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Description
Timothy stowed his umbrella in his backpack as he stepped inside the frigid air of the school hallway. Various groups of students hovered against the lockers, laughing, talking, and flirting. He eyed them through his bangs as he walked past them, shoulders hunched and sneakers making no noise on the cold tile. He slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the wall, gazing at himself in the mirrors across the room. He crept closer and leaned over the sink.

Did he look any different? He certainly felt different. He turned his face from side to side, pulling on his pale cheeks. He tucked his bangs behind his ears, exposing more of himself. He straightened up and pursed his lips, thinking. He wondered what he looked like when…

Timothy braced his palms on the edge of the counter and took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. He wanted to know what it was Jase saw. Slowly, Timothy turned up the corners of his mouth in a pained grimace. He huffed and scowled, crossing his arms. No. This wouldn’t do.

He kicked his toe against the floor softly, biting his lip. He thought about Jase. About Jase going on and on about the movie, pantomiming the choreography. He thought about Jase ruffling his hair and hugging him. About Jase leaning forward on his bed with a look of determined terror on his face as he kissed Timothy for the first time. He thought about Jase holding him.

He felt the change taking over his face, and he quickly looked up before it could slip away. Timothy looked into the mirror and saw himself smiling for the first time. He gasped and almost ruined it by clapping a hand over his mouth, but he stilled his hand just in time, letting it hover in the air under his chin. His smile slowly widened and soon he was grinning shyly at himself.

This is what Jase does to me.

He marveled at the way the smile transformed his face. So different. He truly was different. He lowered his head and hugged himself as he turned away, heading for the stall. He peeked over his shoulder a couple of times, just to see if the smile was still there. It was.

Then he knelt down in front of the toilet and sighed. He felt his face fall back into its normal shape, grim and flat and emotionless. He thought about the cinnamon roll with strawberries he had eaten that morning. Elaine had sprinkled tiny little red hearts on the icing, for some reason. Timothy wanted to grind them into the dirt. He had picked them off one by one and flicked them across the table, leaning on his elbow.

Now, he sighed and stuck two fingers down his throat and pushed. He gagged and wretched, clutching his heaving stomach. He coughed and sputtered, choking and swallowing bitterly. He panted, resting his forehead on his arm. It didn’t work. Timothy hated when it didn’t work the first time. It made him feel sick, realizing he would have to do it again.

Maybe… maybe today he would skip his rituals. He hadn’t eaten that much, after all. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the grimy grout in the tile between his legs. Then he got up and rinsed his face, picking up his bag as he left for his first class.

~*~

Timothy sat down at his lonely lunch table and began unfolding the brown paper sack slowly, relishing the surprise. Suddenly, his head jerked forward as someone slapped the back of his skull.

“Hey loser,” Carey said with a grin, slouching into the seat next to him. “Want to come sit with us today instead of eating all by yourself?” She poked him in the shoulder with a jabbing finger.

Timothy looked at her through his bangs and nodded, a little frightened.

“Come on then,” she said exuberantly, snatching his lunch sack away and stalking off to a crowded table. Timothy watched her go with his hostage meal. He got up and followed after her, shuffling his feet and hiding his hands up his sleeves and fisting them nervously.

Carey fell into a seat and patted the space beside her. The rest of her friends looked up at him as Timothy awkwardly stood behind the seat, shoulders hunched.

“Hey Schizo. You gonna stand there all day?” That was Darren, Carey’s boyfriend. He slung an arm around her and leered up at Timothy challengingly.

He shook his head and lurched forward, folding himself into the chair crammed between Carey and one of her other guy friends. He was beefy and sweaty and he elbowed Timothy in the side painfully. Timothy cringed and winced and stared at the table, wishing he hadn’t come over here. Carey plopped his rather smashed lunch down in front of him. The bottom of the sack was wet and slowly oozing something reddish. He didn’t make a move to open it. It was ruined now anyway.

“So how was your weekend?” Carey asked as she leaned against Darren’s side. Everyone around the table laughed. Timothy slid lower in his seat and glared at the table. Darren reached over and jostled him roughly.

“Well, come on. Speak up,” he said tauntingly to more brutish guffaws.

Timothy gritted his teeth and felt a slow rage build up inside. In defiance of them all, he pulled out his notepad from beneath his shirt and furiously bent over it to write, digging the pencil into the paper with unnecessary force. He ripped it off and thrust it at Carey and Darren, breathing through his nose.

Darren took and read out loud for the whole table to hear.

‘“I met someone.”’ Darren’s eyebrows rose and he snickered. “Oh really? What does she look like? Does where white gloves and act everything out like a mime?”

Carey slapped her knee and laughed. She slithered out of Darren’s grasp and clutched Timothy’s arm, leaning into his ear conspiratorially. “Is she a hot little number? Does she want a piece of the Tim-action?”

Timothy let himself get pulled around as they took turns describing the ‘girl’ he had met. As the conversation progressed, she went from a desperate slut to a whore for hire. They passed the story around the table, each taking turns to embellish the details of how she had screamed Timothy’s name and how much he had paid her.

Timothy endured the torments in silence, hiding his face in his arms that were laced over the table. The talk finally turned to the sexual exploits of others and Timothy sat there, forgotten and ignored. He traced the lines in the fake wood grain with his fingertip and tuned out the loud voices all around him.

He wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted to vanish and reappear in another place. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and willed himself with all his might to teleport back into his room… It didn’t work. He sighed and chewed on his lip. He wished he was with Jase. Right now. Right this minute.

Slowly, without drawing attention to himself as he huddled between the shifting bodies of Carey’s boisterous friends, he opened his notepad and wrote something. Then he spent five minutes trying to catch Carey’s eye. When she finally noticed, he passed her the note, holding it out with slim white fingers.

