The Broken Road

Render Unto Caesar the Things that are Caesar’s

With a loud thud Ringo dropped his bag onto the floor and stretched, puffing loudly.

"I’ll take the lower right, 'kay?" he asked, turning to his three roommates. He took a few steps back to collapse on the bed he'd chosen.

"I wanna be up!" Ben jumped to take the place he had his eyes on, above Ringo. Two other boys, Ryan and Jimar, just shrugged and threw their luggage near the second bunk.

Ringo hadn't been assigned to a room with Kayden. Mrs Caughnotch had carried out a top-down division, and although each of them had felt slightly disappointed, they'd never admit it. It seemed absolutely stupid to protest and request an exchange.

When you wanted something too much, more than you felt you should, you became ashamed of it. And if you were aware of your desire, you tried to hide it, having the weird, irresistible conviction that everyone could see it just as clearly as you.

Thus, both Ringo and Kayden had gamely pretended they didn't really care, and at the same time each of them had been a little hurt by the other party’s surface indifference. Illogical as it was, they had somehow hoped, completely groundlessly, for the other's reaction.

"Shit, I'm so lazy," mumbled Ryan, lying sprawled and chewing gum. "Maybe we'll skip the game."

"Are you stupid, or what?" Ringo snorted mockingly. "How are you gonna skip? Where would you go, huh? And how do you plan to explain? Geez!" He rolled his eyes and dove into his bag to dig out his sportswear.

"Besides, we like b-ball, man, remember?" Jimar shook his head. His sneakers landed on the floor, thrown down from the upper bunk.

"Yeah, basically. I just got wasted yesterday. There was a party at Dan's house." Ryan sighed and, yawning, dragged himself off the bed.

"Face the music, punk," Jimar nimbly jumped down.

"Fuck off, asshole," Ryan muttered calmly. "I'll kick your ass anyway. Piece of cake."

"Yeah, right." The black-skinned boy showed him a middle finger and left, a mocking smile playing on his fleshy lips.

---

As two third classes had got to the Bayville well before noon, the occupation plan for them for the rest of the first day was full. One of the ideas the teachers were most proud of was the general competition. The students would be mixed at first and then divided into four co-educational teams. For the whole week they would compete in everything possible, starting with sports, through lessons and grades, finishing with completing everyday chores; and on the last day the winners would be exempt from assignment to the unpleasant mission of restoring the place to its original condition.

This time Ringo landed in the same team as Kayden, and both of them were secretly very fond of this fact, partly because Ringo wouldn't want to have Kayden as an opponent in sports, and partly because Kayden wouldn't want Ringo supporting the enemy forces with his high grades. Or maybe it was because of something else.

When the basketball match, the opening of the whole week’s competition, ended, Ringo's team had lost badly as Jimar hadn't given them any chance, pulling slam-dunks one after another. Ryan hadn't kicked Jimar's ass during the match, of course. To tell the truth, no one ever had, although many claimed they would have. Yes, Kayden was good at sports, but with that team there wasn't really much he could have done. Well, he hadn't treated it all that seriously, anyway, so the score hadn't destroyed his good mood at all.

---

"Ringo, man!" Ryan froze in the door of the bathroom. "What is—man, shit! When did you get that?" His brows shot up in surprise.

"Shut the fuck up!" Ringo snapped aggressively, wrapping himself tightly in a towel. He had already showered and was just about to put his clothes on.

"Oh, c'mon, show it, man. Show it!" Ryan tugged lightly at the corner of the piece of terrycloth hanging on his friend's hips.

"Keep your hands off!" Ringo hissed, clutching the towel like it was treasure.

"Why? Man, what’s gotten into you?" Ryan quickly pulled on his T-shirt and buttoned up his pants, ignoring the fact that his body was still wet. "That's fucking cool that you got yourself a tattoo! My old man would kill me for something like that. I don't get it—why are you so ashamed of it?"

"I'm not. Just...leave me alone, 'kay?"

