music that emanated from the PA, but not before Brian could get a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer can.

The dance floor and bar area were for people trying to hook up while the back patio was where you got to know somebody a little better before you took them to the bathroom for blowjobs. This would seem like an exaggeration to most straight people but its how a lot of gay bars work. Straight guys only wish girls were this easy. Not to mean nobody had standards, but not a lot of people had any hang ups either. One thing that Brian appreciated about the gay community was that most guys knew what they wanted. If they just wanted one night with you they usually made no qualms about letting you know. Besides most guys are built with the sole biological function to breed, satisfying that deep rooted instinct is both gratifying and gives many men a sense of purpose. Brian had read about crap like that but he took a much more general view of the world. Men are pigs.

But at least they know what they want.

Brian wanted the tall, thin, long limbed red head boy. He had sort of a kid's face only it was adult size. Brian wondered what he tasted like.

The back patio had an assortment of white metal tables with white metal chairs and they verged on the edge of being lawn furniture. Maybe it was to promote conversation? Most likely it was because the bar was being cheap and passing off something as chic. They found the only empty seats they could and it was way in the back corner where very little light shown.

Red Head sipped at his drink and looked around the patio for a few seconds before finally resting his gaze on Brian, who was self consciously gulping down his beer in hopes of getting just a little more loose before he embarrassed himself in front of the man.

"So what's your name?" Brian asked, looking away toward the exit.

"Oh, I'm Ian." He said with a slight lisp. They shook hands and Brian couldn't help but cringe a little. He never really cared for gay guys who talked with that annoying gay lisp. It was a stereotype that utterly dumbfounded him. Was it maybe just some mass psychological thing in the gay community or were guys born with it? The man better have some redeeming qualities, he thought to himself.

"So what do you do?" Brian asked as he took another long drink from his pint glass."I'm an escort. I'm also in school though." Ian said. He stirred his drink with the tiny stir straw and took another look around. This made Brian feel insecure.

"I used to know a guy who was an escort. They make a lot of money. I bet you get crap tons!" Brian immediately felt dorky and wished he could take back his statement.

"Well I'm not hurting for money but I'm not raking it in either." Ian sighed and finished off his drink in one big gulp.

"Why? You look awesome!"

Ian laughed. "Well thanks sweetie. But I guess people just aren't into red heads."

"I think they're awesome!" Brian again, wished he could take it back. He took a deep breath and remembered that he had some pills if he got too far down. Besides, he was already making a fool of himself, what was the bother in going all the way?

Ian smiled. "I think you're a little cutie yourself. But to be honest I'm not sure what I want to do tonight. Nothing against you or anything, I was either looking for some work or maybe hook up with someone I knew."

Brian felt the blood drain from his face but kept up the happy demeanor. "Well, how much do you charge?"

Ian reached over and put his hand on Brian's shoulder. "I'm too expensive sweetie. Are you that lonely?"

Brian finished off his beer and stared at the can for a few moments before answering. "Yeah..."

Ian sat back and thought about it. "What's going on?"

"Nothing really. I just quit my job and I've honestly been very depressed lately."

"I go through phases like that myself."

"But," Brian was shocked to hear this, "you're tall and beautiful? I bet you have so much going for you!"

Ian giggled. "You're just trying your best aren't you?"

"No! I mean it! I wish I could look like you." Brian sighed and looked down at his crotch. "I wish I was good looking..."

"You want me to tell you, you are so you can say 'No I'm not!' and then have me repeat it and we go back and forth all night? I'm not up for that hon. I'm going to say it once OK? You're very cute, in a boyish way."

"Thanks." Brian said. "I just don't feel like I measure up to anyone here, you know?"

"Yes I do."

Brian scoffed.

"What? I used to be short and fat myself. But I grew when I was around eighteen and I work my ass off to stay this trim." Ian took another long sip of his whiskey sour and looked onward toward the thinning crowd on the patio. Brian honestly didn't know how to proceed next, but he asked the first coherent thing he could.

"Like what do you do?" Brian asked.

"Well, I run. I run a lot! Then I do sit ups and pushups every day."

"By fat, do you mean slight belly or full blown obese?"

"Well I wouldn't have called myself obese, but I was fairly big."

Brian had to ask, for anything than for his own self worth. "Big by shallow gay standards or really big?"

Ian laughed and shook his head. "Wow, what are you on?"

"Just booze right now, later though I'll be on various narcotics." Brian took a long drink from his Pabst and settled his eyes on a cute brown haired couple over by the fence exit.

"Eeewww!" Ian's perked up in attention. "What do you have?"

Brian was hesitant but quickly gave in, fearing he'd lose Ian if he didn't. "I have some Dilaudids."

"That's awesome! Can I have one?"

Brian knew that once the man got what he wanted he'd just leave him anyways. But there was that slight chance that he might stay... Brian decided to take it. What harm could it do? He'd still have three left.

"Sure." Brian reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of tin foil. He unraveled it and produced a pill for his new friend.

Ian took it excitedly.

"If you chew it, it will hit you faster and harder." Brian said as he took one himself. Ian nodded and he could hear chewing sounds coming from his mouth. "The only problem about shit like this," Brian said, "is that you can't cum worth shit when you're on it."

"Oh I can still come." Ian winked.

"Well I can't." Brian looked at the man before him and he felt almost a physical pain when he thought about how good he looked compared to his little white ass. With a sigh Brian sat back and closed his eyes. "So what are you going to school for?"

"Massage therapy." Ian said proudly. Brian couldn't help but giggle. It seemed like every gay guy wanted to be one of four things, either a massage therapist, a hair stylist, a barista, or a chef of some sorts. It was just funny to him that there seemed to be no variation. Although he did have to admit that there was the occasional web designer and graphic artist thrown into the mix. But massage therapist is pretty much numero uno when it comes to gay centric career choices.

"I bet you're amazing. You're hands are huge!" Brian said, marveling at Ian's long fingers.

"Yeah, well it's a blessing sometimes and a curse the other. I can do the broad techniques really well but when it comes to the finer things it's a little hard. My fingers are long but they're a little thick." Ian held out his hand for inspection.

"They look thin to me?" Brian said, he took Ian's hand and examined it closer.

"They're just proportionate."

Brian found himself rubbing his hands between Ian's fingers and then began to firmly massage his palm.

"You're pretty good at this." Ian said with surprise. He disengaged and took another swig of his drink. Once he put the glass back down he put his head in his hands and smiled wide toward the man who was getting closer and closer at getting into his good graces.

"Thanks!" Brian hadn't expected that. "So how long is school going to go for?"

"About fifteen months or so."

"Are you still going to be an escort when you leave?"

"I may still do it as long as my looks hold out."

Brian gave Ian back his free hand. "Do, do you sleep with guys for money?"

Ian laughed. "Technically that's not what an escort does. And if I do happen to get together with a man or a woman then it's totally my decision and it has nothing to do with what I charge to be with people."

"Doesn't the finer details in that idea get murky when it comes to the law?"

"Yeah it can. But then again it's very rare that an undercover cop will buy your time and spend all evening with you at fancy restaurants and buy you shit just to get you in bed. They tend to like it better when they give you the money and you immediately go down on them. They don't like to work for their bust. Keeps me in the clear."

"So you've never had a run in?"

"I've had a few guys get me close but in the end, as I said, they didn't want to work for it."

"You're lucky there isn't any more sodomy laws!" Brian laughed.

"Yeah, right!" Ian giggled.

Through the corner of Brian's eye, he caught glimpse of what could possibly be trouble. Tim had just walked out onto the patio with a shorter guy with long blond hair put up in a pony tail. Brian began to shield his face with his hand.

"What's wrong?" Ian asked and looked around his back.

"Old boyfriend. The guy just up and left me for another guy and never even told me about it until I found him with somebody at his apartment." Brian tried to make himself smaller in his seat. "The bastard never even said anything about it either. There wasn't really any closure."

"Oh." Ian looked around the patio in bewilderment. "Which one is it?"

"Tim... I forget his last name. He plays the cello though."

Ian squinted his eyes at Tim, as if it would make it easier to discern who he was. "You mean Timothy Ryan? THAT was your old boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

Ian laughed and turned his head back toward Brian. "That man is the town bicycle baby."

"What?" Brian didn't want to hear that.

"Yeah, he's probably been with everyone here."

"Have you been with him?" Brian asked.

"Oh, me? No. But I know a few people who have. Good naturally skinny body, huge cock, really black curly hair."

Brian felt sick. "How promiscuous is he?"

"Well he gets around. Every now and then he'll settle down for about a month or so before going back out on the prowl. Don't feel bad honey. Most gay relationships barely pass the one month mark, let alone anything over six."

"That's still not the most comforting news..." Brian longed for another alcoholic drink. He felt that if he survived this ordeal, then he was going to take the rest of the pills and drink a long island iced tea to top it all off.

"Well what do you want to do? Stay here or go back inside?" Ian grabbed a hold of Brian's hand and looked him into his bright blue eyes. Brian wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bathroom stall and slit his wrists vertically. But before Brian could answer Ian he saw that Tim had spotted them. He grabbed his date's hand and walked over to where they both sat.

"Hey you." Tim said, holding what looked like a mixed drink in a pint glass.

Brian sat up as straight as he could. "Hi." He squeaked, he tried to create an air of confidence but the shaking in his voice gave him away.

Tim was wobbling and appeared to be very, very drunk. "So is this who you're seeing now?" He took a long sip of his drink, which was half empty.

"No, we're just talking." Ian said defensively and held onto Brian's hand just a little tighter than before.

The blond man next to Tim put his arm around his side. Maybe it was out of affection? Most likely he was keeping him steady.

"Tim, this is Ian." Brian said, motioning over to him with his hand and with the best composure he could muster.

"Nice to meet you." Ian smiled and extended his hand. Tim took it and kissed the back side of his palm.

"You want to come over to my place." Tim slurred. "I mean, with us?"

Ian looked at Tim, then to Brian, then back to Tim. "I'm not sure I really want to stay out much longer tonight."

"Well it's better than being with him!" Tim laughed. Brian's heart immediately shattered into five hundred thousand little pieces of broken glass.

"That's not very nice!" His blond headed companion laughed.

"No it's not." Ian said in a serious tone, the lines on his forehead became more prominent.

"He's always crying about something. He's a really sad guy." Tim said slowly and deliberately.

"Sounds to me like he had a reason to be sad when he was with you." Ian said.

Tim pushed away the blond guy next to him and went to say something in Ian's ear. "He's got a small dick!"

Ian pushed him away and scoffed. "I have a small dick too! Now leave us alone before there's trouble!"

"Come on sweetie." the blond man told Tim.

"No. I want you to know that this man is sad! He's always sad and it's annoying!" Tim looked as if he was about to tip over. He started laughing and the smaller blond man took his arm and guided him from the table and toward the exit door. He went but obviously reluctantly.

Brian stared at his empty beer can and did not say anything. Ian looked around the patio and took a deep breath.

"You went out with THAT thing?" Ian giggled.

"Yeah, I've never really seen him drunk before." Brian sighed. "He was always so nice to me..."

"How long did you two go out?"

"About two months or so."

"Honey believe me, that's not that long at all."

"Yeah but in gay time that's an eternity." Brian put his face in his hands. "You said so yourself. I'm really sorry, I think I may need to go."

Ian closed his eyes and contemplated for a few moments. "You want to go somewhere else and get something to eat?"

Brian was caught off guard by this. "What?" He had to collect himself for a second. "Um... Sure?"

Ian scoffed. "No 'sure', yes or no."

Brian looked into Ian's eyes, trying to find the slightest hint of sarcasm or pity. "Yes." he said.

"Alright then. Let's get out of here." Ian got up. "It's noisy and there's no cute guys here anyways."

Brian felt hurt and looked away.

"I mean cute guys with money." Ian said with annoyance.

"Alright." Brian got up and they headed for the patio entrance. They walked past the throngs of young gay males and Ian stopped to say good bye to the bartender. If Tim was still here Brian made no effort to spot him out of the crowd. When they got out into the cold night air Brian immediately regretted not bringing a real jacket, he just had on a plain dark purple hoodie with a little rainbow stitched onto the breast."So where do you want to go?" Ian asked as he lit a cigarette.

"I dunno... How far do you want to walk?" Brian said, looking both north and south trying to figure out where was the closest pizza place.

"I got a car." Ian said matter of factly, taking another long drag off his Pall Mall. "We're not walking anywhere unless it's fewer than three blocks.

Brian took this into consideration. "Well... Do you like sushi?"

"I'm not going to pay for sushi."

"No, I'll pay. I have some money saved up."

"Like pay for me or pay for dinner?" Ian asked, confused.

"For dinner. You're very, very attractive to me but I'm not sure I want to pay for sex."

Ian smiled and took another drag. "Well we might be able to work out some sort of discount if the sushi is good." Brian smiled and they began walking two blocks south to where Ian's car was parked.

Go Fish was Brian's favorite local sushi restaurant. They had amazing specials and if you chose your dish right, you could get twenty four pieces of sushi, miso soup, and salad with miso dressing for just about fourteen bucks. It was always a good deal unless you were getting into the nigiri (fish sliver on top of rice sushi) then that's where things tended to get a little more pricey. Brian was sure that it was still a good deal, but he wasn't up for spending three to five bucks for two pieces.

To Brian's surprise the little Asian waiter took them from the front and were seated immediately, they even got a spot next to the man made waterfall. He'd never sat there before and it was really nice to get preferential treatment for once.

The waiter brought them two glasses of ice water (In champagne flutes!) and handed them each two menus. One was for the entrees they served and what drinks they had to offer and the other was the selection of sushi they could make. Inside the sushi menu was a little paper sheet with a checklist where you ordered. The waiter gave Brian a pen and nodded. They thanked the small Japanese man and started looking through the selections.

"What's the price limit I'm working with?" Ian asked.

Brian thought for a second. "You know what? I've been saving for a while now. I can splurge, get whatever the hell you want." He smiled as he picked up the checklist and began ordering three of all the expensive rolls and nigiri.

"Oh, somebody's trying to get lucky tonight!" Ian said with allure in his voice.

"Actually if anyone get's lucky it will be you." Brian said without taking his eyes off of the piece of paper in front of him. "I'm a hardcore bottom in the truest sense of the word.

Ian's smiled faded. "Why?" he asked.

Brian wasn't expecting any questions, he'd always been with guys who were more than happy to except this and use him.

"I um... I dunno. I just don't really like doing it." Brian said.

Ian laughed. "Every guy likes to fuck! You must have a reason behind it!"

Brian sighed. "I don't really know... Small dick?"

"Well that should make you better able to talk guys into anal I would think. Something else has to be at the root of this."

Brian looked up from the check list and looked Ian in the eyes. "I really never thought about it. Maybe I was abused or something?"

"You would know if you were abused."

"I don't know... I really don't."

Ian drank his entire glass of water in three or four quick gulps and put it back onto the white linen table cloth. "You seem to have really low self esteem. I remember before I got my head out of my ass I was just a bottom myself."

"You?" Brian was surprised. "You're so awesome looking! I can't imagine someone like you not taking advantage of how great you look and not fucking the shit out of the gay male population!"