Carey stared at it for a while incredulously. Then she licked her bottom lip, sticking her tongue all the way out of her mouth as she sat up and took it, unfolding it carelessly.

May I please have a ride after school today?

Carey smirked and shrugged, elbowing Darren. He stopped in the middle of the joke he was telling and looked down. Carey waved the note beneath his nose, giggling as he tried to snatch it away and read it. After a brief struggle which was really just an excuse for Darren to get his hands all over Carey’s chest, he read the paper and grinned sinisterly.

“Sure thing, Schizo. We’d love to give you a ride.”

~*~

As the end of school bell rang, the sigh of relief was tangible as Timothy gathered his things and slipped down the hall trying his best to avoid contact with the surging masses of students around him. He tucked the books that he wouldn’t need back into his locker, then made his way out to the parking lot to look for Carey and Darren.

The sun was especially bright today, so he popped his umbrella open and hunched his way outside, eyeing the various groups of chatting kids. He squinted his eyes against the glare coming from the sidewalk. After a few minutes of worried searching, he finally found Carey leaning on Darren in a circle of their friends. He went over to them, but hung back so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, hovering in the background so he could make sure they didn’t forget about him and drive off.

Eventually, the two broke away from the circle and walked toward the parking lot. Timothy followed at a small distance until they disappeared around a corner of the gym. He hesitated for a moment before going around the corner after them.

Darren had Carey pressed up against the wall, plastering his lips against her face as she curled one knee up around his leg. They were noisy. Timothy tilted his head to side and watched their technique. It didn’t look like anything how he and Jase had kissed.

Suddenly, Carey slid open her eyes and saw Timothy standing there. She whined and pulled back. Darren unglued his face and looked up with anger showing in his eyes. He pushed away from the wall.

“Were you spying on us, Sicko?” he asked aggressively, standing in Timothy’s face and leaning over him.

He quickly took a step back, shaking his head back and forth, hands trembling.

“You were, weren’t you, pervert? Come on, admit it!” Darren grabbed Timothy’s shoulder and shook him, pushing him back. Timothy struggled to stay on his feet and to keep himself covered under his umbrella. “Say it. Say you were watching us. Say it, silent boy. Say it!”

“Darren, just relax. He was probably tying to pick up tips to use on this girl he’s got.” Carey laughed and draped her hands over her head against the wall. “Let’s give him a few lessons, babe,” she said coyly, making eyes at Darren.

Darren looked over at her and grinned. He slunk forward and put his hands on her hips, leaning down and sucking on her neck while she giggled. Timothy blushed and stared at his feet.

“What, you don’t want to watch anymore,” Carey asked in a breathy voice as Darren’s hands worked their way up her shirt. Timothy glanced up at her, then turned his back, scuffing his toes as he waited for them to finish. He tried to ignore the wet sounds and the odd curling in his stomach.

Carey sighed contentedly and Darren whispered something in her ear that made her gasp and laugh. “Alright, Tim. It’s safe now. What did you want, anyway?” She asked, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging him in the direction of Darren’s car.

“A ride, remember?” Darren said with a dark chuckle.

Timothy stumbled and pulled away, trotting behind them. He got into the backseat and sat in the middle, leaning forward. He was eager now to be out of here. Darren started the car and the speakers flared to life, making the doors rattle and buzz. Timothy jumped and covered his ears, feeling the vibrations thumping inside his chest. Darren laughed and took off, flooring the car and making the tires spin and squeal. At a sharp turn, Timothy was sent careening into the door, hitting his head on the window. He scuffled back to the middle and did up his seat belt with difficulty as he lurched this way and that.

Sticking his finger in one ear, he used his other hand to point over Darren’s shoulder when they came to the first intersection. Darren turned in the way he’d indicated as Carey toed off her shoes and stuck her feet out the window, letting the wind travel through her long hair. Timothy blinked and fought to keep his bangs out of his eyes as the wind swirled around behind him.

As they approached a stop sign, Timothy pointed again and Darren slung the car into a skid that had Timothy grabbing the headrests as the g-forces sent him flying. Carey whooped and screamed in excitement. Timothy stared at the back of her head incredulously.

Darren followed Timothy’s directions until they got closer to the downtown area of the city. He took a deliberate wrong turn and started winding down back alleys. Carey looked over at him and smirked.

Confused and panicked about what was going on, Timothy tapped Darren’s shoulder to get his attention. Darren ignored him and turned up the already deafening music. Timothy reached out and tapped him again, more forcefully. Darren kept driving. When he tapped him a third time and more insistently, Darren turned around and backhanded him.

“Quit fucking touching me, Schizo!”

Timothy shrank back into his seat, looking at Darren through his bangs, terrified. The side of his face was throbbing where Darren had hit him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Carey said accusingly.

Darren grinned at him and turned back around, adjusting the car before they smashed into a lamppost.

Timothy hugged himself and closed his eyes, letting his bangs cover his face and whip around his head in the turbulent air. After several more turns, the car finally stopped in front of a condemned factory building that was due for demolition in a few months. There was caution tape all around the perimeter and the windows were smashed. Vines curled up around the sides of the cracked red brick and weeds grew through cracks in the pavement. Broken bottles made the street sparkle like glitter in the sun.

Darren and Carey got out, yelling out to some people that materialized out of the darkness of the building. Timothy’s eyes widened and he pulled up his knees in the seat, hugging them desperately as he watched them greet the new people. There were a couple kids from school that he recognized, but the rest were strangers and most of them were older and looked almost homeless.

A scruffy man with a mohawk ventured over to the car with Darren and looked in the side window at Timothy who scrunched down, trying to look invisible.

“And he can’t talk, you say?” The man laughed when Darren shook his head and grinned. “Well that’s convenient. No one will hear him scream.”

