Coming Clean

Chapter 1

Being a teen was difficult enough, hanging with crusty punks in warehouses. Between girlfriends, music, drugs, getting the fuck out of school.

Billie was still living at home, Mike living in his garage. Discussions between friends at Gilman St if they should also join this squatters warehouse. Feeling this uncertainty. Panic attacks that drinking himself out wasn't working. He couldn't explain it, it was like he didn't have control of his body. A prisoner in his skin.

Walking on the railroad tracks, lighting a cigarette as he continued his path in the dark. Walking alone, but he knew well. Blowing smoke that wisped in the cold bay area's night. About a mile down was a tunnel he'd just sit in the dark, if someone was looking- they know where. Sitting on the rocks against the stone curves of the tunnel. The light from his cigarette gave a warming protective glow around him. This golden aura that lit up his delicate pretty face.

His heart ached, he wanted something and didn't know what. As if it's something right in front of him but he's blindfolded. Tracing thoughts he wouldn't last longer than a second trying to revert away.

Strum of base that stops his heart- that it beats through his strings… Feeling wrapped around those long pale fingers. That cheeky stoic leaning man… he tried to not think of the times getting dressed together. Drunk cuddles between friends on a dirty queen size mattress, on the floor of a shitty warehouse. Watching his chest rise, never wanting the moment to end. Selfishly pulling away from his sleeping girlfriend Erica, to lay his head on that warm… bare chest. Feeling safe, as the man wouldn't even notice… thoughts of-

"You got a spare?" That low sensual voice above him, pulling him out of his daze. Warm glow reflecting now on the man he's been thinking about. As if the blindfolded was removed from his eyes, staring up at who's got his brain twisted.

"Mike."