Sensations

I swung my right leg out of the car, whispering farewells to my older sister as I gripped the top of the door, hoisting myself out of the car until both of my feet were firmly planted on the concrete of the sidewalk. I tried to tune out the boisterous babble surrounding me as I unfolded my cane and carefully made my way towards the school, but it was hard since it seemed as if the noise was boxing me in from every direction. Today is just one of those days where I can't handle things such as this, where the things I wish I could see surround me and take me prisoner. It's one of those days where nothing can ever go right because the realization that I'll never truly be normal is more prominent than it usually is. It's one of those days where the fires of my own personal hell simply seem to burn brighter.

I lurched forward a bit when I felt the tip of my outstretched cane hit something in its path, so I slowly stepped forward before grabbing the smooth but cold surface of the metal handrail next to the steps, quickly climbing them. I silently chastised myself for allowing my thoughts to take over so quickly. It's early the morning and I'm in the process of entering a school building that contained a great amount of bustling students, some who seemed to be out to get me. I needed to be on my guard. I need to count my steps because I know the layout of the school almost as good as I know the layout of my own home, but there are more obstacles in school. The tasks always have and always will require all of my attention at all times.

The sounds surrounding me seemed to increase in volume as I made my way deeper and deeper into the school, the familiar rigidness and coolness of the metal lockers moving under the fingertips of my left hands. I paused and pulled my hand back, bringing it to my lips as I sucked on the tip of my pointer finger since it got caught against the wall when the lockers were replaced by the uneven bricks. I know this is childish, but it is my personal belief that by doing such a thing, it numbs the pain in some aspects.

Don't judge me. It's true.

I gently placed my hand back onto the wall to the left of me, the familiar textures gliding under my fingertips as I continued to count my steps throughout the hallway. I didn't pay much attention to how my subconscious made my pointer finger lift up in the air a bit so that it was no longer skimming against the wall. There was a dull throbbing pain emanating from it and I was all too aware of it at the moment. Four more steps then turn left. Third door on the right.

A sigh made its way past my lips as my hand got caught on the door frame, my body quickly turning towards it as I stepped into the classroom, sitting in the desk that was exactly four steps away from the door - the one specially reserved for me that the teacher refuses to allow anyone to move. At least some people in this school try to make life for me as easy as possible without going out of their way to treat me as if I'm an idiot or I don't deserve to walk among the human race. It's sad that only teachers will attempt to treat me as if I was a regular student, with an exception of a few rules that need to be specially modified for my well being, when it's fellow students that walk the halls with me.

My thoughts quickly wandered as class begun, the teacher scrawling some useless notes onto the blackboard, notes that she had already e-mailed me last night so that I could study along side my fellow classmates. It's one of those "special modifications" I mentioned earlier.

My slender fingers started to intertwine with themselves, wrestling for control as they twisted against each other, the warmth emanating from my palms becoming more noticeable than it is most times. Yesterday, these palms traced the porcelain contours of Dayne's face, the defined muscles of his arms and his prominent collar bone - something that has been a weakness of mine. Collar bones are absolutely divine.

His skin is so smooth and warm, inviting and intoxicating - like silk. It is like one of those rare animal pelts that people would pay millions of dollars to get their hands on, simply to touch it and have the gentle feeling of said pelt run over their naked form in a comforting manner. They want every curve of their bodies to be caressed by that fabric, that forbidden and rare fabric that people would go to great extremes to get their hands on. That is what Dayne's touch, every little bit of his body, is like.

I've had that forbidden touch caress my fingers.

I've had that forbidden touch grab my hips gracefully.

I need want that forbidden touch to press against my fragile frame some more. So much so that I am starting to crave it. Yes, I'm craving that forbidden touch that is Dayne Greenly.

I jolted at the sound of my teachers harsh voice calling out my name, lecturing me on the fact that I must pay attention and focus on what she is saying in preparation for the test we have next week.

"Yes, ma'am," I murmured obediently, loud enough for her to hear me before her voice rung out across the classroom again. She had immediately picked up the lecture where she left off.

This is going to be a long day. I'm having trouble focusing on the littlest of tasks, my thoughts clouded over with ideas and yearnings that I probably shouldn't really be having right now.

**********

Today is just one of those days that seems to pass by like a snail, it's doing its best to get a move on, but it can never pick up speed, perpetually stuck at the same speed for all of eternity. Yeah, it's most definitely one of those.