Timothy sucked in a quick breath and froze, staring at the man through his hair. Darren opened the door and tugged on his arm, trying to drag him out of the car. The seat belt caught around Timothy’s hip and cut painfully into his stomach, making his eyes bulge. Darren yanked on his arm again and Timothy felt something pop in his shoulder. A second later, he felt the pain.

He screamed.

But no one heard him. They couldn’t. No one could hear his agony.

His face contorted and he gasped for breath, blinking back tears. Darren, oblivious to his situation, pulled on his arm again. Timothy flailed his other arm and kicked, fumbling for the buckle. With one last jerk on his arm, Timothy finally found the button and the seat belt clicked off and he slid free of the car and landed on the dirty street on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with him?” The mohawked stranger asked as Timothy grabbed his shoulder and curled up into a ball. Darren shrugged and toed Timothy with his boot.

“Hey, Schitzo? What happened?”

“Tim?” That was Carey’s voice. She hurried over when she saw him on the ground, rocking back and forth and crying. She punched Darren hard in the gut, making him double over and glare. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Nothing!”

“Tim,” she said, kneeling down by his head. Timothy opened his watery eyes and looked up at her. “Are you hurt?” she asked, stroking his forehead.

He nodded and closed his eyes again against the numbing, white hot pain.

“Come on, it’s okay. We’ve got something to take the pain away.” She scooped him up and helped him get on his feet. His arm hung down unnaturally low. She took his good hand and started walking him toward the building. His eyes were too blurry to see where he was going, but he noticed when it got dark again. He opened his eyes and blinked to clear them, seeing the group of people sitting on the floor and getting out a set of instruments and various other things from bags and pockets.

Timothy gasped and took a step back when he saw the syringe.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Carey said soothingly, like she was speaking to a spooked horse. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

“Yeah, man,” piped up another stranger with glassy eyes.

Timothy shook his head, trying to back away. But Carey held onto his hand and pulled him toward the circle. She started pushing up his sleeve as Darren and the scruffy man walked in.

“Hey, help me out. He won’t hold still. Tie up his arm for me,” Carey said to them as she reached down and took the needle from one of her friends from school who was sitting on the floor.

Darren grinned and advanced. Timothy panicked, forgetting about the pain he was in. He just wanted to get out of there. Fast.

With adrenaline surging through him, he tore free of Carey’s grasp and stumbled back. He dodged Darren’s outstretched arms and ran around him, panting and tripping and sprinting for the door. The scruffy stranger’s fingers scrabbled on the back of his hoodie for a moment and Timothy leapt forward desperately as he heard the others shouting and taking pursuit.

He ran past the car and down the alleyway, feet crunching on the broken glass and hopping over garbage bags. Yells of “come back” and “get him” were still hanging in the air as he burst on the street and took a random turn, running as hard and as fast as his legs could carry him. His shoulder throbbed with every step, but he gritted his teeth and concentrated on getting away.

It was several blocks later that he first felt the burning. He didn’t have his umbrella and the sun was glaring down with bright intensity. He slowed to a walk and looked behind him. No one was there. His lungs worked and his muscles ached and quivered in spasms and cramps. His sides felt like someone had dug a knife into him and left it in there.

Leaning against the side of an office building, he pulled up his hood with his good arm, trying to cover his unprotected face. People passing him on the sidewalk cast him curious glances. He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand and tried to compose himself so that he wouldn’t stand out so much. Then he started walking.

~*~

An hour later, he was gasping in pain with every step, holding his shoulder. He looked up and finally saw it. He staggered to the apartment complex and counted the doors, stopping at the right one and knocking quietly. He leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, biting his lip.

Please be at home. Please, please.

There was no answer. Biting back a silent scream, he pounded the door with his fist.

After a long moment of silence, he jumped when something that sounded like a shoe was thrown against the door from the inside and a slurred voice mumbled something.

Heart speeding up in hope, Timothy knocked again, standing up straight and pushing the hair out of his eyes.

Something else thudded against the door. Perhaps it was the other shoe.

“I SAID I don’t want to play basketball! Fuck OFF!”

Timothy frowned and glanced up to check that he had the right apartment number. He did. Perplexed, he knocked again, softer this time. He pressed his ear to the door and listened, trying to hold his breath.

Someone moved around and groaned. “Just go away Mark. Give it up already.”

Who was Mark? Timothy chewed on his lip and tapped on the door with his fingernail. There was absolute silence for a while, then…

“Mark?”

Timothy waited, then tapped once. There was another longer silence.

Then, without warning, the door opened. Timothy hastily stepped back to keep from falling in with the opening door. Jase stared down at him. The first thing that Timothy thought was that he looked terrible. His hair was a mess and there were red lines in the side of his face where he had been sleeping. His eyes were a little unfocused and his clothes were askew. He was wearing a thin, faded t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. One leg of the pants was still hitched up around his knee and the waistline was sagging off his hips.

“Oh. It’s you,” he said in a soft voice, slightly questioning. Timothy stared back at him through his eyelashes, breathing evenly and trying not to wheeze. Jase rubbed his eyes and ran his hand down the side of his face, shaking his head to clear it. “Um… what are you doing here?”

Timothy felt his throat constrict and the backs of his eyes burn.

Jase’s eyes narrowed and he blinked, leaning his head forward as he examined Timothy. “Hey, man. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Timothy felt a disobedient tear slip down his cheek and he shook his head.

Jase’s eyes widened. “Okay… okay. Come in.” He ushered Timothy inside. “…Say, you don’t have your umbrella. And the sun’s out.” He sounded confused and a little disoriented as he closed the door behind Timothy. “And what’s up with your arm? Why are you holding it?”

