FSE

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Gruff was lying on his bed. More precisely, he was sprawled on, wearing only undies and a T-shirt, barefoot. Facing him, his laptop on and connected. It was now the middle of the afternoon. He quickly passed a hand over his face to try to alleviate the pain that wandered into his skull since the morning. What a night he had ! Even a nap was not enough to repair the damage done to his neurons. But Greg did not really complained. A full evening of alcohol, nicotine and sex was everything a boy dreamed to have. And the company was enjoyable !

Greg swore against his machine too slow for his liking to connect. This gave him time to remember the morning.

The awakening was brutal. Greg, FJ and Dave had never heard such a loud shout. Dave had even fallen off the couch. The following events were a little fuzzy. Mark yelled, Ed continued when his uncle caught his breath. Dave just had time to get dressed before being forcibly to the door. FJ had followed him a few seconds later.

Then the eyes of the adults turned to him. At no time Greg was really scared. He was too drunk for this. He vaguely remembered some words. The only thing certain was that he would pay one way or another. Greg was also certain that anyway, regardless of the punishment that would fall, it had been worth it !

Greg focused on the screen when the desired page displayed eventually. He quickly consulted the news. Unsurprisingly, his coming out was at the top of his class. His relationship with FJ too, with more or less acerbic comments on the odd assortment of torque. Greg ignored the gossip and turned his attention to his private messages.

He opened the window with some apprehension. That sometimes confirmed. Some messages were encouraging. Others expressed surprise, without elaborating. But others hurt the boy. No personal content, just an informational message indicating the removal of his name from some books.

Greg closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Carson, Reese... He was not surprised by them. Not anymore. Six others also expressed their desire to scratch him from their lives.

Mark had warned him. With a mechanical gesture, trying not to give more importance than it had, Greg ticked the names from his own list and deleted them.

What his uncle had said already ? Some may come back over time. Greg sighed. He was not sure to want to review them on his side.

The boy remained silent, returning to the home page. A longer than usual message caught his attention. A rumor began to run on the eve of his departure. Greg began to feel the anger growing reading a false reading of the events. No doubt than Reese, Carson or another asshole of the same ilk was trying to give the best role to the heterosexual league. Grinning, Greg stood up and took his cell hidden deep in his pants. He scrolled to find the message that FJ had sent him. A link to a video.

« I wouldn't like to be in your place next September, Reese... »

Greg sent to his friends the link. No doubt than the video would turn quickly around the school. The truth would soon be restored.

Mark came to this point after knocking at the door. More rested than in the morning, calmer too. His anger had faded since. After all, he too had sometimes had a very lively nightlife. But Mark had to admit to Ed that in this area Gruff did better.

« The last evening was a good one it seemed.

• Pretty, yes.

• Well, it's time to set things straight. Already, I'm glad that everything went well at the ball. What you did was not easy, and I am also proud of your behavior when it started to skid. »

Gruff felt his apprehension increasing when he saw his uncle enter. The calm and his composed tone reassured him. He wondered, however, why Mark held his right arm ostensibly behind his back.

« I must say that my heart was in my boots at that time... I was about to vomit on myself leaving the room.

• I would had felt the same as I believe.

• Really ?

• Yes. By cons...

• I...

• No, let me finish... Well, you were drunk. It was Saturday night, everybody were, and you had a good reason to be... Ultimately, I do not care.

• And..

• I don't care too than you've brought friends, including one that you knew being punished to have fun together. That's his problem, not yours.

• But if...

• You made a raid on our leather stuff to spice up your sex games, I'm not against. You're grown-ups, you're not kids anymore, you know what you are doing.

• That...

• You had scattered throughout the area with used condoms. It does not scare me, quite the contrary, it means that Ed and I were able to make yourself understand the importance of it.

• Then... »

Mark moved his arm and showed to Gruff the empty wooden box.

« But you've ruined my supply of cigars. I sure will never be agree with that ! Two weeks. No cellphone, computer, no visit from FJ. Here or elsewhere.

• But...

• And Monday, you' ll be in class, noob !

• Please, no...

