Gavin the Gay - Chapter two

Diana lived in my dorm with me for about six weeks, making sure I ate enough, drank enough, and didn't lose track of my schoolwork. It was a hard six weeks, but it was much easier with Diana taking care of me. After she left, however, I began to crumble. Before, when Diana wasn't available, Jackson had been my rock. The only other person I could rely on besides myself and my sister. My younger sister and I were somewhat close, but nothing like me and my oldest sister.

Now Jackson was gone, and I couldn't even confide in Libby anymore for the fear that she would judge me once she learned that I was gay. Only three people were aware of my sexuality; one was dead, one would never betray me, and the other was scared to death that I'd kill myself.

So, Diana moved out and I began looking for anyone to cling to. I needed at least someone nearby in my life. Big mistake. I should've asked Diana to stay longer. I should've risked telling Libby I was gay and that my lover had killed himself. I should've trusted that she would love me no matter what. Unfortunately, sixteen, depression, heartbreak, and loneliness don't mix very well.

I began hanging out with the wrong crowd; specifically three members of it. Even though I knew spending my time with them was wrong, I wanted to. It was against my common sense, and I dared myself to walk away. My feet never did, though.

They did drugs, they drank, and they didn't exactly wear chastity belts. I refused to do drugs for the first three days, just so I could say I did later on down the line. Before, I'd had no interest in them at all, but I was looking for a way out, and I wanted one that I could control. Of course, you can't really control the escape drugs can become. It's just a false sense of securities and a long trail of lies you tell yourself in order to justify why you haven't stopped yet.

It started with beer and smoking pot. Then I started popping pills. Any pills. Anything those three could get their hands on, I'd take it. The one night, while hanging out together in my dorm, I over dosed and drank my way into a coma. They thought it'd be funny to inject me with heroin so I'd 'get a big surprise' whenever I managed to wake up. Only they injected a lethal amount.

My sister Diana, who had been tolerant of my avoidance of her during those two and a half months of my life, had had enough of it and had decided to invade my dorm room to give me a might tongue lashing and possibly beat some sense into me if that was what it would take to get through to me.

On her way to my room she spotted the three leaving, and when they saw where she was headed they freaked out and ran off. Angry, Diana came into my dorm room and found me on the floor.

I woke up two days later in a hospital room with my left wrist handcuffed to the rail of the bed. And oh, how it sucked, because the left side of my face was itching and I've always hated the awkwardness of scratching one side of your face with the opposite hand. I am extremely fortunate, however, that the handcuff on my wrist was one that my sister had bought, rather than a police issue pair. The moment my eyes were open, my sister backhanded me across the face. God that hurt...

She held my toxicology report in her hands and was crying tears of extreme rage and fear. It was when she was reading off everything they found in my blood that I learned of the heroin. I told her honestly how ashamed I was of my behavior, and I promised her that I hadn't taken the heroin myself, and had never agreed to it. I'm lucky that my sister knew me well enough to tell when I was lying, because it meant she also knew me well enough to know that I was telling the truth.

I had had my stomach pumped upon being admitted to the hospital. And oh was I thankful I was unconscious for that. I had had my stomach pumped once before when my father had force-fed me raw hamburger meat as a punishment when I was five. Of course, he had lied to the nurses and said I was just slow in the head and opened up the fridge and scarfed it down willingly. I remember my younger sister had gotten angry with him about that and shat in every pair of shoes, slippers, and boots that he owned.

Having your stomach pumped is a miserable experience.

Diana convinced the doctors at the hospital to allow me to stay for another two days, and we spoke in depth during those two days. She agreed to give me another chance at proving that I was capable of living on my own, but I had to endure a bit of suffering on her behalf, first.

After speaking with the police and discussing the situation, Diana managed to arrange the arrest of the three I had been spending my time with, and they were charged with attempted murder. In return for my testimony, I would be spared arrest, jail time, drug charges, and any negative record whatsoever. It was good to have a sister in law school, it really was.

Though I managed to avoid punishment by the legal system, I wasn't able to escape punishment from my sister. I spent the next three months handcuffed to her. If I wasn't gay before having to pee with my sister's wrist handcuffed to mine, I was certainly gay after it.

I got my grades back up. I was back on the Dean's list. I had caught up on all of my homework and I had even joined a club. I was never tempted for a single moment to abuse drugs again, and I could handle my pain medication just fine on my own (which was ironically, the one medication I refused to abuse while I was hanging out with those three).

The three were convicted of multiple drug charges, armed robbery, and attempting to murder me. They were sentenced to life and I had managed to get mine back.

My sister felt I had earned her trust again, and the handcuffs came off. She went back to her own apartment and I went on take care of myself once more. By this time I was seventeen and longing to be thirteen again, or longing to be twenty. Whichever seemed more realistic, though really, neither were. Seventeen was seventeen. And though twenty would come, and thirteen would never come back, there was still another three years before I would turn twenty years old. I found myself wondering if I could manage to keep myself alive long enough to see my twentieth birthday.

By either some miracle, or by some cosmic fluke, I did.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter three

Eighteen came faster than I was ready for it to come, but time doesn't wait for anyone. By some miracle I was only a year away from my master's degree in psychology. It was summer, and I had fallen into the habit of sitting on the bleachers at the football and track field while the athletes practiced and competed. I don't know why I had chosen that place. Even though there was noise from the people on the field, it felt like a nice, calm atmosphere and I loved it.

I had slowly been pulling myself out of my dorm since the spring time. It was nice outside and the summer was mild. Even though I was still dedicating myself to studying at an alarming rate, and regardless of my summer glasses, I was determined to get as much time outdoors as possible. I was even beginning to take part in random conversations; small talk, mostly. But it was progress, because I had been very withdrawn as a child and even more withdrawn after Jackson's death.

I wasn't going to let my less than desirable childhood and the death of my lover stop me. No. Jackson was the past. There was no reason to continue feeling guilty about it, as I'd most likely never know the true reason why. I had decided to take his mother's advice and move on. I still wondered about him from time to time, but it no longer made me feel like I was going to retch or burst into tears when I thought of him. It felt more like a dream, a sad dream. But it didn't cause weight in my stomach.

I was feeling accomplished with every step I took. I had started eating lunch either outdoors or in places I knew other students would be at. I even sat with my peers on occasion, though I was the youngest of all my class. Still, I felt I was getting better, and I was proud of myself.

I had even been asking myself if I was ready to start dating. Maybe not start pursuing another man, but should I meet someone I liked, if I should take a chance with them or turn tail and hide. I still hadn't decided upon that on that strange, amazing day.

A rich voice that sounded strong enough to pull a semi but gentle enough to hold a bird without harming it. I remember looking up from my books and thinking that I was looking at an angel; such an unusual appearance he had. Platinum blond hair and light blue eyes; I never knew such traits could go hand in hand. He was sweaty, but didn't smell offensive, and there was just something about him...

I always carried extra bottles of water with me when studying outside. Always. I never knew how long I was going to be out and I wasn't about to let myself get dehydrated. Apparently the track team was running a little low on water and a few members were going to have to go without. He offered to pay me five dollars a bottle for the inconvenience of taking away my water. Now, I was on a full scholarship to this university. Free room, and a weekly allowance for food and necessities. I always balanced my allotted money quite well and generally had a little spare change left over.