Timothy went over to the couch and sat down. He noticed that the place was messier than the last time he had seen it. And there were beer cans and empty pizza boxes strewn on the floor. Along with pages and pages of unfinished, crossed out drawings. He didn’t look at them though. He looked up at Jase imploringly, feeling more tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He pointed to his shoulder.

Jase walked over, stumbling on a few cans and looking down at them like they had jumped out from hidden crevices and attacked him. He kicked them away and almost overbalanced. Then he sat down on the couch next to Timothy, rubbing his eyes again.

“So, what happened to your shoulder? Is it hurt?”

Timothy winced at the motion of Jase plopping onto the couch and nodded.

Jase immediately became serious and clear faced. “Okay, uh… do you need me to take you to the hospital? I don’t know how well I’ll be able to drive, but…” he trailed off as he stared at Timothy.

Timothy shook his head and tugged on the hem of his hoodie with his good hand, pulling it up. Jase seemed to realize what he was trying to do, because he reached over and helped. Timothy gasped in pain when the garment hung and pulled on his arm. Jase asked where it hurt and they eventually worked the hoodie off as a team. The t-shirt was easier after that. When he was shirtless, Jase hissed and sat back, looking at Timothy’s clearly out-of-place shoulder.

“Aw man. You dislocated it. Hurts like hell. I’ve had it happen before. The doctor had to pop it back into place for me. You… uh… want me to pop it back for you?” He sounded a little scared at the prospect. But Timothy closed his eyes and nodded, breathing through his nose.

“Okay… okay. Alright. Yeah… uh… okay…” Jase stood up and gently took hold of Timothy’s arm with both hands. After a moment though, he let go again and picked up one of the pillows on the end of the couch and set it in Timothy’s lap, offering him the corner to put in his mouth. Timothy looked up into Jase’s eyes, trusting him to know what he was doing, then he bit down on the pillow and closed his eyes as Jase took hold of his arm again.

Jase held his arm for a second, then shoved up and in towards his body, rotating it back into place with a sickening pop. Timothy arched his back and tossed his head, grinding his teeth into the pillow and clenching his toes and hands. Jase quickly knelt down on the floor and wrapped his arms around him, cooing softly. Timothy dropped his forehead on Jase’s shoulder and struggled for breath as Jase rocked him forward and back.

“There you go, shh, there you go. It’s okay. I think I got it back in place. You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine, shh.”

Timothy pressed his face into the side of Jase’s neck to hide his tears as Jase continued to rock him. He didn’t smell as good as he usually did. Like he had been lying around his apartment all day without a shower. After several quiet minutes, Timothy pulled away and dried his eyes with another corner of the pillow.

“How does your arm feel?” Jase asked, getting up to sit on the couch next to him. He tucked Timothy’s hair behind his ear.

Timothy nodded weakly and sniffed. He looked up at Jase and attempted a small smile, but he was worried that it came out as a grimace because Jase suddenly looked worried.

“Oh man. Your face is really sunburned.” He looked down. “And so are your hands. Let me get you some aloe-vera for that, hang on.” He got up and weaved his way to the bathroom. Timothy watched him go and listened to the sounds of Jase rummaging around in the cabinets and cursing.

He looked around himself again and saw the scattered drawings on the floor. He reached down and picked one up near his foot. It was a portrait of a boy’s face with straight black hair and hollow cheeks. The eyes were dark and ringed with black shading that might have been eyeliner. Timothy stared at himself.

He dropped the paper and looked up when he heard Jase come back, reading the label of a bottle of green goo.

“Yeah, this ought to do it,” he mumbled to himself. He sat down next to Timothy and unscrewed the cap, squirting some of the stuff onto his fingertips. He looked up and scooted closer, bringing his fingers to Timothy’s face. Timothy looked into Jase’s eyes as he began to rub the soothing goo over his cheek, making small, delicate circles with his fingers. The cooling effect was instantaneous and it eased his burn marvelously. But the best thing was that Jase was touching his face.

Timothy watched with open fascination as Jase repeated the healing action, slathering the cold goo all over his face. When he was done, Jase picked up his hands one after the other and held them like they were made out of glass as he spread more of the green stuff on the backs. Then he blew on them and Timothy shivered.

Jase wiped his hands on his pants and screwed the cap back on the bottle, setting it on the cluttered coffee table.

“Feeling better?” he asked quietly, eyes showing his evident concern.

Timothy nodded. His insides squirmed as he saw Jase’s eyes drop down below his face and slip over his exposed chest.

“Dang, you’re skinny. You want something to eat?”

He nodded.

“Okay, follow me. I don’t know if I have anything edible, but we’ll see what we can whip up.” He grinned a little sloppily and stood up. He noticed when Timothy winced, however.

“Hey, stand still for a second and I’ll make you a sling for your arm. It’s going to be sore for a while.” He bent down and sifted through the clothes piled on the floor, finding a long sleeve shirt. He carefully folded Timothy’s arm into his chest and tied the sleeves around his neck, reaching around him. Timothy’s heart sped up at their close proximity, and he gazed up at Jase with adoration.

“There you go. All fixed up.” Jase smiled softly and cupped Timothy’s face in his hands. Timothy didn’t dare move, staring up at Jase as he held him so tenderly.

But then Jase’s face darkened and he looked away, dropping his hands. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why do you do this to me?” he mumbled, not looking at Timothy. He crossed his arms defensively and stared at the untidy floor, brushing his toe back and forth over the carpet. Finally, he looked up.

“I am going to make you something to eat,” he declared at a poor attempt at cheerfulness. “And you,” he poked Timothy affectionately in the chest, “Are going to tell me exactly how you ended up like this.” He waved his hand vaguely over Timothy’s shoulder and burned hands. “Deal?” He raised his eyebrows.

Timothy nodded.

