Silence
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CHAPTER 1: Silence
The car was silent. Dead silent, for in fact, many small deaths had taken place. The death of a relationship that could not survive without the light of day. The death of parental expectations for an easy life of school, a job, then wife and kids. Oh nothing had been said, but the silence clamored with accusation. In the quiet, Johnny leaned against the car window, staring at the greenery and seeing Steven walk away. He was aware that the silence damned him as certainly as though he had screamed the truth out to the void. His parents had been confused by the contradiction in stories about the weekend Steven had come over. Then Steven had come out to the world. Now, the silence spoke of questions that had answers they didn't want to hear. If they didn't ask, they didn't have to know. Yet they also knew that heknew what questions filled the silence. The fact that he didn't address them, in essence, answered them. They also knew that he knew this as well. Still, never said aloud meant never needing to be acknowledged and that mean expectation could still be met. Duty fulfilled. The chains of upper class could not, should not be broken - freedom was only word, not a way of life. Johnny would attend Oxford, marry a beautiful woman of breeding (not Christina of course, beautiful though she was, she had posed in underwear ads) and bear wonderful grandchildren to be spoiled. By Johnny's silence, his parents knew what he did not say but also therefore what his future held. The chains held and love withdrew it's threat. Still... Johnny stared out the window at the greenery and watched Steven walk away.
It had started innocently enough - a midnight walk, a cold swim but then, oh! Everything had taken on a Dali-esque slant, sliding and melting into recognizable but distorted images. Desire was known, tenderness had been felt, but not for this form! Not for this image! As the known melted away, fear charged in and he had run. So far, so fast, so scared. Everything was threatened. He shook every time he thought about it it had been so close - so he blocked it away. Sometimes in his dreams he felt safe and tender as he was held and dried by knowing hands. Hands that touched him all over, hands that harnessed an inner furnace of heat that exploded in his dreams and on his sheets leaving him clutching his pillow and saying over and over "It's not me, it's not me..." In school one day, he read that only by confronting one's fears could they be laid to rest. So he decided - he would face his foe. He would go and prove to himself that it wasn't what he wanted. Only, of course, it didn't quite work that way as some deep level of himself had known it wouldn't but that needed this to happen anyway. On the day John Dixon chose to conquer himself, he was conquered. Steven Carter, a year behind, but still noticed and tormented by Kevin and the others looking for an easy mark. He was different, anyone could see it, but only in a way that bullies and kindred souls could vaguely comprehend. Meeting him and unknowingly propositioning him placed Johnny in the latter position, albeit unintentionally and unwanted. At his house that day all Johnny could admit to was being intrigued, as if describing his feelings toward a particularly intricate game and not a state of being riddled with confusion and fear. His mind said run, his mouth said intrigued and his hands... Oh, his hands betrayed him. His hands, unbuckling Steven's belt while gazing into his eyes, shook with need. If Steven hadn't pushed for a kiss... He had though, and Johnny's brain had engaged his legs, which were still obedient, and he had again run like hell. This wasn't Geography trip though, and Steven went to the same school. Johnny saw him every day, and with every glimpse his body sweated, caught between want and fear. In the bathroom, letting Steven take pictures for the school mag - he burned but denied. Finally, the night of the ball, he couldn't take it anymore. Staring at Steven, Steven staring back and Christina barely noticeable in his arms, he had known that he had to purge himself of Steven's allure once and for all. So he went, got pissed and discovered that some aspects to yourself you can either rip out, never the same again or accept and are never be the same again. When he kissed Steven he burned. When he touched Steven the tingle in his groin traveled like the rays of the sun, lightning along each nerve. When he exploded into a million pieces, he reassembled into something that resembled Johnny Dixon with a few rearrangements.
Now Steven walked away, and John silently answered the unasked questions and bound himself to his fate. Still, a tiny voice told him that if he was brave enough, strong enough he could throw off these shackles of expectations and then he would see Steven walk back towards him. The question was - was love worth it. Fear and desire, expectation and love mingled together and his future floated on their currents.
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