Narrative of Soul Against Soul

CH 11 : To the Right Thing

Joshua


I didn’t notice my parent’s questions. I didn’t notice the kids screaming on the bus. I notice a single class. I didn’t even get my books from my locker. Nothing registered until lunch time when I was perched in the courtyard. Pansy stepped out of the cafeteria’s door like she was a meat-covered child crawling into a lion’s den. I didn’t move. With my head in my hands, my mind only wanted to ponder what I’d lost. Well, what I’d potentially lost. Nothing had actually transpired yet. I wiped more pitiful tears away and lifted my head.

“Josh,” Pansy began. I didn’t want to hear her tell me what scum Render was or how I shouldn’t go after him. It would be putting salt on amputations.

“Don’t, Pansy. Just don’t. I can’t stand to hear any scolding any that you’re ready to dish out.” I scowled harshly at her.

She was shocked. “Josh, do you really think I’d kick you when you’re so obviously down.”

I observed her blankly; “I think you’d kick me whenever you feel like.”

Pansy sank onto the bench. She regarded me miserably. “I—” she began only to be interrupted by Trauma bouncing right up to us.

She had on a black button down dress with a lime green belt, matching tights and purple and green yarn braided into her hair. Pansy stared like Trauma was the lochness monster.

“He didn’t mean it,” Trauma announced cheerily.

“What are you?” Pansy growled. She had slid back into her bullshit persona—all judgmental, rude and angry. Trauma held her hand in Pansy’s face regarding only me.

“Renny didn’t mean it. He’s not used to loving. He used to fucking…a lot of fucking, but not loving.” Trauma said earnestly joining me on my perch on the back of the bench.

“He barely even wants to fuck me,” I responded mostly to myself. I was pathetic.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. I sighed. Gone was the loyal friend that stood by me a moment ago. Here now stood Pansy the narrow-minded, superficial, heartless follower. I wanted to throw up all over her.

“That’s gross, ” she declared dismissively. She turned to leave, but Trauma grabbed her arm pulling her so close that their noses were almost touching.

“No, what’s gross is that you let those meathead assholes stick their pork in you when you really want…” Trauma leaned forward and whispered to Pansy, whose face went pink and eyes went wide. Pansy jerked away trying to run, but Trauma yanked her back letting their breath mingle before shoving Pansy away.

Trauma strutted back to me while Pansy stood stunned then ran out of the courtyard. I stared at the spot where Pansy had stood. Not since middle school had I seen her react realistically to anything.

“She used to kiss me” Trauma smiled nostalgically.

“What!” I almost fell off the bench.

“Yup, all though eighth grade I lived in shelters where Pansy’s mom volunteered. Sometimes Pansy would come along. We got close until one day she just kissed me. I had already done some real fucked up shit at that point so kissing another girl my age felt innocent and nice. Pansy didn’t think so. She used to get so upset, but I guess, it was like a drug for her. When I got adopted, Pansy and I had sex because she, and I quote, ‘didn’t want me to forget about her,’ but the second I show up here she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me,” Trauma laughed sardonically.

I stared at Trauma in utter shock. Why hadn’t Pansy told me this? What was the point of keeping this from me? I just had no clue. Trauma gripped my shoulder and nearly threw me off the bench from shaking me so hard.

“Not the point, not the point, not the point!” She screeched. I had to smile. As strange as she was with her colorful dreadlocks, I couldn’t help but find Trauma endearing.

“Alright,” I began as if speaking to a five-year-old, “What’s the point?”

Trauma scowled at me playfully catching the slight condescension in my tone, “The point, ass-hat, is that Renny needs reassuring.”

I laughed. I hadn’t meant to, but I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding?”

Trauma leapt up stomping her booted foot, “I’m not. Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed allowing myself a moment to catch my breath, “But, seriously, Render is a god. He’s perfect in everyway. No one is more beautiful, more powerful or interesting than him. Why—”

Trauma beamed as she clenched my shoulders and ripped off the bench pulling me face first into a bone-crushing hug. “Tell him that,” she sang as the bell rang.

“But,” I started, but she interrupted again.

“What your perceive means nothing. I am telling you the truth of the matter,” she decreed patting me on the head.

“What are you, the spiritual guru?” I asked angrily.

Trauma just smiled. “Basically,” she replied before disappearing into the abyss of students moving from lunch to class. I supposed I should join them. My body moved toward my locker, but my mind was stuck on what Trauma said.

Tell him? Tell him? Tell him what? Tell him that I loved his scent, his hair, his style, his voice. Tell him that the sight of him, the sound of his voice makes me rock hard? Tell him that I may even love him?

That thought stopped me dead in my tracks. I let it roll through my mind for a minute until the bell rang. I was late, but I couldn’t even think of what class I had. I needed to go home. I quickly unlocked my locker only to be rained upon. An ocean of roses flowed out of my locker. I stood in a sea of roses and could’ve cried. Only one person I knew was grandiose enough to pull off something like this. There had to be over two hundred roses all over the hallway. At least half were red, with the rest being pink, white and orange. I had to go see him. At the back of my locker, I found a note with a long stem yellow rose that had ed around its edges. As I reached for the gorgeous flower and note, my hands trembled furiously.