Description
Timothy stowed his umbrella in his backpack as he stepped inside the frigid air of the school hallway. Various groups of students hovered against the lockers, laughing, talking, and flirting. He eyed them through his bangs as he walked past them, shoulders hunched and sneakers making no noise on the cold tile. He slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the wall, gazing at himself in the mirrors across the room. He crept closer and leaned over the sink.

Did he look any different? He certainly felt different. He turned his face from side to side, pulling on his pale cheeks. He tucked his bangs behind his ears, exposing more of himself. He straightened up and pursed his lips, thinking. He wondered what he looked like when…

Timothy braced his palms on the edge of the counter and took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. He wanted to know what it was Jase saw. Slowly, Timothy turned up the corners of his mouth in a pained grimace. He huffed and scowled, crossing his arms. No. This wouldn’t do.

He kicked his toe against the floor softly, biting his lip. He thought about Jase. About Jase going on and on about the movie, pantomiming the choreography. He thought about Jase ruffling his hair and hugging him. About Jase leaning forward on his bed with a look of determined terror on his face as he kissed Timothy for the first time. He thought about Jase holding him.

He felt the change taking over his face, and he quickly looked up before it could slip away. Timothy looked into the mirror and saw himself smiling for the first time. He gasped and almost ruined it by clapping a hand over his mouth, but he stilled his hand just in time, letting it hover in the air under his chin. His smile slowly widened and soon he was grinning shyly at himself.

This is what Jase does to me.

He marveled at the way the smile transformed his face. So different. He truly was different. He lowered his head and hugged himself as he turned away, heading for the stall. He peeked over his shoulder a couple of times, just to see if the smile was still there. It was.

Then he knelt down in front of the toilet and sighed. He felt his face fall back into its normal shape, grim and flat and emotionless. He thought about the cinnamon roll with strawberries he had eaten that morning. Elaine had sprinkled tiny little red hearts on the icing, for some reason. Timothy wanted to grind them into the dirt. He had picked them off one by one and flicked them across the table, leaning on his elbow.

Now, he sighed and stuck two fingers down his throat and pushed. He gagged and wretched, clutching his heaving stomach. He coughed and sputtered, choking and swallowing bitterly. He panted, resting his forehead on his arm. It didn’t work. Timothy hated when it didn’t work the first time. It made him feel sick, realizing he would have to do it again.

Maybe… maybe today he would skip his rituals. He hadn’t eaten that much, after all. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the grimy grout in the tile between his legs. Then he got up and rinsed his face, picking up his bag as he left for his first class.

~*~

Timothy sat down at his lonely lunch table and began unfolding the brown paper sack slowly, relishing the surprise. Suddenly, his head jerked forward as someone slapped the back of his skull.

“Hey loser,” Carey said with a grin, slouching into the seat next to him. “Want to come sit with us today instead of eating all by yourself?” She poked him in the shoulder with a jabbing finger.

Timothy looked at her through his bangs and nodded, a little frightened.

“Come on then,” she said exuberantly, snatching his lunch sack away and stalking off to a crowded table. Timothy watched her go with his hostage meal. He got up and followed after her, shuffling his feet and hiding his hands up his sleeves and fisting them nervously.

Carey fell into a seat and patted the space beside her. The rest of her friends looked up at him as Timothy awkwardly stood behind the seat, shoulders hunched.

“Hey Schizo. You gonna stand there all day?” That was Darren, Carey’s boyfriend. He slung an arm around her and leered up at Timothy challengingly.

He shook his head and lurched forward, folding himself into the chair crammed between Carey and one of her other guy friends. He was beefy and sweaty and he elbowed Timothy in the side painfully. Timothy cringed and winced and stared at the table, wishing he hadn’t come over here. Carey plopped his rather smashed lunch down in front of him. The bottom of the sack was wet and slowly oozing something reddish. He didn’t make a move to open it. It was ruined now anyway.

“So how was your weekend?” Carey asked as she leaned against Darren’s side. Everyone around the table laughed. Timothy slid lower in his seat and glared at the table. Darren reached over and jostled him roughly.

“Well, come on. Speak up,” he said tauntingly to more brutish guffaws.

Timothy gritted his teeth and felt a slow rage build up inside. In defiance of them all, he pulled out his notepad from beneath his shirt and furiously bent over it to write, digging the pencil into the paper with unnecessary force. He ripped it off and thrust it at Carey and Darren, breathing through his nose.

Darren took and read out loud for the whole table to hear.

‘“I met someone.”’ Darren’s eyebrows rose and he snickered. “Oh really? What does she look like? Does where white gloves and act everything out like a mime?”

Carey slapped her knee and laughed. She slithered out of Darren’s grasp and clutched Timothy’s arm, leaning into his ear conspiratorially. “Is she a hot little number? Does she want a piece of the Tim-action?”

Timothy let himself get pulled around as they took turns describing the ‘girl’ he had met. As the conversation progressed, she went from a desperate slut to a whore for hire. They passed the story around the table, each taking turns to embellish the details of how she had screamed Timothy’s name and how much he had paid her.

Timothy endured the torments in silence, hiding his face in his arms that were laced over the table. The talk finally turned to the sexual exploits of others and Timothy sat there, forgotten and ignored. He traced the lines in the fake wood grain with his fingertip and tuned out the loud voices all around him.

He wanted to be somewhere else. He wanted to vanish and reappear in another place. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and willed himself with all his might to teleport back into his room… It didn’t work. He sighed and chewed on his lip. He wished he was with Jase. Right now. Right this minute.

Slowly, without drawing attention to himself as he huddled between the shifting bodies of Carey’s boisterous friends, he opened his notepad and wrote something. Then he spent five minutes trying to catch Carey’s eye. When she finally noticed, he passed her the note, holding it out with slim white fingers.