Ian laughed and his pale white face reddened with embarrassment. "Just because you may think I look good doesn't mean that most guys do." Ian's face turned serious as he reminisced. "I've always been tall and I know that that is an attractive thing to people. I've always been somewhat skinny but I've never had anything more worrisome than love handles. But I am a red head and I got made fun of a lot. Guys like tall blond people. It doesn't matter if they are girls or guys, they love blonds."

Brian put the check list down and gave Ian his full attention.

"What sucks is that my father and brothers are blond. My mother is brunette. I for some reason came out a red head and he wasn't happy with that. I mean, aside from me being gay he was already a little disappointed in me.

"Another thing he couldn't get over about any of us, my brothers and I, was that we all wound up being almost a whole head taller than him. He's a scrawny, skinny little man and my mother is a very little woman. I guess he was hoping for small children to push around."

Brian reached his hand across the table, hoping Ian would take it. He did.

"He wasn't very nice to any of us and when my oldest brother hit puberty I guess he realized he couldn't pick on him anymore. So he focused on the two of us who were still small. Then came puberty for myself and my little brother and all of a sudden he couldn't physically control us anymore. I guess when you lose power like that you can get a little bit messed up.

"He began to drink heavily and even though he couldn't beat us anymore, it didn't stop him from trying.

"I remember the day I turned eighteen I had been seeing this business man downtown and he asked me to move in with him. I got my stuff and moved out during the night when everyone was asleep. I wrote a little note telling my father to go fuck off and 'surprise!' I'm gay."

"So is the car you have now from your dad or something?" Brian asked.

"No, that's actually a nineteenth birthday present from my other daddy, the business man from downtown. That was a sweet life. He'd work all day and I'd be free to roam the city with his charge card. All he asked for in return was sex. No cuddling or anything that would connect us both, he just wanted to stick his dick in my ass when he got home from work. I didn't even sleep in the same room."

"So what happened with him?"

"Typical ending, he gets bored and tells me I have to leave. Last I heard he has had two different young guys live with him since me. It was time for a change anyways. Old cock, eeeeewwwww!!!" Ian laughed.

Brian laughed with him. "So how do you get clients?"

"You just build them up over time. Word of mouth and sometimes I go through an agency. It started slow but now I rarely have any free time between work and school. It's nice. It pays the bills."

Brian smiled and asked if he'd like anything special from the check list. "I'm filling up on sushi seeing as this IS a sushi restaurant."

"Yeah, let me see that." Brian handed Ian the list and the pen. He began going down it and marking off the most expensive items. Brian didn't care. When they were done with it Ian motioned for the waiter to pick up their order. The small Japanese man came and took the checklist along with the menus and the pen. He offered to refill Ian's water when he got around to it and Ian thanked him.

"You never really told me your story." Ian said.

"Well I'm not sure I'm really up for telling such a story right at this moment." Brian confessed.

"I told you my story. It's only fair you tell me at least a little about yourself."

Brian sighed. "Same old story. Abusive father. Kids picked on me in school. I was the fat kid growing up. And by fat I mean F-A-T! I was nearly three hundred pounds."

"Huh... I can't see you that heavy. You look really nice now. Dare I say, cute?"

Brian smiled. "Well you are an amazing specimen of masculinity."

It was Ian's turn to laugh. "I talk like Ru-Paul! Plus just look at me! I'm very effeminate!"

"I think you're manly." Brian looked down at his lap.

"Well I appreciate the fan club. I really, really do." Ian reached over and put his hand on Brian's shoulder. "You're not ugly if that's what you're trying to say."

"I really feel like it though. Every guy I meet always trades me off for the newer, younger, thinner, and taller model. I can't compete."

"Well let me tell you something I know from experience. Most guys like guys who are smaller than they are. It gives them a feeling of dominance. I know I like it when I have someone smaller than me. It makes me feel big."

"That's not exactly reassuring..."

"Well it's the truth. You may be small but it's the only body you will ever have so you might as well take advantage of it. I may be tall but it can have its drawbacks. Like I said most bigger guys like smaller guys. Me being tall sometimes doesn't work too well if I'm attracted to another tall man. Plus the fact that I'm a red head."

"Having red hair isn't a bad thing!" Brian said passionately, slamming his right fist onto the table. Ian was taken aback by the force in which Brian said this. For a few seconds there was an uncomfortable silence. Then Ian started laughing.

"What's funny?" Brian asked.

"You feel the same way about yourself as I do! Trade my red hair for your height and we both are the same person inside!"

Brian began laughing too. "I guess that's true." His face grew solemn and he started to trace his fingers across his champagne flute of water.

"If you think that my red hair is no reason to be self conscious then you have to look at yourself and see that your size has nothing to do with how people see you. Yes they may initially look at you when they first see you. People may even avoid you because of how you look, but once they're past that and they talk to you it's really a downhill battle from there. I think you are also not giving people enough credit when you meet them. I'm sure you assumed I was a dick when you met me didn't you?"

"Actually yeah... You were very standoffish."

"That's just me. Honestly I was annoyed when some person pulls me aside and begins talking to me. It was interrupting my game. I could have been making some money tonight."

"Tall people have no feelings." Brian laughed.

"That's horrible!" Ian giggled. "You should be saying that beautiful people have no feelings instead!"

"No, I think it's just tall people."

"Well anyways. I took a chance on you and look at me now! I'm getting a fancy sushi dinner gratis of a very cute man."

Brian was feeling a little better about himself the more Ian talked. The waiter came by a huge platter of fancy sushi and promised to get Ian's water right away.

"I like the eel." Brian said as he took one.

"My favorite will always be the rainbow roll. It's all the major fishes wrapped in a California roll. It's perfect!" They ate and talked a little bit more about life and love in Denver. All in all it was turning out to be a very nice night. They even got a special gift from the chef: a deep fried frozen cheesecake slice, which they both shared.

As promised, when the bill came, Brian paid up. He used his debit card and signed the receipt. In the spirit of good will Brian left the waiter a twenty dollar tip. He had the money, why not flaunt it a little for his new friend?

As they stood to leave Ian took Brian's hand and pulled him close. He kneeled over a little and kissed him on the lips. Every nerve ending in Brian's body fired at once and he immediately got an erection.

"Let's get you out of those tight jeans" Ian whispered into his ear.

Ian had a nice little Honda that was a little more roomier than Brian was used to. While it was nice he had so much leg room, it did make him feel very small. They drove way down to south Denver, making Brian nervous that he may have to bus home from such a long distance. Ian told him though that he shouldn't worry about that. He would take care of him since Brian treated him out. They drove up to a nice white one story home in the middle of a very suburban neighborhood. There wasn't a bus stop for over fifteen blocks and this made Brian feel nervous because he didn't know where the hell he was.

As Ian parked the car he took a second to himself. He sat in his seat motionless for almost two minutes, making Brian wonder what had happened to make him that way. Was it something he did? He didn't know.

Ian snapped out of it and turned to Brian smiling. "Let's get inside shall we?"

To Brian's surprise Ian got out and went over to his side to open his door for him. It was an act of a gentleman and Brian didn't really know how to feel about it.

He fumbled with his house keys for a second but was able to get them in just fine. Brian wondered if he was nervous or just excited. He soon found out as they walked into the living room when Ian immediately took off his shirt.

"You want to do it like right now!?" Brian was surprised, but not exactly opposed to the idea.

"Get naked. I'll be right back." Ian said as he left to the hallway.

Brian did as he was told but stopped when he was in nothing but his boxers. He waited while Ian was off doing whatever to prepare for sex and looked around the living area. Ian had a huge flat screen LCD TV and what looked like a surround sound system. He had a huge collection of both DVD's and Blu Ray discs on a tastefull looking suspended shelf.

The entire place was decorated in what appeared to be minimalistic Japanese décor. Lots of paper partitions and bronze statues of samurais on horses ready for battle. The couch was huge but it definitely looked oriental in its design. Brian sat down on it and almost immediately fell into the soft cushions.

When Ian returned he was completely nude and beautiful. He walked over and sat by Brian and kissed him on the side of his head. When Brian looked over toward Ian's cock he was dismayed to see that he, like every other guy he's ever been with, is fucking huge. Brian put his hand around the shaft and sighed. "I thought you said you had a small dick?"

Ian smiled "I just said that because I wanted that guy to get away from us. Why? Is there a problem?" His face grew worried.

Brian smiled "No. It's just... It's not you."

"Do you still want me?" Ian asked in a hurt voice.

Brian responded by grabbing Ian's head and kissing him with a lot of force. He knocked Ian over on his side and crawled on top of him. They began to grope each other and Ian put his hands in Brian's boxers, feeling around for his erection.

"Take off your underwear." Ian commanded.

"I'm not as big as you are..." Brian protested. "Just to let you know."

Ian smiled and kissed Brian on the forehead. He then pushed Brian onto his back and pulled off his boxers for him, revealing Brian's shame.

"Oh come on!" Ian said with disgust. "You're not small! You're just average! I'm the one who's the freak here!" He began to laugh and quickly positioned himself on top of Brian, making it hard for him to breath with Ian's weight on top of him.

Brian pulled Ian over and they laid on the couch side by side, manhandling each other with excessive force.

"I want you to fuck me." Ian told Brian.

"How about you fuck me?" Brian asked. Ian's face looked disgusted and he got up and walked back into his hallway. Brian was shocked and he immediately hated himself for pissing Ian off. After a minute Ian came back into the room with four condom wrappers and sat beside him.

He had two magnums, two regulars, and four single use tubes of water based lubricant. "We're going to fuck each other ok?" He told Brian. It wasn't a question.

"Um... I just don't know. I don't really top." Brian said shyly.

"Well you are going to tonight or I will kick your ass and let you take the bus home." Ian told Brian with a straight face and a forceful tone. He handed Brian a condom and opened a container of lube. He laid back and squeezed a little into his big elongated hands and rubbed it onto his asshole. He then gave Brian the rest of what remained and told him that he was waiting.

Brian wanted to cry but he knew that Ian meant it. He wasn't about to tempt fate and felt like he had very little choice in the matter. He opened the condom wrapper and rolled it down his six inches of manhood. Then he squirted the rest of the lube into his hand and massaged it around his condom wrapped appendage.

Brian slowly made his way on top of Ian and maneuvered himself into him with his right hand. The moment he slid in he felt as if his penis was being squeezed on all sides by a very eager hand. It was warm and Brian had forgotten how tight it could be down there. Ian instructed him to fuck him and Brian began slowly going in and out with rhythm.

It felt good. Better than Brian remembered. Ian began to moan in pleasure and Brian took it as his cue to go deeper and harder. Within minutes he was on autopilot and humping him like a champion.

Brian's breathing was shallow and he closed his eyes, imagining a trail in the mountains. He saw a little rabbit over by the side of the bushes the was to his right.

"Oh God yes!" Ian shouted.

He saw the dirt path in front of him and it had tons of worn in footsteps impressed upon the tail floor.

"Harder!" He shouted, Brian kept going as if he couldn't control himself.

Brian looked up into the crystal blue sky and saw not a cloud in sight. He breathed in the thin mountain air and exhaled.

"FUCK ME!"

Brian began walking toward a stream and bent over to splash some water in his face."OH GOD!"

He then sat down and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw Ian turning white from lack of breathing and then... It was like time had stopped. Brian felt himself cum with greater force than he had ever felt himself cum before. His whole body sent electricity through itself and he felt his brain convulse violently. He collapsed on top of Ian and felt as if he couldn't breathe for a full fifty seconds.

Ian's arms wrapped around Brian's waist and he hummed a tuneless song. Brian could feel the cold sweat on his naked body and slowly pulled out from Ian. Just the act of pulling out alone sent his body into further shock. He lay on top of him for the longest time before either of them spoke.

"You made me come." Ian whispered into Brian's ear. Brian sat up and he saw the Ian for sure had ejaculated all over his own stomach.

Brian was at a loss for words. "I'm... I'm so sorry..." was all he could say. He'd never had that happen before and he didn't know how to take it. He wasn't even sure that that was actually possible. He'd heard stories before but never seen it happen himself. Hell he's never done it himself and it came as quite a shock.

Ian smiled and sat up with him. They both had the sticky white substance clinging to their mid sections.

"Let's go clean up. Then it's my turn." Ian said as his hands held Brian's head. He kissed him gently on the lips. Brian still felt lighter than a feather and couldn't quite think straight at that point in time.

Ian got up and he took Brian's hand and helped him to his feet. Brian let Ian lead him into the bathroom down the hallway. It was the second door on the right and when he turned on the light Brian was immediately impressed with the look of the room. It was all marble and white tile and very beautiful. Brian would feel totally guilty about shitting in a room so nice.

Ian took some toilet paper from the roll and made a big wad. He wiped off the jizz on his taught stomach and threw it into the toilet. He then repeated this on Brian's less than firm flab and threw that too into the toilet. Then he flushed them away forever. Ian's genetic material never had a chance.

Brian still felt weak and he was trying to find the right words to say. "I never felt so... Hard. I just can't describe it." was all he could articulate into words.

Ian smiled and hugged him. "I'm a professional sweet heart. I know how to work the muscles down there. It makes for better pay and repeat customers."

Brian hugged back. "I don't think I know how to do what you did though..."

Ian kissed him on top of his head. "Don't worry. It's pretty hard not to have a good time when you're having sex. Even the worst blow job is better than the best movie or the most awesome dinner you can ever have."

Brian wasn't sure he could agree but he definitely saw some truth in it. Humans were built to have sex. Even though what they were doing wasn't for procreation it didn't mean that they didn't go for it.

Ian led him out of the bathroom and back into the living room. They sat back down on the couch and waited for the refractory period to pass.

"Why did you hesitate?" Ian asked.

"I... It's not something I really like to share." Brian admitted.

"You can tell me. For all you know tomorrow when I drop you off I may never see you again in my life. Make use of this time we have and get it off your chest."

Brian took a deep breath and went for it. "I was raped a while ago."

Ian's head lowered in response to the news. "I'm really sorry sweetie. What happened?"

"I was drugged and raped. They did everything to me and I haven't been able to get myself to be able to have sex with anyone since..."

"Am I your first since it happened?"

Brian looked away. "Yes... I'd forgotten what it felt like. I was so scared. I'm still very ashamed of my body. I think I'd like to think it's because of my height or my weight or how I look... But I think it's really because I no longer feel like I don't have any right to it. They were taken away when it happened."

Ian ran his fingers through Brian's short brown hair. "You don't have to let me fuck you. I'd understand."

Brian sighed. "Actually I like the way it feels. And I hate myself for it. I really, really do."

Ian didn't have any words that came to mind to help Brian ease the pain.

Brian continued "Do I like it so much because I was raped? I hate thinking about that! I hate enjoying cocks in my ass because of what they did to me!"

"They?" Ian wrapped his arms around Brian's small body. "Baby, just because it felt good doesn't make it any less of what it was. They took a piece of you away that you can never get back and that's fucking inexcusable!"

Brian began to cry. "Every time somebody fucks me I feel like I deserve it. I feel like I have no right to pleasure anymore so I have other guys use me to get off. I feel like I deserve the pain. The harder they fuck me the better I feel about myself. The more it hurts the more I can justify it."

Ian took Brian's head and kissed him on the lips. Brian kissed back and his tongue slid into his mouth. Ian did the same and soon climbed on top of Brian. With his weight on him he found it hard to breathe but felt as if he was deserving of the pressure.

