Carousel

Original Story
Carousel
by Umi-chan

Chapter one
a bi romance

The crowd cheered and roared. The air around her smelt like buttered popcorn and mustard pretzels. The hard bench was starting to make her butt go numb and the spilled soda on the floor stuck to the bottom of her sneakers.

Grace sat on the bench staring down at the soccer field underneath her. Her mother and father applauded next to her, and called out her brother’s name. Her older brother Matthew was on the field, sweaty and determined to win; his shorts were dirty with grass stains and mud. He was the scrawniest player out of the team, but oddly, one of the best.

Grace wasn’t cheering or starring at her brother. On the same team, number 11, was a boy about Grace’s age. Number 11, she was too shy to ask for his name, was tall for his age, tanned, and dirty blond hair, with a round face and big lips.

He was beautiful.

Number 11 played soccer as if his life depended on it. When the ball came into his direction, he would swerve like a pro, taking the ball from the opposite teammate, run all away to the goal and kick it in. The crowd cheered. He grinned and gave thumbs up to his parents who were anonymous among the crowd.

Now, Grace never cared for the game, or any sports for that matter, her folks always dragged her along to see Matt’s games. But the game never seemed boring when number 11 played. She admired him. After hours of playing, the points bouncing back and forth, her brother’s finally team won.

After the long game, Grace ran to congratulate her brother on the field, stealthily stealing a side glance at number 11 who was laughing with another boy by the water fountain, playfully splashing water in his friends face.

Catching her eye, her brother leaned forward grinning, “Hey Grace, Grace. You wanna know a secret?”

Stupidly Grace nodded, never skipping a chance to listen to a secret, her brother always managed to tell the best.

Pointing to number 11, he whispered in her ear and her brother told her his secret.

It hurt her chest. It made her dizzy.

With a thud, Grace fell on the grass. The loud intense noise started to fade away along with her vision. The last thing she saw was her brother, his eyes frightened, his mouth moving but nothing came out.

Everything went black.

***
Dr. Galaviz scratched the stubble on his chin. The newly hired doctor always hated this part about being a doctor; it was times like this that made him drink. A nice shot of whisky sounded good at the moment too.

Grace fidgeted with her fingers. She sat up on the hospital bed staring at the older doctor. She couldn’t comprehend his words too clearly. He said something about a cancer on her heart, it was a new type of cancer and it was a good thing she went to the hospital. They can treat her, they can help her. No cure though, and judging the lump, she had five years, with good treatment.

“I’m sorry. We will do everything we can to help prolong this.” With a nod of the head Dr. Galaviz signed the clipboard and stood silently ready to listen to the concerns of his patents family.

As if the clock in her brain just started ticking, everything became clear about what the doctor said. She was going to die. She was only ten, but she knew, she was going to die.

Why was it then that she felt nothing? Her hands became limp at her sides. Her parents gasped, taking in the information. Father held tightly to her mother, who was crying, and her brother sat in a chair by her bed, his face remained impassive.

Dr Galaviz patted the girl affectionately on her head. She wanted to brush his hand off and bite hard into his flesh, make him bleed. To make him suffer like she was.

She hated him. She glanced at her sobbing mother, she hated her too. Her father. Hate. Brother, it was his fault, if only he never told her his secret, she would have never known she was going to die, so he hated him most of all.

Hate. Hate. Hate
.

She doesn’t like secrets anymore
.

Once her parents left, he brother stayed behind.

“Sister?”

Grace didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her brother reached over and pinched her arm hard. Still nothing. Matthew pinched her again, only this time, he dug his nails deep into her skin, when she still didn’t move he did it harder till the nails punctured her skin, making her bleed slightly.

“I won’t tell anyone your secret.” She said softly, not keeping her black eyes off the walls in front of her. The voice sounded foreign to her, as if it belonged to someone else.

“Good,” her brother said as he ran after his parents. She couldn’t leave with him, she had to stay in the poorly lit room, she had to stay in the hospital.

Days turned to weeks, then months, then years.

Years has passed, grace was fifteen now. Her hate only grew and they made her take lots of medicine. Purple, pink ones, some were yellow and red. She became weaker as the time slowly passed. They wouldn’t let her leave the room; she hasn’t been out since the day she arrived. A test, more blood, was taken.

A nurse came into the room. In her hands she carried a tray of shity food. It was always at the same time, everyday. Grace’s lifestyle reminded herself of a pig to the slaughter; they would feed the pig and then with out it knowing, kill it.

