The Ends of Rossford

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I liked Fenn and Dan's deep conversation. I am glad Fenn is going back with Dan and taking Thackeray with him. I am also happy that Maia is talking to her parents. Her upcoming conversation with her Mum might not be easy but its necessary I think. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, isn't it great that Maia is facing things with her parents and living her life with Bennett. And now we see Fenn rekindling his friendship with one of his oldest friend, which is going to set up things for the rest of the story.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Layla was on her back reading the pages Brendan had written so far.
“Don’t hover,” she murmured.
“How can you even tell I’m here?”
“I have eyes. I have five senses. Stop hovering.”
She took the page she was reading and put it behind the others.
“Before you go to bed, get me a glass of juice too. I’m going to be up a while.”
Brendan thought Layla looked looked like a literary possum, as she sat upside down on her sofa, He went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of juice, setting it on the coffee table.
“You know I never drink coffee at that table,” Layla mused, not changing positions. “We should call it a juice table.
“Now,” Layla continued, “I really like this story. Not that it matters.”
“Of course it does.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Layla insisted.
“The thing about this boy is he’s really brave of you. I’m not saying it is you, but when you write something it reveals you in a way. And you revealed a lot.
“When you started with him, he was boring. I didn’t say it, but he was boring. And he was frustrating too.”
Now Layla turned over, her hair sticking out at angles, but her voice maintained its stately timbre.
“You weren’t doing your best with him. You weren’t revealing.”
Layla yawned.
“I’m actually not going to bed. I’m going to sit up and keep reading. But you should go. Sheridan and Raphael have been waiting. I hope you like the room. We haven’t had guests in a long time.”
“It’s a great room. You’re a great friend,” Brendan added.
“Yes,” Layla agreed.
He stooped and kissed her, and then headed to bed.
After Brendan was gone, Will came out from their bedroom and Layla looked up at him.
“Yes?”
“You coming to bed?”
“Eventually.”
Will looked very thoughtful. He nodded his head, and then he sat down beside his wife, pushing his hair out of his face.
“I feel I should talk to Brendan.”
“You’ve talked to him all night.”
“I think I should talk to him again.”
Layla gave Will a very patient gaze.
“You’re getting strange.”
“We should talk about sex.”
“Really?”
“Just trust me,” Will said, standing up and then going down the hall.
Layla looked down the hall for a moment, but in the end decided she wasn’t interested enough in whatever Will was about to do, and so she went back to reading.

Will tapped lightly on the door of the guestroom and a moment later, Brendan and Sheridan, both in tee shirts and pajama pants, answered.
“What’s up?” Sheridan asked him.
Will took them both to him and a bear hug and embraced them, whispering, “I love you guys.”
“Alright?” Brendan raised an eyebrow.
“It’s just… It’s only…” Will began, “I know that when you first got together it was awkward for me. My best friend in the whole world, my little brother,” he touched Sheridan’s cheek.
Sheridan and Brendan looked at each other warily while Will continued.
“And I am not stupid. I’m not. And I don’t think the whole world should revolve around me, and the two of you are the kindest, most caring men in the world, you really are meant for each other—”
“Will, what the hell are you getting at?” Sheridan demanded.
“Only… Well, Sheridan, I’m getting at sex.”
“Oh, my God,” Brendan’s eyes darted to his sleep son and he moved out of the room with Sheridan, who shut the door behind them.
“I mean,” Will continued, “I don’t ever want the two of you to hold back. I’ve been thinking about it. I love you guys so much, and I remember the way you were with Kenny—and you with Chay. And Logan. Very spirited. And I want you all to be free to express yourselves in this house. That’s what I’m saying.”
Will looked very earnest. Sheridan and Brendan frowned.
“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Sheridan murmured.
“I think,” Brendan said, “that I want to pretend this conversation never took place.”
“I’m just saying,” Will said, quickly, “don’t be afraid to have loud sex in the house. It’s totally cool!”
“We have a three year old,” Brendan said. “Sleeping between us.”
“Well, then quiet sex,” Will amended. He hugged them quickly.
“Cause I love you guys, and I love that you guys love each other.”
And then Will turned around, leaving the two men to stare after him, their arms crossed over their chests.
“That was…” Brendan began.
“My brother’s a fucking freak show,” Sheridan said, taking Brendan’s hand, “Let’s go to bed.”
In the bedroom, Raphael opened his eyes and said, “Dads?”
“Yes?” Sheridan jumped onto the bed beside his son.
“Quitesex!” Raphael clapped his hands.
“Quit what?” Sheridan began.
“Oh, you mean quiet sex?” Brendan said absently, then put his hand to his mouth.
“Quitesex,” Sheridan said, “Is what won’t be happening until we get back to Chicago.”