• Ed will come to pick up your stuff. And then you will cook for us, we are too tired yet. And you'll end up cleaning the room, of course. »

Not giving time to Greg to protest again, Mark went out and closed the door. Gruff sighed. He get off lightly after all. He resumed his former position on the bed to finish answering his mails as he could still do it.

--

The muzzle of the bear was waving frantically above the plate. Totally naked, the ursine retired three salmon steaks from their packaging and arranged them in a triangle before sprinkling a slightly sweet lemon juice above the slices. The fish was put in the fridge and would be wait for the next day before being cooked. Ed had barely closed the refrigerator door than a noise was heard, the door struck. Who would come that day ? Mark was upstairs getting Greg scolded, he was the only one able to open.

Grumbling slightly, Ed took an old short purposely left on a chair in the kitchen and put it on before opening the door. Facing him, a teenager who was himself not entirely unknown was somewhat surprised by the appearance of the very bare adult. Ed noted that the eyes of the young man did not turn from his masculine forms. The short silence that followed allowed Ed to remember where and when he had seen the boy before. The same morning, running out of breath.

« Yes ? »

Fred stopped to look at the broad chest to focus on the face of the bear. He was this time more appropriately dressed, with a green t-shirt with camouflage patterns and beige pants. Ed felt the boy's skin still exuded a faint smell of grease or industrial products. He wore a paper bag in his hand and handed it to Ed.

« It is... I believe this is yours. Or... Your husband, I do not know. »

Fred's voice was hesitant, but he tried to keep a firm tone. Without success.

Ed took the bag in hand and looked inside. A leather harness was there.

« Yes, indeed. Thank you for bringing it back.

• It's nothing. It's yours anyway, then... »

Fred was visibly embarrassed. Ed did his best to gratify a real smile to relax the boy.

« It makes me think... Stay here, please. »

Fred obeyed while Ed returned to the living room. He returned with some shoes in hands.

« These are yours, right ? »

Fred looked and said " yes " with his head. On his panic morning to return faster at home, Fred had failed to put on his shoes. He was found that shortly after his return. A miracle, he thought, he had the presence of mind to put on pants.

Ed took the harness and put the shoes in the bag, giving it to the boy who took it with both hands.

« Do not worry. At your age, we do all possible and imaginable crap, this is perfectly normal. »

Fred hesitated.

« Really ? »

Ed's smile widened.

« If you knew what I have done, you would be more relaxed. In fact, do not expect to see Greg fortnight. »

The boy quickly realized why.

« I'... m sorry if I caused some problems. We were a little out of control after the third keg of beer. Or fourth.

• Youth must have its fling, as it is said. And it would be hypocritical from us to reproach, believe me.

• Really ? »

Ed's more frank smile was the best answer to give to the boy. The bear felt than the young still faced a strong hesitation.

« You need something else ?

• Well... »

Fred always hesitated. He looked away, trying to focus on something else, to find a reason to leave and another to stay. He breathed heavily and Ed forced himself to look into his eyes.

« We spoke a lot yesterday. I learnt that... you were a nurse ? »

Ed curbed the urge to add a hint of sarcasm in his smile. He was right to believe that Fred did not come only to give back the harness. He could had let it in the mailbox or kept it.

« Yes. You have a problem ? »

The boy was a little taken aback. Ed had guessed, he did not knew how. Fred thought about the inclusion of the mezuzah on the lintel of the door of his house. His voice was still hesitant but he managed to make his request.

« I... I have strange sensations behind. And sometimes feel like my legs are made of cotton. I do not know if this is normal or not, and I do not know who to talk to, then... »

Ed thought quickly. His smile faded, but he kept a warm tone.

« I'm not a doctor. But I think so. It was the first time for you ? Or the first time in years ? »

Ed's words made Fred blush, who turned his sight a little away. The bear was very experienced on the medical and intimate levels.

« Yes. »

Ed began to smile. Fred had whispered and the bear was careful to keep a clean warm voice to make the boy delighted.

« It is usual. It's just a nervous reaction. This should disappear by tomorrow. If this is not the case, do not hesitate to see a doctor, but I'm confident. It happened to us all.

• Really ? »

Ed nodded, smiling. Fred seemed more relaxed since.