With a flushed face that had nothing to do with the warm sun, I shook my head slowly and told him to just take the unopened bottles of water, no charge. He smiled wide, asked me if I was sure, and when I told him I was, he thanked me and took the bottles back down to the track to give to his teammates and kept one for himself. He pointed up at me and they all waved up at me in thanks, causing my blush to darken, and I awkwardly waved back at them.

Putting several of my books aside, I studied off and on between watching the athletes train. My eyes kept following the one that had approached me. I couldn't help it. He was extremely attractive, and seemed friendly enough. Sadly, my bottle of water ran out all too fast, and I found myself packing up my bag full of books and heading back to the dormitories to continue my studies while I waited for my evening classes.

On my way back to my dorm after my classes, I felt like I was going to collapse. I was exhausted and my backpack felt like it weighed a ton, even though it weighed more along the lines of a hundred pounds or so. I made my way into my building and headed towards the stairs, wanting to cry because my legs and my back hurt so bad I wasn't sure I could make it up to my room. I groaned aloud, slouching pathetically as I readied myself for certain death on the stairs, when suddenly, the weight on my back was gone and I found myself turning around in confusion.

That charming smile, that platinum ponytail, that kind look on his face. He greeted me and slung my bag over his shoulder, offering to carry it up the stairs for me. My savior. I trudged up the stairs and down the hallway, unlocking my room and opening the door. He stepped just inside and put my bag down on the floor, along with a plastic-wrapped package of bottles of water from the local convenience store.

I asked him why he had brought the water and he told me simply that he did tell me that he would pay five dollars a bottle for the inconvenience. Since I wouldn't accept his money, he bought me the package of water, which was five times the amount I had given to him to take back to his teammates. He was good natured when telling me that, not ass-like at all. I couldn't help but laugh. And then I noticed that he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt now, rather than the shorts and tank top that was his track uniform. I found my cheeks flushing again.

When I asked how he knew what building I was in, he explained that he had looked through the yearbook, found my face and name, then asked around on campus until he found out which building I lived in.

He was very impressed with how close I was to my masters, and how old I was. I was impressed with his athletic abilities. We talked for a few minutes and he left, and I did my assigned homework and went to bed without studying ahead like I always did. I was just too tired.

The next morning I slept in an hour and a half late, finding myself with only ten minutes to get dressed, assemble my homework, and make my way across the rather large campus for my morning class. It looked impossible. So I decided upon a desperate and humiliating approach to this problem. I hurriedly shoved everything I needed for class into my other backpack that had wheels, the one I used when my back hurt far too much to cart around my heavy bag. I pulled my pants on, grabbed my other clothes, and headed out of my dorm with a piece of toast in my mouth.

Once down the stairs I secured the handle to my bag into my belt and began hopping across campus, pulling on my shoes and socks and shirt and glasses and somehow managing not to trip and fall flat on my ass. At the entry to the building my class was in I took off my belt and began dragging my backpack with my hand instead, going into the elevator, extremely thankful that they had one in that building. While going up three floors I put my belt back on, and rushed out the doors as soon as they slid open. By some miracle I managed to make it into my chair just before the bell rang, however, I had been a little too enthusiastic and my chair tipped over, causing my body to slam the floor.

Since my back injuries as a child, I had been sensitive to impacts involving my back. Hard impacts would rob me of the feeling in my legs temporarily, though it could last up to several hours, depending on how hard I was hit. Unfortunately, this impact was hard enough for me to lose feeling in my legs. My classmates started to wonder why I wasn't trying to get up after several minutes, but looking back, I think I was too stunned to even attempt it.

A body crouched down nearby, extending a hand to me, and I looked into the face of my favorite member of the track team. How humiliating. I hadn't even realized that I had any classes with him, and now here he was, looking down at me on the floor after a humiliating fall from my chair and an even more humiliating half-naked dash across campus in an attempt to get to class on time. He helped me up, though how I managed to stand while he up-righted my chair for me I still don't know. I couldn't feel my legs throughout the entire class.

One good thing did come from that morning, though. I learned his name; Archer.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter four

I had no doubts in my mind that Archer had seen my embarrassing dash across the the campus, but he never once mentioned it, nor made fun of me for it. I discovered he and I actually had three classes together, and we ended up being decent friends.

He was intelligent and good-humored; athletic, but kind. He was a little bit of a showoff, but not in an annoying way. It was a refreshing kind of showing off, meant to lighten the moods of those around him. He was energetic, but calm and gentle at the same time. Like a kitten stumbling around with wide eyes ready to explore the world.

We started spending more time together. When his friends asked, he just shrugged and said we were doing homework, which was the truth. We would study together and laugh and talk together, and every now and then we'd order in. Nothing was official, and I never thought anything would be. We were friends and that was all, right?

Summer classes ended and the regular school year began. He was much busier with classes and track, and I had my twelve different classes and my forensics club to occupy my time. Track meets would last into the night, but occasionally he'd stop by my dorm on his way back to his own, to say hi and apologize for being so busy, even though he knew I understood his reasons. Really, it was just for an excuse to see me. But I didn't mind, I loved every excuse I could get to see him, too.

We found that we shared four classes together our first semester of the year. I found myself overjoyed by this. It meant more studying together, more time talking. I don't think my heart had ever felt so light before then, or even after. I had a friend again. A friend that wasn't my sister, and that wasn't holding a noose in his hand, ready to off himself. When something bothered Archer, he told me about it. We would talk about what bothered us, and whenever he was depressed, he talked to me. He always said he loved how I analyzed the situation and that I always gave the best advice.

And that smile whenever he laughed...

His track team personally invited me to try out, all of them encouraging me to run as fast as I could and to try my hardest. It nearly broke my heart to decline, and to see Archer's smile turn from rich encouragement to worry. I smiled awkwardly and explained about the metal plates in my legs, and that I didn't want to push my luck. I didn't bother to explain my back injuries, or the fact that those were what really made me nervous about running like that. When track stars ran, their legs hit the track pretty hard. I was always careful not to run in a ways that I could feel strongly in my back. I had learned that I could still run fast if I lengthened my steps with carefully added speed. But the track team ran using specific forms, which I knew would not only hurt my back, but could possibly lead to more damage, and I sure didn't want to end up in a wheelchair again.

I sat and watched the team practice, and several asked me again to try out for the team, though not in a harassing manner, thankfully. After their practice they invited me out to eat with them, which I politely declined, intending to get back to my room to finish my studies for the night and get some sleep. Archer decided to follow me back to my dorm, asking about the plates in my legs.

I wouldn't tell him how I got them, only that there had been an accident when I was a kid that had badly damaged both legs, and that I didn't want to risk damage to my limbs that could easily be prevented.

I know he knew I was hiding the truth, but he also knew that I was being as honest as I was comfortable being about that matter, and he didn't press the issue. He said that he could understand how I didn't want to hurt myself, and left it at that.

Going into my bathroom, he took a short shower and changed into normal clothing, then went about checking his homework against mine. Every time he found our answers didn't match, he would question me about how I found my answer, I would explain the answers and he would write down notes in his notebook. He would mark his own questions wrong on his paper, and wouldn't change them to the right answers; instead, taking the approach of speaking with our professor for a few minutes explaining why he came to the wrong answers, and how I had explained the correct ones to him.

Our professors didn't really mind. It's not Archer was copying me or anything. He used my homework to better learn the material, never changed his answers to fit mine, and was always honest with our professors about what was going on homework-wise.

