Return To Sender

There was beer and vodka flowing like fountains in every direction, curvy seductions threatening to suck him into the whirlwind. From every direction the odors of spoiled life hit him, pot and sweat and sex pushing and shoving for a place in his brain. He was getting high off the fumes alone, his steps faltering as he wove his way through the people he called peers.

He was groped and grabbed, pushed against walls and attacked by begging lips and wandering hands. He fought off each one, shoving and ducking around temptations most other teenage boys would have fallen for in seconds. Beneath his feet, he was walking over abandoned clothing, embedding it further into the stained carpet. All around him was downward spirals in the making, underage sex and drinking and pills.

It was like an episode of Gossip Girl taken to an extreme, set in the Englewood Cliffs instead of New York. The house had been purchased for millions, but was going to be worth only what it would cost to get every square inch of the place disinfected.

Music invaded his body, making his veins pulsate in time with the bass heavy beat. On what may have been the dining room table, a girl he recognized as the valedictorian of his class was in all her naked glory, eyes half closed and chest heaving as a boy snorted cocaine off her flat stomach, surrounded by other's just waiting to take their turn. As he left the room, he could see her head lolling over the edge, hair that was usually plaited in tight French braids dangling down to the floor as some strange guy she'd probably never spoken to ran his tongue along her neck.

It was like a goddamn freak show in every room, showcasing new and exciting kinds of immoral behavior. Guys were receiving oral in corners that were neither dark nor secluded, not even attempting to hide their activities.

But why would they? With these people, everything went, no matter the cost or issue. Expense didn't matter; walking down one hallway that was narrowed like a clotted artery, he counted at least ten billion dollars worth of inheritance that would be passed down to these weak minded bugs. Anything they wanted was their's for the taking.

He wasn't like that; he understood the need to work, to carve a path away from the legacy formed by the generations before him. Being a spoiled rich kid who lived off their father's credit cards wasn't the kind of lifestyle he wanted. Middle class life looked far more appealing, having just what you needed instead of excess you threw around to look impressive.

The life of a spoiled, rich teenager was certainly not for the faint of heart, that was for sure.

This was the last day he'd allow himself to be sucked into such a destructive cess pool of drugs and lost morals. After all, he was now officially a high school graduate, he was free from the whirlwind that had been his godforsaken life for the last four years. He was finally out of the pull, away from the pressure of those who were supposed to be his equals.

It was insulting to be clumped in a category with brats who whined about missing fashion shows or complete lunkheads who wouldn't know the square root of nine if you gave them a children's math book.

Shoving through a group of girls wearing black lipstick and showing off just how many piercings they really had, he finally managed to exit the chaos into the relatively calm outdoors. Sure, he was only on the back porch and was therefore still included in the madness, but it was far better to be distanced than to be in the middle of the tornado. Light spilled from outside, ruining the pure darkness that should have existed. Off in the far corner, he could hear the quiet whimpers and sounds of some guy about to cum his brains out so he discreetly moved as far away as possible, taking refuge in the darkest corner he could.

The house was situated at the top of a giant hill, looking down over rows and rows of other ridiculously elaborate and luxurious houses just like it. The designs on each looked fabricated, as if they'd went right from the blueprints to the ground. There was no love behind them, which prevented them from being homes.

"Having fun looking down at your future?" The voice came from his right shoulder unexpectedly; he hadn't even heard any footsteps approaching.

"This isn't my future," he answered, still gazing down the hill. "I won't let it be."

"That's what they're all thinking you know." Looking down, he could see someone's arms resting on the railing beside him, black painted fingernails gripping elbows tightly. "They all think that they'll be able to get out, that they won't be like their mothers and fathers. But they're all wrong."

"How do you know?" At this, he turned to face the unknown speaker and found himself looking at all shadows; somehow, the darkness he'd been looking for had draped over the other man, leaving him only a outline with mass.

"I know lots of things. That girl in the corner? She just contracted HIV and won't know it until she's slept with half the graduating class. And the guy she just sucked off is secretly in love with his best friend." His voice wasn't familiar, didn't sound local; the way he drawled out his words, the way he had appreciation for them was like nothing any of these people possessed.

"Do you know anything about me?" he asked, turning fully around so his back was leaning against the railing. He could just envision himself breaking through it, tumbling down to his certain death. His father certainly wouldn't be pleased if he died; he'd have to hand over their empire to his older, crack fiend of a brother. Maybe he would die, just so he could watch his family's demise when there was no one capable of taking over.

"I know that you resent this. You hate being born into such a stereotypical life, you hate having to live up to everyone's expectations. Last year, you crashed your father's Mercedes because you thought it seemed like something someone like you would do. You're gay and have hooked up with three "straight" guys in the last month." By now, the railing was digging harshly against his back as the mystery man continued to subtly move forward until all escape routes were cut off.

"How do you know that?" he whispered, trying desperately to search for any identifying features in the darkness.

"I know many things about you, Mikey." The voice was right in his ear now as lips tentatively touched his neck, dragging lower and making his entire body quiver. He reached out into the dark and seized a fistful of fabric, pulling hard enough to make his hips collide against whomever was lightly tugging his earlobe between their teeth.

"Who are you?" he asked, groaning as cool air brushed over his skin, momentarily dousing the heat that was rushing along through his blood. The man's voice was enough to already have his heartbeat going faster than usual, make his entire body feel like it was on fire. He hadn't even properly seen him yet but already, he'd managed to make him lose all control.

"Who are you?"

"Every dream you've ever had."