« I have to go now. Thank you. For the shoes. And your help. And tell Greg that... Tell him I thank him. That's it. »

Fred did not give Ed the time to answer and left, the heart somewhat lighter.

--

Daisy was still furious. Her brisk walking made clicking her heels on the pavement, the light wind casually lifting the hem of her purple dress as she pushed the door of the police station. A quick glance showed her the way to the home office where a young female police officer expected to be more useful other than initialing administrative reports which seemed to her as absurd as each other. It was with a slight relief that the young hyena faced Daisy, who fought to regain control of herself and keeping an affable face.

« Hello ma'am. I was called by one of your superiors, it seems that my husband is held here. »

The young woman dressed in a blue night suit nodded her head a little.

« What name, ma'am ?

• Kaplan. John. »

The police-girl looked down at the screen and a fast finger tapped the relevant keys and nodding deepened somewhat.

« Indeed. He's held in the drunk tank. I see no charges against him, so you can walk away with it if you wish. »

In the drunk tank. Daisy forced herself not to look too shocked. What her husband was doing in such a place ? Sleeping off his drinking at the edge of the evening ? He certainly drank a little from time to time, but he was careful not to overstep some bounds. And John did not mean drunk. This does not prevent Daisy to make him feel her wrath once they returned home. It was not even lunch time, and he was drunk to the point of forcing the police to intervene !

Daisy took the time to thank the police-girl who had shown her the right side corridor as a way to take, trying in vain to calm her passions. Her mood was reflected in the sound of her heels. Even the young woman had enough experience to know that her husband was going to have more troubles with his wife than with the court.

The woman calmed her anger only seeing the big dark bull barring the way, still wearing a polished and professional smile.

« You want to see someone, ma'am ?

• I came to get my husband. John Kaplan. »

Behind the bull ransacking a sheaf of papers in search for the good name, Daisy could see a row of cells with white bars. There were five on each side of the wide hallway. From the sounds of breathing, complaints and sometimes tears, Daisy was trying to identify the voice of her husband. The bull found the right name and withdrew from the mural a key.

« No complaint has been filed against your husband. And prosecutor's offices are flooded with various larger queries. As this is a first inquiry, I think things will stop there, ma'am.

• You're sure ?

• Of course not. Only my experience allows me to guess.

• It might had be better for him that would not be the case... »

The bull kept smiling, understanding than the bulldog in a light drunken state would have to do with a much more severe judge than the official court.

Daisy's anger however faded looking at her husband sitting on a wooden bench, alone, his hands clasped to the ground. She glanced her blame to the bull, who quickly realized the situation.

« He was that way when we get him, the report says. »

John looked up, hearing the policeman talking to a woman. He immediately recognized his wife, and looked away, ashamed.

John's face was largely covered by bandages adorning the left side of his face. He reacted only when the door opened and the officer waved him out. Daisy, noting the inaction of her husband came in and positioned herself in front of him, giving him a firm hand that John could only take to finally get up.

« I'...m Sorry. »

John quickened his pace, wanting to get out quickly, not wanting to engage a conversation in such a place. The duo returned at the entrance where John submitted a final ritual of signatures on some various papers, retrieving the contents of his pockets. Once his keys and wallet replaced, he dared put his eyes on his wife.

To his surprise, he saw more concern that criticism now. But he wasn't fooled. It would not last.

« What happened ?

• I... I'll tell you everything, but at home if you do not mind. »

Daisy nodded her head. Her day ended on a strange note. It was the first time she had to get her husband to the station, and came with the intention to run on the spot, she came up with the idea to redo the bandages of her husband more correctly.

« I'll drive then. I do not think you're able to do so. »

John nodded in turn.

« I only had three beers today, but it's safer, yes. »

John kept his head a little low, entering the car. Daisy started the engine and drove slowly to Nail Street.

Her desire to ask questions who were burning her lips was urgent, but John had wanted to wait to be back before speaking. She knew him enough to know he would speak once at home.

So Daisy stayed silent, her eyes repeating to harden gradually as her fear of seeing the minor injuries of her husband faded.

The young woman made sure that the flying of her dress did not get caught in the door closing it. She noted that her husband locked the door normally. His alcohol level was light, and he was not angry. The front door closed, Daisy looked back at the half hidden John's face.