I actually enjoyed it, to be honest. Our little routine made me feel incredibly useful, and only helped boost my self-esteem. Though I wasn't the only one helping someone; he helped me with the anatomy and biology classes I was taking. He found it amusing that the only reason why I was in those classes was to learn how to draw better and to understand my own body. I had absolutely no intention of putting information learned in those classes to use in my future career.

I also took a writing class and an art class that I absolutely loved.

College had become extremely fun for me. I felt like I was fourteen again, but that there was no danger of things blowing up like they did before. I felt like I actually had a chance at having a best friend, and even though I was starting to feel something more for him, I was alright with that, though I'd never speak up about my feelings first. For some reason I was horrible about that.

Then one fateful day nearing the end of November, during the cluster of days the students had free for Thanksgiving, I heard a knock on the door to my dorm. Opening the door, I saw Archer standing there, looking nervous for once. This confused me greatly, and when he opened his mouth and spoke, asking me out on a date with him, I was even more confused. Overjoyed; but confused.

After taking a day or two to seriously think about it, I called him up and agreed to go out on a date with him. As soon as I was off the phone with him, I called Diana; I couldn't keep my friendship with Archer secret anymore, and I was too thrilled to keep it from her that he had asked me out. She seemed legitimately happy for me, though I heard the concern in the back of her voice. I was too happy for it to get me down, though.

Our first date was a week and a half later; he'd gotten us tickets to see my favorite band in concert.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter five

Three months into my relationship with Archer and Diana's doubts were gone. She had met him and approved and wishes us both the best of luck. It was a huge relief to have my sister approve of him, and to have her happy for us. It made me feel like I was doing it right for once.

Don't get me wrong; she was fond of Jackson. But I don't think she really approved of our sexual relationship with each other.

Archer and I hadn't had sex yet. I wasn't in any hurry, and neither was he. We were enjoying our time together and having too much fun to worry about when we'd have sex. It would happen when it happened, and that was the end of it.

We had slept in the same bed a couple times, snuggled up together. It was nice to have someone to sleep next to, and I was very happy. I have a tendency to have nightmares regarding my father, third floor windows, and my spinal injuries that I suffered as a child. Whenever Archer was staying over and I would have a nightmare, he always made me feel better and knew how to calm me.

I hadn't told him about why I had the nightmares, or even that the plates in my legs were related to those nightmares. He still didn't know that I had overcome grave injuries and miraculously managed to walk again when the doctors had said it was impossible.

I wasn't ready to show him the spine in my closet. Nor the fact that there was a wheelchair folded and kept in a box under my bed should I suffer misfortune and end up unable to walk again.

His closest friends knew that we were dating, his lesser friends simply thought we had become best friends. The only friends I had to tell were my sisters Diana and Libby; Diana already knew, and Libby still didn't know I was gay.

But oh, life was wonderful. It was so wonderful, I felt like I was living in a dream. A perfect dream where nothing could go wrong and even if something did, it was small and couldn't rid me of my smile. Who needs drugs when you have Archer? He was the greatest form of ecstasy anyone could ever hope for, and didn't impair judgment or brain functions, and didn't come with the risks of death from complications.

He was sturdy. Emotionally sound. When he was upset, he talked to me about it. He didn't hide anything. Sure, there were things he didn't like to talk about; like his childhood and family. But I couldn't judge him for that because I really don't like talking about those things either. My mother was a nutcase and my father was an abusive drunk. Who would want to brag about that?

But it didn't matter. He loved me. I loved him. We were together. That's what mattered.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter six

Nineteen came and so did my master's degree. I skipped the ceremony to avoid my mother seeing me so happy. I couldn't stop smiling. Even so, I felt that if I heard her go off on her quiet mumblings of 'look how happy Gavin is, I must've raised him right' I might just throw myself down a flight of stairs. She always convinced herself that if I smiled it meant I had a happy childhood - which I did not - and that she and my father were wonderful parents; which they were not.

Archer was envious of my accomplishment, and even more envious of the apartment I had picked out, and the job I had managed to line up three weeks before I received my master's. Truly, I had been doubling up on my classes, and was already well on my way towards a PhD as well. I had managed to talk the Dean into letting me work towards both degrees at once, and since I was such a good student, the school board agreed to allow me to take on the heavy coursework.

He helped me move into my apartment the night I graduated, as well as moving in a few of his own things, which I had invited him to do because I now lived three miles from the campus and I thought it would be wise if he kept some extra clothing and toiletries at my apartment should he forget anything at his dorm on the nights he chose to stay over.

After all the boxes were moved and my bedroom was unpacked, we went out for a nice, expensive dinner to celebrate.

I had landed my dream job, working as an 'intern' in one of the most established firms of psychologists in the city. Why an intern? Because I hadn't yet acquired my PhD, which meant that legally, I couldn't be a psychologist. After several long interviews with the heads of the office, though, I was deemed fit to treat just about anyone that they didn't have the time to treat. It was quite nice, and I loved it. Though my position was officially that of an intern, I was allowed just about as much free reign as anyone else in the office. For the most part, I treated younger patients, mostly children six years of age through the young teens. I loved it.

We also shared our building with a large law firm, which I was told meant that any one of us could be asked to be an expert witness in a trial at any given time. Sure enough, three weeks into my new job, I was approached by a hefty lawyer during my lunch break.

I felt a little silly, slurping noodles out of a Chinese takeout box when he came into my office. Looking over the top of my glasses (which I only wore when in class or at work, my eyes weren't that bad, but the glasses helped), I wrinkled my brow in a way that made him burst out laughing. He made a comment about how I reminded him of his daughter's puppy when it wanted affection.

That out of the way, he sat a box of takeout down on my desk and sat in the chair opposite of me and began to eat. He explained about a trial that he was working and told me about his client. I recall him telling me the reason why he chose me over the others was that I was so young, and his client was only sixteen. He felt that because the gap between our ages was so small in comparison to what it would be with any other psychologist, he thought that his client would feel safer talking to me.

I agreed to this, and to be completely honest, I was very excited. So far my favorite clients were the younger ones. It seemed my age really did help me with them, usually because they had an older sibling around my age. Even though I never had to tell my clients how old (or in this case, 'young', I suppose) I was, it was just one of those things that they seemed to sense.

I thanked him for the opportunity, then went about he rest of my day. After my last patient had left and I had gotten my papers together, the lawyer returned to take me to the detention center where his client was being held.

I'll be honest, walking into the room of cages with the tables and chairs in them scared me. There were no walls, only bars, and I was uncomfortable. How was I expected to get honest answers when the guards at the door and anyone else in this area could hear my 'patient' speak with me. I held my breath as I passed through the barred door into the cage with the lawyer and the boy that we both now shared as a client.

After a several minutes of speaking with both of them - mainly the lawyer - I went over to the door to speak with the guard. I asked him if there were any rooms with solid walls where the client, the lawyer, and I could have some privacy together 'for the sake lawyer client, doctor patient privilege'. He told me I'd have to ask someone higher up, and directed me as to where to go.

Half an hour of cleverly phrased thoughts, opinions, and a little chest-puffing, I had secured us a room and received permission for continued usage of it whenever we came to consult with our client.