Ian took the magnum condom wrapper from the table and opened it. He gave it to Brian who then rolled it onto his massive nine inch erection. When it was on Brian admired it, the long shaft, the thickness of it, the perfect head, the bright red pubic hair. He grabbed it and held it in his right hand for a moment before reaching over to get the lube. He lathered it on Ian's body part and then he laid back and wiped it over his anus.

Brian closed his eyes and waited for the pressure to take his breath away. When he felt Ian slide into him his body immediately registered the intense stretching that he was feeling. It hurt but he deserved it.

Brian imagined he was walking through the museum of nature and science. There was the Egypt exhibit on his right and the Body Worlds attraction to his left. He went into the Body Worlds and saw the inside out human bodies. The system of muscles on a man who was in a dance pose fascinated him.

Brian winced at the pressure and felt his breath taken away. Ian was so heavy that Brian felt parts of his body falling asleep.

Then there was a little girl with an exposed circulatory system. It was just amazing to see all the connections in her body.

Ian bent over to kiss Brian on the mouth and did so with passion. Brian felt his teeth mash against Ian's and it almost felt like his mouth would fall apart from the force. He pushed harder and harder and was becoming very violent in his motions.

There was a woman who was half organs and half muscles. You could see her liver and kidneys on the right and her abdominal muscles on the left. Brian took a picture with his cell phone.

Ian began screaming that he's fucking him. He slipped in the accusation that Brian was indeed a dirty whore. Brian felt something inside him tingle. He's never felt that tingle before and despite the pain of Ian's too large member it felt extremely good.

Brian was walking down the exhibit and was enthralled by the sight of the baby fetuses in tubes. There were nine of them, one for each month of development. Brian came closer to further examine the... Brian fell to the floor and began gasping for air.

He opened his eyes as the tingle became too much to bear. He felt himself ejaculate forcibly onto Ian's skinny stomach. The feeling didn't go away either and Brian's eyes began to roll back into his head. He began to scream, but not in pain.

Ian did it harder and harder until he too was screaming. His last thrust went in so far that Brian was sure he was touching his heart. It hurt so bad, but at the same time he was experiencing an orgasm so intense that he hasn't breathed since it started.

Ian fell on top of Brian and made a few more little thrusts before finally resting on him. Brian's eyes rolled back to where they were naturally and the orgasmic feeling lingered. It slowly dissipated and Brian's breathing soon slowed back to normal.

When Ian took his penis out of him he felt his breath taken away once more. Ian sat up and examined his stomach. He wiped his right index finger over the mess and put it in his mouth.

"You must drink a lot of coffee. Just a little advice, your junk gets sour if you eat celery or drink too much coffee." Ian laughed and Brian tried to collect himself during the aftermath. When he was able to look at Ian straight in the eyes he saw a look of horror spread across his face. Brian was confused as to why he looked so scared and sat up. Immediately he felt it. He didn't have to see Ian's pubic region to know that he was bleeding.

Ian immediately lifted Brian from the couch and carried him into the bathroom. He kept swearing to God that he was so sorry but it hadn't really registered fully to Brian what had happened.

Brian felt very faint and he too became scared. "What happened?" Brian asked.

"I think I ripped something open. Oh God I'm sooooo sorry!" Ian placed Brian in his tub and turned on some warm water.

"Bend over and let me see what happened." Ian said with excitement in his voice. Brian did as he was told and when Ian saw what he had done he screamed in horror. Ian took a small towel from the closet and forcibly stuck it up Brian's anus. He could at once feel that something was seriously wrong there.

"I'll get your clothes, we're going to the hospital! Oh my God I'm so sorry Brian!"

Brian couldn't speak as he was losing a fair amount of blood even with the towel plugging him up.

The last thing he remembered was Ian bringing him his pants, and then he felt his body go numb and everything went white.

Brian was back at that party two years ago. He was looking around the room to see if anyone he knew had shown up but so far he only recognized friends of friends and he didn't really know anyone too well.

He walked around and attempted to mingle with the other guests but soon given up, he walked back over to the keg where there was a young couple standing by chatting it up. It was a New Year Eve party but the festivities didn't come cheap. The beer was five bucks a cup but Brian was not yet twenty one so he gladly paid for the privilege to act like one of the big boys.

He'd just came down to around one hundred and seventy pounds and he was feeling quite proud that he went from wearing extra large shirts that barely fit to small tees that showed off his new figure. The medication he used to take had been long since cancelled and it was amazing how fast he lost the weight. All of the red stretch marks turned into white lines and his stomach looked as if it had deflated into itself. He didn't necessarily have a flat stomach but it was a start.

Brian paid for another cup of beer, his third that night, and walked back into the crowd. He had taken the bus to Lakewood to go to this girl Sandra's party. To his surprise nobody had told him that he was not welcomed there and in fact were all smiles as he passed through the groups of young people he knew from going to concerts and other youth centric gatherings.

He had yet to form a band and truly become one of the scenesters but he was on his way. He felt an electricity in the air as if anything might happen that night. His body was being fueled by pure adrenaline and booze, he felt really good about himself.

Sandra was over by the DJ surveying the scene playing out before her. Things were going even better than she had hoped. There were a few people she'd rather not have here but all in all she was happy.

Brian made his way over to where she was standing and introduced himself.

"Hey! Great party!" Brian said as he extended his hand out for her to shake. "My name is Brian!"

Sandra grunted and shook his hand. "Sandra." Was her one word response. Her long light tan hair covered her eyes at times and she made great effort to keep it out of her sight. Brian stood there for a few moments before it was just too awkward to stay around the girl.

"Just wanted to say hi." Brian said as he turned around and walked back into the crowd of young hipsters. He felt like a total douche and hated himself for even going up to her. His mood was resilient however and he quickly recovered when he spotted a good looking fellow over at the snack table near the front door that had been set up.

Brian had only been out officially for a little while and he was still trying to get used to the fact that he liked guys. It's always been a struggle but at least now he didn't have the burden of being in the closet to hold him back from him growing as a person.

The guy was about his height and had an old school brown bowl hair cut. He was wearing a yellow Mudhoney shirt and Brian saw it as an opportunity to talk to him.

"I like your shirt!" Brian exclaimed.

The guy looked like he felt a little awkward receiving such a compliment. "Um... Thanks man. You like them?"

"Oh yeah! My favorite album by them was Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge."

The guy smiled. "Mine is March To Fuzz. Man it's cool to meet somebody who knows their grunge."

Brian laughed, "Yeah man! I grew up listening to stuff like Veruca Salt and The Melvins!"

The guy appeared to be disarmed by Brian's knowledge of that particular genre of music. "My name is Sam." He said and reached for Brian's hand.

"I'm Brian." He took his palm in his and shook.

"So are you in school or something?" He asked.

"No. I probably should go back though. I sort of want to be a graphic artist." Brian wanted another beer, maybe buy one for his new friend here.

"That's a tough field man. Lots of people want to be artists."

"Yeah I know..." Brian sighed. "I really don't know what I want to do with my life yet."

"Well you don't have to decide tonight." Sam said as he picked up a hand full of mozzarella cheese cubes. Brian did the same even though he wasn't hungry.

"I love the crap out of cheese!" Brian lied as he put a cube in his mouth.

"Yeah man!" Sam stuffed the entire hand full into his mouth and for a moment looked like he was about to choke. He didn't however and successfully got it down his throat without any sort of complication.

"So where are you from?" Brian asked.

"Littleton." Sam said. He grabbed a few cubes of ham and popped them in his mouth. "You know, like Columbine and shit."

"Yeah. Who doesn't know that school you know?" Brian didn't want to talk about it any further in fear of hitting a bad button with him.

"Yeah, it sucks but you know, its life. It goes on." Sam picked up what was most likely his cup of beer from the table. He drank a bit from it and took a long look at Brian. "So... Wanna go get some more beer?" He asked.

"Yeah sure man." Brian followed Sam over to where the keg was and he even paid for Brian's drink. "Thanks man!" Brian was ecstatic that he'd found someone cool at the party to talk to. He was pretty sure the guy wasn't gay but that wasn't really that big of an issue. He was looking for a guy to go home with but it wasn't really a pressing concern. Just not being alone at the moment was good enough for him.

"Let's go outside. I need a smoke." Sam motioned for Brian to follow him over to the front door. They went outside to the front lawn where Sam then took out a pack of cigarettes and got one out. He put it back and stuck the cigarette between his lips and reached into his pocket for a lighter. With a quick flip he lit his cancer stick and took in a long drag. "Fucking unbelievable man." He looked over to Brian and smiled. "You want one?" He said, getting out his pack and offering it to Brian.

"No thanks man, I don't smoke." Brian told him.

"Suit yourself man. Chicks dig it."

Brian's heart sunk a little when he said that. He knew that there was a good chance this guy was straight but it still made him a little disappointed that he was. Brian felt his chin and rubbed his fingers through the three day old stubble. He pondered whether or not to seek out another guy or just go along with Sam.

Sam finished his cigarette and downed his beer in less than a minute. He burped and threw the cup across the yard. Brian tried to do the same but the carbonation got the best of him and he wound up spitting out almost as much foam as he did beer. Sam giggled and Brian couldn't help but laugh at himself as well.

"You're all right man!" Sam said and wrapped his arm around Brian's shoulder. "You should meet my girlfriend Mandy."

Brian thought for a second. "Um... Sure, yeah!"

"Cool." Sam walked back to the front door and Brian followed suit. They went up the stairs and to the second room on the right. When they went inside there were three people sitting on the bed. Two lanky guys and one heavy set girl. The shorter of the two guys was smoking a joint over by the edge of the bed and the heavy set girl held out her hand for the next puff. Her long black hair had blue highlights in it that contrasted sharply with her paper white skin.

"Hey guys, Mandy, this is Brian." Sam said to his friends.

Brian awkwardly smiled and waved. He looked down at his shoes and really didn't know how to react to the situation.

Mandy was the first to speak. "Hey man. What's up?" She received the joint and took in a long smoke. She held her breath for about thirty seconds before exhaling. "You want a hit?"

Brian shook his head.

"Man don't be a pussy!" The taller blond haired lanky guy said. He had a goatee and a shaved head and looked like he could be a very mean person. Although Brian didn't like to think that because that would be pre judging someone, a practice he himself didn't like to be on the receiving end of himself.

The shaved head goatee man reached out to shake Brian's hand. "My name is Space."

Brian shook his hand. "Brian." He smiled and quickly looked back down at his feet.

"My name is Wreck." The shorter semi long haired lanky guy said. He smiled and ran his hands through his wavy brown hair. "Cause' I like to get wrecked!" The four of them started to laugh and Brian did his best to humor him.

"Come on," Mandy pleaded, "just one hit!"

Brian didn't say a word but he did reach for the joint. Mandy gave it to him and he looked on toward the group of young people, they nodded in approval and he took a long hit from the joint.

"YEAH!" They all exclaimed and Brian felt a wave of acceptance wash over him. He was happy to be one of the group. The pot hit him almost instantly and he sat down on his knees and took another drag before giving the almost spent joint back over to Sam.

"Hey man, do you want to go somewhere and get something to eat?" Wreck asked.

"Hey, Brian, do you have any money?" Mandy asked.

"I just got paid a while ago." Brian was already too stoned to sit up straight. "I have about a hundred and fifty or so on me." He said as he fell back onto the carpet, laughing. It was obvious he couldn't handle his pot.

"Wow... A hundred and fifty bucks man..." Space said as he cashed in the rolled up joint. He flicked it across the room and sighed. "Wish I had that kind of money."

Brian sat back up and took out his wallet. He looked into it and took out what bills he had. "Looks like..." he counted them, "One hundred and eighty! Wow! I'm rich!"

Mandy looked over to Sam, who nodded. Sam motioned for Wreck to come over to where he was standing and spoke into his ear.

Brian put away his wallet. "I can get you guys some Burger King no problem!" He began laughing, already very high.

"Wow man, you're a light weight!" Space laughed.

The four strangers locked eyes and Sam nodded. "Hey man, you want another drink?" Sam asked.

Brian fell back to the floor and looked up at Sam, who was smiling back at him. "Yesh!" he cooed.

"Cool. I'll go get you one. Anyone else want one?" Sam asked.

"I'll take a beer." Mandy said as she lay next to Brian.

Sam looked over toward Wreck who smiled back at him and sat back on the bed.

"I'll be back." Sam said as he left the room.

"So Brian, where do you work at to get so much money?" Mandy asked as she put her hands on his chest below his dark red Swayback shirt. Brian giggled and pushed her advance away.

"I work at... Um... I think Taco Bell?" Brian laughed and paused for almost a minute, as if to collect his thoughts. "Yeah it's totally Taco Bell!"

Wreck laughed along with him. "Dude! We should totally get some Taco Bell!"

Brian's face became serious. "Man... I told you I'd get you Burger King!" Then he burst out laughing. When he doubled over, everyone in the room exchanged knowing glances.

Space was in total awe of Brian's tolerance. "Man, I wish two hits would fuck me up like that!"

Brian closed his eyes for what seemed like a few moments before he felt a foot softly kick him in his side. "Get up. I got your drink!" Sam said curtly.

"Okay!" Brian sat back up and took the beer from Sam's hand.

"You should totally slam that thing!" Mandy laughed.

"Really?" Brian asked.

"Yes! CHUG!" All four of them began to chant. Brian did not want to disappoint so he did as he was commanded to do. He took his first sip and it tasted awfully bitter.

"Dude... This tastes funny." Brian stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"Nah man, it's just the pot." Space said. "It fucks with your taste buds."

"Just drink man!" Mandy slurred.

"Okay..." Brian hesitantly downed as much as he could before he had to gasp for air. He looked around the room and saw everyone smiling and being very encouraging of his alcohol intake. He finished it up and squished the cup in his hand. "Buuuurrp!" Brian half said, half burped. The guys were all cheering and Brian felt really good about himself.

"How about we go get that Taco Bell?" Mandy asked.

"No... Burger King!" Brian giggled. The room was spinning just a little. The walls became one as they repeated themselves over and over again.

"Burger King it is then!" Sam said. He reached down and helped Brian to his feet. Brian stood up and felt a little wobbly.

"Whoa..." Brian felt a little dizzy but he was able to maintain composure. "That was funny." He smiled and kissed Sam on the cheek. Sam recoiled and almost punched Brian in the stomach before he stopped himself. This was going too well to fuck it up.

"Hey man! Don't be a fag!" Sam shouted, laughing as he held Brian afloat holding him from his underarms.

"Sorry man..." Brian was feeling the effects of the alcohol and he was more than a bit drunk at the moment. The pot also had a weird vertigo effect on him that was becoming less than enjoyable.

"It's OK." Sam said as he patted him on the back. "Let's go. Mandy, you coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it!" Mandy got to her feet and walked out the door.

"We'll be back guys, okay?" Sam told Space and Wreck. Brian smiled and threw the piece sign. Then he broke down in a fit of laughter. He felt so light headed that he was now afraid of falling down.

They walked down the stairs and out the front door.

Sam and Mandy held their hands underneath Brian's armpits as the three of them walked two blocks down the road to where an old red Ford sat. Sam opened the back door and let Brian in and then went in on his side. He unlocked the passenger side door and Mandy got in.

"So what do you want from Burger King..." Brian slurred. He didn't think he had all that much to drink but he was slurring anyways. Could three beers do that? Maybe it's the combination of the beer and pot, he thought.