« They put three times too much dressing. I'll find something clean and redo it all to you. Sit down in the living room. »

Daisy reached the bathroom while John took a chair in the kitchen and went to the indicated place. The declining day threw in its last lights, natural lighting was best to properly clean a wounded skin. John put the chair in the living room and sat there. A noise was heard from the opened door and Fred, holding a paper bag in hand, walked in, surprised and frightened to see his father hurt in the middle of the room. He had no time to ask any questions that Daisy came back, armed with scissors, bandages and medicinal alcohol.

« But why were you outside ? »

Fred looked at his father, worried. John turned his eyes on his wife.

« I lifted his punishment. I think he paid enough. »

Daisy turned her eyes on John. The tone in which he had been using was curiously strong. Almost brutal. Fred nodded to his mother.

« Dad told me I could. I took the opportunity to get something I had forgotten. »

Fred looked at his father again, he was also surprised by the tone that John kept, still feeling he was trying to soften it, without really succeeding.

« Fred, when I came out, I had not finished storing the garage. Would you do it ? »

The boy immediately translated the demand.

« I have to talk with your mother, I do not want to see you here for a while. »

Fred obeyed, joining the garage by the kitchen door. The boy, however, took care not to close the door completely and kept his ear against.

Daisy was always surprised by the tone of her husband. She put the utensils on the table and set about her task. Her first act was to remove the dressings and bandages. She could not contain her surprise at seeing the skin who turned purple around his eye and near his mouth. The nose seemed red, tinged the upper lip of blood that had passed there. Lowering her eyes, she saw that the right fist of her husband was also covered with bruises and bandages.

Daisy put her hand gently around the eye and the sore muscles reacted, pushing John to make a slight cry of complaint.

« But what happened eventually ? »

John spoke up, taking care to adopt a relatively fast rate so as not to give time for his wife to ask any questions.

-

The day just seemed to filter through the tinted windows, the sun filling the elongated place with a dim light, a yellow would had been a disaster if the room walls painted of white and light yellow tile were not in agreement with the varnished wood furniture. Front counter, five large stools, empty, waiting for customers who currently have preferred to settle on the red leatherette wall seats to consume their coffee, keeping a distracted eye on the big screen which broadcasted the end of a match. Entering the bar after pushing the door, John turned his head to the counter to greet the great ape who was busy finishing washing glasses before wiping.

The fine and slender body, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, the monkey nodded the incoming, surprised to see him so concerned.

« Well, John, what's happening ? It seems that your stepmother just told you her intention to live with you ! »

John approached the counter and took a seat on one of the stools, head down, staring off, apparently unresponsive to the keeper's usual joke. It is only when the bar was tapped lightly with his open hand in front of him he finally responds.

« Oh, sorry Kassim, I thought about something else. »

The monkey looked at John, his head slightly askew.

« Troubles in the garage ? »

The voice of the sports commentator was heard a little too much to John's taste. But the attention that other customers had in the bar on the game prevented John to ask to change the channel or turn it down. He would have to do against a bad situation. John put his cheek against the palm of his hand, sighing.

« I would have preferred. Can I have a beer ?

• Course. »

John's eyes lit up just seeing the opened bottle in front of him, the light foam overflowing the neck and the smell of hops filling his nose. John took the cold bottle in hand and drank half in a sip. He wore a distracted look on the screen, seeing the referee wearing a black and white striped shirt whistling the end of the game while the players caparisoned in blue were congratulating each other, those dressed in white holding their head in their hands .

Kassim did not left his client eyes, obviously somewhat concerned to see the latter in the result of bad news.

« Another one ? »

John looked at the bartender and his half-empty bottle. Another envied him but he had already drunk in the early afternoon, he shook his head.

« Not now, anyway, thank you. »

John lowered his head again, bottle in hand, turning the liquid with a discreet wrist movement. He knew that the offer of another drink was the door open to a discussion, but it was something he did not wanted. Not immediately anyway. Kassim understood, noting that the game was over, picked up the remote and passed on an information network which the sound filled the bar.

John was unable to focus on anything. He did not knew what to say, do or think. His son had just told him he was gay, and nothing else was able to distract him from the new.