I’m sorry. I wish you had stayed.
-R

Then, I did cry. All this anger and despair proved completely unnecessary. I grabbed my hoodie and a single red rose and ran for the art room. As I rounded the corner I ran face first into a guy I recognized as Ziptie. He looked at me like I was the anti-Christ. He could help. I had to swallow my fear.

“Hi, um—” I began staring straight at my feet. Why was I scared? This guy had the exact build that I did.

“What do you want?” He said gruffly.

I glared at him in the eye. “Where’s Render?”

He laughed. It was a dark, deep noise that went straight to my groin. Shut up, I’m a sub. Big and dangerous is my type. “Why d’you ask?”

I looked at him dumbly, “Because, oh I don’t know, I wanted an answer? Seems like a good reason to ask anything.”

His face blanked and I heard a weird clinking. I assumed it was the metal in his mouth because he seemed to wear it everywhere else on his face. He had two small studs under the left side of his bottom lip and a single hoop through the right side. His right eyebrow held three hoops, and a short bar pierced the bridge of his nose. I had to stifle a laugh as I thought of the havoc a magnet would reek on his face.

“Went home.” the dark voice broke my amusing train of thought.

“What? Why?”

Without answering, he continued on his path. I sighed and threw my hoodie while gingerly placing the rose in my pocket. I changed destinations. I went to the office and signed myself out. Walking to the bus stop, I pulled on my headphones and readied myself for the ride.

After about an hour, I stood outside Render’s apartment building for half an hour. I didn’t how to get in, and once I did, I had to remember Render’s apartment number. Once I accomplished those minor tasks, I had to figure out what the fuck I could say. Just as my mountain seemed to be growing too high, Render’s brother strolled out of the building. He creeped me out big time, but he could make a molehill out of the current situation.

“Uh, Render’s brother?” I ran towards him as he searched questioningly for whoever would refer to him as such.

He looked at me sadly, “Zasha.”

“What?”

“My name is Zasha Minik Koln. And you are the tramp that has broken my brother.” Zasha turned to walk away.

“No! I’m not a tramp,” I ran so I stood in his path, “I’m not! I…he…Render was…well…the first.” Zasha looked at me doubtfully. “I’m serious. The first ever. I thought he didn’t want me so I left last night angry and sad, and I stayed that way all day until I opened my locker after lunch and was almost drowned in roses. Roses! No one in their right mind would buy that many roses, except Render. He’s strong, beautiful and amazing and he needs to know that I don’t hate him. I think I may even love him,” I panted heavily as Zasha tossed me the keys.

“Buzz in cod is 67913 and it’s apartment 1025,” Zasha replied softly before continuing on.

“But how will you get back in?” I called after his retreating form. I received no response.

Standing anxiously in the elevator, I tried to think of clever, romantic comedy things to say, but none fit our predicament. Why was there a movie about two guys that met in a whirlwind of passion, hurt each other and ended up happily ever after? Whatever I came up with had to be perfect. The elevator dinged as the door slid open to the tenth floor. I trudged through the hallway counting—1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11. All the while contemplating what to tell Render. I stopped at door hearing some sad plucking guitar wailing away inside. I unlocked the handle and walked in feeling very uncomfortable. Render was curled up in the armchair with sad, strange music playing from somewhere.

but i fell for the promise of a life with a purpose
but i know that that's impossible now.
and so i drink to stay warm
and to kill selected memories
'cause i just can't think anymore about that
or about him tonight
i give myself three days to feel better
or else i swear i'll drive right off a fucking cliff
'cause if i can't learn to make myself feel better
how can i expect anyone else to give a shit?
'cause i swear that i'm dying, slowly but it's happening
and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
just take me there, just take me there, just take me there
and lie to me, and say, and lie to me, and say
it's going to be alright
it’s gonna be alright

As played I become more and more upset with myself. I found the iPod speakers and turned off the crooning young man’s gravelly voice. Render opened his eyes.

“You’re not real,” he said to me clearly stretching slowly. The sight of his gorgeous chest laid bare for me and all my energy was focusing on not walking over and licking him. “I’ve been dreaming of you everywhere, and now my cruel fucking mind is dreaming of you here, but you wouldn’t come here, would you? No, no, you wouldn’t. Just like Rage wouldn’t let no mean no, just like every other one wouldn’t let leave mean leave.” Render turned over in the chair and began drifting back off.

“Render, no, I—” the sound of my voice jolted him awake. He stood slowly and walked determinedly to me. He was only wearing black seamless briefs. My eyes and jaw almost hit the floor.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. My brain tried to wrap around the question, but it just couldn’t. Render took another step forward. His jade eyes burned me with their anger. I wanted to kneel at his feet, to beg forgiveness, to give him head for hours. Godamnit, he looked too good. “I’m waiting,” he said.

I feel to my knees and held up the flower, “I though you didn’t want. I thought it was just sex, but I felt more. I want more. I crave more from you. And when you left all those roses and that note, I cried. I cried and I came here, and your brother gave me the key, and you’re gorgeous and powerful and perfect. Render, you are so fucking perfect. I just want to worship you. I know I’ve probably said way too much, but I think I love you.”

Render just stared down at me blankly.


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