Sam pulled out of his parking spot alongside the front of a big white suburban two story house and went out onto the road. Brian sat back and enjoyed the weird buzz he was getting from the stuff he'd had that night. The two were talking up front but Brian couldn't really make out what they were saying. He leaned against the window and watched the stores pass them by. The lights from the passing stores had sort of an aura to them and it was very pretty looking. He couldn't help but smile. Never had he felt so great. It was almost like taking Percocets, he had to remember that beer plus pot was a good thing.

When he noticed a Burger King on the horizon he tried to point it out to them but found his arm too heavy to lift.

"There's it is..." He slurred, his speech stunted.

"Nah man," Sam said, "we're going up to another one. I have a friend who works at the one over in Denver so we're heading that way."

Brian nodded and peered back out at the pretty lights passing him by. He was feeling very, very light headed and his arms seemed to grow numb. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to happen or not.

"Guys..." Brian whispered softly. "I think maybe I should go home... I live on Lawrence down town..." Mandy looked back at him and reached for Brian's arm. She lifted it and let it drop back onto his lap. Brian began to get a little scared that he was no longer in control. He shifted his weight the best he could but wound up falling back against the window.

"Guys..." Brian's eyes began tearing up. "I think something is wrong..."

Mandy reached into Sam's pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking out a wad of bills and some sort of white pill. She put it deep in Brian's mouth. He could taste the saltiness of her skin on his tongue but couldn't move enough to stop her. The bitterness of the pill was extraordinary but he couldn't get himself to spit it out. He could feel it dissolve slowly in his mouth.

Brian was freaking out now. His mind was a little foggy and he knew he was drunk but he had no control over his body anymore. It was like he was paralyzed from the nose down.

Sam drove off into the night and Brian couldn't help but doze. He was in his happy place, the mountains where he went with his bigger brother when he first came to Colorado. They were hiking up a trail near Pike's Peak and he remembers being so exhausted that he had to make his brother take an hour long break with him. He wasn't used to the thin Colorado air.

In between these dream sequences Brian would wake to find himself still in the car. The road was dark and all he could make out was mountains in the distance. Everything had a blurry white and yellow aura floating around it.

"Dude you're such a pussy!" His bigger brother had told him.

"I know, I know..." Brian laughed. He got back up and they began to head back down from the mountain trail.

Brian awoke to find a blurry looking Mandy reaching into his pocket. She took out his wallet and Brian wanted to scream for her to stop but his vocal cords felt atrophied. All he could do was watch in horror at the scene folding before him.

"Do you want to go somewhere and get something to eat?" his bigger brother Aaron asked Brian. Fred was standing next to the car texting on his phone. The three of them agreed that Country Buffet would be nice. Brian had yet to get sick of the place.

The car stopped. Brian could only see out of the window in the direction he was leaning against. He heard some voices but couldn't make out a damn word they were saying. The door opened and he almost spilled out but somebody caught him. He heard an unfamiliar man's voice asking him who he was. Brian wanted to scream at him to call the police but all he could do was grunt softly.

"Yeah totally!" He heard Sam say, "This guy was totally wanting to hook up with me, I mean, he was hooking up with everyone at the party before we left."

"Do you got what we need?" Brian was laid down on the ground and was staring straight up at the people above him. A guy he couldn't make out was handing Mandy a green bag. She looked back down on Brian and looked as if she was regretting her decision. Kneeling down she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Let's get the fuck going Mandy!" Sam shouted.

"I'm sorry..." Mandy whispered as she got up. What happened next was even more of a blur than what had happened before.

Brian rode in the backseat of Aaron's car because he didn't want to argue with Fred over who would sit in the front seat. It was a long trek down to Wheat Ridge from the mountains but it was all worth it because the day had been just perfect so far. Brian knew he was going to sleep well that night. He was hurting in all sorts of places, but it felt good.

When he opened his eyes he was in a manila living room of some sort. All he could see was a white ceiling. It was smooth and strange shapes were taking form as he was hallucinating slightly. An awesome sense of euphoria overcame him and he would've smiled if his body had the strength. A man with a thin face looked down at him. "You think he's okay?" His voice boomed like a firecracker.

"They said he's fine." Another voice said out of sight. "Let's do this before he wakes up." Brian could feel himself being lifted off of wherever he was laying and only saw the thin man above him. He had to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was clean shaven and had very short blond hair. Brian was laid on something soft and he felt the sensation of his clothes being pulled off.

The voices begun to blend in with each other and he wasn't able to make out most of the words. He closed his eyes...

They were being sat by the hostess, a nice little black girl who seemed to be having a good day. She told them that they were free to get anything they liked and she left them at the table. Brian immediately got up to go over to the salad bar. He was going to make himself a mushroom and spinach salad with Italian dressing. It was going to be awesome!

His eyes slowly opened to see the same thin guy shirtless and on top of him. Brian could feel an overwhelming sensation of intense pressure in his bottom area and it brought tears to his eyes. He knew what was happening was hurting him badly, but it was like he was looking at the pain across the street from a Starbucks while drinking a caramel latte. The man was becoming beet red and was making all sorts of facial contortions. Brian tried to make out his features for definite but his vision became blocked as a man's penis and scrotum dropped onto his face.

Brian felt it in his mouth and couldn't help but choke on the appendage.

The salad was so good that Brian had another, and another, and one more after that. He still wasn't all the way full so he got himself some sour dough rolls and two pieces of fried chicken. He got a breast and a wing.

He went in search for some hot sauce...

Something caught in his throat. No matter how much he tried to cough it up it was just stuck deep in his larynx. Brian's vision went from blurry to a little more clear and he saw a different face looking down at him. This time there was a brown haired man with a crue cut making funny faces as he went up and down on top of him.

The pressure of that was associated with this man was even more intense than the man before. It felt as if Brian's insides were being scrambled. The sensation was overwhelming and he almost couldn't breathe it was so intense, as if he was breathing normally before.

Then another man's bottom blocked his view, and an ass sat on his face.

He couldn't find any hot sauce but he found something just as good, it was General Tsoa's chicken. They had freaking Chinese food here! Brian made an entire plate full of the stuff. He was still famished after the hike. He knew he had to lose some weight still at the time but today was like a pass on health food. He'd just walked around a fucking mountain for Christ's sake! He deserved a little indulgence damn it!

Brian could feel something wet on his face. His sensations were slowly coming back to him but he was still not able to move freely enough to cough up whatever it was that was stuck in his throat.

He saw the first guy back on top of him, only this time he could feel the pain a little more and he grunted softly. The man smiled down at him. His buzzed reddish blond hair and soft features would have been attractive under different circumstances.

"You like that don't you, you whore!" the man said as he continued to thrust himself into Brian. It was immensely terrifying that he was unable to stop this man from doing what he was doing. He could hear laughter from somebody in the back ground. His eyes just stared up in horror as the man laughed at his pain.

Brian saw a hand come out of his right and hand the guy what looked like a joint. He stopped pumping long enough to take a long drawn out hit before he handed it back and presumed his painful humping.

What was the worst part of it all was that Brian could feel himself sporting an erection. He wanted to scream out that he wasn't horny!

He wasn't horny!

Stop it!

The man began making funny faces and laughing in between telling Brian was a stupid slut he was. Slowly Brian began moving slightly to the side and up but it was not enough to dismount the man on top of him. He was starting to be able to cough a little but it still wasn't enough to dislodge what was in his throat.

"So dude, what are you going to do with your life?" Aaron asked as he stuffed his face with macaroni and cheese.

"I really don't know..." Brian admitted. "Maybe go to school for art or something?"

"That would be cool." Fred offered. "You're a great artist. You play guitar really good too."

"Yeah, did you ever start that band up like you said you were?" Aaron asked. He took a long drink from his Dr Pepper.

"Not yet... Still haven't found the right drummer yet. I'm thinking maybe I'll be a two piece. Getting more people than that in one spot at a time is really fucking difficult."

"Well I'd like to see you guys play out when you get a drummer dude." Aaron smiled but Brian knew that he'd never come through with the offer. Still though, it was nice that he at least acknowledged his dreams.

Brian awoke to darkness. He slowly moved his body to the side and could feel his naked body against what felt like shag carpeting. It sounded like there was somebody sleeping heavily somewhere but it was still like every sound he heard was ping ponging around his head. Moving was so difficult that he had to rest in between motions. It took him a good ten minutes or so but he was finally able to sit up, albeit he was wobbly as hell but he was able to see that he was in a living room. With a lot of effort he was able to rotate his body to the side and saw some Jack Daniels whiskey bottles by the light green couch. His clothes were over to his other side in a messy pile.

When he looked closer into the darkness he could see the thin red / blond man lying on the sofa before him, snoring away in dream land. He was loud. Or at least it sounded loud to Brian's sensitive senses.

He couldn't speak just yet. All he could do was squeak and grunt. His body went into survival mode and he felt the urge to fight or flight. It still wasn't enough to bring him out of the drug induced haze but it was helping in slight increments. He forced himself to pick up his underwear over by the couch. It took every ounce of energy he had to put his boxers around his ankles but he fell short of being able to pull them up. He couldn't make out much in the blackness of the living room but he did notice that the area between his legs were darker than the surrounding area was. He touched the dark area and it felt slick and wet. Brian cried softly.

After what seemed like forever he was able to pull up his underwear, but he did it at a snail's pace. Once it was close enough to his waist Brian started for his pants. This took even longer than the boxers did.

He was only able to bring them up so far before he ran into a road block that was his waist. His penis caught in the zipper and he had to pull it down a little to correct it. He felt the sting of it but was still pretty numb to whatever he'd ingested to make him this way. Brian squeaked out in fear and with a quick motion was able to pull his pants up all the way. It took all his might to zip it up. He saw his belt beside his shirt and didn't even bother about thinking to put it on. He reached for his shirt, which proved the easiest to put on.

All in all it felt like almost thirty minutes to put his clothes back on. He looked around the room for his shoes but could not find the ones he was wearing. He saw a pair of Nikes by the door along with two flip flop sandals.

The thin man rustled on the couch and Brian nearly had a heart attack. He froze where he was standing and stared directly at the man who made all of those funny faces at him. Brian slowly sat onto the floor and tried to think of what he would do if the man were to awaken at this moment. Nothing came though and this scared Brian. The man said something incoherent and rolled over on his side and stopped. He began snoring again shortly after.

Brian slowly got on his knees and it took every ounce of strength he had to pull himself up. He nearly was able to stand but he felt backwards on the floor and made a terrific thud. His body went cold and numb. He knew for sure that this would wake the men up. The other man wasn't there but he knew that he had to be somewhere nearby.

He waited a few minutes and lied on the floor motionless, certain that the guy or guys would wake up and get him. When they didn't he began to try again. He rolled over to his side and slowly got to his knees. He picked himself up with great care and when he was on his feet he felt for sure that he would fall back down. His pants were loose without his belt so he held on tight to the waist line.

Without looking back he inched toward the door with a single minded determination to get the hell out of there. Unlocking the front entrance felt like he was trying to move a metric ton of steel between his fingers. After much fumbling he heard the click of the lock and was able to turn the knob. A rush of cold wind greeted him as he walked out onto the frigid concrete front step. He could feel the freezing ground on his bare feet and it made him wince with the sensation. Brian slowly closed the door and began walking deliberately across the yard's deadish green and brown grass. He could see what looked like some shops and such before him across the street.

It felt as if just crossing the yard was like walking twenty miles up hill. Everything still had that white and yellow aura around it.

As Brian reached the road he began coughing up the stuff that was in his throat. It took him a while to get it up but when it got to his mouth he slowly spit it out. It oozed out his mouth and fell to the ground in a long string. Brian stared at it for the longest time before he realized what it was.

"I love you guys." Brian told his two brothers as they got up from the table to leave. They all converged to one big group hug, three brothers in one of their happier moments.

Chapter 34: So, I hear you got your asshole torned?

The pressure on his right arm woke him. Brian's vision was blurry but that soon dissipated. He looked to his right to see a blood pressure cuff squeezing the life out of him. He felt extremely dizzy and heavily sedated. When he looked around where he was lying he could see a blue curtain on all sides of him. Brian looked down toward his feet and saw that a plain white blanket covered his body. He inched over to his side and then to the other. Something felt weird. It felt like he was wearing a diaper.

He was able to move slowly at first, and soon he was beginning to regain his strength. It finally clicked in his mind that he was in a hospital bed. He knew the routine well, he used his left hand to press the nurse call button on the side bar of the mattress. A little red light started to blink next to where he pressed and he waited.

Brian wasn't sure but it felt like something was in his penis. He lifted his blanket to find himself wearing what looked like Depends under garments and he had a long plastic tube going from it to the side of the bed. When he leaned over he could see a bag filled with urine. They had put a fucking catheter in him! Brian could scream if he wasn't so weak with what felt like pain medication and sedatives.

He lied back down and closed his eyes. How in the hell did he get there?

His question would soon be answered when he heard the curtain open and a tall black lady in blue scrubs walked into his little area.

"You're awake. That's great!" She said as she checked the machines that were hooked up to his arms.

"What happened?" Brian asked in a whisper like voice. He had some phlegm in his throat that took a little bit of coughing to dislodge.

"You lost a bit of blood. I'm not one to judge but it looked like you had a pretty rough time today." She started laughing and walked over to the side to check the bag connected to the damn catheter.

Brian thought about the events leading to him waking up where he was. He remembered Ian fucking him and... "What happened?" Brian asked.

"You're anus had ripped open. You lost a good amount of blood. It took a pint of B positive and six stitches to get you back up and running." The lady went over by the head of the bed and got out a large urine cup from the little cabinet below by the head of the hospital mattress. "I wish I could meet a man who wasn't weak and scrawny where it counted." Her laugh made Brian want to choke himself with the catheter tube. He had never been more embarrassed in his life. He began to sob loudly.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!" the nurse giggled. "We see it more than you could imagine!"

Brian composed himself long enough to ask the first question that he could think of. "How am I going to go to the bathroom?"

"Well we gave you an enema which got out the bulk of the solid waste in you. I'm going to bring around some magnesium citrate to ensure that the rest will come out liquefied. Then I'm pretty sure the doctor is going to prescribe you a liquid diet for the next week or two.

Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Does anybody know?" he asked. "I mean, other than Ian."

"Well we called your emergency contact." She told him.

Brian's extremities when numb, "You told Paul?!" he could just die at this moment in time and he'd be the happiest person ever to have his heart explode in their chest.

"Well, yes. This was an emergency so we got in touch with your emergency contact. He was here a little while ago and we promised to give him a call when you regained consciousness." She patted Brian on the head. "You just rest now. Would you like anymore pain medication?"

Brian felt himself sink further and further into his bed. "Yes, that would be cool I guess."

The black lady nurse smiled. "I'll be right back with something for you."

She opened the curtain and walked out. She was decent enough to close it back up when she left and Brian lied on his bed and began to cry. This had to be the second worst thing to ever have happened to him. How was he going to live down having had his ass ripped open from gay sex?

He didn't just want to die right now, he had to.

Overdose with a noose around my neck I will...

Brian composed himself and felt around his nether region for the diaper like thingy. Looking under his sheet showed that it was just thick padding wrapped around his waist.

Still though, why a catheter? Fucking Denver Health...

Brian knew that public health care was a Godsend but they always took the easy way out. He groaned and surveyed his little square of makeshift hospital room. Aside from the back wall, he was surrounded by light blue curtains with dark blue dots.