To be honest, I've lost track of time. I've gone about my daily in school routine robotically. I know my way around enough to walk to class with little concentration, my mine completely zoned out and oblivious to all of my surroundings. For once, and trust me, this is a really rare occurrence in my life, I was able to ignore everything around me and just get on with things without worrying about accidentally killing myself by tripping over a small rock conveniently located in my path on the ground or something of the sort. A worry-free Joshua, something is bound to go wrong.

My thoughts were proven correct when I felt my body slammed against a row of lockers unexpectedly, around ten minutes later. My head hit it hard, bouncing off of the cold, metal, seemingly rock-hard surface with a loud bang, the sound resonating withing the hallway and attacking the inside of my skull from all different directions. My skull felt like a hollow shell that had a rock thrown inside of it so once it would bounce off of one area it would just move to another until it lost its momentum and was just a bothersome pebble laying at the bottom. Yeah, that's kind of what the pain in my skull felt like, that annoying little pebble sitting at the bottom of my skull that wouldn't go away because it wasn't supposed to be there - making its presence so prominent within my mind. I want it to go away, to disappear and never come back.

I slid down the locker I was pressed up against, my whereabouts within the school building suddenly lost on me. The fabric of my v-neck t-shirt snagged a couple times as I slid down, making it rip itself over my head, leaving me in my undershirt as I curled against the cold, smooth tile of the hallway floor, my head resting on my arm as my face was tucked towards the rest of my body as a form of protection. The overwhelming stench of the hallway floor was making my eyes water a bit.

Waiting for the next blow seemed like an eternity. In all actuality, I was probably only on the floor for a few seconds, but seconds felt like minutes which felt like hours which felt like days. I was laying on that filthy, disgusting hallway floor for all of eternity, my breath in shallow pants as I tried to listen over the ringing in my ears for retreating footsteps. I didn't hear any, but then again, I didn't hear my attacker's approaching footsteps either. Come to think of it, I heard nothing at all, not even a satisfied chuckle as my head hit the locker.

Was this someone new? Do I have another person to worry about besides Greg now? Am I really not miserable enough that several people feel the great need to stop their daily routine to add to my misery for their sick pleasure? Will this shit ever end?

I sat up, slamming my head against the lockers as my back hit it, the edges of my t-shirt that still hung against the lock on the locker rubbing against the very top of my head. My hands uselessly clawed against the floor, not being able to get a grip, as a muted growl laced with what seemed to be never-ending frustration ripped its way up my throat and past my lips. I'm truly unable to catch a break. I just need one damn day without this shit, but I can't ever get it. Do people really hate me that much?

I paused as I felt liquid trickle down my cheeks, my right hand leaving the floor to pat the area directly below my eyes. Have I been crying due to my frustration without even realizing it? No, no, that can't be. There are no tears. I hesitantly raised my hand higher, tracing it along my temple gently, feeling some form of liquid trickle down my fingertips. I felt as if a rock hit the pit of my stomach as I hesitantly brought my finger to my lips, licking away the substance on my finger carefully, the metallic, rusty, and unique taste that can only be blood evading my mouth. I spat it out uselessly as panic set in. I'm bleeding! I must look like complete and utter shit!

I reached up and started to tug my shirt from the locker as panic set in, but it seemed as if it was permanently set against the locker. Oh my God, what if I'm concussed? What if I pass out any minute because I hit my head too hard and I'm left here to die from being trampled on by classmates who don't notice my unconscious form laying on the tiled floor? What if I actually do die and no one ever finds who did this to me?

I'll never be able to feel that forbidden touch that is Dayne Greenly again.

I continued struggling against the locker, probably closely resembling a fish out of water with my constant awkward body movements. When panic sets in, simple tasks seem to become much harder.

I was so focused that I didn't hear the new set of approaching footsteps, which is why when a rather large and strong hand rested itself on my shoulder, I let out a rather embarrassing yelp of shock and randomly kicked out my legs in the direction the hand came from, catching my breath when I heard a soft thump echo throughout the hallway. I actually hit my target and made someone fall down. That's a first.

"You just kicked me in the jaw," a voice rang out through the hallway, a terribly recognizable voice. Oh gosh, I'm a monster! "You just kicked me in the jaw, Joshua!" He repeated, his bewilderment slowly fading as soft chuckles replaced them. "You just kicked me!" He repeated again out of a chuckle, the mere irony of the moment getting to him. "And it hurt too!" He said, struggling to contain his laughter as his voice got closer to me, him probably crawling in my direction.