Once in our chilly, crowded consultation room, I sat down opposite the incarcerated sixteen year old with my arms folded over my chest and shivering slightly. I had left my jacket in the car, and my shirt, though it looked nice, was not meant to preserve body heat. The lawyer offered me his jacket, and I felt very awkward about it for a few moments, trying to figure out if he was coming on to me or just instinctively kind to those about to freeze their balls off.

After studying his expression, I determined that he was only being kind. The fondness he seemed to have for me was merely because I was accomplished at a young age and because he felt I was the best person for this because of my age, as well as the fact that I had so willingly agreed to help. This was a man that was gentle by nature, and was in no was sexually attracted to me. Which I was glad for. Not that I expected him to be or anything, but sometimes the strangest things happen behind locked doors...

I turned my attention to the boy, only three years my junior. It unnerved me how much we were alike. He had suffered abuse from his parents, had grown up with hatred of minorities and intolerance for alternative lifestyles etched into his psyche by his parents. Like myself, he had resisted as best he could, but somewhere along the line, he failed.

The lawyer left the room, standing outside the door while I spoke with the boy in private for nearly an hour. I learned that the boy had killed eight people, and injured six more at the party of a girl he had a crush on. The girl had apparently already had a boyfriend, so he took one of his father's guns to her party, concealed by his clothing.

He claimed he had approached the boyfriend in a hallway and pulled out the gun, only intending to scare him off. When that failed, he became angry and shot the boy in the throat, who bled for half an hour before finally dying. Others had come to see what the noise was, and he had managed to stuff the body in a closet and throw a couple of towels on the floor before slipping back into the party before anyone got to the hallway. He actually bragged about how 'naturally' he had thrown the towels to make it look like someone lazy had just dumped them there after taking a shower.

Later on, the girl had cornered him and told him there was no way in hell she would ever be with him, and laughed in his face, as did others at the party. In a fit of rage, he whipped out the gun and began shooting. He did admit to having planned to kill the girl if she rejected him, because he didn't want to hear anymore rumors about himself spread throughout their school.

Through all of this, I listened; and was forever grateful that I hadn't snapped like that when I was his age, and that I had continued on and made it as far as I had. We were so much alike, but we had taken separate paths and become two completely different people. I was tempted to point it out, but I resisted. That was my big brother instinct, nagging at me to point out how differently things could've, and should've been.

After my session with him, I left the room and stepped aside as the guards entered to remove him and take him back to his cell. Once he and the guards were out of site, the lawyer turned to me, a worried expression on his face.

I told him the absolute truth; it was at least halfway premeditated, and though he had been angry, he couldn't get off on a temporary insanity defense, which the lawyer was hoping to do. I was completely honest in telling him that the boy shouldn't be released until serving time and undergoing intensive therapy, and that releasing him into the general public at this point would just get more people killed. I advised him to take the plea agreement being offered to him by the prosecution.

Reluctantly, he nodded, then returned me to my office where I finished organizing my notes from the day and then took the bus home.

Once at home, I called Archer and he came over to spend the night with me. It was a Friday, and neither of us had to be anywhere the next day, so we ordered pizza and stayed up late watching crime dramas and random sporting events that you can only ever see if you have cable and manage to stay up into the wee hours of the morning.

The perfect ending to the frightening last half of my day.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter seven

A few days after I had conducted the interview for the lawyer, one of my superiors approached me. He informed me that the lawyer had a lot of respect for my honesty, but had asked someone else to examine the boy. He laughed and patted me on the shoulder, saying that though the lawyer agreed with me, he was looking for the answer he wanted that could help his client. I was also told that what I had found was agree with, and that the lawyer had taken the plea agreement.

A couple weeks after that, I invited Archer to move in with me. I had come to realize that life was too short and you never knew where you might be the next day. Well, I wanted to be with him, especially if I didn't know what might happen. I wanted to spend every single moment I could with him.

He accepted, and soon, most of his belongings were in the second bedroom, with the remaining invading the bathroom and my own bedroom. But it was a welcomed invasion, and it felt wonderful to see him every morning when I woke up. I always found myself chuckling whenever I discovered that he had forgotten to let his hair down before going to sleep, which happened quite often, to my amusement.

He was still in college, with another year or two before his first degree. He was on a scholarship and now that he was living with me, there was no longer any worry in his mind about financial affairs. This made things between us even better. He paid for what he could, I covered the rest. I never asked for anything in return; I could never do that to him. For the first time in my life I was making good money and I was more than happy to share it.

Things continued on great, happy, and perfect. Until that dreaded day I got a call at work...

Gavin the Gay - Chapter eight

Several months after Archer had moved in with me, I received a phone call at work that shook me deep down into the core of my very existence. Without bothering to explain anything to my boss or coworkers, I grabbed my messenger bag and ran out of the building, heading for the hospital.

When I arrived there, I found that Archer was in surgery and had lost a great amount of blood; they weren't sure he was going to make it. What I was told made me shake; it made me whimper and it made me cry. All I wanted was for Archer to pull through.

He had been the passenger in the car of a fellow track mate when the car had run a red light, a semi plowing into the driver's side of the car. The driver died instantly, the car was a complete loss, and Archer's spine had been snapped in half. Archer had also suffered multiple large cuts and bruises.

The surgery took nearly eight hours, and no one would keep me informed on his condition throughout the surgery because I wasn't technically his family. Though they claimed to have phoned his family, no one ever showed up to see if he was alright, or to wait for him to regain consciousness. I then realized that the reason why he never spoken about his family was because he didn't have anyone who cared. He just didn't want to remind himself of that, or have me feel sorry for him because of it.

It left me wondering what would happen if I were in his place. If I were the one on that operating table, would anyone come for me? If Archer wasn't in my life, and Diana was unable to come for me, would anyone else in my family care? Sure, Libby might worry a little, but I don't think she would be the type to run up to someone's bedside and sob in despair at the fact that they might die. I think my previous brush with death and paralysis had destroyed that instinct within her. It seemed to be one of those my big brother survived it once, he'll survive it again' type of mindsets.

It left me a little worried, and feeling rather vulnerable. I know it sounds selfish, but really, fearing for myself if I were in his situation (again, mind you) was a wonderful distraction. After giving myself an anxiety attack, a nurse came out through a pair of heavy double doors to inform me that Archer had been moved into a room and that I could see him. I immediately took her up on that offer before anyone could change their mind on letting me see him.

They had him hooked up to monitors and IVs and it only brought back painful memories of my youth. Is this how my sister felt when she stayed by my side as a child? I'm not sure, my relationship with Archer was different from my relationship with Diana.

It was traumatizing, seeing him lying there bruised and beaten and in an involuntary slumber.

But it was alright, at least it would be. I was determined to make it alright. It would stay perfect. I would make it perfect. Okay, so what if he never walked again? It was possible. They told me that I'd never walk, and I did. Archer could be the exact same. All he needed was someone to care for him. Someone to love him and push him to achieve the impossible. Someone like... Jackson. Damn.

My heart stung, but I couldn't decide if it or my tears caused me more pain and discomfort. Jackson and Diana had pushed me to walk again. I certainly wasn't Jackson, and Diana wasn't as close to Archer as she was to myself and Jackson. It was starting to look impossible.

But I would do it. I swore I would do it. I would do whatever it took to care for him and help him walk again. I knew it would be difficult for him. He relied on his legs. They were his livelihood. He might never be able to run for the track team again, and I knew how much that would crush him. But I was determined to make it as easy on him as possible. And if he lost faith, I would willingly show him the scars on my back, and the scars on my legs, and tell him that nothing was impossible.