“Stupid bitch, I said I’m not hungry!” she tossed the mush at the scared nurse who managed to escape the flying food by slamming the door shut. Grace stood up, jumping around like a wild monkey. Screaming madly, she turned the bed over, threw the lamps at the walls, screamed on the top of her lungs. “I wanna go home!”

“I wanna…..” the door locked, it always happened when she had a tantrum, that’s why she got her own room, daddy paid for it. Said daddy’s girl always got the best. Said, once she gets better, she can go home.

But she could never get better. Grace knew because she knew she was going to die there.

Die

Die.

Die!

Letting the tears fall down her cheeks, grace pulled herself into a small ball in the corner of her room. Everything was broken or a mess. She had no hope.

A black ball of darkness emerged at her feet, it was a shadow. Slowly it formed eyes, then a mouth and small hands and legs. Its teeth became fangs. She reached out, not sure if her eyes were betraying her, and touched the shadow, its fangs smiled.

“You deserve better.” The shadow replied. “I know you Grace, you should hate every one, and they don’t care about you. If they did, wouldn’t they take their time to visit you?”

“Yes,” Grace mumbled, “Yes! But they don't care about me. They only care about Matt, not me. He is the shining star and I am only a burden."

“You got me Grace, I will look after you, and I will make sure you will be happy.”

“Thank you.” She started laughing. "Thank you!" And with that the darkness at her feet vanished.

***
Stefan was born into a wealthy christen family, with honest morals engraved into his soul. His home wasn’t a house but a mansion on top of a green sparkling hill, a plentiful garden around the white picket fence, the typical American dream and more so. His father and mother, Mr. and misses Bernadera, owned seven cars, had a butler and six nannies. When it was his birthday, Stefan could have anything he desired, no matter the cost.

But the only thing Stefan wanted, he wasn’t able to have.

His parents.

And when they were home they would be chattering on their phones unmindful to him, as if he wasn’t even there. They would leave him for weeks on end alone with the nanny as he went to a private school.

Many, much to his dismay, would say he was the spitting image of his father. He had brown, almost black hair, a natural tan, full eyebrows that looked like dancing caterpillars, and light honey brown eyes.

Stefan was a rebel by nature, without his parents knowing; he would slip the nannies watch and go the public parks to play. If his parents knew, he would get the belt for sure, but that thought always made it seem more fun and filled with danger.

As Stefan peddled his new red bike, one blue November morning, he shut his eyes to enjoy the feeling as the wind billowed on his face, into his clothes, and through his hair. He almost ran over a rock so he swerved, missing it, but barely. The rock hit his back tire, flipping him off the bike and into the air. He flew for a moment, and then landed on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He heard the bike crash, but still stayed down.

“A-are you alright?” The voice was soothing, full of concern. Stefan sat up, rubbing his back. Standing over him was a boy, about his age, offering him his hand, speaking what seemed like gibberish. Stefan took it even though it didn’t look clean, he could see the dark dirt underneath his nails.

“What did you say?” Stefan asked, dusting off his new pants. They were ripped pretty bad on the knee so he will have hell to pay once he gets home. This was the fifth pair this month.

“Oh, I mean are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Stefan bent over and picked up his bike, its new fire engine paint was scraped on the bottom bar. He turned his head to get a better look at the scrawny looking boy; he was in rags compared to his spiffy clothes.

“Uhh, I see you riding around here all the time. I live over there”—he pointed to an old grey looking apartment, some of the windows were broken—“but you never play with anyone so...”

“Of coarse not, they’re filthy.” Stefan clasped his mouth, without realizing it he said the exact words his parents would say to him every time he asked to play with other children.

“Well, you always seem like you want to play with them. So, wanna play ball with me? I got this new ball for my birthday,” he reached into the pockets of his worn jeans and pulled out a blue rubber ball.

Stefan smirked, it was a new ‘blubber ball’ said to bounce higher then any ball known to man. He had about fifteen of those. “I don’t need to, I have my own.”
The boy smiled, it was the purest smile Stefan has ever seen. It was new feeling also, as it tugged at his guts and made him blush.

“Ya’ know its way more fun when you’re playing with someone else, rather then alone.”

Stefan stiffened his posture and extended his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Mark Dawson.” The new kid known as mark clamped down on Stephan’s hand, shaking it slowly.

“That’s a weird name.”

“You look weird.”

“I am better looking then you.” Stefan smiled; he read in a book that a person decides if they like someone in fifteen seconds, maybe that is true because he could honestly say he likes Mark. “My name is Stefan Bernadrea.”