"I'm so sorry, Dayne!" I apologized quickly, my head turning as it followed the sound of his wonderful chuckles. Shit, I could have just ruined everything.

"Don't worry about me, Joshua," he murmured. "You're the one that's hurt."

The loud clanking of metal being moved echoed around us as he fiddled with my shirt, unhooking it from the lock it had caught on and placing it gently in my lap. "That was really stuck on there," he murmured more to himself than to me.

He bent to my level after loudly scurrying around the hall, no doubt collecting my scattered items for what seems like the billionth time this year. Why is he always rescuing me? I'd love to be the one helping him for once instead of it being this way.

"You're bleeding," he whispered, his gentle fingers coming up to probe the area along my temple where the blood seems to be seeping out, dripping down the side of my face in heavy drops. "Let's get you home and taken care of," he continued, placing his hand in mine and tugging me up effortlessly. He's so strong it's almost astounding.

He started tugging me off towards the direction his car was probably in, silence settling around us as we tried to move through the halls unnoticed. If a teacher saw us I would be sent to the nurse and that is something I don't want to deal with. I'd much rather have Dayne's warm hand enveloping my smaller one, making mine feel almost feminine, as he took care of me himself, at his home, not in a sterilized school nurses office that smelled horrible.

I paused as Dayne released his hold on my hand before his breath tickled the back of my head. His hand came up to my temple again, no doubt wiping away some more blood before they wer eon my hips, making me yelp once again as he picked me up, leaning my back against his defined torso as he carried me down the stairs as quickly as possible, probably wanting to waste no time in getting me home since he seemed to be in such a hurry.

"I'm fine, really," I tried to assure him uselessly as he gently placed my hand on the cold handle of his car, allowing me to seat myself since he knows I'm capable of it. I would have put up a big fight if he treated me like I wasn't capable of taking care of myself anyway. Just because he's Dayne doesn't mean he's different from other people in that sense.

I tugged on the handle gently before backing up as I slowly swung it open, my hand holding the edge as I stepped around it and tracing the interior of the door before my knees lightly hit the edge of his car. I slowly lifted up one leg and sat myself in it, bringing in the other leg and tracing my hand along the interior again until I had a steady enough hold on the car door to tug it closed behind me. My hands scaled the fake textures of the material lining the car until it knocked against the seat belt and I quickly tugged it across my body, fiddling with the thing I clicked it to until the soft click of the seat belt being correctly fastened echoed around the car. I nodded my head in satisfaction as the engine roared to life, startling me a bit and making me sit back in my seat.

Dayne's hand was suddenly under my chin, tilting my head towards him as his other hand gently placed a piece of fabric against my temple. He took one of my hands in his and placed it over the fabric, what I just now realized is my t-shirt, and leaned back into his seat, putting the car into the proper gear and beginning to drive us in the direction of his home.

"That really was a good kick, Joshua," he said absentmindedly, his hand settling itself on my thigh as he squeezed it almost appreciatively. "Your legs are a lot more powerful than they look." My head tilted downwards, my hand holding my discarded garment against it as the realization that Dayne's hand was resting casually on my thigh, of all places, hit me. I don't know about you, but I think of thighs as a purely sexual place and I associate the gentle caress of one with yearning. Or he could just be trying to comfort me. Here I go again, blowing things far out of proportion.

Just because he's bisexual does not mean I have a chance with him, I reminded myself. I'm nothing but the blind gay boy that he continuously has to save because I can't seem to handle myself these days.

"I got lucky," I said bashfully in response, my head still tilted down.

Silence settled around us again before I decided to speak up, the ringing in my ears slowly starting to subside, making the roar of the engine make me a bit uncomfortable. I hate awkward silence in automobiles. Engines are loud and they sound so powerful. I'm in a moving death trap without being able to stop anything if something goes wrong. Once again, I'm useless.

"Thank you for helping me, Dayne," I said graciously, ignoring the way his name rolled off of my tongue so easily and effortlessly, as if it were meant to.

"What are friends for, Joshua?" He responded in his melodic tone, a smile clearly heard in his voice. He just called me his friend.

Friends are meant to be there for everything.