I had to be more for him than I'd ever had to be before. But I was going to do it. He needed me to be there for him.

Archer didn't wake up that night in the hospital, nor did he wake the next day. They put a feeding tube into his stomach to make sure he received the necessary nutrients. I only left the hospital to go to the apartment long enough to feed my cat, shower, dress, and go back to the hospital.

I sat next to his bed, reading thick psychology and English textbooks and waiting patiently for the first sign that the love of my life was waking.

Gavin the Gay - Chapter nine

I think he was aware of what had happened in the accident, and he just wasn't ready to face the painful truth. That's why he didn't wake up for so long.

Five and a half days after the end of his surgery, I noticed Archer's eyelashes flickering slightly, and his fingers twitching. Reaching out, I gently brushed his hair from his forehead and stood, kissing him between the eyes. A few minutes later, his eyes were open, a mildly scared, drugged expression about his face.

It took him a little while to gather his thoughts and questions and open his mouth to speak. I explained to him what had happened, and tears immediately wetted his pillow. It was an extremely harsh reality for him to face, but he had to do it.

They kept him in the hospital for another week, then discharged him. I took a leave of absence from work, but because of the circumstances, I was fortunate enough to continue receiving my paycheck, though it would be cut because I wasn't working. Archer was my top priority right now. I had the education, I could get a new job if I needed to. But there was only one Archer, and he wasn't worth risking.

I felt so sorry for him, he was so miserable. Even falling flat on my ass didn't make him laugh. When my cat Tiki snatched my breakfast while I went to get Archer a hot water bottle, he didn't even crack a smile. Still, I couldn't blame him.

The first two weeks were the hardest. He refused to talk unless he absolutely needed something, he didn't express any love for me, for the cat, or for anything. He acted like his life was over. True, he was in a wheelchair. But he was behaving as though he had just been told he had less than a week to live, and it really worried me.

Trickery - Chapter two: Hug

The door to apartment three opened, a tall, pale young man with shaggy black hair that fell just under his pierced earlobes entered, pushing the door closed and locking it. Crystal blue eyes peered over the three people asleep on the couch from behind a pair of glasses, the older girl and the man sitting up and using each other as pillows, and the younger girl sleeping with her head on a pillow on the man's lap.

"Trick, wake up," he said quietly, tapping the man on the top of the head.

"Mm?" Trick slowly opened his eyes, glancing around. The movie had ended hours ago, and the television station had begun running it's usual schedule of late night infomercials. "Sorry Glass, guess we fell asleep. Did you just get home?" he asked quietly, trying to somehow get off the couch without disturbing the two girls using him as a pillow.

"Yeah, had to work late. Trinket and Kitten's dad fall off the wagon?" he asked, walking in front of the couch and carefully picking up Del.

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd mind if they stayed here for a while. They really have nowhere else to go, and I don't feel right letting them sleep in the Escape. I just have this feeling that something bad's going to happen to them," Trick said, the look on his face dead serious.

"I don't like it when they sleep there either. I don't have a problem with them being here. I'd rather they be here than on the street, at least here they're safe," Glass replied, carrying Del into his own bedroom and laying her down on the bed. He pulled the blankets out from under her and situated her so she was laying next to the wall.

Glass walked back out into the living room where Trick was already holding Kadali in his arms, waiting to be told which room to take her to.

"Your room or mine?" he asked, carrying Li to the hallway.

"Mine," Glass replied, heading back to his room ahead of Trick. Trick followed and laid Li down next to her sister, pulling the blankets up over them both and brushing the hair from both girls' faces. Glass turned off the light and both men left the room, closing the door behind them.

"We were waiting for you to come home so we could all go out and eat. But we ordered pizza instead. Got you your favorite, the box is in the oven."

"Thanks. Sorry about coming home late. It's raining pretty hard and the office started flooding again. They really need to change locations, or at least get a better drainage system or something. Everyone had to stay late to remove the equipment before it got damaged. At least they learned after the first two times and kept semi trailers in the back lot. Packed everything up in the trailers and the trucks took everything to a storage unit until we can either find another building or the current one dries out. The boss said they were already looking for a new building to relocate to permanently."

"Sounds like a shitty night. I had the day off." He glanced up at the clock on the DVD player and sighed. "Shit, I need to be at work in a couple hours."

"Sorry for waking you up. Didn't think you could be very comfortable on the couch."

"Mm? Nah, it was fine. We haven't fallen asleep like that since we were kids. But last time you were there with us."

Glass chuckled, pulling the box of pizza from the oven and taking one of the cold slices to put on a plate. "Yeah, those were the days, weren't they? Spending the night at your place, falling asleep watching movies with Kitten stretched out over our laps and Trinket asleep against you or me. Your step-dad freaked out the first time he saw us asleep on the couch with the girls until your mom calmed him down and said we'd been spending the night together since we were little." He walked over to the couch and sat down next to where Trick was sprawled out already.

"I don't know why parents refuse to let kids sleep over together just because one's a boy and one's a girl. If they're little it shouldn't matter if they're friends, nothing's going to happen between little kids," Trick said with a sigh. He'd always had trouble understanding what the big taboo about friends spending the night together.

"Eh, I can kinda understand it. But your mom was always cool about it. God I love that woman. Got me through some hard times." Glass took a bite of the cold pizza, too tired to bother warming it up. Trick sat up, watching his friend with a concerned expression.

"Something else happen at work today?" he asked.

"Yeah..." Glass sighed and put down his plate on the cushion next to him, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. "This woman came in to work a few hours before it flooded. She looked just like Mom did... And I found myself wondering if Mom would still be that beautiful if she were alive. If she'd be that happy..."

Trick bit his lower lip softly, considering the next course of action. He certainly wasn't going to rub his good news about meeting their favorite author in his friend's face while he was down; that would be mean. He really wanted to hug Glass, but with him, it was hard to tell if he'd accept physical affection as a form of comfort or not. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't.

"Glass... Answer me honestly. Do you need a hug?" Trick asked cautiously. Glass wouldn't take the question the wrong way, he was more than aware of how hard he was to approach about things like that. It was better to ask then not to.

"Yeah... Honestly? I do..." he answered, looking up at Trick with tears welling in his eyes.

"Come here," Trick said, moving over to wrap his arms around his friend. "I'll drop you off at Mom's on my way to work if you want. Or I'll take the day off and the four of us can go somewhere. Or something like that, anything you want, Glass. I hate to see you like this."

"Nah, I'll be okay. I'll stay with Trinket and Kitten. I'll be fine tomorrow, it's just been a really long day," he said with a sigh, hugging Trick back and sniffling a little.

"You sure, Man?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." He sniffed a few more times and pulled away from Trick, slipping his hands underneath his glasses to rub at his teary eyes. "Is it okay if I sleep in your bed?" he asked, slowly pulling himself up off the couch.

"Yeah. Go ahead. I'm going to go ahead and stay up. Maybe do laundry. Got anything you need washed?"

"Mm? Yeah, in the basket in my closet."

"Gotcha. I'll take care of it then."

"Could you put my food away? I lost my appitite and just want to go lay down..."

"No prob. Go rest. It's fine."

"Thanks," Glass sighed, making his way to Trick's room and collapsing on the bed. He reached up and turned off the light on the dresser next to the bed and rolled over, his back facing the door. After a few minutes of staring at the dark wall in front of him and thinking depressed thoughts, he slowly began drifting off to sleep. He didn't bother taking off his glasses; he rarely slept without them.