It was something that he was not at all expecting. Fred was so strong, tall, muscular already, it emanated from him such masculinity that the idea that he wanted another man with him in his bed appeared to John as a total incongruity.

This new was added to the still open wound of his six years of enforced absence. He had raised his son alone shortly after his birth, while Daisy was fighting against leukemia who hit her shortly after Fred's birth. Four years of struggle, hospitalization, preventive and curative treatments done waiting to find a donor who could save the live of his wife despite her rare blood type.

Four years during which John had almost cracked, wanting to leave everything behind, especially after the stupid death of his parents who had supported him in the race. Four years of toil, double shifts to be not being able to pay that part of the care.

John still remembered that night, when the hospital had finally called his wife to tell her the good news. A donor was reported at last. An hour later, Daisy was lying on a bed, the saving infusion in the arm. A week later, she went radiant, tired, exhausted, saved.

Problems had resumed afterwards. The couple had to deal with the hospital bill. John was still wondering how he would find the tens of thousands of missing dollars. The solution came from a friend, who had issued a dangerous job on an oil rig off the coast of Costa Rica. A very addictive, dangerous, which would leave away from his family almost constantly.

Daisy said "yes." She knew what that meant in terms of separation, for her and the little boy. But it was their only way out. She was all the more inclined to accept that she had known recently that Fred would be his only child. Saving her life had an exorbitant price for the woman who had dreamed of a big family. John therefore applied, was accepted and was gone almost in tears, leaving behind at the airport a little boy with his eyes wet, a sadness that had appeared to him infinite.

John finished drinking his beer and put the empty bottle on the counter.

It was the only choice possible. He never ceased to repeat. Daisy had agreed. John came back, is not it ? Debts finally paid, with a small enough balance to open his own garage.

But at what price ? Fred had not seen his father for six years. To return a week for Christmas was not enough for him.

He had left a sad little boy and returning, he found an unknown teenager who would not give him a grandson.

John winced at the idea. His life seemed to have become a dead end, and the way found starting in Central America to get out only resulted only in another dead end.

He heard then some more grunts near him.

Two customers came near him and after had watched the game from their bench, had risen and had invested stools. Both were relatively matured age men wearing low-end and dirty clothes. The grunting boar's odor barely covered the sneers of a tiger spitting phlegm coming from his large smoking. Both were attacking people on the screen.

« Damn, they're everywhere ! »

John looked at the screen and identified a celebrity of the song who gave an interview.

« How many cocks he has to suck to be here ?

• I do not know. Anyway, one is one too many, right ?

• If only someone could help us get rid of all these bitches... It would be better without all these fags that draw on us the wrath of the Lord. Don't you think so ? »

John tried to look away but he realized that the tiger had spoken to him, he did not knew him of nor Eve or Adam. His bad breath, charged by alcohol explained that familiarity.

The bulldog wore a moment his eyes on the screen, focusing his attention on the singer. The man was talented, John had enjoyed some of his titles. He smiled at the young journalist who held her microphone in front of him. The boar felt fit to add

« He would have preferred that she tends him a real, for sure ! »

, designed to trigger fat laughs that he and the tiger shared. The laughs stopped when the boar felt a sharp pain burst in his jaw. John was standing now, with a closed and painful fist that hit mechanically.

-

The day continued to decline, changing the bright light in another now more amber. John was still sitting in the middle of the room. His face still swollen and purple, wearing smaller but better placed dressings. His wife stood in front of him, putting the scissors on the table.

« And then ?

• Then I do no remember all. We were not many in the bar. Kassim tried to hold me after had throned the asshole out of the door. But I think I had hit him too. I must apologize to him too I guess. But the other had called the cops and that's how I ended in the drunk tank. »

Daisy folded her arms, keeping silence. John lifted his head.

« I could not do otherwise, you understand ? I... »

John took his head in his hands.

« I do not understand. I do not understand me. At one point, I was shocked. Fred, Fred is gay and I could not really chew the news. And the next moment, I hit an asshole who spoke ill... No, who insulted a guy he did not knew. »

Daisy was silent, tidying the unused dressings in the bathroom. When she returned, John was standing in front of her.

« Why did you not told me ? I am his father after all. »

The young woman shook her head.