"No, no can do." Ryan smiled teasingly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Show me. I wanna see," he demanded.

"God, you're such a pain in the ass," Ringo bristled angrily, but for a moment he bared his left buttock, revealing a small, sophisticated picture of a flying dragon. "Satisfied?" he asked impatiently and covered himself again. He quickly pulled on his pants, in too much of a rush to bother with underwear.

"Yep!" Ryan grinned happily. "Hey, that's really good. Why on the ass?"

Ringo shrugged. "Dunno, I guess I wanted to have it in a hidden place. My mother would kill me for something like that, too."

"Yeah, old folks are always so annoying." Ryan sighed compassionately. "By the way, I didn't know that side of you existed, Ringo." He smiled mockingly.

"You don't know many other sides of me, I'm afraid." There was a strange note in Ringo's voice and his words sounded much more serious than they should have. Ryan didn't catch it, though.

"A dragon on the ass. Well done, mister. Just why don't you want people to know?" For Ryan it was more than obvious that things like tattoos were made mainly to show off. Why decorate your body if no one would see it?

"I did it for myself. And I want to it to stay that way. Understand?" Ringo gave Ryan a warning face.

"Yeah, yeah...whatever you want." Ryan shrugged and covered his head and face with a towel. "But it's cool, anyway." He shrugged again, not understanding Ringo's attitude at all, and started energetically drying his hair. As soon as the water stopped dripping from his unruly strands, he threw the towel onto his bed and tossed at Ringo, "See you at lunch." Waving his hand, he left.

"Shit!" Ringo hissed quietly. He clenched his fists and shook his head with a feeling of helplessness. Slowly he arched back, lifting his head, to take a deep breath, and combed his wet hair with his hands. He took a couple of seconds to calm down his fast heartbeat and nerves. There was nothing to stress about, after all. Nothing had happened. Yet. Ringo hoped Ryan could hold his tongue, as the one and only person who really shouldn't know about his tattoo was Kayden.

Ringo still wasn't quite sure what had made him get that dragon. Imperceptibly, things had slowly started getting intense for Ringo and he needed "more". More of what? God almighty knew. Never mind. More of something. Something that had a connection with Kayden.

One Saturday, after the meeting with his father, Ringo’s unquenchable desire to create a more concrete bond between him and Kayden, which had been ripening in his heart for some time now, exceeded the "critical mass" point. A tattoo, the sign of a bet that had never really been made and lost, had seemed like a good idea to express that desire. And, above everything else, that decision had meant one important thing: Ringo had acknowledged the fact that that night had really happened. Moreover, that memory had been growing more and more important to Ringo, and he had accepted it. Finally he had embraced it dearly, giving up his defences and no longer trying to push it out of his reality.

Of course, it all had happened "somehow", some other way besides Ringo's consciousness. A minute of inattention, a moment of risky honesty, and a new feeling had made itself quite comfortable in the boy's heart. His head had become full of vague, yet nice and thrilling thoughts. They weren't quite clear yet, but they were already way too strong to be ignored. And all of them had that wide smile of Kayden's in them, the smile that was only for Ringo. And some...some of them were disturbing and exciting, making Ringo toss and turn from side to side for half the night as he tried to suppress the heat spreading through his body, moaning and panting into the pillow and yearning for something...for something....

That's why he’d had the dragon made. He’d needed something meaningful, a symbol of that yearning. He’d wanted to express those things boiling inside him; they were fighting to break free, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep them under control. Every time he saw Kayden the dragon burned on his ass, something burned in his chest, and his cheeks burned. And he yearned for something again, and the dragon was still not enough.

The time of easy, casual friendship had passed.

---

The campfire was huge. Golden sparks shot high into the starry sky and it was hard to tell them from the stars. The flames danced feverishly, having a magical, hypnotic power over the people sitting in a big circle. Shiny, empty eyes watched the fascinating spectacle with reverence, only the crackle of burning logs disturbing the silence.