Trick got up and took the plate into the kitchen, slipping the piece of pizza back into the box and putting the box back in the oven where they always put their pizza. None of them liked the way it tasted when kept in the fridge. He washed his glass from the day before, along with the plate the dishes he, Trinket, and Kitten had used when eating a Glassless dinner.

As he and his friends very well knew, Trick was the homemaker of the group. Learning about pleasing people at a young age from his mother, he had always followed her example and her tips on how to keep a household functional, clean, and happy. Though there was a mischievous side to him which often showed itself, especially while out in publish with his friends, they all knew that when at home, he was perfectly happy with being an ordinary, quiet individual.

Glass was the bread-winner, as his paycheck was more than Trick's, and he worked more hours. He was also the technical whiz, and when given the chance, was more talkative than his appearance would lead you to believe.

Trinket and Kitten played the role of the strays in their little family. Coming from an unstable household, Trinket would often stay with Trick's family as a child whenever her father was in one of his drunken rages. Once Kitten was old enough to suffer abuse at their drunken father's hand, she would also seek shelter with Trick and his mother. They had become such a regular sight in the household that one of the bedrooms had been dedicated to the sisters to use whenever they needed to use it.

Glass had been the last edition of their little family, having moved into their old neighborhood soon after Kitten had been born. He and Trick had bonded instantly, and when Trick became friends with someone, it was for life. Picked on constantly for his first name, they had given him his nickname the day he'd come home from an optometrist appointment with his first pair of glasses. The name still suited him now, as he liked to play around with glassblowing and sculpting as a hobby, as well as collecting various pieces of decorative glass.

Kadali, often called 'Li' or 'Trinket' was given her nickname for her childhood habit of collecting every little trinket she could get her hands on. She loved cute, small things and her habit was often supported by Glass and Trick adding to her collection. Delmira's nickname was 'Kitten' because she was the youngest, and even as a little kid enjoyed stretching across the laps of Trick, Glass, and her older sister Trinket.

Trick had taken Trinket's keys off the table by the door and went down to her Ford Escape, unlocking it and taking the two baskets of dirty laundry from the back of it up to the apartment. They were lucky enough to own their own washer and dryer, which belonged in a closet-like space at the very end of the left side of the hallway, just past the door to Glass's room. After getting all the laundry done, he folded it and put it all away, managing not to wake anyone up. By the time the laundry was put away, it was light outside, and nearly time for him to head off to work.

He changed his clothes and grabbed what he needed, then left the apartment. Climbing into his Honda Civic, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards his place of employment a few miles away.

Trickery - Chapter three: Movie Night

It was mid-afternoon before Trinket woke up to find Glass laying on the couch watching television, a depressed look about him. After nearly an hour trying to find a way to cheer him up, her determined train of thought was broken by the phone ringing. Answering it, she realized that the voice on the other end was exactly the thing she'd been hoping for; something to cheer Glass up with - Trick's mom. Handing Glass the phone, Trinket went to grab some clean clothes and take a shower.

"Trinket?" Kitten asked, poking her head into the bathroom.

"What is it Kitten?" Trinket asked, shampooing her hair.

"Do you know which of their keys goes to the mailbox?"

"Don't get the mail, Kitten. That's Trick's thing. I think he might go insane if he misses a chance to rant about getting someone else's mail."

"Oh. Okay. I just wanted to be nice..."

"Trick gets the mail when he gets home. I guess you haven't hidden here enough times to know that yet. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. Trick did our laundry, by the way. Glass showed me where it was."

"Alright. I'll be done in a little bit, then we can go out for a late breakfast."

"Do you have the money for that?"

"I should have enough. We need to go job hunting later, you know. We have to get the hell out of that damn house."

"Yeah. I'm going to go watch a movie with Glass. See ya in a bit." Kitten left the bathroom and went out into the living room to watch the remainder of the movie with Glass while he talked on the phone. Glass was the kind of person who could talk on the phone during a movie and not bother anyone. He kept his voice soft and could easily pay attention to the conversation on the other end, the conversation surrounding him, and the dialogue in the movie as well.

Once Trinket had gotten out of the shower and was dressed, the three of them went out for a late breakfast together. Glass's mood had greatly improved after talking with Trick's mother for a while, as speaking with her often helped.

Around four in the afternoon, Trick snuck up behind the mailboxes, a contemplative look on his face equal to that of a cat trying to decide if it should pounce or not. He ducked underneath the mailboxes, reaching his right hand up with the key to their box and unlocked it, reaching in and pulling out the thick stack of letters inside, pulling them into his lap, then shutting and locking the box again. With a sigh, he moved out from underneath the box and made his way towards the stairs to the apartment, looking through the letters as he climbed upward.

His games with the mailbox were common, the majority of his neighbors knowing the story behind them, were always highly amused by his antics whenever they witnessed them. Though strangers thought him to be insane, his neighbors saw it for what it really was: his inner child playing war games with an object that caused inconvenience. His eyes lit up upon seeing the name on today's intrusive letter. He quickly turned around and ran back down the stairs, heading towards the buildings in the back. Holding Lucio's envelope, he tucked the mail belonging to Glass and himself into his back pocket, though the upper half stuck out.

It only took a few minutes to get there and knock on the door again, the faint sound of music reaching his ears from the other side of the door. A moment later and the music had stopped, the doorknob clicking as it was unlocked and turned, the door opening.

"Another letter?" Lucio asked, looking at the envelope Trick held out towards him. He reached out and took it, looking it over. "You really do get other people's mail a lot, don't you?"

"Eh, yeah, I do," Trick replied, looking away for a moment. "Do you think you could... Do me a favor? My friend was really depressed this morning and I was wondering if you could autograph one of his books? I'll pay for it, even. I just know it would really cheer him up..."

"Sure."

Trick looked up, a little surprised. "Really? You would? How much do you want for it?"

"You've already brought me two stray letters. Let's call it a favor for a favor? It's just a signature, right? You shouldn't have to pay for that," Lucio said with a soft smile.

"Really!?" Trick's eyes widened. "I'll go get one of his books!" He turned and ran off towards his own apartment building, thrilled that he could do something to cheer up his friend. Lucio chuckled lightly, amused by Trick's energy. Something on the ground caught his eye, and he bent down to pick up a letter than had fallen from Trick's pocket.

"Gabir Instren," he read aloud, looking over the letter. He looked up towards the direction Trick had run off in, pulling his apartment door closed and making his way after him, glancing down at the address on the envelope every couple yards.

"Trick! What the hell is going on!?" Glass demanded, staring into his own room while Trick rummaged through his things.

"What's your favorite Tempest novel?" Trick asked, clumsily knocking books off of a shelf while pulling several books from it.

Lucio found the apartment that the lost letter belonged to, the door wide open and some commotion going on inside. He peeked inside curiously, finding two girls sitting in the living room as though the other two occupants weren't there at all.

"Soul Dagger, but you have all of Tempest's books too, why do you need my copy?" Glass asked in annoyance.

"You'll see! Ah! Found it!" Trick clutched the book and began digging around for a marker.

"You better clean up that mess," Glass sighed, turning around and going back out into the living room. His eyes immediately fell upon the man standing in the open doorway.

"You're friend dropped this," the blond said with a slightly awkward smile, holding the letter out to Glass.

