(damaged boys) 11

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.
you only get what you give
Jeanine was furious, Daniel arriving home shortly after nine that evening. Where the hell had he been and why hadn’t he the courtesy to call? These were the two questions thrust at him with rapid-fire repetition until he could do nothing else but lie. Lie hard and fast to get her to shut up. At least for now.

“Jennings asked me to sit in on a board meeting with the Chairman, and I couldn’t very well say no. I’m sorry for not calling. I didn’t mean for you to worry.”
With that lie confidently presented and accepted, she quieted. But, the chaos inside Daniel was nowhere near quiet. He’d just spent the past three hours prostituting his own morality with a young twenty-something gayboy. Home seemed different, Jeanine looked different, and it was if everyone could tell he’d been with Kyle. Concious of this, he did everything in his power to control his body language, to smooth over the rough edges…to throw any suspicious minds off course, to allay fears. To erase any emotional and psychological evidence.
He was sure he still smelled of sex, sweaty, masculine sex that Jeanine was sure to decipher. He jumped into the shower at home and turned the water up as hot as he could take it…scrubbing himself of the sweat, the dirt and the sin. He’d showered at the motel before dropping Kyle off at the bus stop, but he didn’t feel clean enough…no soap was strong enough to cleanse him.
And, as much as he tried to erase every thought and memory, he couldn’t help but to slip back into the bliss of holding Kyle…the passion and the sheer animalism of their time together. It all seemed so illicit and dangerous, and Daniel supposed that it was both. And it was more exciting and interesting than sleeping with Jeanine. Jeanine, who just wanted to be with Daniel so she wasn’t alone. This was different than all of that, different enough to make him want more. Once again, the guilt crept back and Daniel broke down into tears. What had he done? What filthy, horrible trespass had he committed? He turned the shower dial all the way to “Hot” and the scalding water burned his skin.
Daniel toweled dry and walked into the bedroom. Jeanine was undressed and waiting. He kissed her passionately, the way he’d learned from Kyle. His passion and guilt rose up from within, intoxicating him, rendering him powerless against it. He held Jeanine down, kissing her, fondling her and finally forcing himself inside her. The passion seemed to erase away the remnants of Kyle and the seedy motel. For Jeanine, it was a reassurance that Daniel did, in fact, still love her…that he still found her attractive…even when she didn’t herself. And so, they continued together…in consensual denial.
Kyle boarded the 82 westbound bus just shortly after nine. He was exhausted…and desired. He could still feel Daniel, and relished the sensation as he found a seat on the half-empty bus. His mind drifted to thoughts of the motel and Daniel’s slender, hairless body next to his. He remembered Braden’s harsh words and being dismissed…right into the waiting arms of his neighbor. Kyle laughed a little thinking how surprised Braden would be to find out Daniel liked to fuck boys, too…but probably not as surprised as Daniel’s wife would be if she ever found out…
“Hey faggot.”
Kyle looked behind him. Three thuggish looking guys were sitting in the seats behind and to the side of him.
“I’m talking to you, faggot.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, okay…cocksucker.” They continued to snicker and Kyle could think of nothing else but to get off the bus. He pushed the stop request button, and moved toward the front of the bus.
When he exited, he walked quickly from the bus stop. He didn’t notice the others follow him.
“Wait up, cocksucker.”
Kyle felt sick to his stomach. He turned and faced the three men from the bus.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to suck my dick, fag.”
Kyle didn’t feel the glass bottle smash against his head inasmuch as he heard the glass shatter. He heard the cackle of his assailants as they kicked him to the ground, cracking ribs and chipping his teeth on the pavement. He was paralyzed with pain, with fear and shock. He could feel the wet warmth as they urinated on him before running off into the urban shadows.
Kyle could feel the coldness setting in, the numb visitor creeping throughout his body, until there was nothing but distorted, tinny sounds coming from the street. He never heard the footsteps, nor the hurried banter of the passersby who found the crumpled heap of human being near the garbage cans…the strangers that stopped to help, who called paramedics…who saved his life with just a few minutes spare.