“Hey!” Raphael laughed, tapping their heads under the covers.
Brendan and Sheridan stopped, wide eyed, in the midst of what they were doing, which was discreetly fooling with each other while their child slept.
“Waking your dad up,” Brendan lied merrily. “Get up sleepy head,” he thumped Sheridan on the head.
Raphael climbed up closer and echoed this, thumping Sheridan gently and crying, “Wake up sleepy head.”
When the boy was done with this, businesslike, he planted his head on the pillow and told Sheridan, “I have to pee.”
Sheridan climbed out of the bed, reaching for his tee shirt, pulled it on, and took the little boy up in his arms.
“Daddy has to whiz too. Let’s make that happen.”
When they’d first adopted Raphael, Sheridan had told Brendan, “I have a big brother and a father. Trust me. He learns to pee by watching you.”
“I’m not doing that,” Brendan said, flatly.
So in the mini bathroom Sheridan peed while he sat the little boy on his potty and told Raphael, “When you get big enough to do this, remember aim straight even at seven in the morning. And if you don’t—”
“Clean it up!”
“Right. Because?”
“The ladies don’t like it.”
“And by ladies,” Sheridan said, “I mean your father.”
When he was with Logan, Logan pissed loudly, and with the door open after sex. Or early in the morning. Brendan didn’t believe in that at all. Of course neither had Chay.
“Bren,” Sheridan said, returning to the bedroom and straddling Brendan while Raphael toddled back in. “Remember what Will said last night?”
“I remember what he said last night, and I remember how I feel this morning. But I really, really, can’t do that in this house.”


“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’re leaving your child with me so you can make a boodie call,” she told Brendan while Raphael was eating in the kitchen.
“Can you believe we’re going to your uncle’s house to use the old apartment, though?” Sheridan said.
“I’m actually sure he’ll understand,” Layla said. “Well, don’t take all day. I have to meet Jonah at twelve.”

Todd was surprised when he woke up alone, and even more surprised when he smelled breakfast. He climbed out of bed, pulled on pants and a tee shirt, the old housecoat with a crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and came down the back steps.
“Look at you,” he said to Fenn, “cooking breakfast and everything.”
“It’s not like I don’t cook,” Fenn murmured, serenely receiving Todd’s kiss on his cheek, and then, taking the spatula to put one egg and then the next on the plate.
“Well, not before twelve o’clock.”
Fenn laughed a little and then poured the pancake batter into the skillet. It hissed.
“Be good and pull out the syrup for me.”
He shouted up, “Thackeray! Breakfast!”
“He might need another call.”
“No, he missed it yesterday and the plate was sitting there ice cold. He’s a quick learner.”
The boy’s feet could be heard coming down the steps and Fenn said, “There’s no need to hurry. Wash your hands.”
The boy departed and Fenn said, “I love you, Todd. But I forget how much. And then I cook breakfast for you so we both remember.”
“That is really…” Todd was taking out a cigarette. It hung from the corner of his mouth reflectively before putting it down and hugging Fenn from behind.
“You’re right,” Fenn told him, “It really is. However I don’t want to burn this food,” he said to the fifty year old man still clinging to him, “so you might want to back away a little bit while I flip this hotcake.”
Thackeray returned and volunteered, “I’ll get the milk and the silverware.”
“Good boy,” Fenn touched him on the cheek.
He frowned and said, “Dad?”
It sounded like he was trying the word out.
“Yes, son?”
“That’s a different car in the driveway.”
“That is Brendan and Sheridan’s car,” Fenn informed Thackeray. “Brendan is your cousin Layla’s best friend, and Sheridan is Will’s brother. And they are a couple.”
“It’s so many gay people here,” Thackeray said in a tone of wonder. “I wonder if I am too.”
“I think if you were you would know by now,” Fenn said placidly.
Thackeray nodded to the wisdom of this and went to the refrigerator for the milk. Todd said, “Where are Sheridan and Bren, then?”
“In the apartment downstairs,” Fenn said in a different tone.
“For wha—?” And then Todd murmured, “Ohhhhh.”
“What’s oh, mean?” Thackeray said.
“It means pour the milk,” Fenn told him clearing his throat.
Thackeray began to pour the milk, and then in the middle of doing so, he suddenly murmured: “Ohhhhhh!” in a tone of discovery.

MORE LATE SATURDAY OR EARLY SUNDAY.