He pressed the lift button and got the bed to a seated position. A tall man in green scrubs opened the curtain and walked in. He had a heavy five o'clock shadow and a lot of medium length black hair that came to his jaw. "How are we feeling?" he asked with the biggest grin.

"Fine..." Brian didn't want to talk about it.

"Well good news is that you weren't too roughed up. Six stitches and a little cauterization and you were right as rain."

Brian had to ask, "Why the catheter?"

The man laughed, "You WERE passed out. It's sort of standard if the patient is unconscious. We'll take it out in a bit here."

"Are you the doctor?"

The man looked proud. "Why yes I am."

"Oh... I thought you guys wore white coats?"

"It's optional. Now listen, I'm going to send you home with sixty Percocets and some magnesium citrate." He went over passed Brian's bed to the little counter at the back wall and wrote something on a piece of paper. "Also I'm suggesting you take some over the counter Colace and drink a liquid diet for the next week or two."

"How do I have a liquid diet?"

"Drink meal replacement drinks and lots of fluids. Drink Ensure and not slim fast OK? Or things like Ensure, drink things with caloric heft to them."

"Wow..." Brian buried his face in his hands.

"It's okay. We see this from time to time. I've seen a lot worse and if anything I'd say you certainly have good taste in men." He smiled and was about to leave the room when Brian spoke up.

"Is Ian here?"

The doctor paused and walked back over to Brian's bed. "The guy who brought you in?"

"Yeah."

"No, he stayed through the check in process and left. He didn't leave his name but if you know his full contact info that could be useful."

"No I don't even have his number." Brian felt like a total shit.

"Well, if you're looking for a ride home we called your emergency contact. He should be back here soon." Brian's face went pale. "When he gets here you're free to go."

"Thanks..." Brian said as the doctor left the little space.

The nice black lady appeared a few minutes after the doctor left with two syringes that had no tips.

"Why do you have two syringes?" Brian asked.

The nice black lady nurse just smiled and said "One is just saline and the other is some really good shit."

"What IS really good shit?"

"You'll feel it when I give it to you."

"Okay..." Brian laid back and watched her as she connected the first syringe and pumped the medicine in one quick thrust of her thumb. Then she took that out and repeated the same procedure with the saline.

"There we go. No once you feel it hit you we'll take out that catheter."

"When will I know when it hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...." Brian's eyes rolled back into his head.

"Looks like we can take the catheter out now." The nurse laughed. She left the makeshift room while Brian tripped out on the lights above. He felt very far away from himself and laughed at a joke that he thought of but forgot as soon as he begun to giggle.

The nurse came back in, in what seemed like a few minutes. No? Ten? Whatever, Brian was happy. She lifted up his gown and exposed his tender areas to the world.

"Could you at least close the curtain?" Brian asked. He really didn't care at this moment but he still had some decency left in his drug addled brain.

"Sure." she closed the curtain and produced a bulb syringe from her scrub pocket near her waist. "This may feel funny." Brian saw her attach the syringe and she depressed the plunger, filling it with what looks like water.

"On the count of three now..." she looked Brian in the eyes. "One..." She pulled out the catheter in one fast tug and Brian nearly doubled over in what could either be one of the best orgasms of his life or the worst pain he'd ever felt. He couldn't be sure of which.

"See, nothing to it." She smiled.

"Why did it feel so... Like that?!" Brian said, out of breath.

"It's probably the catheter rubbing against your prostate. Maybe that combined with the relief of pressure down there."

"Wow..." Brian wiped the sweat off his brow.

"When you're ready you have visitors."

"Visitors? Like two?"

"Yes sir." She walked by Brian's side and threw the catheter and bag into the trash bin. "A man and a lady."

"Paul and Shelly... Paul can come. I don't want Shelly laughing about this in my face..."

"They both seemed concerned."

Brian thought about it for a moment. "Sure I guess."

The nurse left and a few minutes later Paul and Shelly came through the curtain. Paul had a wad of clothes with him. Shelly had a look of concern on her face while Paul's smile couldn't get any wider.

"Say a word and I'll fucking kill you..." Brian warned Paul.

"Hey man! You don't have to get so butt hurt about it!" Paul said. Even Shelly couldn't help laughing at that one. Brian closed his eyes and prayed for sweet, sweet death.

Dance! Robot! Dance!

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

I've, got a friend of mine

Who, who just committed suicide

And if I was a friend would I

Still be here?

And I know that I'm the kind of guy

Who takes it to heart

And I know that I'm the kind of guy

Who takes it too far

Will you still love me when I'm gone?

Will you still love me when this song is done?

That is so typical of me to chicken out

That is so typical of me...

I know that I'm the kind of guy

Who takes it to heart

And I know I'm the kind of guy

Who takes it too far...

Will you still love me when I'm gone?

Will you still love me when this song is done?

That is so typical of me to chicken out

That is so typical of me...

So fucking typical I,

And when I'm dead and gone

I hope you find a way

And when I'm dead and gone

I hope you've found a way

To bring me down

And bring me out to sea

Where I'm too far gone

And all my friends have put concrete blocks on my feet

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na

Na, na, na, na, na, na

And all my friends have put concrete blocks on my feet...

Chapter 35: Brian's diary: Emotional brownout.

So here I sit at St. Mark's coffee shop with my laptop in my bag and sixty Percocets in the side pocket writing to you, my dear audience, in a total state of despair. I feel like my final days are upon me.

All efforts to track down Ian have failed. I saw Tim again the other day but he was much more sober than last time and did not make a scene, which was good. I miss him. I miss having him envelope me in his arms and his sweet kisses, his muscular body with the ability to lift me from the bed to his futon. He was something special. And I can't help but think that if I was just a little taller, manlier, and a lot thinner, he would still be here with me.

I'd let him do anything to me if it would just bring him back.

I'm so lonely I'd even let Ian do me again... I probably scared him away though. He's probably halfway to Mexico by now.

Why am I the way I am? Why am I a fagot? I could get girls with no problem if I only wanted to, like right now there is a guy sitting across from me, blond with blue eyes and wearing a muscle shirt that shows off his skinny body. Why am I so attracted to this? It isn't fair!

I can't even look Paul or Mike in the eyes anymore after what happened between me and Ian. The constant jokes are just too much. And the worst part of it all is that it just reminds me of what a homosexual I am.

I'm thinking about ending it. I really am. I am not fit for this world. I'm happy that other people can live with themselves with who they are but I can't. I am a disappointment through and through. The next time you read this journal it will be my goodbye.

Not that I haven't thought it through or anything, because I have. Any way I spin it I just can't seem to shine a positive light on my situation.

I am short.

I am fat.

I am ugly.

I am a fagot.

I am not the smartest person in the world.

I am a disappointment.

I am Brian. And that alone is enough to warrant my suicide.

Suicide Warning Signs:

* Appearing depressed or sad most of the time.

(Untreated depression is the number one cause for suicide.)

* Talking or writing about death or suicide.

* Withdrawing from family and friends.

* Feeling hopeless.

* Feeling helpless.

* Feeling strong anger or rage.

* Feeling trapped -- like there is no way out of a situation.

* Experiencing dramatic mood changes.

* Abusing drugs or alcohol.

* Exhibiting a change in personality.

* Acting impulsively.

* Losing interest in most activities.

* Experiencing a change in sleeping habits.

* Experiencing a change in eating habits.

* Losing interest in most activities.

* Performing poorly at work or in school.

* Giving away prized possessions.

* Writing a will.

* Feeling excessive guilt or shame.

* Acting recklessly.

:::Last Days:::

Chapter 36: All our lives that shine strong, only last for so long.

Walking through the crowd at the Hi Dive, Brian held his white Russian close to his heart and tries to spot out anybody he knows. He hasn't really been keeping up with any of the new bands coming out so some of the scene has changed without him even knowing.

Everybody looks like mannequins displaying the latest in thrift store fashion. Their insides are hallow and if you tipped them over their bodies would break into a million pieces of plaster of Paris.

It would've irritated Brian a few months ago to see that everyone had adopted his messenger bag style now but in all honesty he felt like they can have it. He wasn't going to be using it much longer. Still though, he did feel like a trendy fuck slinging a bag on his side even though he was doing it years before it became cool.

The band tonight was the current "IT" band on the cover of Spin magazine. Leviathan something... Brian didn't care. The door man let him in for free so he really had no place to complain. At least he still had an acquaintance somewhere.

Without being able to find anybody he knew or anyone who looked interesting enough to talk to, Brian walked up to the front and sat his drink on the elevated stage. The band's equipment was already set up even though the opening bands had yet to play.

Fucking rock stars.

He felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned around to see Fiz smiling back at him. "I didn't know you liked this band man?" He said as he patted Brian on the back.

"Yeah, love'm." Brian sighed, pushing away Fiz's hand.

Fiz wasn't getting the vibe and continued to talk. "So when are we going to jam again man?"

Brian took his drink from the stage and downed it in two large gulps. "I don't know. I think I'm going to go away."

"Like where?"

Brian looked down at his empty glass and took a deep, mournful breath. "Home maybe. I don't know where I'm going when I leave. I don't think anybody really does."

Fiz nodded. "True man, true. So you think we could jam before you leave?"

"I don't think I have time. I got to plan this out you know?"

"Yeah I get ya." Fiz looked around at the people surrounding them. "You see anyone you know?"

"Nope."

"Man you see that chick over there?" Fiz pointed to a short pudgy lady with stylish black rimmed glasses. "I fucked her in the green room bathroom a little bit ago."

"Were you safe?" Brian asked. He was mad at himself for feeling even the slightest bit of concern for the weasel.

"Why? I'm clean. She's on the pill. It's not a big deal." He smiled. "You want a drink man?"

"No thanks. I think I'm just going to take a Percocet and head home."

"DUDE!" his face lit up, "You got Percs!? How much do you want for them!?"

"Not for sale. I need them. I'll need them all actually." Brian took an ice cube from his empty glass and put it in his mouth. "I just had surgery."

"Oh man! What for?"

"I..." Brian was at a loss. "I um... Appendix." He chewed on his ice and put another in his mouth.

"Cool! Can I see the scar!?" Fiz began lifting up Brian's shirt and was stopped by Brian's quick free hand.

"Fuck man! Have a little decency!"

"OK I'm sorry!" Fiz ran his fingers through his black afro. "I just think we should get back together and totally get famous you know? We'll make some money and tour and be in magazines. It will be great! We almost did it before you know? We can do it again."

Brian felt a heavy weight drag his shoulders down. "I don't think I'm up for it anymore man. I think I just need to not be here anymore."

"Oh ok. Well let me know when and if you decide to get back together. You have my email right?"

"Yeah."

"OK then I suppose I'll see you around."

As Fiz walked away Brian thought a little bit about his situation and walked over to the bar and got himself a cranberry Sprite vodka. He drank this one in a few seconds and ordered another one.

"You should just get shots man." Bill the bartender told him. "It's not worth it paying five bucks for something you're just going to down in one gulp."

Brian thought about it. "Maybe just one shot of top shelf whisky." A few moments later Brian received his liquor and took it in one quick shot. It burned going down his throat but it was good. He left a ten dollar bill on the bar and walked over to the front entrance where the door man was checking ID's. It was a sixteen and over show but they had special wrist bands for people over twenty one. He maneuvered himself through the line of people and walked out into the crisp January air. The night was clear and he could see all the stars from where he stood. It was beautiful. Colorado is just gorgeous. The snow is beautiful and the people are nice. He felt like he had no right disturbing the natural order of things.

Brian looked back at the Hi Dive and felt his heart crush. It was a place where he had tried so damn hard to fit in, only to be yesterday's news when he wasn't in a lucrative band anymore or keeping up with the styles. The owners wouldn't even talk to him anymore and this made him sad. It's horrible to think that people can be so forgetful and shallow.

That's the way the world works he supposed.

Brian knew what he had to do and he had to do it soon.

In a few days time he was going to kill himself.

Chapter 37: You can't bring it with you.

Brian went up to his bank downtown to withdraw all of his savings. He took it and thought about leaving his card for Paul to find with the pin number written on the suicide note.

He still had to write the damn thing too. Fuck!

What was he going to say?

He supposed that he should spend all of tonight perfecting it. You want to leave this world having said something worth value. Kurt Cobain had a hell of a suicide note. It was times like this that he wished he could write like someone smart, like Sylvia Plath. That would be awesome to have his suicide note written in prose or in poem form.

With a renewed vigor that only the determined suicidal can exhibit Brian went downtown and bought up thirty cheese burgers from McDonalds. He spent the better part of the morning distributing them to the homeless and junkies around downtown Denver. He managed to find three really desperate looking souls and took them shopping for clothes at Ross.

The looks he got from bringing in these scum of the Earth were enough to fill Brian's heart with pride. He enjoyed helping them out. Even if they were just going to turn around and sell the clothes and shoes for drugs it was still better than just outright giving them the money, which all three suggested he do ad naseum.

When that was over with Brian decided to treat himself to Tokyo Joe's and got an unagi bowl, which is fried eel on rice with teriyaki sauce. It was delicious and filled him up more than any meal had done him in ages.

He still had plenty of work to do.

Brian went to the Check Into Cash place on the 16th street mall and bought three money orders for three months of his share of the rent and utilities. He decided afterwards to go back to his place and get his acoustic guitar.

Within forty minutes he was back downtown and looked for some of the street performers on the pedestrian mall who may need a new guitar. He found a young guy playing away with a battered acoustic that was missing two important strings and felt that he was deserving enough for his instrument.

"Thanks man! What do you want for it? I can't afford anything!" The young unwashed man frowned.

"Hell if you want you can have the guitar and I'll give you a blow job to boot." Brian said. To his surprise the young man laughed and politely declined but took the guitar. Brian was certain it would be pawned off later that day but he figured it was out of his hands now. He couldn't bring anything with him where he was going, might as well do something good for the community.

The rest of the afternoon was spent buying strangers food and giving away various items he treasured. Although he couldn't bear to part with his laptop but figured Paul could use a computer. He set it up so that you didn't need a password to log on.

Things were looking up. Brian was happy for the first time in almost four months. He felt like he was doing the world a favor and felt really good about himself for doing it, an almost sick sense of pride. In a few days time there would be no more Brian left to make fun of. No more warm hole for the many gay men of the world to stick their dick into. No more nuisance to bother anyone anymore. He was going to go out of this world and make everybody happy again.

It's a feeling that really cannot be explained. Brian felt like he was doing the world a service. After all, his roommates would just be fucking ecstatic to have him gone. Right?

Right?

Paul was the first to notice the odd change in Brian's behavior. He had seen his friend walk out of the house with his acoustic and return with nothing.

"What did you do with you guitar man?" He asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"I just let a friend borrow it." Brian said cheerfully.

"Oh OK." Paul wasn't sure what else he could ask about without getting too far into Brian's business. When Brian left again for the third time he was carrying a pile of clothes which pretty much left his room barren. Paul walked in and saw that there was very little left.

Was he planning on moving? He thought to himself.

He had asked Mike what he thought was up and he just grunted and told him that the little fucker better pay a month's rent if he was moving. Paul couldn't really see this being the case. Also Brian's newfound happiness worried him immensely. Brian's has always been a sad sack of a man and now he was leaving with his stuff and coming back whistling like nothing was going on.