Yet one pair of eyes lingered on another phenomenon. Completely unconsciously, Ringo stared at Kayden, bewitched by the handsome face painted in warm gold and red colors by the fire’s glimmer. The melancholy on it gave Kayden's face a soft, gentle look, almost spiritual, and his thoughtful, or maybe thoughtless eyes sparkled, reflecting wild frolics of blaze. Ringo felt the heat of the fire soaking through his skin and circulating in his veins. Almost dreaming, he rested his head on his arms, his knees under his chin, and he watched, and watched...and it was so hot near that passionate, untamed fire.

Ringo didn't even realized when the grey eyes abandoned the fire and their look rested on him. On his blissful, dreamy, hot face. When it got through to him, the shock that gripped him had the strength of a heart attack. Ringo's insides contracted suddenly, so powerfully that it hurt and caused momentary nausea, and for a short while he couldn't breathe. His pulse went mad and felt like it was about to blast out of his head. He needed to escape.

I have to...bathroom. Holding his belly, still clenched by sudden stress, he stood up and, not looking at Kayden any more, started off to the building.

The water didn't cool down his inner fire, although it refreshed him a little. He didn't feel like fainting from shock any more. God! He caught me. He fucking caught me! Ringo was scared shitless now. Although it was still too soon for him to name his feelings, it was obvious that they shouldn't had happened. And he definitely shouldn't have stared at Kayden in such a way! He was so scared of whatever might happen...

He walked out of the bathroom and approached the corridor window. It was open, so he exposed his wet face to the fresh night breeze and rested his elbows on the window sill, leaning out. He could see the campfire from here. He could see...Kayden? Where...? Ringo knitted his brows. Where was Kayden?

"Hi." The sudden shock of the voice behind his back almost killed him. He turned like a shot, squeezing the window frame hard to keep his balance, for his legs wobbled precariously and his heart went crazy again.

"What are you doin' here?" Ringo whispered. He hadn't intended to whisper, but it was all his throat could bring itself to stammer out.

"You left so suddenly. Is everything all right?" Kayden's face didn't look particularly concerned in the soft semi-darkness of the corridor, rather more like curious. Deep shadows gave it a mysterious expression, and in the eyes there were two shivering golden sparks—small campfire reflections.

"Yeah, why? Can't I even go to the bathroom? What are you, my nanny?" Ringo smiled wryly in an attempt to hide his embarrassment and nerves behind a cocky attitude.

"Whatever you say," Kayden sighed, his face turning sour. "I'm going back, then." He shrugged and slowly turned back. Too slowly.

Ringo noticed.
"Why did you come here?" he asked, already knowing that Kayden was reluctant to leave and intended to stay.

"Told ya—"

"Yeah," Ringo cut in, his voice slightly derisive. "Me too. I told ya."

"Yeah." Kayden turned back. He slipped his hands into his pockets and waited, looking Ringo straight in the eyes, his face tense.

"Yeah."

Yeah.

Something could be felt in the air. The urge to let it come fought to get the better of them, against the temptation of postponing it again. The endless, existential battle between the desire to know the truth, and fear that the truth would be something different than they wished for.

"Say...do you think about it sometimes?" His face tight with mental effort, Ringo took the first step. He wanted to know. He had to know.

Kayden tensed up even more and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, burying his head in his shoulders. "About what?"

"You’re doing it again." Ringo knew that Kayden knew. The blond boy was visibly nervous - too nervous to have not taken the right track. "Don't," he warned.

"I don't know what to tell you," Kayden answered slowly, his alert eyes glaring at Ringo. "What do you want to hear?"

"Oh, fuck. You're not making this easy." Ringo balanced on the verge of losing his nerves.

"I don't want things to be more uneasy." Kayden's voice was kind and hesitant.

"That's exactly what you're doing."

"I'm not a genius, Ringo. I...don't really know how to make everything work." Kayden lowered his head for a moment before he looked at his friend again, his head tilted to the side. "I—I'm afraid of giving you either answer."

