Lessons Learned

Russell watched as his teacher wrote another sentence on the board, asking a handful of students to add in the proper punctuation and remove or change the words that were not grammatically correct. For probably the hundredth time since Hal had returned to his rightful place in front of the class, Russell noted with a smirk how nice normality was. Familiarity. That wasn’t to say that things weren’t a little different since the incident in Hal’s apartment what was already almost a month and a half ago. But even with that change, there was a sense of “back to the way things were” between Hal and him, one that Russell relished with every part of himself.

“Your homework’s on pages twenty-nine and thirty. I’m collecting first thing tomorrow, so if you’re going to wait to do it in class, do it in somebody else’s.” A murmur of amusement and grumbled reluctance went through the room as the bell rang for dismissal, everyone getting to their feet, packing away their things, and heading out. Everyone except Russell. He waited until the room was empty, tucked his belongings into his back pack, and walked nonchalantly up to Hal’s desk. “Can I help you?” Hal asked without looking up from the ungraded papers of the day’s quiz, frowning at some particularly imbecilic answers.

“It’s Tuesday.” Russell said simply.

This time, Hal rolled his eyes, allowing the boy his attention. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” Russell smirked. “Did you think I was kidding?”

“Maybe not for the first couple of weeks, but this is ridiculous, Russ.” Hal shook his head, looking back at the papers, but Russell moved in front of his desk, putting a hand on top of the pile.

“I told you I’d ask every Tuesday until you said yes. And I meant that.” He said in all seriousness, removing his hand once Hal’s eyes were on him again. “So, it’s Tuesday. Please get the surgery.”

“No.”

“Or at least consider the treatment! I know it has some fallbacks, but who cares as long as it saves your life, right?”

“Okay, kid. You’ve had your soapbox moment for this week, now go home.”

Russell groaned. “Oh, come on, Hal. Be reasonable!” He put his bag down and leaned against the man’s desk, looking at his teacher with pleading eyes. “You’re running out of time.”

“Look, Russ.” Hal sighed, dropping his pen onto the pile of papers forgotten and turning his full attention to the persistent and annoyingly adorable student before him. “My whole life, I’ve only ever had to worry about myself. And I like it that way.” He ran a hand through his hair, once before removing his glasses and placing them on the desk. “That surgery you’re so determined I get, the treatment you claim will save my life, may not work. And in the process, it could ruin who I am.” As he took a moment to rub at his eyes, Russell remained silent. Hal had never responded with more than a “no” or a “get out” before. It felt hopeful, somehow. Hal looked at him, frowning. “Why bother putting myself through hell when I could live out what’s left my life in regretless, consequent-less bliss, being exactly as I want to be?” He stood up, Russell following him as he continued. “This was my opportunity to avoid all the things everyone fears: growing old, getting tired, not being able to do everything that they used to or wished that they could. I’ve come to terms with it, Russ; I’m dying at my peak.” Hal smiled, but it was as forced a smile as Russell had ever seen. “And I’m glad for it.”

“You lie to yourself pretty well, you know that?” Russell muttered, surprised at the calmness of his voice. Hal glared.

“Fuck off, kid. Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Russell was fully prepared to rebuke, when, as Hal returned to his desk, something caught the boy’s eye. Just below the collar of Hal’s shirt, he noticed the edge of something square and band-aid like. A nicotine patch? Pretty life preserving for someone “dying at their peak.” A warmth settled across Russell’s chest. He smirked, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” His smirk shifted into a more knowing, almost seductive smile. “I’ll be at your apartment at eight.”

---

Hal slammed into the boy with little resolve, a growl escaping him at the impossible tightness and heat. Russell arched his back, his head sinking low into the pillow. Vaguely, his mind recognized how much more comfortable sex was in a bed compared to against a chalkboard or over a desk. It had been a couple of weeks already since they’d stopped their secret fuckings in the classroom, choosing instead to do what Russell had requested a lifetime ago and simply save their appetites for his apartment after hours. There was still the possibility of them getting caught, but it was minimal, and just enough to still make their situation dangerous and thrilling.