Something WAS going on and Paul intended to find out. He didn't like the way this looked. He has been an EMT long enough to know when somebody was planning on doing something stupid. He'd worked the suicide prevention line during his senior year at community college and this seemed an awful lot like the stories he'd heard.

Then again he could just be moving? But why would he want to move? He was best buds with the little dude. This just isn't like him at all.

When Brian came back for the fourth time that day Paul tried to ask him what the deal was and he just told him that he was just bringing stuff to his parents to wash so don't worry about it.

But he couldn't help but worry.

Something was going on.

Paul was scared that his friend was going to do something stupid, and soon.

The euphoria that had him so enraptured that morning was now gone as the darkness of the night crept in and replaced the brightness of the falling sun. Downtown and alone Brian decided to go back over to Broadway's and get a drink.

For the first time he can remember he wasn't there to pick anybody up. He couldn't if he wanted to seeing as he had stitches in his ass. He felt as if he could just cry thinking about it.

The place wasn't too packed seeing as it was a weekday night. Normal people had work the next day so there wasn't a whole lot of partying going on. Gazing across the room Brian saw a cute blond couple wrapped around each other. It made his heart sink because he knew that he would never find anyone to be his special someone. He wasn't even on par with the ugliest motherfucker in the room and thus he felt like he was a wasted cause.

The only reason somebody would fuck me is because they felt sorry for me...

After three drinks Brian had yet to feel the buzz of alcohol and decided to go take a walk. He thanked the bartender and went out into the dark cold night. There was a little bit of a snow flurry and Brian knew not whether it was even supposed to snow tonight. He stopped paying attention a while ago. He was dressed warmly enough but still felt the wind cut through his thin hoodie when it blew.

Halfway down Broadway Brian spotted a few more gay bars along the way but felt no need to enquire. He supposed that he would check out the Hi Dive for the last time. Maybe it would be something worthwhile.

He stared at his feet as he walked and mistakenly bumped into a few people along the way. He apologized for his carelessness yet he still didn't pay any real attention. When he got to the club's entrance he saw that same door man that seemed to be there every night of the week.

"Who's playing tonight?" Brian asked.

"Your friend Tim and a few out of town bands." He replied.

"He's not my friend..."

The door man could tell by Brian's facial expressions that something was bothering him. He wasn't a man to talk about emotions but he tried to compensate by offering Brian free admission.

"No thanks man." Brian said with a sigh, his breath freezing mid air. "I just think it would be a little too much for me right now." The door man shrugged and took the next person in line. Brian walked a little further down the block and spotted the pizza place on the corner that sells it by the slice. He wasn't necessarily hungry now, or really at all anymore, but he was into the idea of grabbing a diet Coke.

The bell rung as he walked into the little shop of pizza and was disappointed to find nobody at the register, there was a little buzzer on the counter and he debated whether or not to even bother.

As he turned to leave he heard a man's deep voice. "Can I get you something?" Brian turned around to see an imposing Italian guy on the other side of the counter. His short black hair and muscular physique sent shock waves through Brian's body. Then a sense of hopelessness snuck its way in and ate everything good inside Brian's being.

The man probably hates me.

I'm such a fagot.

Brian stared for a half second more at the man in front of him.

Tall people have no feelings...

"Yeah," Brian returned to reality. "Can I get a large diet Coke?"

The man smiled and took a cup from the stack next to the register. "Easiest order I've taken all night bro." He handed Brian the cup. "That's on me tonight man. You look like you've been through hell or something."

"I do?" Brian asked, surprised.

"Yeah bro, you have really dark circles under your eyes and you're pale as fuck."

Brian became self conscious and tried to spot his reflection in one of the windows. He couldn't make out his features so he gave up.

"It's been a rough few months." he confessed.

"Yeah I know how that goes. Girl trouble?" The man was wiping the counter with a rag as he talked.

Brian went cold. He felt rejected and just nodded his head. He got his soda and thanked the mean looking Italian and left the pizzeria. The soda tasted like it had way too much soda water in it and not enough syrup. At least he hadn't paid for it.

Pondering whether or not to see Tim play tore him up a little bit because on one hand he was a lying disgusting awful man, but on the other he was a beautiful guy with a great voice and mad skills on the cello. He wasn't going to be around much longer and this weighed heavily on his decision.

In the end though he decided that he'd had enough stressors lately and did not wish to compound it further by looking at the one thing he could no longer have. Brian made his way back up Broadway and took the long way home.

The next day Brian got a bottle of Grey Goose Vodka from the liquor store down the street from where he lived. The pills and booze were concealed in his messenger bag where his computer once was. He'd been leaving it home for the past few days. Nothing about it interested him anymore.

When Brian got to his place he put his bag in his room and popped three of the Percocets, took two shots of vodka and he was set. He took out his journal and started to write his last entry but kept hitting a brick wall with it. He wanted to make the most impact with as little words possible but it just wasn't happening.

Brian put the black Bic pen he was using in his pocket and got on a corduroy smokers jacket then headed out downtown. He walked all the way to the 16th St. Mall holding the little spiral notebook in his right hand.

Everything appeared dull and grey. The sky was all clouds and the snow sat on the ground half frozen like it was unable to get away from it all. As the buildings of downtown loomed over the horizon he felt an intense feeling of being dominated.

His first stop was The Tattered Cover bookstore. It was two stories of awesome bookstore. He perused the fiction section and saw a lot of good books he could read but he knew that he would never get to do so. Every man that passed him was beautiful and full of the testosterone that he sorely lacked. Tall or short they were all better than he was. Even if they had big bellies they still carried it better than he ever could. He felt as if every girl that he saw was just a potential sperm depository for the good looking slut straight man whores of the city. Everyone got laid. Everyone did what they were expected to.

Brian was a freak of nature. Being gay is fine, but him being gay was a crime against humanity. How he wished he could get an erection looking at a girl instead of a tall wiry dork with black rimmed glasses and a laugh like a donkey in heat. Everyone was beautiful. That was the problem. Everyone was beautiful and was born to fuck each other.

He couldn't even fulfill his biological duty as a man. He didn't consider himself a man. That term came with five o'clock shadows and a lust for beer and pussy. Even when he stopped himself to try and talk sense into what he was feeling the gravity of his thoughts stopped him dead in his tracks. He was unable to see the world like a normal person could. At least any inkling he had of it was gone now.

Brian walked down the pedestrian mall and found a nice green metal bench to sit down on. He watched as the people walked by, the beautiful deserving people, and he was just beyond the point of crying right at this time. It gave him the determination to do what he had to do. He had to get rid of himself for the sake of the slutty man whore world. Without him around everything would just function better.

Cars would make it to their destinations on time.

The busses would always be on schedule.

Beautiful babies will grow up to eat, sleep, fuck and make more babies.

He was just in the way of human progress. He felt it in his bones as he does the cold snowy air surrounding his person. Brian felt a surge of inspiration and headed over to the Starbucks on 16th and California. It wasn't too packed but there were a few young girls trying to flirt with the obviously gay baristas that were employed there. He had gotten many a free drink with a wink and a suggestive body motion. The blond haired guy at the counter seemed to welcome the distraction of a boy amidst all the overpowering estrogen.

"Hey you, how've you been?" The blond barista asked and smiled.

Brian heart melted for a moment but as always, clarity entered in at the worst time and he realized that the guy obviously wanted him dead. Why else would he be so nice to him? His smiled turned upside down and he ordered a Venti chai tea latte. The man happily took his five dollars and Brian put the change in the tip jar. The order was handed over to the other black haired fag behind the counter who appeared to be overjoyed to serve a stupid worm like himself.

When the drink was made and passed along the black haired guy told Brian to come back and say hi more often. Brian nodded and took a seat in the lobby closest to the entrance, where the two guys could not see him. He took a sip of his chai and opened his notebook to the first clear page he could find.

Over the months it had grown into quite the testimony on his life. If he weren't going to end it all he may have thought about publishing it as a memoir or something.

With another long sip of his drink he got to work...

Brian's Diary: A farewell to arms...

I don't know who will read this or what will become of me. I just want those who know me to know that this is in no way shape or form their fault. I was born broken. After years and years of trying to fix myself I was unable to even make a dent in my depression. Every day it just gets worse and worse and I can't not be in a constant state of despair.

Medications? I've tried them all to varying degrees of success. I've tried almost every pill and shot out there and nothing seems to alleviate the pain even an inch. I've probably seen the best doctors public funds could buy and still not even a single breakthrough of insight into my condition other than I have a chemical imbalance and my family life was fucked up when I was younger.

I've had some good friends and I've tried a lot of things in my life time. While I resent the fact that I am indeed a homosexual who would be going to hell regardless of whether or not I killed myself, I still can't say that I've lived that life to the fullest.

I've fucked both girls and boys and found that I most love getting fucked in the ass. I don't know, maybe it's the feeling that I get when a guy does it to me. Like he has every right to defile my person and leave me when he cums. It's what guys do. They want sex and nothing more. Gay or straight.

The only two people I can say that have made any real impact in my life have to be John and Paul. Both very handsome slut monsters who will fuck anything that walks. Aside from me that is... I don't blame them though. If I was straight and good looking I'd be a total whore myself. But since I'm not I have to take what I can get. It's very humiliating to be the shortest, ugliest person in the room.

I say these things but the truth is that I in fact do love Paul. Not in the slightest bit romantically anymore but more so like a true friend. When I thought I was going to die he was there for me. Paul if you are reading this I just wanted you to know that you were the highlight of my life.

I leave all my money and computer and whatever I haven't already given away to you Paul. I hope you use the money for all the coke and booze you can stand without passing out. Either that or take Shelly out to a nice dinner, just use a condom dude...

To everyone else I just want you to know that I hate you all. Actually hate is a strong word but it definitely has a feeling sort of like it. I don't think it's really actually hate. More like envy. Envy for all the physical and emotional traits I do not possess. Things people take for granted like a loving family and a devoted friend or special someone.

The normal adjusted person that goes to college, gets a degree, gets a desk job, gets a girl, buys a house, pumps out 2.5 children, and grows old in a middle class suburbia watching their children repeat the process. I wish with every fiber of my being that I could be this person. The man I'll never be.

I can't stand watching people pass me by and smile the way they do. I hate not being happy. Oh lord how I've tried to put a smile on my face but it's just not possible. Every time I even try I break out into tears. How much of a pussy am I huh? Very much so the pussy. I'm no more than a warm hole for guys to fuck and throw away.

I am merely a disposable product. I'm well past my due date and it's time for me to just stop existing.

Hopefully by the time you read this I will be dead and gone, just another random body at the morgue with no one to identify me. This is what I want. If anyone does so happen to know who I am and has read this note then I want you to make sure that I am cremated and flushed down the toilet.

Only the best for me...

I don't know what else to say. I could go on and on about how unbearable the pain of living has gotten. I could go on about the vile hatred I hold for myself has grown to such proportions that I can no longer look into the mirror without getting so frustrated that I punch the wall until my knuckles are bloody. I don't know what else to say.

I'm sorry for ruining your lives.

I'm sorry for not being the good son.

I'm sorry for not being a good friend.

I'm sorry for not being the person everyone needs me to be.

I'm just so sorry I ever tried to be anything but who I am.

A spoiled carton of milk that desperately needs to go into the trash before it infects the rest of you.

I'm just so sorry...

I'm just really sorry...

Brian looked up from his notebook and felt no different than before he started writing. Nothing had changed. Nothing was released. He is still the same old short, fat, ugly, stupid Brian that he was ten minutes ago.

Still time to make things right...

Brian got up and headed for the 11th Avenue Hotel to make arrangements to spend the final night of his life alone in a dank and decrepit room amongst the crack heads and pimps

He would get a room reserved for tomorrow night.

Brian closed his eyes and opened the front entrance door of the Starbucks he had spent nearly thirty minutes in. The wind bit at his face like tiny microscopic piranhas swimming past his cheeks. There was work to be done.

Save Me

Words and music by: Brian Oldman

Every time I look around I always see the same old thing and I'll tell you

The same old thing that I thought I saw before

Every time I try to change I always mess it up all the time

Maybe I should stop trying at all

Maybe I'm already dead inside

Maybe I'm the one who starts the fights

The fights...

And when I look down hard inside

It comes back up and gets me high

Maybe I'm already dead inside

Every time I look at me I always see my imperfect flaws and I'll tell you

Maybe that's why they hate me so

Ever time I spend the night I always sleep on your warm couch

Where I cry myself to catatonic fears

Maybe I'm already dead inside

Maybe I'm the one who starts the fights

The fights...

And when I look down hard inside

It comes back up and gets me high

Maybe I'm already dead inside

All around everyone is smiling

Wish I was smiling

Wish I could be happy too

All my friends, they seem so hallow

And I'm shallow

I wanna feel nothing too

Maybe I could blow my brains out

Before I shout out

If that's what you want me to

I wish I could contain my sorrow

Live till tomorrow

Before I do something bad...

Maybe I'm already dead inside

Maybe I'm the one who starts the fights

The fights...

And when I look down hard inside

It comes back up and gets me high

Maybe I'm already dead inside

Save me...

Save me...

Save me...

Chapter 38: So long and thanks for all the fish.

Brian sat back in his chair and wondered if he should have his last meal now or later in the day. He already had a plan, just not a time. It was 5:10 in the morning and he wasn't sure if he wanted a last sunrise or a last sunset. It was getting pretty close so he had better decide soon. He decided on a last sunset. That would be more poetic right?

Besides, that will give him some extra time to maybe go to the Hi Dive for one last beer. No, one last white Russian. That sounds classier. Or maybe a dirty martini? He'd never had a martini actually. Always a first time for everything he supposed.

While he's thinking of his last drink he might as well go for a last meal. Maybe a nice fat steak he thought. No... A steak is too ordinary and predictable. Fish perhaps? Sushi! That would make a fine last meal! A big ole' plate of sushi! And not just the rolls either, but the expensive 'fish on top of rice' shit. That would be really cool.

Brian checked his wallet to see how much money he had left. After the room and booze he had about three hundred dollars on him. Good enough for a decent meal he supposed. The rest of the money was back in the bank and he had already stuck his debit card into the freezer next to the vodka, his pin written on the back.

He walked to the dining room and sat by the clear patio door. The sun wasn't peaking through yet but it should any moment. He wondered to himself how exactly one would go about enjoying something that they've seen a million times before? Should they respect it or really try to find something in it?

The sun began to appear over the horizon and it depresses Brian. He doesn't feel anything toward the natural wonder that occurs day in and day out. He can't seem to get over the droll feeling that he's seen it too many times before. He tries to squint to see it in a different light. He takes off his shirt and socks and walks over to the patio door to let himself out.

He lies on the grass and puts his arms over the back of his head. Still nothing... Maybe he's trying too hard? It's just a sunrise. He thinks to himself that maybe he should focus on the things he knows he'd enjoy. Not the things that you are supposed to enjoy. The things normal people would do when they only had a little bit of time left. After all... If he was normal he wouldn't be doing this now would he?

He got up and went inside defeated. Brian put his shirt back on and headed to the bathroom. After urinating he stares at his penis and wonders if he should masturbate. You know, enjoy it one last time. Or maybe he can find a guy or a girl to spend some time with. He made a conscious decision to cum so he grabbed a wad of toilet paper and spread it over the floor. So there won't be a mess to clean up.