“Then let’s play barn-a-reaya.”

“It’s bernadera! Get it right!”

From that day forward, they would play together. And that was how they became close friends.

Five years later…

“Happy birthday Mark!” Stefan cheered as he put a cubed birthday hat around his friend’s head. Stefan’s birthday was coming soon too, it turned out he was a few months younger then Mark, who just turned thirteen today.

“Thanks,” Mark mumbled, he was a bit embraced that Stefan got him a lot for his birthday. And the hat made his head look big.

“You’re not sad that misses Dawson wasn’t able to come now are you?”

“No, unlike you, I understand she had to work. I’m sad that you took me here for my birthday…you really didn’t have to.” The place was crowded, pedestrians walked all over the place like chickens with their head cut off. Orange and white lights flashed on and off and the air was filled with sweetness of cotton candy and buttered popcorn.

“The carnival? The carnival is fun!”

“You really didn’t have to. But it’s getting late, shouldn’t you go home? If your parents found out…”

Stefan put his arm around Mark's neck. “You worry too much, Mar. Today is a special day, it’s your birthday. Besides I told my folks I was staying at Billy’s house.”

“That kid that drinks milk up his nose?” Mark lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah, my folks love ‘em cuz his parents are filthy rich. So I’ll just crash at your place tonight.”

“You really should ask me before you make plans. My mom isn’t going to be home and she makes the rules not you.”

“I see, so you’re going to leave your friend out in the cold? All alone? The one who got beaten because my folks found out you are my friend?” Stefan play sniffled, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “You’re so cruel Mar. Cruel! Cruel!”

“Stop calling me Mar! Only Coca can call me that.” Mark crossed his arms, despite drinking gallons of milk; Mark was still a two inches smaller then Stefan, who only ate pure junk food. Whoever said drinking milk makes you taller was full of shit. Stefan pouted, holding on to Mark's arm. “Fine you asshole but you have to do whatever I say, got it?”

Stefan mock saluted. “Aye aye, sir captain! You make the rules. And I will humblely follow till death!”

“I’ll keep you to your word.”

They walked along each other, silent, trying to figure out what ride to go on. Then Mark tugged at Stefan’s jacket. “Stefan lets go on that!”

Stefan squinted, leaning closer, hoping Mark was mistaken. He seemed to be pointing at an old carousel. “The carousel? Are you kidding me? That’s for babies!”

“But…you get to take your picture. And I want one with me and you.” Mark reached over and clasped Stefan’s hand, this made Stefan’s heart beat a hundred times faster and the world around them blurred, his legs suddenly became weaker.

Stefan turned his head; hoping Mark didn’t see his face go red. “I wanted to see the woman with a beard at the freak show.” He wined. But before Stefan could stop to complain, Mark already ran off toward the carousel, his dirty blond hair waving behind. He showed the ride ticket collector his unlimited ride wrist band, and then glanced at Stefan to follow before the ride could begin.

Hesitantly, Stefan followed, showing his own wristband and mounted a yellow horse right next to Mark. “If you tell anyone, Mark, I'll kill you.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, Stefan.”

No one else could say his name so perfectly like Mark could. No one. And whenever he did, Stefan would pause to hear it repeat in his mind. ‘Stefan, Stefan,’ before the feeling could slowly fade away.

The ride began.

The horse set in motion a fake gallop. Mark looked up, and watched as the pole that impaled his horse spin in tiny circles. The music started, it sounded like an old tune you would hear in your grandmothers’ jewelry box. He grinned at Stefan who was turning a shade of blue after a few rounds.

Stefan wondered why Mark picked the black stallion. Was it because it was the biggest horse? Or because it looked the most real? Both? He looked at his own, the yellow paint was peeling on the side and one of the emerald gems was missing in it eye. He patted it cool, plastic mane affectingly. It was just like him in a way.

“Stefan! Turn! Look at the camera and smile!”

Stefan stuck out his tongue and flipped the bird to the camera man, trying to be as obnoxious as possible. Mark laughed, holding onto the pole in case he fell off.

“You asshole!” Mark held the newly made picture in his hand. After the ride they had to wait ten minutes for it to be developed. “You made me laugh and my eyes are closed in the picture.”

“Stop crying you baby, it’s a free picture, if you want you can get another one.”

“We can’t, one per guest. It says so on the billboard before you get on the ride.”

Stefan sighed, it was still early and he was already a bit tired. “I'm sorry then.”

“Its ok, I’m just happy we got one.”