"Oh, shit." Ringo ran his hands over his face and turned his back to Kayden, leaning out through the window again. "Fuck it, you know?" he snapped, almost angrily. "I have. I have thought about it. So have you?"

He heard steps coming closer and a trembling voice answered impulsively, "Every fucking single day. That what you wanted to hear?"

Ringo didn't know what he wanted. He just knew that his head was starting to spin, and his heart had become quite possibly the most powerful pump in the world. He had forgot to prepare himself for such a case. For any case, to be specific. But was it even possible to have prepared for something like this?

Kayden's arm brushed Ringo's shoulder when he leaned his back against the window frame.

Ringo shuddered. "I...do you regret it?" he whispered.

"Do you?"

"Answer me." Ringo's voice was demanding and impatient.

"I regret that things got so tense between us."

"That's not what I'm asking." Ringo wasn't going to let Kayden slip away with that.

The long silence, full of tension and untold feelings, was unbearable. At last Kayden sighed through his nose and bristled, ready to launch his defences. "Fine. No. I wish—" he stumbled, "um, I mean...no." Something, self-preservation maybe, had stopped him from saying everything. "I'm sorry if that makes you feel bad." His sweaty hands clenched into fists in his pockets, and one foot, resting on the other, started to twitch nervously.

"It doesn't, Kayden. It doesn't," Ringo whispered, obsessively rubbing his hands against each other. Surprisingly enough, his stomach relaxed. The fear was letting go. Yet a different emotion quickly squeezed his guts again—irresistible, overpowering. Yearning...so hot it was painful.

Kayden tilted his head back, leaning it against the window, and closed his eyes. Ringo's words were all he’d wished to hear. He was still too jittery to smile, but the warm feeling of hope and happiness had been given a chance.

For a poignant moment they stood near the window in silence, still afraid to enter the new world of possibilities and ways that had just opened before them. Wanting it all, more than they could describe in words or had imagined before, yet overwhelmed, they just watched, already holding out their hands but not having the courage to grab what had suddenly become reality.

"So...what now?" Ringo whispered, feeling his heart pounding everywhere: in his feet, in his stomach, in his fingers, in his head.

"What do you mean?" Kayden was still afraid to take the words for what he thought they meant.

But Ringo couldn't take it any more. "Wanna do it again?" He raised his head and looked warily at the blond boy, who turned his surprised face to Ringo.

"Are you kidding me?" He couldn't believe it. Not yet.
 
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Ringo twisted his mouth. "I'm so fucking nervous I’d probably collapse if it wasn’t for the window. But of course, you have to make it complicated."

"I don't," Kayden answered quickly. "I don't." He shook his head. "I don't. I do. I mean—" He blushed and hunched his back. "I want to. Very much, Ringo. I...." With trembling fingers he brushed Ringo's hand, as lightly as with a feather. When the hand twitched, he quickly withdrew, disconcerted. "Shit" escaped his mouth, together with a nervous chuckle.

Ringo swallowed hard, staring at his hand. He could still feel Kayden's touch there, and it was giving him goose bumps. The sensation was stronger than he’d imagined it would be. It was stronger than what he’d felt in his erotic fantasies, when Kayden hadn't been touching just his hand.

Stiffly and clumsily, as if it wasn't his own hand he was moving, he reached for Kayden's where it rested on the sill, sweaty, clenching and straightening by turns. With his heart in his throat, he caressed Kayden's fingers—not the whole hand, just four fingers, just with the tips of his. His hand felt like it belonged to someone else and didn't want to obey him at all; it was stiff, trembling, cold, and wet. Disgusting and pathetic.

But for Kayden the whole situation was far beyond the categories of "disgusting" and "pathetic". The quality was meaningless in the eyes of such intensity of sensation. He pulled his hand from under Ringo's and hesitantly ran his fingers in a clumsy, feverish caress over the back of Ringo's hand, impatiently moving it higher, along his sleeve to his chin. He cupped Ringo's face, his hand still trembling annoyingly. He couldn't calm it, the skittish small animal.

