Hide the Truth From My Eyes

Jamie was sleeping on the couch when I got a call from the school he taught in. 

"Is Mr Oliver there?"

"Uh yes, he just came back, I think he made a nervous breakdown..."

"Is he okay?" the voice was feminine and worried.

"He seems to be. He's sleeping. What happened?"

"His pupils say he was teaching class and suddenly he burst out crying... Has it anything to do with Lee?"

"Lee? How do you know--"

"Jamie told me, I'm one of his friends."

"Oh. I'm one of his room mates. And, uh, yes I think it has a lot of things to do with Lee... He's the one that took it the worse..."

"You should send him see a psychologist..."

"We don't really have the money..."

I looked at Jamie who was sleeping on the couch, his chest falling and rising. 

"I don't know if he will take it if something happened to Lee."

I knew I won't if something happened to Mike.
I would lose it totally.
If I'm able to lose it.

--

Jamie slept until Ian came back home. 
The man was a mess.
I noticed that he hadn't shaved this morning. His jaw line, chin and upper lip were covered in black stubble. He had black circles under his eyes, which was pretty unusual. His longish black hair fell limply under his cap, his black t-shirt and blue jeans seemed to not fit him.
He fell sat on the sofa, waking Jamie up. 

We all sat in silence. Something was up with Ian, I could see it. Or maybe it was just his moody bitch character. I couldn't figure out.
My mind was so blank. All my efforts to not think about Mike had emptied my head of any thought.
I stared at my cheap black shoes and said nothing. 

This silence was getting awkward. Someone had to say something soon, otherwise I felt like the air would thicken so much the room was going to burst out.
But Jamie just kept looking at his hands and Ian at the photographs on the fireplace I had been observing earlier.
The seconds stretched into long minutes until I lost the count.

And then, like a saviour, the telephone rang. 

Ian stood up and went to grab it. 

"Hello, Ian Watkins on the line...What?! What happened? ... He's my partner! What the hell happened?! Oh my god did he have an accident on the road? ... What? but but I wanna see him! ... But is it dangerous, this epidemic? He's going to die isn't he? Oh my god no... Yes, but--"

We heard the characteristic noise of the person on the other side of the phone hanging up, leaving Ian petrified.

"Sean..." he said in a thin voice. "Sean is infected."

--

Ian's POV

"Sean Smith. 13 years old. Already way too pubescent. Likes to shake his hips in those goddamn skinny jeans of his. Wears girl's shirts. Baby skin. Man's body. 
Emo fringe. Hand-bleached hair, which makes him look like a lantern with his peroxide head. Spends a lot of time styling said hair. No stalking involved.

Light brown eyes. Little mouth with pretty pink lips. (Don't judge on the looks.) Tall for his age, 5"8'. Fit. Slim.
Hyper. Black humour. Cute laugher. Very Welsh accent. Don't give a fuck attitude. Attention span of a fly. Doesn't know his own physical limits which leads him to vomit like you breath. Very likely raging homo.

Sexy. Faked an orgasm when I and Lucy Redwood presented the Arts GCSEs option to his class. Gave me a boner. Slutty schoolboy overall. 
You should not be thinking this way about him."

When I was in high school I used to note and write about the people I knew. When I read them again it always makes me laugh. Sean's page is the better.

I was 16. And that 13 years old was highly attractive. I don't remember how we got to talk but I do remember him in the back of his class, hands down his pants and uttering noises part of me WANTED to be fake and the other part wanted to be real. I settled down on the thought they were fake. I was proven wrong a year later when my lips on his dick made him moan EXACTLY the same way. He had actually masturbated to me in the middle of the classroom.

They all must've thought he was faking jerking off to Lucy, she had big boobs, but everyone would soon discover tits didn't interest Sean the slightest bit. Dicks, though...

After that I kept crossing his path in the hallways and he would catch my eye. He was the same size as me -- he would get two inches taller than me finally-- and his eyes sank in mines so easily.
Beautiful fucker he was.

I don't remember how exactly we got closer, but he made sure to not stagnate too long in the friendzone. He quickly made me understand that, one, he found me attractive, two, he wanted me to be his, three, he lusted me. 

He was a direct person. He said me that he knew he was young, that he was 13 and that I was 16. That he knew that he was strange, that he knew society considered him as a mental case, but that he knew I was gay too. When I asked him how he knew, he shrugged and smiled.

"Gaydar."

So I was going out with him. At school we didn't hesitate to hold hands and kiss.
But never anywhere near his house. Right. His parents never understood anything.

I remember the first time we had sex. We were so illegal. It was at my house, in the evening. And from there Sean became some kind of sex-crazed guy. No one saw the difference as he already behaved like a whore before, except me. Not that I complained. We both had a libido as big as Sean's balls. Enormous. 

We had quickies in the school bathrooms, one day we even made it on a teacher's desk and put the cum on the tests he was supposed to mark. I remember that time at the mall too... Endless amount of dressing rooms equal me sucking Sean off. Or the contrary but more likely it was me, though I fucked him usually back then. Now though... 

What had to happen happened.
His parents found out.
His father beat him unconscious and took his car to throw him in a street on the other side of Ponty. 
He went to school the day after all bloody, collapsed in my arms and fainted. We never sued his father for anything.

I took him in at my mother's, and swore nothing would happen to him again.

And now he was infected. 

I had promised him he wouldn't ever suffer again...