Somewhere along the way, Russell’s legs had worked their way over Hal’s shoulders, the man plunging into him deeper than Russell thought possible, that bundle of nerves within him having a field day on his body. He shook with the glory of it, every muscle in him tensed and waiting for that blissful and mind numbing release.

As Hal continued to fuck his student into oblivion, he managed to reach between them and grasp Russell’s neglected member, wrenching a cry from the boy that was sheer, arousing music. Russell bucked his hips as best he could in his position, thrusting himself into that man’s hand, yearning for that added friction, that double dose of pleasure. Hal matched the rhythm of his thrusting, Russell left speechless in the perfection of that heat, that desire. Until, all at once, it overtook him. “Oh, God, Hal!” Russell screamed through gritted teeth, his climax rushing through him as hot cum splattered onto his chest and face, glistening in the dim lighting of Hal’s bedroom.

Hal groaned at the sudden added tightness brought on by the boy’s orgasm, pounding harder, faster, and deeper into his ass. Amid the haze of overwhelming need and lust, he looked at the sight below him, Russell riding the final waves of his orgasm, his own pearly essence dotting his skin. Hal had never seen something so hot. With one final thrust, his own orgasm ripped its way out of his chest and up his throat in a feral and wanton, sort of animalistic cry, his seed erupting into what could have been every inch of the boy for how much Hal felt drained. Placing his hands on either side of Russell’s head so as not to collapse on top of him, Hal stayed still, breathing deeply, willing the pain in his head to go away. He looked down. Russell’s eyes were closed, his lips parted as he tried to catch his own breath, a small curve of a smile at the very corner of his mouth. Damn him.

Leaning forward carefully, Hal placed a kiss against those lips, a distraction as he pulled his softened member from the boy’s sore and hard-ridden ass. Russell moaned, but didn’t break the kiss, Hal letting his legs fall back to the bed before pulling away and sitting up. Russell smiled, noticing, it seemed for the first time, the stickiness that covered his body. He blushed.

“I’m gonna go… clean myself up.” He mumbled as he got out of bed, stumbling on weak and wobbly legs towards the bathroom. Hal watched him go without a word.

Russell grabbed a towel and ran it under the hot water until it was saturated. Then he rung it out, ran it along his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a wreck, but with as much of it as he had, there was really no helping that. Though he did like his ponytail. And the way Hal tended to grab onto it when he was sucking him off. Russell wiped at the lines of cum on his chest, goosebumps rising along the flesh. Maybe he’d cut it.

Once he was clean, he ran the towel under the sink once more, hanging it across the faucet, and turning off the water. The silence deafened him. Froze him. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be it. He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if Hal was serious about not getting help. He didn’t want to imagine what new teacher they’d bring to teach English. He didn’t want to wonder what Hal “would have” said if he decided to cut his hair. He wanted to show him himself in a year from now. He wanted to still see him smirking like he does in ten years. He wanted him to live. Dying at his peak? What sort of bullshit was that? Why couldn’t he see how stupid that was? Why couldn’t he see…?

…that I don’t want him to leave me alone…

Russell braced himself against the sink, hanging his head. No. He wouldn’t cry. Not now. He’d pretend to be strong and unaffected, and then every Tuesday as planned, he’d ask him again. He’d ask him every day if could, if it wouldn’t push Hal away. He’d ask him every hour, every minute. He’d beg. He’d bargain. He’d do anything. Anything…

Grabbing the still damp towel from the sink, Russell ran it along his tear stained face, breathing deep and exhaling hard. He could do this. He WOULD do this. And if, in the end, he couldn’t convince him, he’d be there for him. He’d be there for as long as Hal would have him. And then some.

Russell tossed the towel into the sink and walked back into the room, Hal propped up on the pillow, eyes closed. He looked content, Russell thought. It was a look he wasn’t used to seeing on that smug and arrogant face. “Come here, Russ.” Hal said suddenly, catching Russell off guard. “Lay down with me.” Russell blushed. Snuggling? Hal was a fuck and sleep kind of guy. He wouldn’t have doubted if ‘snuggling’ had been deleted from the man’s vocab arsenal entirely. “Are you gonna gawk at me all night?” Hal ordered. “Get your ass over here.”