« I do not really know. Finally, though. Do not get me wrong, honey, but you're far from being a model of patience and tolerance sometimes. »

John looked down.

« I know. It hurt me to learnt it. Especially in this way. But...

• But ? »

John looked up, proudly eying the eyes of his wife, taking her gently in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder.

« I love my son. This is the only thing I am certain. And when I think about it... If I did so, it was because I felt that talking about this fucking singer, he spoked of him too. I have not supported. I could not accept that anyone could speak so badly about my child. This is what made me do so. »

Daisy clasped in turn her husband in her arms.

« It's your heart that spoke. »

John grinned slightly. He was not surprised by the words of his wife, even if they were stupid. Yet it was the overall sense, even if he did not expressed themselves as simplistic.

« It is without doubt that. That's what I felt, yes. I'm not comfortable with this idea. Not totally. But I will never let anyone hurt him because of it. To insult simply because of that. »

John released his grip and looked towards the door of the kitchen leading to the garage, smiling at his wife.

« If you allow me, I started talking to him. I have to finish. »

Keeping a warm and relieved smile, Daisy nodded, reaching her room to leave John alone with his son. The latter then went to the garage and through the door.

The room was in semi-darkness despite the mounted neon ceiling. One of the tubes had blown and should be replaced soon. Fred turned his back to the door, his hands occupied by the tools used earlier, currently storing them. John kept his smile, closing the door.

« You're not a very good liar, you know. »

Fred turned his head, keeping the tools in hand, trying to keep a strong voice.

« How so ? I said nothing ! »

John came closer. He faced his son, still being taller than him. He remembered how smallest his son was years before. Another mark of time passing. John pointed to the misplaced workbench.

« It's been at least ten minutes I was talking to your mother, and you did not do anything during this time. »

Fred blushed a little.

« It's just that... »

John raised a hand, silencing his son.

« No need to try to find you an excuse. I did not even heard the clicking of the lock. You did not closed the door and you heard everything. »

Fred blushed even more. His father was far from being an idiot. Which nevertheless reassured the boy, it was to hear the calm voice of his father, who was not angry against him.

« I can not really blame you, that you're also concerned after all. I do not have much to add, you sure must know that now. »

Fred looked at his father.

« Dad... This really bothers you ? »

John stood in front of his child, lowering his eyes.

« I guess I need time to get used at the idea, that's all. Ever, Fred, I will not ask you to harm yourself by forcing you to be what you are not. But what happened today made me aware of different things.

• Oh yeah ?

• Yes. »

John put his hands on the sides of his son, feeling somewhat his chest, which embarrassed him a little.

« You took care of you. I imagine that your body is the way you wanted, right ?

• Yes. »

John released his grip, letting his hands along his body.

« I realized with that asshole all that you could endure. I do not know if you're ever been, but unfortunately there is a potential for that to happen one day.

• I know, yes.

• And I will be not necessarily be there to stand by your side that day. Also, in addition to your usual sport, I want... No, I demand that you'd be able to defend yourself.

• How so?

• Boxing, judo, karate, I do not know yet, and you will choose yourself. But as your father, I command thee that thou art able to face these kinds of problems ! »

Fred was silent, his surprised face betraying a slight misunderstanding.

« Your mother will yell at me and I'll sleep on the couch for a while but I do not care ! You will take classes, those that you will choose, so that you will never be helpless against that kind of guy, you hear me ? I do not ask you to jump at his throat first, but if you do not start the fight, I want you to be able to finish it ! »

Fred kept tight-lipped. He finally understood what his father told him. He was not pleased with the news, but he understood his logic.

« I do not like it more than you do, but sometimes words are not enough. It is my duty, after all, to give you the weapons to allow you to grow up in peace. »

Fred nodded then. John smiled, delighted to find in his son some few habits of his mother. This prompted John to further enclose his son in his arms.

« I ask you one thing. One. Be a man. That's all I'll ever ask. »

Fred returned the gesture, smiling confidently. He did not knew exactly what his father meant by that, but it did not mattered. The gesture of appeasement, of protection was enough.

« That's all I want to be, Dad. »

John laid his head on his shoulder and smiled more openly, trying to prevent a flowing tear.