Ronnie's Story Ch. 1
The first chapter of Ronnie's Story. Yes, it says adult M/M. It can barely be called that, if at all, I just wanted to make it clear there is strong reference to it. And I promise, the next one will be a little naughtier than is my typical style. I hope you enjoy the opening chapter of Ronnie's Story!
Chapter I--Going it Alone
Ronnie shoved his way through the crowd of New York City pedestrians, ignoring the glaring looks that he received every time he refused to make way for oncoming traffic. He had just stepped out from the hair salon, and they had cut the sides but left the top forward segment long and dyed it purple for him. Now it hung in front of his face as he pushed through the crowd along 41st Street. Ahead was Nederlander Theater. He was dressed in high top black Vans and jeans that looked almost too tight to be comfortable on him. A plain, form-fitting long-sleeve black t-shirt rounded out his appearance.
Ronnie was just about to get to the crosswalk marking Fashion Ave when he saw her on the other side of the street. All he could catch of her were the auburn curls and that all-too-recognizable butt. Dodging to the side of the building along which he'd been walking, the put the corner between him and her, moving slowly so that he could take a peek. He watched her from across the street as she stood talking to some other lapine. Looked to be some blonde bunny bimbo. Ronnie sneered. He wondered if Luke had even told the girl her little secret. Perhaps he should go up there and--
--hug her tight.
Ronnie shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the sudden surge of emotion. It was difficult--having spent nearly a month away from Luke--that he now had to see his former friend like this. And yet he so desperately wanted to have something of the familiar again. Six days he'd been gone from home, and while the money was far from falling short (thanks to the vast amount of cash his father happened to hoard away in his office safe, most of it ill-gotten), he longed to just have some semblance of normalcy again.
Then someone else came out. It was some guy. A feline, white-furred, and raven black hair. And gay by the look of him. He moved too effeminately. But then Luke jumped up into his arms and kissed the boy.
Ronnie's blood boiled at the sight. He clenched his hands into fists. It wasn't so much that she--he--was with a boy. It was that she was so happy with that boy. It showed all over her face, and Ronnie hated her--him--for it.
Then she brushed her arm against the black-haired feline as she circled it around his waist, and that ended up pushing aside the bands that literally coated her wrist. And that's when he saw the horizontal scar over her wrist.
Good, he thought to himself, smirking slightly. Luke was hurting him so badly, he was glad to know she was hurting too. Ronnie wanted Luke to suffer. A smirk now on his face, Ronnie disappeared into the traffic leading away from Fashion Ave. He'd have to double back down a different street, and hope that Luke's little group didn't see him as he came back around to the Nederlander Theater.
What if they are going to see Rent, too? His insidious mind managed to bring to his awareness. He shrugged it off. It didn't matter if they were or weren't. It's not like furres made it a habit of B & E to see a Broadway show, especially if it meant they had to hang in the rafters to do it.
Ronnie wormed his way onto the scaffolding that ran along the ceiling over the stage, careful not to trip up on the lights. Setting one of them off-kilter could alert one of the stagehands of his presence. He wouldn't want to have his secret discovered, after all.
Throughout the show, Ronnie watched with a malice that was unshared by his fellow patrons. While they thought it a tragedy that the characters were victims of HIV, Ronnie got an unhealthy thrill from it. He imagined little Luca in a hospital bed, dying a slow, painful death as her little boy toy and slut friend were watching sadly. He tittered loudly with laughter as the audience stood for their ovation at the end. The cast came out and bowed their thanks, and that was Ronnie's cue to clear out or be found.
It wasn't until Ronnie was safely hidden away in the miniature-sized apartment in the Bronx that he stopped giggling and started hurting. In the darkness of the shabby little place, he found his gaze constantly going to the sky outside his window. Not a star shined in the light-polluted haze of New York. Even at home, he could at least make out a few stars from his bedroom. Homesickness set in, and gradually Ronnie began to hate himself for the kinds of things he wished on Luke.
Turning over in his squeaky bed, Ronnie pulled the covers over his head and slept the broken sleep of the deeply troubled.
Ronnie awoke to find the light of the sun blasting into his face from his window that following Monday morning. It was already 10a.m., and the young lapine felt like he hadn't slept at all. Between the argument going on between the lions next door, the party up above, and the nightmares that kept haunting him, Ronnie didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell for some decent sleep.
Getting up and stretching tiredly, Ronnie made his way to the fridge. Inside was nothing but a half-eaten bar of peanut butter and Chinese food that had been sitting there since the day Ronnie ran off. Grabbing the peanut butter and a rust-stained spoon from a drawer, Ronnie plopped onto his bed and turned on the television located at the foot of it. He slowly spooned globs of peanut butter into his mouth as he absently watched a Spanish novella. He couldn't understand what the hell was going on, but there were two particularly well-bodied equines involved in a love affair with each other behind what seemed to be their girlfriends. It was the kind of smuttiness that seemed written for Ronnie in particular.
