Fleeting Sparks (BoyXBoy)

Chapter One- Introductions

     Like most happy endings that have been brought upon by television shows and the media they have always been fixated on being straight or the idea that liking a man has to be with a female. I used to believe that notion. Hell, my life used to revolve around girls. I dated a girl named Casey for a pretty long time, to the point where things got serious. Until I started noticing guys more often than usual. I liked guys, they were fun to be around but I never imagined myself to date one. I didn't know what to do at the time, so I told Casey that I needed some time apart for personal development. I looked into her deep blue eyes and touched her milky white face as hot tears streamed down her face. I wiped them away and she told me to leave. I tied the laces on my black and white converses, pulled on my leather jacket and staggered out the door. I was feeling instant regret, to the point where I wanted to call her to tell her I made a huge mistake. That wouldn't be fair to myself or to her. I couldn't just play with her emotions like that; the least I could do was figure out who I was on the inside and let her know the feedback.

     I called her as soon as I got home, her sobs seemed to die down. I could hear the hurtful tone in her voice and that made me feel more like shit. All I could picture in my mind was the fun times that we had, cuddling on her parents couch watching television, going on really expensive dates. She was my middle school sweetheart. I just couldn't shake from my mind that I just may have ruined the greatest four years of my life.

     I wanted to know if she was okay with taking this news. When I went to her house the next day, her father answered the door. Martin Beck was a six-foot-four man with broad shoulders that stood like skyscrapers. His chest was puffed out like a pigeon and his legs looked like they could stomp villages beneath him. His chocolate brown hair was shaved in a buzzcut which played onto his masculinity. He looked down at me and squinted at me. In a deep husky voice he called out to me and pulled me out of my trance.

"What are you doing here Nicolas?"

     I looked up at him, I was already trembling in my shoes. The adrenaline had me paralyzed. "I'm here to see Casey"

"She doesn't want to see you". He stood casually and folded his arms. "Just get out of here, before things get heavy".

    His voice seemed calm yet hostile at the same time, which made me fear it even more. I backed over, almost missing a step on the staircase and speed walked down the street. I heard the door slam shut behind him which I felt tremble down my spine.

     I hastily walked to my apartment door, took out my keys from my front pocket and jammed it into the lock. I forced the door open in anger and sadness. I walked into the narrow hallway that took me to a winding staircase. I lived above a bakery that was owned by the landlord. I worked there from time to time to decrease the rent for my parents. When I lifted my body up the stairs, I took a whiff of the fresh baked cookies that had been prepared. I can spell it through the walls which tantalized my taste buds. I got to the top of the staircase and I was already out of breath, man I needed to work out. There was my apartment door, with the Christmas wreath still hung on the door sense two Christmases ago. Surprisingly, the front door was unlocked so I let myself in. I was halted my my mother who was sitting in the kitchen, making cookies for the bakery.

"Hey honey" She said in a calm, sweet voice. I could listen to her voice all day. Diana Thompson had the type of voice that could calm me down from any problem I had or just to listen to in general. My father died when I was eight, so she was the only person I could depend on. She raised me to keep an open mind in everything that I did and to always treat a woman with the respect that she deserved. I always lived by her kind words, for they were my asylum in hard times.

      She pulled out a tray of cookies from the oven and set them down on the kitchen island to cool down. She had taken off her oven mitts and placed them on the rack beside the cherry wood cabinets. She flipped her golden locks off of her shoulder and met my gaze. Her face looked tired and sad, like she's endured countless disappointments in her life. Which was probably true. Sometimes, I feel my birth was a complete disappointment to her. However, the way she treats me, the way she takes care of me as a single mother of forty shows that she actually cares about my well being.

"You look glum, what's wrong?" She looked at me with caring blue eyes which sparkled in the fluorescent lights. I infrequently told a lie, I was always one to speak my mind. I had this strange compulsion to always tell the truth. Every fiber in my body told me to tell the truth to her but somehow the words "I'm fine" slipped from my lips. She had a puzzled look on her face but she shrugged her shoulders and reclaimed her spot at the kitchen island. I maneuvered around the kitchen island, hugged my mother and passed the kitchen into my bedroom.

     Our apartment was small, it only consisted of: a kitchen, a bathroom, two bedrooms and a living room. We weren't exactly a rich family, hell we were constantly struggling with bills and rent. But we get by one day at a time. A motto that her and I share when we face a problem that's rambling in our minds, "Calm down, it's tomorrow's problem". I find those words great to live by; it teaches me to stay calm under pressure.

     I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped inside. I pulled off my black hoodie and hung it on the hook behind the door. My walls were painted a bright white with drawings and posters of bands hung up on my walls. I had a twin sized bed pushed into the far corner of the room, right under a window. A white bureaus pushed to the side of the room, most of the space on the top was taken by a keyboard that I play constantly. In front of the bureaus was an acoustic guitar in a gig bag and a violin in its case. I rarely played on my violin, sometimes I wondered what caused me to buy it in the first place. I was more of a guitar person than any other instrument. Guitar made me dedicated to not only learn any other instrument but to focus on my school work as well. If I can put so much dedication into playing guitar as I did with my school work; there was nothing I couldn't achieve. When I applied those skills, I got straight A's for the first time. Then I got lazy and never got those A's again. The last item I had in my room was a flat screen television that I barely watch, carefully propped up on a wooden stand.

     I let my body fall against my bed and I banged my head against the windowsill. Sometimes being six-foot-one was a blessing and a curse. I stared at the blank ceiling. I felt the pain move from the back of my head to my nose then quickly recede back. I rubbed the back of my head and sighed.

     Did I really just waste four years of my life? This isn't fair to her, you have to take her back. Can't you see she's in pain? Just call her to see if she is alright.

     I pulled out my cell phone from my jeans pocket and dialed her number. I pressed the phone up to my ear and listened to it ring for a few seconds before I heard her familiar voice.

"Hello" She said. Her voice seemed sad and I didn't blame her. I broke up with her last night. I didn't expect her to be completely intact. "What is it Nick?"

"Are you alright? I just wanted to check in on you. I tried coming over earlier but-"

"My dad told me about you coming over earlier. I told him not to let you in if you stopped by". I heard her sniffle over the phone; as if she had just got done crying or she was on the verge of.

"Why? I really wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk this over with you Casey".

"That's the thing Nick, I have nothing left to say. You broke my heart and I don't think I can forgive you for this. I just hope that this personal development is worth it". That was the end. With that final sentence, I heard a click of the phone and our conversation ceased. I tossed the phone at the end of the bed; I felt ashamed of what I had done with her. By the tone of her voice, it didn't sound like she would take me back. I guess this is the end of Nick and Casey.