The black sky rumbled, in front of the moon the clouds appeared to be purple moving idly by. Mark folded his picture neatly and shoved it into his pockets. He held out his hand, feeling the air. “It looks like its going to rain.”

“It better not. I spent a lot of my savings for today.” Stefan snarled when he felt a single drop of water fall on his nose. “You better fucking not!” he yelled into the sky, so loud people where giving him odd looks, but at the same time he was speaking their minds.

After a few minutes it began pouring. They stood underneath a small tent on one of the wooden benches. With his wet hair slicked back, Stefan and Mark watched as great numbers of people began piling out of the exits like ants.

“What do you mean we can’t get a refund? We ditched soccer practice for this!” Stefan kicked the side of the ticket booth, Mark was silent behind.

The ticket both man stared at them popping his gum. He was a few years older then they were, he had red hair and his pale cheeks where freckled with acne. “I told you already, it says right here that you cannot get refunds due to whether.”

“Today is my friend’s birthday! It’s not fair that it was shut down because of rain!”

“Sorry kid, tell someone who gets paid to care.”

“Stupid ugly shit-head!” he waved his fist, kicking the side of the booth once more.

“Stefan…its ok.” Mark reached and tugged a fuming friend away from the bars, because he could tell the guy at the booth was ready to call secretly any moment, and they didn’t need that.

Once they got to Mark’s apartment, they booth slipped off their shoes, a number one rule before entering a home, or so Mark’s mother said. Everything was arranged perfectly but it still felt everything was piled on one side of the living room. Mark ran to his room and flipped on the light switch. His room was messy, dirty clothes was piled on the floor, so the bed was in front of the TV.

“Let’s play games.”

“Sure,” even though he cursed the entire way there, Stefan was a bit happy they could spend the rest of the day alone. He sat on Mark’s twin sized bed and pulled the controller.

“Hah! I got you!” Mark's muscle man gave a high kick to Stefan’s players chin, knocking him down and loosing valuable life energy.

“Yeah right! Just cuz it’s your birthday you aren’t gona win against me!”

“Shit!”

“K.O!”

“I fucking lost?”

Mark put his controller in his lap and stared at it as if it grown legs and walked away. “Hey Stefan…”

“What?”

“Have you…ever kissed a girl before?”

“What? What brought this up? No, I didn’t why?”

Mark leaned over, his face was flushed. “Do you want to practice?”

“P-practice?” Stefan’s pulse began to quicken, even harder down at his crouch. If his friend was implying something…he had to stop it. His father told him it was wrong, it was wrong to touch the same sex. Something about going to hell…

“I want to be ready, you know? When the time comes I wanted to ask you before but…I never had the courage. And we are alone now. My moms at work.” Mark reached over and caressed Stefan’s leg, who drew back instinctively, still unsure.

Mark leaned forward and hugged his friend. To Stefan’s amazement, his heart was beating as fast as a frightened rabbit, as crazy as his. His friend leaned closer, pressing his soft lips on his cheek once, then his nose. The silence of the house was eerie. The rain pounded on the window. Mark nibbled on Stefan’s bottom lip before entering his tongue in his mouth, brushing over his fount teeth.

Stefan could understand why they both needed practice. When he kissed, Mark was being too forceful; his mouth was parted at an awkward angle so saliva would drool on the corners of his mouth. Nonetheless, Stefan shut his eyes, enjoying the taste of his friend, but when he did he saw the image of his father. It was a rare sight, but it was there, the disappointment that shined brightly in his father’s eyes.

Waking up from a trance, Stefan shoved Mark off him as hard as he could. His friend fell backwards, onto his back, wincing because he had fallen on his forgotten controller.

“I have to go.” Stefan reached for his sweater. “I have to leave.”

“Please don’t go.” Mark wrapped his arms around his slender legs; his azure eyes were hidden under his dirty brown hair. “I’m sorry Stefan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! ”

“Mar?”

“If this means our friendship, I won’t do it again. I promise!”

If he had ignored Mark when he did and ran away home, not looking back, would he have been spared the pain? And if he said no…mark had a lot of friends, would he want to practice with them? That thought made his stomach turn. That also was the only reason why his feet were still glued to the floor.

“No, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” He sighed and put his rain soaked sweater back on the chair, “I’ll stay. I just…wasn’t used to it, I guess. So don’t cry.”

Mark perked his head up. The room didn’t seem so stuffy anymore. “That’s why we practice. Come here,” Stefan did as he was told, normally he hated that…but it was Mark, his friend.

