The Hearts of Lonely People

Over the next two weeks Pete had funded his cigarettes. Every couple of days he had a new pack, and it helped calm him down. It made him the happiest person and the numbest person at the same time. He didn’t like it when Pete tried to kiss him.

“Party tonight Ross,” Pete said.

He wouldn’t go to a party, because he hated everyone at his school. But he liked Pete and wanted to make sure his new friends were going to stick around. At least until graduation. Then he knew they’d leave. It was the regular pattern in all his relationship. Good followed by bad, like everything else in life.

“Ross, you’re coming,” Pete said with a glare.

Ryan gulped, because he had nothing to say. He didn’t want to go anymore, not with Pete’s eyes dissecting him. He wished he was innocent enough to not know what he wanted.

“Sure,” Ryan’s voice cracked, he hadn’t said anything in the last ten minutes.

“Good,” Pete said with a smile.

He didn’t have pride to smile.

After school Pete dragged him to his house. Ryan knew he wanted to be anywhere else then alone in his room, but he hoped nothing would happen. He was overreacting; he lacked looks and charm to get anyone to like him.

“You need new clothes,” Pete said with a distasteful look.

Ryan stared at the floor.

“You look like a faggot, and your hair is greasy,” Pete started his list as he pulled out clothes.

Ryan held the pants in his hands, tighter than anything he’d ever seen. He wouldn’t fit in these; he had too much weight in the wrong places.

“I can’t wear these,” Ryan mumbled.

Pete looked up from his clothes, and spat, “Did I ask you what you wanted.”

Ryan put the jeans on.

“I told you to smoke so you lost weight. God what the fuck do you eat,” Pete said trying to pull his jeans up.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, because he didn’t think it was much of a problem until he met Pete.

Pete smirked, and pulled Ryan by the hand, “Come on Joe’s coming.”

The van was parked outside, with Pete’s usual friends inside. Ryan gulped nervously, because he’d never been to a party before. The last party he went to was a children’s birthday party and that hardly counts.

Ryan couldn’t breathe and he wasn’t even at the party yet.

“Sup, Ross, ready to get blasted,” Joe said like he was already drunk. Alex drove too fast down the street; Ryan could hear the tires squeal.

“Ry we are going to go to the best little place,” Pete yelled, linking arms with him.

Ryan tried to squirm away, but the grip was too tight. The van was in some parking lot but it was dark enough for them to drink without worry. Pete handed him his own bottle and Ryan drank it nervously. He didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t drink it.

The games they played were odd, Ryan couldn’t focus enough to play cards and wasn’t funny enough to make jokes. They all looked at him like he didn’t belong. Situations like this make him want to shot himself or jump off the nearest bridge. Ryan was too depressed to convince himself he should think like that because regardless the feelings would stay.

“We should play strip poker,” Pete said with a disturbing smile.

Alex laughed and said, “And the lack of chicks makes that statement gay.”

Pete looked at them both, and they all laughed hysterically. Ryan wanted to cry but he didn’t want to lose the chance to make friends, even if they weren’t very nice to him.

“Strip Ross,” Pete hissed.

Ryan looked like a deer caught in head lights.

“I want to see how pretty you are,” Pete said, the smile on his face was goofy and it made Ryan feel airily inside. Is this how people feel when they’re in love. Or the feeling they get when they know it’s not just a talk but something more.

Except they all laughed, which made Ryan want to throw up again.

“Off,” Pete said, any hint of laughter gone from his voice.

Ryan fingered the hem on his shirt. He didn’t know what they wanted from him. Pete had already called him fat and his self esteem wasn’t too high in the first place. He was too lanky and his ribs stuck out but his stomach wasn’t flat enough. He wish he had the energy to stop eating but that would take will power he doesn’t have.

Pete pulls at the shirt, which makes Ryan take it off faster. Peter is on top of him and it’s hard for him to breathe. He kisses him too hard, his mouth crashes into him, his hands forcing Ryan’s arms above him. He wishes he was stronger, he wishes he was louder. He tries to squirm out of his grip but it doesn’t work.

Ryan bites him hard, but Pete just laughs.

“Hold him,” And they do without any guilt or second thought. Ryan wants to die more than usual. He’s seen this scene in movies but never with guys.

“Stop,” Ryan started only to get a firm slap across the face.

“You made me do that,” Pete said, his voice chocked out.

Ryan knew he wasn’t allowed to talk. Alex and Joe held him too tight, like they were scared too. He felt like a rabbit in wolves den, and he realizes what they want.

“People kept saying you were a snotty little prude, but we stood up for you, didn’t we,” Pete said.

Alex and Joe nod, but they aren’t focusing on anything but their turn.

“You stood up for me,” Ryan said, chocked up.

The only person who had ever stood up for him was Spencer. Back in second grade one of the kids in his class stole all his crayons and gave them to the older kids. In a quest to get them back Ryan was made fun of, until Spencer came and threw paint at them. They both got detention for a week but it was worth it.

“Yeah we told them you were just too stupid to know anything,” Pete said with a hurtful smirk.

And he let him kiss him, knowing there was no way he could fight it. Pete’s hands were on his waistband of his boxers, tugging roughly. He looked into Ryan’s eyes and smiled a corrupt smile. Every part of Ryan died at once.

“Get off of me,” Ryan’s voice cracked, because he was about to cry. He wanted to scream stop but he had no voice.

“You need to pay us back we’ve been so good to you,” Pete said.

Ryan tried to think of Spencer’s house as a kid, the park he loved. He tried to think of anything else. The music played in his ear too loud. Ryan cried and he ignored every word. The thrusts felt like knives, everyone cutting deeper. Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN. The word jumped around his mind. Pete left him a dirty mess, but the pain never stopped. He found a place inside his mind and lost track of the situation.

He realized he was in a parking lot in some vaguely familiar part of town; he stumped up even though it hurt to walk. It hurt him to be alive.

As he walked on the street, letting his feet lead him to anywhere. He pulled out the pack that Pete gave him earlier. It didn’t even burn. The whole pack didn’t make him numb anymore.

The lights in his house are off as he sprinted to the toilet. The sound of his puking his accompanied by Gabe’s loud fucking. Victoria isn’t home, that much he knows. He prays to a magical higher being as his insides come out along his everything else in the toilet. It makes him sick, every dry heave makes him want to vomit more. It makes his hair stick to his face. In movies they always have someone to hold back their hair. He was utterly alone.

The only problem is he didn’t see himself in it anymore. The man in the mirror looked wounded and corpse-like. He never felt like dying this much.

“I hate you,” He said into the mirror.

Ryan’s too scared to leave the bathroom, to have his parents on the other side. Do they know he stayed out? Do they care? Do they love him?

He falls asleep on the floor curled around the toilet. This was peace. This was his happy place.