Ringo straightened up to face the other boy. It was coming. His solace. His satisfaction.

With his thumb Kayden brushed Ringo's lips, attracted to them by some strange power of gravity. The lips parted slightly and the soft flesh of the lower one succumbed to the caress, shifting to the side as the thumb pressed it.

Kayden bit his lower lip and pressed harder, slipping his thumb shallowly into Ringo's mouth. It didn't meet any resistance. The soft, wet interior surrendered to it and offered the promise of heaven.

His face twisted by a strange, inexplicable pain, his eyes pleading, Kayden moved closer to Ringo, and with his mouth he followed the trail of his thumb. As soon as their breath mixed and their lips touched, they immediately understood there would be no satisfaction. "Enough" was not an option any more, as the hunger only grew with the consumption. The pain of that disappointing discovery made them stop for a split second, but the desire was now, while the unsatisfied desire would come later. And later was too far away to mean anything now.

Kayden clung to Ringo's mouth with his hungry lips, hesitantly at first, intoxicated by the fact that the dream was coming true and making sure it really was, and then with all his might, born of frustration and longing.

"Aaaah...." Forcing his tongue into the place where he felt it belonged, Kayden moaned woefully, defeated by his own emotions, tension breaking inside him. His hands swept the other boy to him and hugged him close, almost brutally. So close that closer was impossible, yet still not close enough. Kayden pinned Ringo against the window frame, pressing him with his whole body: arms, chest, abdomen, thighs, knees.

"God—I—God!" he almost sobbed. The force of feeling was so strong it was uncomfortable. It was driving him crazy. He had so many emotions inside he didn't know what to do with them, how to focus them.

And Ringo didn't help at all. He sucked Kayden in with his body and soul, reaching for kisses with cold hands and hot lips; clinging to him and slipping his knee between Kayden's. His soft lips were alluring and inviting, and Kayden was nearly drunk on them.

"I—I—" Ringo's feverish hand caressed Kayden's face; their foreheads touched each other, noses brushing. "For a long time," he whispered incoherently.

"I know. I—since—"

"I'm scared. I never—but—that—" Ringo's lips ghosted over Kayden's ear and caught his earrings slightly, making the blond boy shiver. "Later."

Lips found lips again and blindly tried to achieve what couldn't be achieved. In the state they were in, they weren't even able to taste their kisses properly. Just as starving people attack food ravenously—only to satisfy their hunger, with no regard to the taste, quality, and other secondary attributes—they devoured each other out of simple need, savoring going far beyond their ability to discipline.

Suddenly Ringo released himself from Kayden's grip, moaning plaintively, "Shiiit, I gotta piss."

"What?" It took Kayden some time to understand.

"I gotta piss," Ringo repeated in a plangent voice. "It's, um, like—from excitement?" He blushed, embarrassed. "It feels like it. It’s never happened before, though."

Kayden chuckled, recovering from his haze. "I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Well, my dog used to pee from joy." As soon as Kayden said it, he gave a small cough, realizing the ineptitude of the comparison.

"Your dog?" Ringo's face expressed surprise. "Your dog? Shit." He shook his head and laughed sincerely. "I gotta go, anyway." He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Come back quickly, 'kay?" Kayden smiled warmly, brushing Ringo's temple and sweeping his dark hair aside.

"Sure." Ringo leaned forward and gave Kayden a small, innocent kiss on the swollen lips. "Wait here." Having said that, he flew to the bathroom.

---

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l.fire - um... are you a little dazzled? ;) I know, it's stupid of me to ask. Just kidding ;) Well, I guess we start our adventure!

DrkDreamer - we had our little conversation :) I hope you've managed to read this story finally. Have you? ;)

julianYES - hello :) Yep, you get it right! I have plenty of emotions inside and sometimes it's difficult to put them all into one story. It might be a mess. This way I think it works better and I hope it suits you as well :)

Talk to me, ladies and gentlemen! :D