"Y-you're Ciar Tempest!" Glass gasped, stepping forward and taking his envelope.

Trick poked his head out into the living room and grinned. "Ah, damn. You know. Oh well, at least you can get it yourself now," he said, walking over to Glass and handing him his book and a sharpie.

Glass looked down at the book and permanent marker, then looked up at the author. "I..." By this time, Trinket and Kitten had swarmed around Lucio, eyes wide and highly impressed.

"Trick knows Tempest!" Kitten cried, flinging her arms around Trick's neck and hugging him. "Why didn't you tell us!?"

"I barely know him. And I already told Trinket," Trick muttered, slipping out of Kitten's grip.

"Your friend here told me that you weren't feeling particularly well, and asked me if I'd autograph one of your books to cheer you up. I'm pretty sure he intended to bring it to me, but he dropped some mail in his excitement, so I figured I'd bring it back here." He smiled a little, loving the feeling the four friends had about them. His eyes fell on Trick for a moment, then moved over the other three faces, before back to Trick. "So your name's Trick?" Trick nodded at the question.

"I'm Glass," Glass said, holding out his hand to the author. "That's Trinket, and that's Kitten," he added, nodding to each girl.

"Then who is Gabir?" Lucio asked, shaking Glass's hand.

"Err. That's my real name... My mom liked the meaning, and thought the origin was appropriate because I had dark skin when I was born..." Glass said, looking off to the side. In mentioning his mother he'd accidentally made himself feel worse - something that was visible upon his features.

"So what's Trick's real name?"

"Trenton," Trick muttered, also looking away. He hated his real name, and even his mother called him by his given nickname.

"I'm Kadali, my sister is Delmira," Trinket said, also reaching forth to shake Lucio's hand, her sister then shaking his hand after her. Trick felt a little awkward realizing that he hadn't really introduced himself to Lucio before, and felt even more awkward about the possibility of touching him. To Trick, Lucio was still a god-like image in his mind.

"It's nice to meet you all. It seems that all of you recognize me, which doesn't happen as often as you might think." Lucio accepted the book and marker as Glass handed them to him.

"Uh, I really hate to be picky..." Glass looked a little embarrassed as he reached up to open the book. "I really like the cover art, and I don't want the signature to rub off. That book gets handled a lot. Could you please sign it on the inside?"

"Of course," the blond replied with a nod. He signed one of the blank pages at the back of the book, then handed both the book and the sharpie back to Glass. "There you go."

Trinket's eyes lit up thoughtfully, and she stepped forward closer to their guest. "Mr. Tempest, we were about to watch a movie, would you like to join us?" Kitten, Glass, and Trick all gave Trinket a look of near-horror.

"Trinket... He probably has more important things to do then hang around with a group of nobodies!" Kitten hissed, grabbing her sister by the upper arm and pulling her back a bit.

"I don't have anything to do, actually. And I don't see a group of nobodies. I see a group of close friends."

"Would you join us then?" Trinket asked, a smile spreading across her lips.

"If none of you mind my presence," Lucio replied with a slight nod.

"I hope you realize that you're most likely going to end up being someone's pillow," Trick warned, making his way to shut the door now that it was clear that Lucio would be staying for a while.

"Trick, you don't have to be up early tomorrow, do you?" Kitten asked, going over to the side table at the end of the couch farthest from the door. She grabbed the phone and sat down on the couch, reaching into the drawer of the table and pulling out the stack of take-out and delivery menus and coupons.

"No. Nick's going to be out of town and said we could go ahead and take the day off," Trick said, heading back to the hallway and to Glass's room to clean up the mess he'd made.

"Can we order pizza or something?" Kitten called after him.

"Last night's pizza set me back a good amount. Don't think I have enough for tonight," he replied, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

Trinket shot her sister a warning look, knowing very well that Kitten would ask Trick to check to see if he had enough money. She turned her attention back to Lucio. "Please, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

He took the few steps to the couch, sitting down on the side closest to the door, plenty of room between him and kitten. Glass hurried to put his newly-autographed book away and help Trick clean up, then returned to the living room and sat down next to Kitten to look through menus.

"I'll cover it tonight. I got paid for eight hours of overtime," he told her, taking the stack of menus and holding them out to Lucio. "Pick a menu, any menu," he said with a slight grin, fanning the menus out like a magician fanning out cards for a trick.

Lucio looked up at the menus, a little confused at first. "A-anything's fine with me," he said quietly, not wanting them to spend any money on him.

"Nonsense! You're our guest, so pick a menu," Glass insisted.

The author blinked at them for a moment, shyly reaching out to pull at the corner of one of the menus. He looked at the menu he'd chosen, finding that it was for a local Italian restaurant. He looked it over, then held it out to Glass. "Is this okay...?"

"Perfect," Glass replied, taking the menu and tossing the rest into Kitten's lap. "What do you want from there?"

"Anything is fine..." He found himself talking quieter, more than aware of how shy he was being. For some reason he felt strange in the presence of the three friends without Trick being in the room, most likely because he'd already encountered Trick previously.

Glass went about ordering food for everyone, Trick came back into the living room and then into the kitchen (which was openly connected to the living room), while Trinket and Kitten picked out movies to watch and loaded up the DVD player. Trick popped enough popcorn to fill a large punch bowl and covered it with popcorn butter from the large bottle they kept around the apartment, and put it on the coffee table in front of the couch for everyone to get to. Several sodas then emerged, finding their way to the coffee table as well, the lights in the room being turned off except the two small lamps on either side of the couch, which were only dimmed. Trinket claimed the television remote, Kitten claimed the DVD remote, and Trick took his place on the couch near their guest.

Lucio was a little surprised by how natural everything seemed to them. No one fought over the remotes, no one fought over who had to make popcorn and get sodas. Everyone seemed to have their own assignments memorized, doing them in silence and without a fuss. He recalled trying to watch movies at a friend's house when he was younger, everyone trying to make everyone else get snacks, and all of them seemed to want the remote. But not this group. No, they seemed to move as a unit in perfect harmony with each other, knowing their jobs and doing them. He couldn't help but appreciate the calm atmosphere about the four, and wondered how long they'd been friends in order to achieve this. His thoughts were only interrupted when he realized that someone was asking a question.

"Disney, chick flick, action, horror, or anime?" Kitten asked, looking at everyone from Trinket's lap. She'd already claimed her rightful place across Trinket and Glass's laps, her head resting in her sister's lap.

"What's anime...?" He felt like an idiot to ask a question that the four obviously knew the answer to already, but he genuinely didn't know what it was.

"Japanese animation. I like it better than most Western cartoons. The style, the storylines, and the overall charm is so much better. There are some Western cartoons we'll always love, but for the most part we prefer anime," Kitten answered with a small nod.

"Oh." Lucio blinked a little, only partially understanding. He decided to look it up on the internet when he got home. "What are the other movies?"

"Disney, horror, action, or a chick flick," Kitten repeated.

"I meant the movie titles..."

"It's a surprise!" Kitten said with a light giggle, looking up at Lucio.

"One or two people pick out movies and the order of which they're watched are chosen by genre, which everyone chooses the genre they want to watch first, and find out what movie it is after choosing. Sometimes it's a movie no one's seen before, sometimes it's a movie we've watched a million times," Trick explained, before getting up and ducking into his room for a moment. He quickly returned with his fluffy pillow and sat back down, folding his legs Indian style and hugging his pillow against his stomach and chest, resting his chin on the top of it.