Russell’s blush deepened, but he scrambled into bed nonetheless, Hal pulling him into the crook of his arm as soon as he was, Russell’s head resting automatically on the man’s shoulder. They lay that way for a long time, Russell too nervous and perplexed to do more than stare at his teacher as best he could from that angle. Eventually, when Russell swore the man was asleep, Hal spoke.

“I don’t want to die, Russ.” He whispered, turning his head and looking over at the boy with complete seriousness, a sadness in his eyes. “But I don’t want to live like an invalid either.”

“You don’t know if that’ll happen.” Russell tried, shifting onto his elbow to see the man better. “For all you know, you could come out exactly as you are now! And even if you don’t… You’ll still be alive, right?”

“I don’t think you realize how selfish you’re being.” Hal mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I’M being selfish?” Russell scoffed. “YOU’RE the one who’s…” he stopped. Leaving me, he’d wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Not since his declaration in Hal’s apartment.

“It’s getting late.” Hal said suddenly. “Are you sure your parents won’t be worried.”

Russell frowned at the subject change. “I told them I was staying over at friend’s house. They have my cell phone number. But they won’t call.”

“I can’t believe some parents still believe that bullshit.”

Russell had to smirk at that. “Well, mine do at least.” He tried. “Please, Hal. Just think about it.”

“You realize it’s not Tuesday anymore.” Hal smirked. Russell looked at his watch, frowning. It was past midnight. Wednesday. Which meant another week before he could try and convince him again. But Russell was tired of waiting.

“Look… All I’m saying-”

“Would you please just shut the fuck up for a second?” Hal sighed, no anger in the words. Just frustration and sadness. A plea of sorts. Russell let his mouth fall closed, listening. Waiting. “Do you know what the possible symptoms of the treatment are?” Russell shook his head. “Loss of fine motor skills, cosmetic issues, memory loss… And other things I didn’t want to hear. Half of which would have meant I couldn’t be a teacher anymore, and that thought was enough to make me rethink it completely. Teaching is my balance, my proof that I’m not just some street rat anymore.” He closed his eyes. “I’d come to terms with dying. It was easier than trying to imagine life after the surgery. A life filled with problems I’d have to face alone.” His words were no more than a whisper as he said this, as though confessing to some crime long since buried.

“But you wouldn’t be-”

“Russ.” Hal looked over. “Shh.” Russell put a hand over his mouth, letting the man know he was ready for him to continue. He NEEDED him to continue. He needed to know what this speech meant. And why he chose now to tell it. “The last thing I wanted was to be a burden to someone if things went wrong… Death is certain. Life… Not so much. So what if I simply moved up my due date some? If I was going to die anyway, I might as well die while I still had control over what I did and how I looked, right?” Russell shook his head, and Hal fell silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling as if the answers would appear written on the fan blades. “That day in my living room… The day you found out,” he started, his voice low. “You told me you loved me.” He tilted his head to the side, glancing at Russell out of the corner of his eye. “Did you mean it?”

There was no hesitation, his response almost instant. “Of course.”

Hal cringed, closing his eyes and facing the ceiling once again, his brow furrowed and lips in a tight line. The quiet was almost tangible as it loomed in waiting to be broken, Russell gazing up at his teacher from his spot in the man’s arms.

“Alright, fine.” Hal groaned at last. “I’ll get the fucking surgery.”

Russell’s eyes went wide, the surprise freezing him for a brief and disbelieving moment before he pushed himself up and kissed Hal full on the mouth. Hal kissed him back, though with much less enthusiasm, breaking away after a moment and muttering a harsh, “You’d better still let me fuck you if I’m a cripple.”

Russell faked a shudder. “Hmm, yeah. I don’t know about that.” He smirked. Hal rolled his eyes, pulling the boy back towards him, their faces centimeters apart.

“You’d better be worth it.” Hal growled, but the kiss he planted on Russell’s lips was beyond intimate, filled with a passion Russell had never felt before, a passion he’d never expected to see in Hal. A direct contradiction of his words. His agreement was more of an “I love you too” than Russell could ever have hoped for, the boy leaning into the kiss hungrily, clinging to this Hal, the Hal that had chosen life... chosen him. And at once he knew, with a giddy sort of jolt, that this was the first of many nights they’d get to share.