(damaged boys) 2

There were five of them in the row of townhouses, and underneath the sheen of public normalcy and personal success lived the gaping damage within.
Daniel
Daniel had noticed Braden first when he was taking out the garbage on Friday morning. He noticed his ease of motion, Braden’s quiet, seemless poetry of movement from the garage to the curb and back. Each time, toting heavy garbage bags filled with the detritus of his life. Living with obsessive-compulsive disorder meant trash days were always robust. Daniel noticed the systematic precision as Braden moved. Although handsome, he’d never be picked out of a crowd. Daniel caught himself staring an instant too long, and found himself flushed, embarrassed.

But Braden had not seen him. Good. Jeanine would be leaving for work soon, leaving Daniel at home alone for an hour before leaving for work. Just enough time to jack off in peace, without having to think about her.
Daniel worked as a consultant for an ultra-conservative political think tank. His days were filled with strategy sessions, tactical public relations offensives and power lunches with leading politicos and key influencers. He had been raised in the South, and he was proud of his rich heritage. Born the son of a South Carolina State Senator and an Assistant State Attorney General, politics was a way of life. It coursed through him. Educated at Wake Forest in North Carolina, he’d met Jeanine at a political fundraiser for Sen. Jesse Helms in the early Nineties. She hailed from Greenville, South Carolina, and was the product of a decent and well-liked family. She was pretty enough, and it was expected that he would marry. He would marry someone from an acceptable background, acceptable family. And during his grad school days at William and Mary, they grew closer. Close enough to fuck on a regular basis. It was dutiful, unfulfilling and protestant. She’d said yes because he’d told her he loved her, and he’d loved the sheer control, the forcefulness, the rage. And she simply took it, because she was amazed that anyone could love her, that he could see beyond her cherubic exterior. He didn’t. He’d replaced her in his own mind with some fantasy, some perfectly-shaped beauty Jeanine could never be. He told himself this was normal.
He’d thought about Braden…about his appalling homosexuality. How could he justify the endless stream of rough trade in and out of his house? How could he think it was acceptable in the eyes of God? Daniel imagined Braden…doing that with those young men…imagined the sound…imagined the illicit, the forbidden act. The touching…the kissing…the animalistic sounds of two men fucking each other.
And it disgusted him.