Carey stared at it for a while incredulously. Then she licked her bottom lip, sticking her tongue all the way out of her mouth as she sat up and took it, unfolding it carelessly.

May I please have a ride after school today?

Carey smirked and shrugged, elbowing Darren. He stopped in the middle of the joke he was telling and looked down. Carey waved the note beneath his nose, giggling as he tried to snatch it away and read it. After a brief struggle which was really just an excuse for Darren to get his hands all over Carey’s chest, he read the paper and grinned sinisterly.

“Sure thing, Schizo. We’d love to give you a ride.”

~*~

As the end of school bell rang, the sigh of relief was tangible as Timothy gathered his things and slipped down the hall trying his best to avoid contact with the surging masses of students around him. He tucked the books that he wouldn’t need back into his locker, then made his way out to the parking lot to look for Carey and Darren.

The sun was especially bright today, so he popped his umbrella open and hunched his way outside, eyeing the various groups of chatting kids. He squinted his eyes against the glare coming from the sidewalk. After a few minutes of worried searching, he finally found Carey leaning on Darren in a circle of their friends. He went over to them, but hung back so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, hovering in the background so he could make sure they didn’t forget about him and drive off.

Eventually, the two broke away from the circle and walked toward the parking lot. Timothy followed at a small distance until they disappeared around a corner of the gym. He hesitated for a moment before going around the corner after them.

Darren had Carey pressed up against the wall, plastering his lips against her face as she curled one knee up around his leg. They were noisy. Timothy tilted his head to side and watched their technique. It didn’t look like anything how he and Jase had kissed.

Suddenly, Carey slid open her eyes and saw Timothy standing there. She whined and pulled back. Darren unglued his face and looked up with anger showing in his eyes. He pushed away from the wall.

“Were you spying on us, Sicko?” he asked aggressively, standing in Timothy’s face and leaning over him.

He quickly took a step back, shaking his head back and forth, hands trembling.

“You were, weren’t you, pervert? Come on, admit it!” Darren grabbed Timothy’s shoulder and shook him, pushing him back. Timothy struggled to stay on his feet and to keep himself covered under his umbrella. “Say it. Say you were watching us. Say it, silent boy. Say it!”

“Darren, just relax. He was probably tying to pick up tips to use on this girl he’s got.” Carey laughed and draped her hands over her head against the wall. “Let’s give him a few lessons, babe,” she said coyly, making eyes at Darren.

Darren looked over at her and grinned. He slunk forward and put his hands on her hips, leaning down and sucking on her neck while she giggled. Timothy blushed and stared at his feet.

“What, you don’t want to watch anymore,” Carey asked in a breathy voice as Darren’s hands worked their way up her shirt. Timothy glanced up at her, then turned his back, scuffing his toes as he waited for them to finish. He tried to ignore the wet sounds and the odd curling in his stomach.

Carey sighed contentedly and Darren whispered something in her ear that made her gasp and laugh. “Alright, Tim. It’s safe now. What did you want, anyway?” She asked, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging him in the direction of Darren’s car.

“A ride, remember?” Darren said with a dark chuckle.

Timothy stumbled and pulled away, trotting behind them. He got into the backseat and sat in the middle, leaning forward. He was eager now to be out of here. Darren started the car and the speakers flared to life, making the doors rattle and buzz. Timothy jumped and covered his ears, feeling the vibrations thumping inside his chest. Darren laughed and took off, flooring the car and making the tires spin and squeal. At a sharp turn, Timothy was sent careening into the door, hitting his head on the window. He scuffled back to the middle and did up his seat belt with difficulty as he lurched this way and that.

Sticking his finger in one ear, he used his other hand to point over Darren’s shoulder when they came to the first intersection. Darren turned in the way he’d indicated as Carey toed off her shoes and stuck her feet out the window, letting the wind travel through her long hair. Timothy blinked and fought to keep his bangs out of his eyes as the wind swirled around behind him.

As they approached a stop sign, Timothy pointed again and Darren slung the car into a skid that had Timothy grabbing the headrests as the g-forces sent him flying. Carey whooped and screamed in excitement. Timothy stared at the back of her head incredulously.

Darren followed Timothy’s directions until they got closer to the downtown area of the city. He took a deliberate wrong turn and started winding down back alleys. Carey looked over at him and smirked.

Confused and panicked about what was going on, Timothy tapped Darren’s shoulder to get his attention. Darren ignored him and turned up the already deafening music. Timothy reached out and tapped him again, more forcefully. Darren kept driving. When he tapped him a third time and more insistently, Darren turned around and backhanded him.

“Quit fucking touching me, Schizo!”

Timothy shrank back into his seat, looking at Darren through his bangs, terrified. The side of his face was throbbing where Darren had hit him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Carey said accusingly.

Darren grinned at him and turned back around, adjusting the car before they smashed into a lamppost.

Timothy hugged himself and closed his eyes, letting his bangs cover his face and whip around his head in the turbulent air. After several more turns, the car finally stopped in front of a condemned factory building that was due for demolition in a few months. There was caution tape all around the perimeter and the windows were smashed. Vines curled up around the sides of the cracked red brick and weeds grew through cracks in the pavement. Broken bottles made the street sparkle like glitter in the sun.

Darren and Carey got out, yelling out to some people that materialized out of the darkness of the building. Timothy’s eyes widened and he pulled up his knees in the seat, hugging them desperately as he watched them greet the new people. There were a couple kids from school that he recognized, but the rest were strangers and most of them were older and looked almost homeless.

A scruffy man with a mohawk ventured over to the car with Darren and looked in the side window at Timothy who scrunched down, trying to look invisible.

“And he can’t talk, you say?” The man laughed when Darren shook his head and grinned. “Well that’s convenient. No one will hear him scream.”