Mark unzipped Stephan’s fly and put his hand down his pants. “Does it feel good?”

“Y-yeah.” It felt amazing, almost too good.

***
Stefan and his father talked about going to a public school. They argued for days, but in the end Stefan had won because he gave a bull shit speech over dinner about how a great man can achieve greatness wherever he is from, that and it would look good on his collage script. This speech pleased his father immensely and all objections where discarded and he hesitantly agreed for the public school.

Stefan didn’t care about what school he graduated eighth grade from. As long as Mark was there. He couldn’t stand his friend not being around him, by his side, playing, smiling, and having fun.

The school bell rung.

“Suck on it…” Mark moaned, his breathes were in heavy gasps. His dick was on fire, throbbing madly. Stefan leaned closer, kissing his neck and his exposed shoulders. With out looking, he unzipped the fly his paints.

“Turn around, Mar.”

“No.” Mark shoved his friend arms length apart. “No…”

“Damn it Mark!” Stefan’s angry voice made Mark shiver and retreat against the wall. He didn’t mean to yell. “I’m hard Mar. I don’t understand. I let you go inside me. I let you cum in me…but you won’t let me go in you. I want to feel you, inside.”

“No…I just can’t. Not here, not anywhere.”

“The first time even hurt.” Stefan thought back when they were both naked at Mark’s house when the misses was shopping. Mark brought out Vaseline, grinning, saying that it would ‘feel good’ but even still, it hurt. And when it was Mark's turn, he refused just like he is now. Stefan lowered his voice when he could hear girls laughing outside, remembering where he was.

It smelled like bleach in the janitor’s room at school. During third period, they both had Physical education, and the janitor, who left the room open, had lunch break. It was a perfect place to ‘practice’ because it was furthest from any home rooms.

The bell rung, it was time for fourth period. Stefan zipped up his pants, his boner, once hard and stiff was slowly shriveling. The mood was gone. Mark tidied himself up and put his back pack on. He buttoned up his shirt covering the bruised hiccky on his left chest.

The walked together, the awkward silence hung between them like weights. Then suddenly Mark stopped. “Hey Stefan, do you see that girl there?”
Stefan’s heart stopped.

“Girl?” Sitting in a wheelchair by the school bench was a skinny, sickly skinny looking girl. She had straight, long brown hair and a red ribbon that was placed neatly on the top of her cranium. She wore a long flowered dress, which was strange for a girl her age, hardly any breasts. She sat up while feeding some pigeons bits of bread like the old ladies at the park. Stefan imagined she smelled like one too, or something moldy and old in an attic.

“I think I like her.”

He had said it. The awful words Stefan wished he never would hear in his life time. He couldn’t understand it. Mark was popular, which was hardly surprising because he played every sport at school—tennis, football, soccer, hockey. He could have had any girl he wanted. A pretty girl. But this girl…was so plain and average, plus she looked like she would fall over and die any second. She was new to the school and not many people knew much about her, except her name and a rumor that said she was stuck in the hospital room.

“Why her? She is ugly.” He had a habit of saying things before he thought his words out carefully.

Mark scowled. With his elbow he aimed it straight at Stefan’s gut. The pain was nothing; he was well built for being fifteen.

“I see her all the time at the park.” There was a sparkle in his eye. “I know her name is Grace, she is sick, even gets bullied by the other girls, but…I never see her upset about any of it.”

“You talked to her?”

“No, that’s why…I need your help.”

“My help…” Stefan repeated. No, anything but that…why did he care so much? It was decided long that it was just practice, nothing more, nothing less. And yet there was a pain deep in the pit of his chest that didn’t want to go away.

“I want you to help me get with her.”

“As boyfriend and girlfriend.” Not as a question, but letting the idea melt on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes.”

“I can’t…”

“If you’re my real friend, you will help.” Mark stormed away. But not before taking one last look at Grace.

His stomach turned madly, Stefan always thought of himself as a strong minded guy.

Whatever challenge came his way, he could beat it. When he broke his arm after falling off his bike, he never cried. When his father beat him with a metal hanger for playing with Mar, every time it hit his flesh, he never cried, not once.

Now, Stefan was ready to break down and sob and scream, and curl up into a tiny ball and disappear off the face of the earth.

Chapter two--
More time has passed. But things haven’t changed for the best and Stefan—now a high school sophomore— is forced to face his greatest fear. The friend he once had is gone, maybe forever.

If you liked it and read it please tell me what you think so I can write more! Advice and criticism is always accepted and appreciated. :D