It doesn't work. He can't get it up. His imagination fails him so he gets up and puts his pants back on. He's in such a dark space right now he cannot muster up an erection. This depresses him further.

In defeat he sets out to the kitchen to make coffee for him and his two roommates. He checks to see if anyone had bothered to put the coffee grounds in last night. To Brian's delight, someone had. He set the coffee maker on and reached for his face. Feeling a new zit on the tip of his nose Brian headed back to the bathroom to inspect it further. When he looked into the mirror he just couldn't contain it any longer and began to cry. He'd been trying all morning not to but at this moment he just cannot help himself. He collapsed slowly to the floor and held himself in the fetal position. He did this for a few minutes until his weeping had dissipated into a dry sniffle. He lied there like that for a little while longer. Straightening up, he and stared at his feet before him. Brian noticed how dry they appeared to be. He looked at his hands and saw that they too, are dry and cracked. He should've taken better care of his skin.

Too late for that now I suppose...

Brian got up and dusted off his jeans and Brown Primus t-shirt. He looked back at that horrible person in the mirror and saw that his face had become a bright shade of red and purple. His hair may be short but he runs a comb through it anyhow. Just something to feel like he was a normal person doing a normal routine. He brushed his teeth halfheartedly and rinsed, spitting into the bowl he examined the blood from his gums. He should've brushed more.

Too late for that now I suppose...

Walking back to the kitchen he took a look at the suicide letter he had written so far in his spiral notebook. He was not sure whether or not to start over or keep what he has so far. He decided to try and salvage it because he knew that the first part was written during a spell of intense emotion that he would probably not be able to replicate again.

He made himself a cup of strong black coffee and looked at what has been written. Staring at it so intently that the words became abstract objects, making his eyeballs hurt for a moment. He looked away for a moment and concentrated on the refrigerator until his sight wasn't so wavy. When he refocused, Brian looked it over and is satisfied so far. He read and reread it a few more times trying to recapture the energy that had sped him through it before, but it's gone, for now at least. He might as well get on living his last day like he planned. Since he wasn't going to do it this morning he had to think about what he could do with today to make it special. He'd already decided on a last meal and a last drink but what else? Should he spend some of his remaining time watching a movie at the theater? Should he do some shopping?

No... That would be just silly.

Maybe he could go out and buy a shit ton of burgers and hand them out to homeless people again. That would be noble of him. He could do that and people would remember him for the generous and loving soul he saw himself as.

It's sort of funny now that he thinks about it all. All his life he was trying to lose weight. Sure he went from nearly three hundred pounds to a slimmer one fifty eight, now almost one forty seven. But he could never get rid of that extra skin. That caused him a lot of sleepless nights. But it's all so meaningless now. Why did he always deny himself when he was just going to die one day anyways? Isn't life all about enjoying the moment after all? Why starve yourself skinny when you could accidentally walk in front of a bus? Or maybe you tell yourself that you can't afford to buy that cool shirt you saw in the store, only to have your throat slit by some guy with a knife and bad social skills? No. Now that he's at the end of the road it all feels like such a waste. There are so many things he should have done. So many people he should have been with. So many foods he should have eaten. So many parties he should have gone too. So many should 'ofs' he should of done. No matter. This was his last day and damn it he was going to enjoy what he could of it.

He sat at the kitchen table for about an hour more staring at his letter. How could he make it so it had more dramatic impact? He could explain the origins of his sexuality maybe? Or maybe he could come clean about the time he was raped? Now would be a good time to do it. He could never come to deal with that. He could never tell anybody else how much pain he endured both emotionally and physically from that night.

Was it his fault?

Did he really ask for it?

Is that why he is who he is?

Those two college guys and their apartment in Boulder? He decided that this would be a good time to come clean with it. Getting it all out would make his last moments feel less burdened. He began to put the pen to paper when he heard one of his roommate's footsteps from across the kitchen floor behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw that it was Paul. Wearing nothing but his Playboy boxers he was scratching himself on his crotch as he went straight for the coffee pot.

"My man." Paul commented as he got himself a cup.

"You're welcome." Brian relished this moment. He stared at his friend, admiring both his body and his seemingly endless love for his own well being. "So what are you up to on this fine Saturday morning?"

"I dunno." Paul rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Maybe go over to Shelley's or something. I don't know right now. It's too early." He took a sip of his coffee, without sugar or cream or anything, and smiled at his friend. "You sure want to wake the dead this morning don't ya?"

Brian looked from Paul's face down toward the black line of hair going from his navel to his boxers and back up. The sight of his taught stomach made Brian want to pull his own teeth out with pliers because he was so downtrodden when comparing himself to this perfect man. He sighed. "Would you want to go for a walk or something?"

"You mean like together? Maybe." Paul was hesitant. "Maybe if Mike goes too."

"I don't think Mike would be too up to it. I don't think he likes me all that much."

"I don't think that's the case."

"Whatever... Man."

"Well..." Paul took another drink of his strong black coffee and sat the white cup on the dinner table. He placed both hands on the surface and looked into Brian's eyes, as if to find any hidden meaning within them.

"I really want to take a walk with a friend today."

"Why?"

"Because I just feel like it's something I want to do today."

"Alright..." Paul began to giggle. "That's a pretty gay excuse though." He raised his coffee cup in salute. "Let me get dressed and see if Mike's up for it."

As Paul took his cup and started to head for the living room, but Brian spoke out before he could leave. "Thank you for always being so nice to me."

Paul stopped in mid stride and turned back to see his friend smiling sadly. "Are you ok man?" He took another sip and frowned.

Brian never broke eye contact. "I'm doing great. Better than I ever have in my life." Paul looked down at his size thirteen boney feet and took in a deep breath. He didn't know how to respond so he turned around and headed for his room.

As he left the kitchen Brian couldn't help but notice that Paul didn't even seem to even see that he was writing something, or at least trying to. He let out a long sigh and closed the notebook. He clicked the automatic pen in his hand and put it in the other one. He got up from where he sat and downed what was left in his coffee cup. He then went over to the sink and washed it out.

As they sat on the sofa and put on their shoes, Paul gave Brian a concerned look, his worry lines becoming more prominent than Brian had ever seen on him. He tried to blow it off as just another one of Paul's moments he seemed to have with him. He wasn't worried, in fact he took confidence in knowing that he was just doing it for show.

He's too good looking to be worried about a shit stain like myself.

Brian's vision started to blur a little from the wetness that was overcoming his eyesight.

Tall people have no feelings.

They got up from the couch and headed out the front door toward Paul's green Ford minivan. Another thing Brian regretted was never learning how to drive. Which would've helped him out considerably with things like going to shows, but he knew that he would of never been able to afford a car in the first place seeing as he never went to college and worked menial jobs that he deserved.

I shouldn't have been so hard on Roger and Julie. They were just treating me how I am supposed to be treated.

Brian got in shotgun and put his seatbelt on. He pulled the seat up closer to the front as to accommodate his small stature. He assumed the last person to sit in that seat was Paul's girlfriend.

"Where to man?" Paul asked as he put the keys in the ignition and pulled out the driveway.

"How about Washington Lake?" Brian offered softly. He stared out at the dilapidated neighborhood passing him by and felt a pang of sadness in his gut.

"Washington Lake?" Paul looked over at his friend and smiled. He reached over and messed Brian's hair a little with his free right hand. Brian smiled and relished the human contact. "You got it bud." He drove down Downing Street and onto Colfax where he eventually headed south on Broadway. As they drove he began looking over at Brian with that same worried look he had earlier.

"You know I'm a little worried about ya man."

"Really?" Brian was in actual shock. He went cold with the thought that maybe Paul knew what he was going to do. A secret part of him wished he did but it would change everything between them if this was the case. His stomach gave a little heave but he swallowed it all back down.

"Yeah. You just seem to be down a lot lately. I see you staring out into the yard from the kitchen and your eyes are always red. I know you've been crying and I can tell you've been crying today. What's up man?"

Brian sighed. "It's not something I really think you'd wanna have placed on you man."

"If I didn't want an honest response I wouldn't have asked dude."

Brian sat back and looked out the window. Maybe this could save him? "Well yeah man. My family... Well they're just not happy with me. Everything else that's going on. To be honest you two are the only human contact I get anymore."

"Well man I mean you could always go out and make some more friends you know?"

"No one wants somebody like me."

"Come on man."

"It just feels like I've burned my bridges beyond repair." They were getting close to the lake and Paul pulled into a parking space near the west side. The dirt path looked nice and properly groomed this morning. As if it was welcoming them into its warm embrace.

"I just don't get how you think man." Paul said under his breath. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The passenger side door was weird in that you had to open it from the outside. Paul opened the door and stepped back to give Brian some room to get out.

"Thanks." Brian got out and locked the door before shutting it. They walked from the minivan and out onto the dirt path that led all the way around the lake. Paul was wearing sandals so he wasn't able to walk as fast. Brian slowed his own natural stride and kept pace with the guy though.

"What's it like to be straight man?" Brian kicked up a bit of gravel as he walked.

"What?" Paul laughed. Brian gave him a sincere and hopeful look and Paul stopped mid stride. "Are you serious?"

Brian nodded.

"Like for real?"

"Well. Yeah. I just want to know what it's like. You know. To be normal." Brian tried to make a smile but his facial muscles just did not seem to want to cooperate with the messages his brain sent to them.

"Who's to say what is normal man." Paul scoffed and kept on walking. It took Brian a second to get the message and he caught up with him a few feet from where he stood. Paul looked back at Brian's sad face and decided to humor him. "Well. I'd suppose it's what it would feel like if you liked a hot guy. I mean, you'd get that initial reaction of 'Damn she's fine!' and your pecker would act accordingly." Brian kept walking, savoring the words of his friend. It was his last day after all. He was going to take in as much wisdom as he could before the big show tonight.

"I bet you've always gotten all the girls." Brian kept staring straight ahead. "I mean. You're thin, you're tall, you're good looking AND you're a freaking EMT. What girl wouldn't want that? You've got such a life ahead of you man." This worried Paul a little. He wasn't sure of what to make of the whole life ahead of you part.

"Well man there's always going to be someone out there for everyone. Even the bums sleeping in this park could get some tail if they tried hard enough and maybe took a shower. If what you're getting at is that you aren't good enough for anyone then you have a long road ahead of you my friend. You simply just cannot think that way." He put his big hand on Brian's shoulder and stopped him. "Yeah you may be short and gay but believe it or not there is a guy out their who thinks short guys are fucking hot!" Brian did not smile at this comment, instead the tears welled up further and he felt like collapsing under the weight of his body at that moment.

"I'm sorry." Brian's voice softly shivered.

"Man..." Paul was getting frustrated. He was trying his best to cheer the guy up but he just couldn't. His first reaction was to get mad but that wouldn't help his friend out any. "Do I need to take you anywhere man?" He grabbed for Brian's hand and held onto it. Brian shook his head and wiped away the tears with his shirt collar. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine." Brian whimpered. He held on tight to Paul's hand and they walked a good mile or so without saying a single word to each other. A few joggers hooted and whistled at the two grown men holding palms but at this particular moment in time, Paul really didn't care about what anyone thought. He was really concerned with his friend's well being. He knew something bad was up.

Finally when they had walked around the lake a few times Paul suggested they go get something to eat.

"Where?" Brian asked, a little calmer but still very worse for wear.

"I don't know, how does Breuger's Bagels sound?"

"Perfect." Brian placed his head on Paul's arm. Paul didn't push it away. He just let his head lie there as they walked back over to the car. His friend ran his fingers through Brian's hair and finally eased him away. Brian got in on his side and buckled in. Paul got in the driver's seat and did the same. They headed out downtown where bagels could be found.

Brian looked around the café where he had been dropped off at after he and Paul had parted ways (Shelly called.) Paul's a cool guy. He remembers when he first saw him and it hurt him so much to know that he was straight and that he could never have him. He's perfect. He would have been perfect. Every time he talked about his girlfriend in front of Brian it's like his heart fills with cement and sags in his chest cavity from the weight of it all. He wondered if he should include this in his letter. Confess his crush. It's not like he's going to have to live with the consequences anyways.

Did he really want to do this? It's the first time all day he's even considered the alternative. He has chickened out before, but he always regretted the decision, but then again he knows that his depression is circular. It comes and goes with what seems like the seasons. That never made it feel any easier though. It's always the same old thing. Whenever he got in these moods he just could never seem to snap out of it and it felt like no one understood this. Even his case manager told him that happiness is a choice. If it was a choice then who on Earth would ever choose to be so miserable? The case manager didn't like this reasoning at all. It was little surprise that when he ended up in the hospital a few days after any recent breakdown, the only person to visit him was Paul.

Perfect Paul... Tears welled up in his eyes when he thought about the man he could never have. It wasn't Paul's fault they couldn't be together. He was the normal one. Normal guys fuck bitches, drink beer, and watch football. No. It was Brian who was the freak. When you get down to the very biology of human nature, the meaning of life is simply to reproduce. Eating and sleeping and everything else were just things standing in the way of making babies. He couldn't even do it even if he paid a whore a hundred thousand bucks to fuck him.

I'm one of nature's invalids...

Maybe it's all a Darwinian thing. Whenever a population gets too overcrowded nature takes it upon herself to thin it out. Say a nice plague or a new strain of bacteria. Maybe homosexuality is her response to there being too many of us on this planet. It appears to some like the gay population is rising with each generation. It's becoming more and more common as the years go by. Some people are not sure if it's that more people are being born homosexual or if there were already a huge amount of gay people and it's just easier for them to come out in this day and age. One thing is for certain though. Every year there are more and more them.

They say there's over five thousand species of mammals who exhibit homosexual tendencies, bats being the most homo things on the planet. In humans it's only like five or so percent of the population who are gay, lesbian, bi, or transgender. Five percent makes for a pretty lonely existence.

After staring at what was written in his notebook for over thirty minutes he felt like he should just leave the letter half finished, for dramatic effect. Maybe he could wet it a little to simulate tears fallen on the page? He had so many options at this point, so many ways to extract sympathy. But even the thought of someone crying over him wasn't enough to motivate him now. When you're depressed it's like you're walking in a fog while pumped up on muscle relaxants. Nothing matters. You could lose a finger and it would just be a minor victory in the grand scheme of things, another reason why you're worthless.

Brian got another Italian soda to go and left. He couldn't be around people right now. It hurt too much.

As the day passed by he left cryptic voice messages on the phones of the few people left talking to him. Paul, Shelly, Fiz, and Mark got a little bit of his own brand of goodbye. He went to the library and emailed all the people he had messed over apology letters. Saying he's sorry for being stupid and that it would never happen again.

Brian went back home to lie the notebook in plain sight on the coffee table in the living room then headed back out.

After that it was getting near six o'clock. He didn't have much time left. He decided to spend the last few hours before he went to the hotel at the Hi Dive. He walked from Sixteenth and California all the way over to Ellsworth and Broadway to where the little bar / venue stood like an albatross. There wasn't a lot of people there tonight. Bummer. He wanted to take one more look at the faces of the people who were too cool to ever hang out with him. Those people who never returned phone calls. Those people who always said that maybe their spam filter ate the email he sent. The people he could never be...

Short and tall people have no feelings...