Timothy sucked in a quick breath and froze, staring at the man through his hair. Darren opened the door and tugged on his arm, trying to drag him out of the car. The seat belt caught around Timothy’s hip and cut painfully into his stomach, making his eyes bulge. Darren yanked on his arm again and Timothy felt something pop in his shoulder. A second later, he felt the pain.

He screamed.

But no one heard him. They couldn’t. No one could hear his agony.

His face contorted and he gasped for breath, blinking back tears. Darren, oblivious to his situation, pulled on his arm again. Timothy flailed his other arm and kicked, fumbling for the buckle. With one last jerk on his arm, Timothy finally found the button and the seat belt clicked off and he slid free of the car and landed on the dirty street on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with him?” The mohawked stranger asked as Timothy grabbed his shoulder and curled up into a ball. Darren shrugged and toed Timothy with his boot.

“Hey, Schitzo? What happened?”

“Tim?” That was Carey’s voice. She hurried over when she saw him on the ground, rocking back and forth and crying. She punched Darren hard in the gut, making him double over and glare. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Nothing!”

“Tim,” she said, kneeling down by his head. Timothy opened his watery eyes and looked up at her. “Are you hurt?” she asked, stroking his forehead.

He nodded and closed his eyes again against the numbing, white hot pain.

“Come on, it’s okay. We’ve got something to take the pain away.” She scooped him up and helped him get on his feet. His arm hung down unnaturally low. She took his good hand and started walking him toward the building. His eyes were too blurry to see where he was going, but he noticed when it got dark again. He opened his eyes and blinked to clear them, seeing the group of people sitting on the floor and getting out a set of instruments and various other things from bags and pockets.

Timothy gasped and took a step back when he saw the syringe.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Carey said soothingly, like she was speaking to a spooked horse. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

“Yeah, man,” piped up another stranger with glassy eyes.

Timothy shook his head, trying to back away. But Carey held onto his hand and pulled him toward the circle. She started pushing up his sleeve as Darren and the scruffy man walked in.

“Hey, help me out. He won’t hold still. Tie up his arm for me,” Carey said to them as she reached down and took the needle from one of her friends from school who was sitting on the floor.

Darren grinned and advanced. Timothy panicked, forgetting about the pain he was in. He just wanted to get out of there. Fast.

With adrenaline surging through him, he tore free of Carey’s grasp and stumbled back. He dodged Darren’s outstretched arms and ran around him, panting and tripping and sprinting for the door. The scruffy stranger’s fingers scrabbled on the back of his hoodie for a moment and Timothy leapt forward desperately as he heard the others shouting and taking pursuit.

He ran past the car and down the alleyway, feet crunching on the broken glass and hopping over garbage bags. Yells of “come back” and “get him” were still hanging in the air as he burst on the street and took a random turn, running as hard and as fast as his legs could carry him. His shoulder throbbed with every step, but he gritted his teeth and concentrated on getting away.

It was several blocks later that he first felt the burning. He didn’t have his umbrella and the sun was glaring down with bright intensity. He slowed to a walk and looked behind him. No one was there. His lungs worked and his muscles ached and quivered in spasms and cramps. His sides felt like someone had dug a knife into him and left it in there.

Leaning against the side of an office building, he pulled up his hood with his good arm, trying to cover his unprotected face. People passing him on the sidewalk cast him curious glances. He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand and tried to compose himself so that he wouldn’t stand out so much. Then he started walking.

~*~

An hour later, he was gasping in pain with every step, holding his shoulder. He looked up and finally saw it. He staggered to the apartment complex and counted the doors, stopping at the right one and knocking quietly. He leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, biting his lip.

Please be at home. Please, please.

There was no answer. Biting back a silent scream, he pounded the door with his fist.

After a long moment of silence, he jumped when something that sounded like a shoe was thrown against the door from the inside and a slurred voice mumbled something.

Heart speeding up in hope, Timothy knocked again, standing up straight and pushing the hair out of his eyes.

Something else thudded against the door. Perhaps it was the other shoe.

“I SAID I don’t want to play basketball! Fuck OFF!”

Timothy frowned and glanced up to check that he had the right apartment number. He did. Perplexed, he knocked again, softer this time. He pressed his ear to the door and listened, trying to hold his breath.

Someone moved around and groaned. “Just go away Mark. Give it up already.”

Who was Mark? Timothy chewed on his lip and tapped on the door with his fingernail. There was absolute silence for a while, then…

“Mark?”

Timothy waited, then tapped once. There was another longer silence.

Then, without warning, the door opened. Timothy hastily stepped back to keep from falling in with the opening door. Jase stared down at him. The first thing that Timothy thought was that he looked terrible. His hair was a mess and there were red lines in the side of his face where he had been sleeping. His eyes were a little unfocused and his clothes were askew. He was wearing a thin, faded t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. One leg of the pants was still hitched up around his knee and the waistline was sagging off his hips.

“Oh. It’s you,” he said in a soft voice, slightly questioning. Timothy stared back at him through his eyelashes, breathing evenly and trying not to wheeze. Jase rubbed his eyes and ran his hand down the side of his face, shaking his head to clear it. “Um… what are you doing here?”

Timothy felt his throat constrict and the backs of his eyes burn.

Jase’s eyes narrowed and he blinked, leaning his head forward as he examined Timothy. “Hey, man. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Timothy felt a disobedient tear slip down his cheek and he shook his head.

Jase’s eyes widened. “Okay… okay. Come in.” He ushered Timothy inside. “…Say, you don’t have your umbrella. And the sun’s out.” He sounded confused and a little disoriented as he closed the door behind Timothy. “And what’s up with your arm? Why are you holding it?”