"Oh." He'd never heard of choosing movies in such a fashion, and was unsure of which genre to choose.

"I don't know why, but I kind of feel like a chick flick today," Glass said to get everyone started on choosing. Trinket chose horror, and Kitten chose Disney. The choice for the fell on what Trick and Lucio chose.

"Action?" Lucio asked, a little nerviously. Although he was enjoying their company, he was feeling increasingly awkward around them, an extra wheel to a full group.

"I think I know what the action movie is. If it's what I think it is, I choose action," Trick said, watching the logo of the DVD player dance across the large screen in the corner of the room.

"Action it is!" Kitten said, pushing a button on the DVD remote. Within seconds the advertisements on the DVD began playing. Trinket adjusted the volume, thankful that the only room behind the television was the landry closet, and that they were in the apartment on the end so neighbors wouldn't complain about the noise.

Trick's feeling about the movie was correct, being one of the group's favorite movies. Lucky for Lucio, it was a movie he had rather enjoyed as well.

Trickery - Chapter four: Curious by nature means asking questions

Around four in the morning, Trick's eyes fluttered open. Lucio had stayed to watch all five movies, the last of which had been just over two hours long and everyone who wasn't already asleep fell asleep while watching it. This included Lucio.

Trick carefully manipulated his way out from under Trinket and off of the couch, pulling Trinket up into his arms and carrying her into his bedroom to lay in his bed. He repeated this with Kitten, then carried Glass to his rightful room and put him in bed. Then came the awkward part; what should he do with Lucio? The blond had fallen asleep around the same time that Trick had, with just under an hour left of the fifth movie. He sighed and reserved himself simply to putting a blanket over him, then going about tidying up the apartment. First thing he did was put away the leftovers, followed by cleaning the entire room of any stray food particles. He stopped just short of vacuuming, not wanting to wake the sleeping author.

Opening the blinds just a little, he took his pillow and curled up on the far end of the long couch, leaving plenty of room should Lucio end up moving and lying down in his sleep. Cuddling his pillow, it didn't take him long to fall back to sleep.

Several hours later, green eyes fluttered open as a small amount of natural light began to fill the room. The lights on either side of the couch had been shut off, the television was tuned onto a twenty-four hour news station, and Trick was sound asleep on the other side of the couch. Looking around, it took him a few minutes to realize where he was. A shy feeling immediately crept over him, leaving him to wonder why on earth people younger than him could make him feel this way. Maybe it was the fact that they all recognized him, while most of his readers never paid enough attention to know what he looked like until they met him at a book signing.

Whatever it was, it didn't worry him as much as how he should leave. Should he wake Trick up and tell him that he's leaving? Should he slip out quietly? Wouldn't it be considered rude? He couldn't figure out what to do. His eyes darted toward the hallway as the sound of movement reached his ears. A moment later the form of Glass emerged, making his way to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

"Ah, you fell asleep too," he said with a yawn, seeing that Lucio's eyes were open.

"Err, yeah..." He sat up fully, only noticing the blanket as it fell off of him. Looking at the blanket, he looked back up at Glass. "I could've sworn you fell asleep out here..."

"I did. Trick puts everyone to bed whenever he wakes up. I've never figured out why, but he always wakes up before dawn for some reason or another. Sometimes he stays up, sometimes he goes back to sleep. Looks like he went back to sleep this time," Glass said with a slight shrug, pulling a few things out of the fridge.

"Who puts Trick to bed...?"

"No one. He's heavier than we are. Trinket and I tried to once, but we ended up dropping him while trying to carry him down the stairs of his mom's house. Broke his arm. Never tried to move him again. His mom used to do it until he got too heavy for her to when he was about fourteen." He poured coffee into a mug from the coffee maker, taking it over to Lucio and offering it to him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking the mug and holding it in his hands, leaning forward a little and glancing over at Trick again. "So he takes care of everyone?" He hated that he was asking personal questions, but he was curious by nature, and the relationship between the four had struck him as interesting.

"Yep. We all take care of each other, really. But he's like a big brother to us." Glass returned to the kitchen and began making himself breakfast. "Is there anything you want to eat?"

"Leftovers are fine," he replied, getting up and walking into the kitchen. "I really hate to pry... But you all seem to have everything worked out so perfectly. Who does what at what times, like last night when everyone worked together, but were doing their own things at the same time... How long have you all been doing this?"

"We've been friends since we were little. Trick's the oldest. He and Trinket grew up on the same street. I moved on to their street when Kitten was only a couple months old. Trick and Trinket knew each other when they were babies. When I moved in Trick became my friend and refused to let me sulk on my own when my parents fought. He was always there for us. We've been together for..." He paused to count on his fingers really fast, unable to remember Kitten's age. "About seventeen years."

Lucio's eyes widened and he coughed a little as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "Seventeen years!?" he asked, his eyes watering from the burning feeling in the back of his throat. "But you're just kids!"

"Kitten will be eighteen in a few months, Trinket will be twenty-one a couple months after Kitten turns eighteen, and Trick will be twenty-two in about a month and a half. I turned twenty-one a couple months ago. Yeah, we're young, but we're not really 'kids'." He grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and added a little water to them before reheating them on the stove.

"Trick's older than I thought," Lucio said, glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping boy on the couch. "His energy when we first met felt so young, I figured he wasn't even twenty."

"Most people who meet him think he's older. If he's not hyper, of course. He acts older than he is, always has."

Lucio returned his gaze to Glass. "How long have you all lived here? How could you afford such a big TV, and where on earth did you find a DVD player that can hold five DVDs at once?"

"The TV was what we all used to watch at Trick's house growing up. The DVD player was a birthday gift Trick's mom gave him because she knew we fell asleep on each other while watching movies and wanted us to be able to change movies without having to wake the others up. When Trick and I moved in here, she gave us the TV, and bought us the couch as a house warming gift. She also bought us the fridge."

"Sounds like a nice woman. Why did Trick leave home?"

"He wanted to venture out into the world. But we're only about half an hour from where we used to live. Trick waited for me to turn eighteen, and we moved together." He shrugged a little, starting to dread the questions he might be asked about his own family life. Scooping leftovers onto a plate and into a bowl, he set them down on the counter for Lucio, then went about making himself a couple eggs to eat.

"So Trinket and Kitten don't live here?"

"Not yet. I haven't had a chance to discuss it with Trick, and I haven't talked to the landlord yet. Trick's the main name on the lease, but I don't think he'd care if they moved in."

"Not really. I was going to ask you for help cleaning out the other room. Already talked to Mom, she said we can take the stuff in their room at Mom's place and move it here," Trick said with a loud yawn.

"Trick!" Glass cried, a little startled.

"Took a few minutes to get my wits about me. Dunno why, but I'm still really tired..."

"It's because you slept on the couch," Glass muttered, rolling his eyes a bit and turning around to make sure his food didn't burn.

Lucio smiled to himself, taking a drink of his coffee. "Thanks for the blanket."

"You looked kinda cold," Trick replied with a shrug.

After breakfast, Lucio took his leave from their apartment, and Kitten went over to a friend's house. Trick cleaned the apartment, then went to go speak with the landlord while Glass read and Trinket played video games. Trick went to work after his meeting with their landlord, and didn't return to the apartment until after six in the evening.