It wasn't long before Ronnie had set aside the jar of peanut butter and let a free hand slide into his shorts while he watched. The two males were in a particularly heated discussion, and while one kept approaching the other, the other kept backing away with what seemed to be excuses. Either way, the second one's will seemed to be wearing down, and Ronnie was giddy with anticipation as the two studly males closed in towards each others' lips...
A sudden pounding on the door.
Ronnie tried to ignore it.
Another pounding. This one more threatening, if that were possible.
"Fuck, can't a guy masturbate without getting disturbed," he grumbled, standing from his bed and marching over to the door, trying to tuck away his swollen manhood tenting up his shorts as best as he could.
When he opened the door, his face convulsively turned to the kind of sneer you get when you smell rotting vegetables. Before him stood the superintendant: a nasty, greasy-looking weasel with a beater on and a pair of decorative boxers on.
"Carl, in fine form I see," Ronnie said with sarcasm.
"Shut up, Nicky," Ronnie said in a low, hoarse voice that came compliments of the Marlboro Man, using Ronnie's assumed name. "Your rent is due. Pay up."
"I paid you a week ago. When I moved in, remember? Four security, two payment."
Carl simply chuckled. "That's two a week, junior. Now pay up or get the fuck outta my apartment building."
"A week?! You never said that."
"What, you think you can move into Staten Island and actually pay two a month?" Carl laughed loudly, his nasty, browning teeth becoming visible. "Feel lucky you're paying eight a month, junior. It's only 'cause of my son knowin' you from school. I charge most of these pricks four a week for the kind of space you got. Now pay up."
Ronnie sneered at the weasel. "Fine, give me a second," he said, closing the door shut and locking it. He went over to the fridge and pulled it away from the wall slightly. Behind it was a small safe he'd bolted to the wall and floor. Twisting the knob and opening it, he pulled out two hundreds and shut it. But then, before returning to Carl, he reconsidered, and went back to change it out for several twenties, a few tens, and ten singles just to mix it up. He may have been ignorant of rent fees in New York, but Ronnie wasn't a moron. Nobody in this kind of place paid out in Benjamins.
Striding back up to the door, he opened it and shoved it into Carl's face. "Here," he said tersely, glaring at the weasel.
"You better watch that attitude, son," Carl said, taking the cash and counting it out. "I could get you in some serious shit with what I know on you."
"And you'd get busted for harboring a minor. Across state lines, no less," Ronnie whispered at Carl, who suddenly looked slightly frightened. Satisfied, Ronnie leaned against the frame of his door as Carl ran off down the hallway.
Ronnie was just about to head back inside when he saw someone coming up the stairwell, which was just within view from his door. A tall, statuesque equine male was making his way up to Ronnie's floor. The male was a soft, light brown color with dark brown mane flowing down from the top of his head to the bottom of his neck. His torso was covered only with a white t-shirt that left little to imagination, and he wore a pair of baggy gym shorts. And on top of all that, he looked maybe 19 tops. The horse was carrying a load of folded laundry with him and, by some miracle, stopped at Ronnie's floor to head towards his own room.
The young lapine felt week at the knees as the horse passed, shooting Ronnie a slight glance of curiosity. Ronnie didn't know what the hell he was doing, or even if it was safe, but he gave a slight wave and a smile at the horse. For a moment he didn't respond, and Ronnie thought for sure this guy was going to cream him for waving at him like that. But he smiled instead, one hand releasing a few fingers from the laundry bin in acknowledgment before he passed on by. Ronnie could have melted back into his apartment.
And then, just as Ronnie was about to recede to his room, he heard the horse call from down the hall.
"Hey, you."
Ronnie popped his head outside his doorway, his head and dangling purple hair visible. "Yeah?"
"What's your name?"
"Ro--Nicky."
"Ruhnicky?"
"No, just Nicky. Forgot who I was for a moment there," and Ronnie gave a nervous laugh, feeling so stupid at that moment.
"Well, Nicky. I'm Ray. You just move in?"
"Just a week ago."
"Well how about you come over and get comfortable? I like meeting new neighbors," Ray said, giving a friendly smile. His teeth gleamed brightly in that grin. "Promise I won't bite."
"Well that just takes all the fun out of it," Ronnie said with a laugh, grabbing his keys from the table right beside the door and locking it shut behind him. He walked down the hall, having mostly forgotten he was still in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers.
"I could make exception for new neighbors, you know." Ray flashed another smile, holding the door open as Ronnie made his way inside the equine's humble abode. It was hypnotic, that charismatic smile, and Ronnie found himself getting sucked in to oblivion, and didn't care one bit.