Timothy went over to the couch and sat down. He noticed that the place was messier than the last time he had seen it. And there were beer cans and empty pizza boxes strewn on the floor. Along with pages and pages of unfinished, crossed out drawings. He didn’t look at them though. He looked up at Jase imploringly, feeling more tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He pointed to his shoulder.

Jase walked over, stumbling on a few cans and looking down at them like they had jumped out from hidden crevices and attacked him. He kicked them away and almost overbalanced. Then he sat down on the couch next to Timothy, rubbing his eyes again.

“So, what happened to your shoulder? Is it hurt?”

Timothy winced at the motion of Jase plopping onto the couch and nodded.

Jase immediately became serious and clear faced. “Okay, uh… do you need me to take you to the hospital? I don’t know how well I’ll be able to drive, but…” he trailed off as he stared at Timothy.

Timothy shook his head and tugged on the hem of his hoodie with his good hand, pulling it up. Jase seemed to realize what he was trying to do, because he reached over and helped. Timothy gasped in pain when the garment hung and pulled on his arm. Jase asked where it hurt and they eventually worked the hoodie off as a team. The t-shirt was easier after that. When he was shirtless, Jase hissed and sat back, looking at Timothy’s clearly out-of-place shoulder.

“Aw man. You dislocated it. Hurts like hell. I’ve had it happen before. The doctor had to pop it back into place for me. You… uh… want me to pop it back for you?” He sounded a little scared at the prospect. But Timothy closed his eyes and nodded, breathing through his nose.

“Okay… okay. Alright. Yeah… uh… okay…” Jase stood up and gently took hold of Timothy’s arm with both hands. After a moment though, he let go again and picked up one of the pillows on the end of the couch and set it in Timothy’s lap, offering him the corner to put in his mouth. Timothy looked up into Jase’s eyes, trusting him to know what he was doing, then he bit down on the pillow and closed his eyes as Jase took hold of his arm again.

Jase held his arm for a second, then shoved up and in towards his body, rotating it back into place with a sickening pop. Timothy arched his back and tossed his head, grinding his teeth into the pillow and clenching his toes and hands. Jase quickly knelt down on the floor and wrapped his arms around him, cooing softly. Timothy dropped his forehead on Jase’s shoulder and struggled for breath as Jase rocked him forward and back.

“There you go, shh, there you go. It’s okay. I think I got it back in place. You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine, shh.”

Timothy pressed his face into the side of Jase’s neck to hide his tears as Jase continued to rock him. He didn’t smell as good as he usually did. Like he had been lying around his apartment all day without a shower. After several quiet minutes, Timothy pulled away and dried his eyes with another corner of the pillow.

“How does your arm feel?” Jase asked, getting up to sit on the couch next to him. He tucked Timothy’s hair behind his ear.

Timothy nodded weakly and sniffed. He looked up at Jase and attempted a small smile, but he was worried that it came out as a grimace because Jase suddenly looked worried.

“Oh man. Your face is really sunburned.” He looked down. “And so are your hands. Let me get you some aloe-vera for that, hang on.” He got up and weaved his way to the bathroom. Timothy watched him go and listened to the sounds of Jase rummaging around in the cabinets and cursing.

He looked around himself again and saw the scattered drawings on the floor. He reached down and picked one up near his foot. It was a portrait of a boy’s face with straight black hair and hollow cheeks. The eyes were dark and ringed with black shading that might have been eyeliner. Timothy stared at himself.

He dropped the paper and looked up when he heard Jase come back, reading the label of a bottle of green goo.

“Yeah, this ought to do it,” he mumbled to himself. He sat down next to Timothy and unscrewed the cap, squirting some of the stuff onto his fingertips. He looked up and scooted closer, bringing his fingers to Timothy’s face. Timothy looked into Jase’s eyes as he began to rub the soothing goo over his cheek, making small, delicate circles with his fingers. The cooling effect was instantaneous and it eased his burn marvelously. But the best thing was that Jase was touching his face.

Timothy watched with open fascination as Jase repeated the healing action, slathering the cold goo all over his face. When he was done, Jase picked up his hands one after the other and held them like they were made out of glass as he spread more of the green stuff on the backs. Then he blew on them and Timothy shivered.

Jase wiped his hands on his pants and screwed the cap back on the bottle, setting it on the cluttered coffee table.

“Feeling better?” he asked quietly, eyes showing his evident concern.

Timothy nodded. His insides squirmed as he saw Jase’s eyes drop down below his face and slip over his exposed chest.

“Dang, you’re skinny. You want something to eat?”

He nodded.

“Okay, follow me. I don’t know if I have anything edible, but we’ll see what we can whip up.” He grinned a little sloppily and stood up. He noticed when Timothy winced, however.

“Hey, stand still for a second and I’ll make you a sling for your arm. It’s going to be sore for a while.” He bent down and sifted through the clothes piled on the floor, finding a long sleeve shirt. He carefully folded Timothy’s arm into his chest and tied the sleeves around his neck, reaching around him. Timothy’s heart sped up at their close proximity, and he gazed up at Jase with adoration.

“There you go. All fixed up.” Jase smiled softly and cupped Timothy’s face in his hands. Timothy didn’t dare move, staring up at Jase as he held him so tenderly.

But then Jase’s face darkened and he looked away, dropping his hands. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why do you do this to me?” he mumbled, not looking at Timothy. He crossed his arms defensively and stared at the untidy floor, brushing his toe back and forth over the carpet. Finally, he looked up.

“I am going to make you something to eat,” he declared at a poor attempt at cheerfulness. “And you,” he poked Timothy affectionately in the chest, “Are going to tell me exactly how you ended up like this.” He waved his hand vaguely over Timothy’s shoulder and burned hands. “Deal?” He raised his eyebrows.

Timothy nodded.