The band was a bluegrass duo from out of town and thank goodness they were somber and quiet sounding. Brian listened to the melancholy tunes while sipping from his dirty martini. It tasted very, very alcoholic and the singing feeling in his throat brightened Brian's mood a little. He never did go get sushi. It would just be another thing for the coroner to take from his stomach during autopsy. He didn't want to have to put the poor medical professional through the stench of rotted fish when he cut him open. He was thinking ahead and trying to be as considerate as he could for everyone involved.

No one should ever clean up somebody's exploded head...

Brian took another long drink from his glass.

That's why I have to do this the way I'm doing it...

He thumbed around his messenger bag where the Percoset bottle was held. The other pockets in it had the rest of his cash and a pint of high end Grey Goose vodka, only the finest for this occasion. After all, you only die once.

Fucking asshole.

Fucking fagot.

Fuck...

He took another sip of his martini and savored the dry taste. He wasn't drunk just yet, but he was sure getting there.

The band finished and he got up to go pee. In the dingy bathroom he felt his phone vibrate. He felt as if he wasn't in a position to answer it so he left it to voice mail. Maybe someone took his goodbye message to heart and knew what was up. He wasn't about to let anyone talk him out of it. Not this late in the game.

He'd been practicing all his life for this moment. All of those little suicides were just rehearsals for the big opening night, a bottle of Tylenol here and a cup of bleach there. He'd almost succeeded with a bottle of valium but was found at the last minute.

Who looks in the woods for bodies in the darkness of the night anyways?

The nurse told him he must have had an angel looking after him. He hoped with all his being that his angel was gonna take a coffee break before he overdosed.

Brian looked at his phone to see who had called. It was Paul. Anyone else he would've ignored but he didn't want to leave Paul with any bad feelings. He didn't want him to suffer over him, that is if it was humanly possible to even care about someone as lowly as himself. He hit the play button on his voicemail.

"Hey buddy!" Paul voice shook and sounded concerned.

Poor misguided fellow.

"Just wondering how you were doing man, wondering if you'd wanna hang out with me and Shelly tonight. You just seem like you could use someone you know?" Brian highly doubted any of this was true. "I can't speak for Mike man but I do care about you. I know I don't know you all that well and I'm sorry I haven't been the best friend to you all this time. It's just hard man. I don't know how to deal with your problems. I want to help but it just seems like I make things worse." Paul sighed. "People care man. I know I'm not the best talker but maybe we could watch a movie or something, just the two of us? Come on man." Brian could hear Shelly in the background.

"Just wanted to get in touch with you man. Life's not all that bad. Maybe I'm just reading this wrong. You scared me with that message you left on my phone. I may be wrong but it sounded like you were saying good bye."

Yeah I was...

Brian had to hold onto his swivel stall to keep from falling down. The alcohol was hitting him pretty hard.

"You've been acting weird lately and we're all worried man. We just don't know what to do. I've been looking things up on the internet and it doesn't make me feel too good. You've been giving away your shit. You've paid up three months of the rent in advance. I'm really scared man.

"Just..." He sighed again. "Just call me man." The click was louder than anything Brian had ever heard before. It was like a guillotine cutting him off from the rest of humanity.

Brian got up off his seat and slowly walked back out into the unusually sparse weekend crowd. A local band was getting on, one known for high energy and being loud. He didn't want to have to endure that during his final hours. He paid the tab and went for the door. The same red headed lady bartender called over to him.

"HEY!" She shouted over the music.

"Yeah?" Brian nervously replied, turning around expecting to be shot in the face.

"You left this. Are you sure man?" She waved a hundred dollar bill in her left hand. Brian nodded and the woman shook her head and put it in the tip jar. Brian walked out into the cold winter's eve and headed across Broadway to the other side. His hotel was on Eleventh Street. He was at the end. A sudden calm came over him as he walked toward his final destination. The city lights seemed a little duller than normal. The people coming toward him in their cars were all faceless and apathetic. Even the dog chained up to the Westword newspaper box next to the bondage clothing shop on First Avenue seemed to lack a soul.

As he walked he kept taking out his phone. No one had called him back. No one was wondering what he meant by goodbye. No one appeared to care that he was going away and possibly never coming back. Why didn't anyone seem to care? Everyone but Paul that is but thinking about him hurt his stomach too much. That beautiful man he could never have. He hated himself for having this unrequited crush on the guy. He wished he could be straight and not have this problem, to envy him for his girlfriend. Instead God made him lust after a man twice his size and fully capable of ripping his head off for even mentioning his feeling to him.

Paul wants me dead.

Maybe he would beat him, maybe he wouldn't. Brian's experiences with males weren't always good ones. Tall people scared him because eventually they will hit him. If they're gay and tall then they'd eventually rape him. All men are the same. If he called Paul right now he'd probably yell at him for being such a monumental pussy.

If he made him into a bad guy it would all be easier. If Paul were to hit him he could go peacefully.

Tall people have no feelings.

He would just piss on his corpse anyways. Even though he knew these thoughts were out of bounds it didn't stop them from scarring his brain with the idea. He felt weak and numb. Drained of all blood and in its place a viscous syrup. A syrup so thick his veins would collapse under the heft of his own suffering.

As he drew closer to the hotel he held his phone close to his heart. Paul hates him anyways... They all do. They'll all be so much happier with him gone. If he's so God damn special then why didn't anyone stop him from giving away his things. Why didn't anyone ask questions when he wrote dark poetry and left them on the kitchen table for everyone to see. Why didn't anyone care when he quit his job abruptly? Why hasn't anyone called him tonight? Well... aside from Paul.

He wants me to do this.

Could that one phone call possibly save his life? Or would he just be putting off the inevitable? He would eventually do this anyways. He's done it a few times already, athough not with as much planning and effort as this time. Does he really want to die? He could still call Paul up. He could still go to the emergency room. He could go to another doctor, one that listens, but he knows he could never afford anyone who'd pretend to care...

Brian got to the 11th Ave. Hotel and took in a long labored breath. He looked around his shoulders and in back to see if anyone was watching, if anyone had a clue. In the darkness he could see a distant figure of a bag lady pushing a King Soopers cart from down the street. No one else though. He was truly alone in this moment. He supposed the reason suicide pacts were more successful was because when you have someone to share in something it's more likely to get done. Someone there to encourage you in your efforts, he hadn't heard anything in recent memory any people chickening out when there was someone there to support them.

His cell began to vibrate and he took it out of his pants pocket. It was Paul again. Should he be flattered or disappointed that only one person seemed to care? What would his funeral look like, just one guy sitting there, not even paying attention but probably reading a book?

Paul is concerned because that's how we are SUPPOSED to behave in a situation like this. Normal people don't care about other people. They just do what society tells them is appropriate.

You are taught from an early age to help old ladies across the street.

You are told not to steal.

You are told to always us a napkin.

You are supposed to try and stop people from killing themselves, because that is what is expected of us. Not what we necessarily want to do.

He let it go to voice mail and put it back into his pocket. He went inside the door and checked in with the lady up front, who seemed bothered to be taken away from her TV show. He really didn't have to do this. He had already paid up until midnight and had gotten his key. He just wanted her to know he was there. So she would check up on him after he had done passed. Here was a bitch who was too bothered to be talked to with someone who had so little time left, it almost made him angry thinking about the amount of apathy in the world. Almost...

Everyone is better than I am...

No one cares. And if they do it's what they are supposed to do.

He made his way up the stairs near the back. Savoring each step and taking his time. Admiring the peeling wallpaper and dirty brown shag carpeting. What a dingy place to die. How perfect for a bum like him. He had thought about dying in an alley way but that was in some respects a stupid thing to do. Not if he wanted to actually go through with it. They have cameras around all the alley ways in Denver.

Drugs were the only thing that made his depression go away. It was better than Celexa. Better than Prozac. Even better them those silly experimental drugs that got pushed on him by doctors who get kick backs to test drive a pharmaceutical giant's new wonder pill. No... Happiness was a narcotic. When you're on opiates everyone is your friend. Everyone loves you and you love everyone. You could get mugged and hug the attacker in gratitude. That's how happy you are. It makes the pain of life just a little more bearable. You never really have a bad day as long as you maintain your high.

Brian took out the room key and rolls it between his fingers. This is it, he thought. He opened the door and went in. He locked the one dead bolt on the other side and placed his bag on the brown stained sheets of the low standing bed. Taking out the contents of his bag he placed the bottle of Percosets, bottle of vodka, a noose made out of nylon jumping rope, and a letter written on plain notebook paper explaining what to do with his body once found. Brian walked a few steps away and turned to the array of items that lied before him. He then remembered that there were also towels in the other pocket of his bag, he was going to sit on when he died. That way when his bowels loosened and his bladder let go he wouldn't make too much of a mess., though to just be on the safe side he evacuated both real quick before getting on with it, as to minimize the amount of undesirable body fluids on the towel. Someone will have to throw it away for him. He had to think of the poor person who was going to have to clean up after him.

Empathy...

He washed his hands in the dirty white sink in the bathroom that connected with the sleeping area. For some reason it seemed very silly to him seeing as where he's going... germs would be the last thing to worry about.

He laid out his messenger style shoulder bag on the floor and went for the bed. Brian stared at the bottle of pills for the longest time before finally twisting the cap open. He let a few pills fall into his hand and put them in his mouth. To get the effect faster he chewed on them before swallowing. They tasted bitter and chalky, but satisfying nonetheless. He repeated this procedure until most of the bottle was gone.

The Grey Goose took some strength to open but he finally got it after a moment of trying. It went down very smooth and Brian with minimal gagging, he felt it justified its massive price tag. The cool thing about top shelf liquor was that sometimes you could barely tell it was all that alcoholic. He kept on drinking once his mouth became numb with the alcohol, only putting it down long enough for a quick breath before he resumed. Brian continued this until there was less than a quarter of vodka left. That was enough he supposed and put the top back on. He put it next to the bed and got up to go to the bathroom.

From the open doorway he looked over to where the sink was. The place was so dingy that it had exposed plumbing under the sink. It was perfect.

Brian laid his cell phone next to the toilet and took out the last remaining pills from his pocket where he had the bottle.

This is it...

He put the noose around his neck and tightened it. Then he wrapped the end around the pipe under the sink and tied it into an incredibly messy but secure knot.

No more being a burden on everyone...

He took two more pills.

No more crying...

One more.

No more pain.

Two more for good luck.

No more loneliness.

Three for Paul's sake.

No more making others uncomfortable with my sadness.

He chewed on another one, savoring the chalky bitterness.

No more Brian to make anyone miserable.

He paused for a moment. This was it. Does he really need to go through with this? This will be forever. The thought of it all made his extremities go cold.

No more life.

"FUCK!" Brian shouted and slammed his fists down on the cold linoleum.

After the longest time of waiting his throat closed up and his head jerked up with the pressure. His eyes widened and then it all released. His body collapsed under his weight and he fell over as far as the noose would let him.

He was still awake but unable to move. Just like that time. Only now he knew what was coming. No surprise dick in his mouth this time. It was actually happening. But something was missing from this moment.

A sense of accomplishment...

That feeling he was hoping to have when he took the lethal combination. It was just sort of like waiting for two hours to see the killer's face behind the mask at a movie only to be disappointed at what was revealed. This wasn't what he expected.

He was scared.

His cell began to ring and he just stared at it. When it stopped ringing it would just start right back up again. He inched his body closer to the phone and with what strength he had left, he reached for it. He was too weak to really move much and whiteness began to cloud his vision. It began ringing yet again so he used his forefinger to bring it closer to him. He was in finger's length of the button needed to accept the call.

He was scared.

Pussy...

No more dumb ass Brian. The man whom if he wasn't gay, would've never been raped like the fagot his father told him he was. The fagot who wanted someone he could never have. The fagot that made so many people miserable with his presence.

You stupid fagot.

With the little strength he could he pressed his finger on his phone's touch screen.

"Hello!? Brian where are you!" Paul's voice echoed through against the solid bathroom walls.

"Paul..." Brian gasped, fighting for air.

"Brian! Is that you!? Where are you!?"

"Paul..."

The stupid fagot.

Short ugly fuck.

The boy no one wanted.

The lost lonely man.

"BRIAN! I found the notebook and I've called the police! They are using the GPS on your phone to find you! Stay on the line!"

"Paul..."

I am not a man...

"What is it buddy? Stay on the line with me man. Please whatever you do don't hang up!

I am a human sex doll.

I am the boy who wasn't sure what he wanted.

I am 24 years old.

I am five foot seven.

"For God's sake are you there man!?"

I am one hundred and forty seven pounds.

I never went to college.

"Brian please talk to me!"

I am the son of Ronald and Victoria Oldman.

I am the grandson of Holly Oldman.

I am the friend of Paul the wonder man with the big heart and an even bigger...

"Paul..." Brian's vision was fading.

"Yes Brian? Oh God please stay on the line with me man!"

There was a pounding at the door. Somebody was yelling on the other side but Brian could not make out any of the words through the fog of the drugs and alcohol. His vision was going white from the lack of blood to his brain.

No more...

Paul was crying, "Please man! Don't do it!"

"Paul," Brian gasped, choking on the noose. The white light they say comes to you the moments before death were blinding his vision. The commotion outside sounded like toy gavels hitting soft Styrofoam packing material.

"When you die you just go out like a blink. And that's it." John said to Brian as they lay together side by side on the grass.

"What about God?" Brian had asked.

"There is no God. There is no afterlife." John's words drifted far, far away.

"Paul..."

"Yes Brian What is it?!

The body separated from the mind.

The mind separated from the spirit.

The spirit separated from existence.

"Brian please stay with me!!!"

I am Brian Oldman.

"Paul," Brian could not feel the tears roll down his cold, numb cheeks. "I think I just did something stupid..."
***********************************************************************

Author's notes

This book was the result of me wanting to turn a short story I made about the last day of someone's life and make it into a full length novel. I am currently a member of the writers workshop on www.chuckpalahniuk.net and the said short story I mentioned was posted into the forum. I loved it anyways so it was really reassuring to have so many people give me positive reviews on it. It got me to thinking that if I can please that crowd then maybe there was some potential in making it into a full length novel. I hope you enjoyed it on some level, sucker took the life out of me writing it!

I don't know how many times I have to repeat this, no, many of the events described in this book did not happen to me, and if there is any truth to certain scenarios then they've been greatly exaggerated! I haven't lived the best life but I hold no qualms about my past and I really can't think of any way I could of done it better other than maybe I should of stayed away from drugs and went to college a little sooner.

A lot of what goes on in Brian's head could be considered gay bashing so I need to explain that I feel, I am gay myself and I still have weirdness associated with it from being brought up Southern Baptist. I've been where Brian is. I've come to terms with myself but I remember what it was like wanting to blow my head off because of who I am. I wanted to show this mindset in Brian so I could help the reader further understand his mental state of mind.

Does he die in the end? I honestly don't know. I've had that same ending in mind for the longest time and to be truthful the outcome changed so many times over the course of writing this that I just said "FUCK IT!" and left it the way I did. So your guess is as good as mine. Deep down I think Brian wanted to be found and rescued, but seeing the predicament he put himself in I'm not all that optimistic he got out of it alive. Who knows?

David McGhee was born February fifteenth nineteen eighty four in Orange County Florida to Betty and James McGhee. He has one brother and one half brother. When not writing he likes to spend his time with his cat Fish and reading. One More Suicide is his first full length book and it took about three weeks to write the first draft, a month more for subsequent rewrites.

David currently lives in Wheat Ridge Colorado.

Find out more at www.trueposer.com