 

[CharmedFan28]

I am glad Layla likes Brendan's writing. Brendan, Sheridan and Raphael seem to make one great family! Thackeray seems to be learning more about his new home and the people in it and I think he is taking it well. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

The phone kept ringing, over and over again, and it took Logan a while to realize it wasn’t a dream. He had put that ringer on his cell that recreated the sound of an old fashioned rotary phone. That had been cute once, but now it was a little annoying. He reached out slowly from the covers and pulled the phone to him.
“Hello?” he croaked.
“Are you in Rossford or Chicago?”
“Casey?”
“Yeah.”
Logan looked around slowly. Under the heavy comforters of Larry’s bed, in the large bedroom, Logan said, “I’m here. In Chi. I’m not far from you.”
“Great. Can you do me a wonderful favor?”
“I guess.”
“Take Chay to Rossford. A friend of his needs him.”
“Uh… sure. Okay.”
Logan sat up in bed rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“When do you need me to do it?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Give me about an hour.” Logan scratched that. “An hour and a half.”
“That’s good. He’ll be ready. I’m stuck here shooting.”
“I get it,” Logan said, “I’ll be over.”
“Incidentally, you’re being really vague about what I’m going for.”
“I don’t know if you know his friend Meredith.”
“Yeah, I know Meredith.”
“Her grandmother died.”
“Oh, shit. Not the Affren lady?”
“Yeah.”
“Crap. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there soon.”

“Good morning sunshine,” Jonathan said.
“Don’t you have something better to do than watch me walk around your dad’s apartment half naked?”
“Not really.”
“Like class?”
“Northwestern is boring as fuck. They ought to call that it Snorewestern.”
“You’ve been dying to use that joke, haven’t you?”
“A little. Was it funny?”
“A little. Hey, you want to go to Rossford with me?”
“Uh,” Jonathan sat up. “Sure. Is there a party?”
“If you think a funeral’s a party,” Logan said.
“Ugh.”
“Be nice and put out some clothes for me. I have my own closet here,” Logan said.
Jonathan nodded to this, asking no questions, and then said, “When do we leave?”
“We’re going to pick up Chay. It’ll be in about an hour.”
Without shame Logan peeled off his briefs as he entered the bathroom and turned on the jets of hot water in the shower. There was a moment he savored of being naked and smelling himself before the cleansing and the soaps, and then he stepped into the jets and felt the water beat into his skin. They were south of Kinzie in the high buildings of Streeterville. Casey and Chay were just a little north of Division Street. It wouldn’t take long to get to them.
What a life they were living! This was what his mother called New York City living. He remembered something Chay had said once, that this was life out of an Anne Rice novel. She was always writing about bored people living in luxury it took ten pages to describe. There was a part of Logan that distrusted all of this, distrusted enjoying it too much. He didn’t want to lose his soul though some people would have said he’d lost his soul a long time ago. But he didn’t think fucking Larry, or sleeping with any of the often gentle and lonely men he’d been with was the same as losing his soul. Even in those days when Chay would go with him to seedy men, and he would service them, he’d had a soul. To go on about the quality of the marble on the counter tops, and lovingly discuss the cut of his lapel while only wearing name brands, to become the person who couldn’t live without bottled water, that was what Logan thought of as losing your soul.
One day when he was here, he got off of the El at Clark and Division and went walking down North Dearborn until his legs got tired. He wanted to see where it would take him. It was one of the first times he’d come to Larry. Autumn was setting in. The grass was that deep green, the trees red orange, and yellow with their dying. Across from Newberry Library kids were playing in the park. People walked up and down the streets, but nobody waved and nobody smiled. His stint in California, doing movies with guys who hated themselves and hated him a little, had taught him to live with that. But there was something dead in these folks. There was something dead in walking down Dearborn and not seeing it, paying rent this high and not seeing the beauty of the high rises, and of the low old buildings, the green in the grass, the squirrels in the trees. Every time he took a high priced client, every time he woke up in that man’s expensive bed, he was afraid that he was close to becoming one of those people. In his early life he’d feared going over the edge. After that time when Sheridan had saved him—Brendan and Fenn and Lee had saved him too—from the man who broke in and raped him, Logan going over the deep end toward madness. There was a guy in the business who had murdered a man for a dollar, one who had run himself through with a sword. There were nights, especially the difficult ones after things with Sheridan had ended for good, after Sheridan was with Brendan, when Logan lay in bed terrified that he would go that way too, that, at last, madness would take him. Now he feared the numbness that coated the whole world, the numbness that he had fled in the early days, taking his clothes off for money, fucking grown men in parking lots. He was doing so well, he was now so prosperous, that he feared numbness might catch him again.
Jonathan and Logan were well dressed. Logan intentionally did not pay much attention to what he was wearing. He knew he was good looking, and he knew the clothes were too. He knew how to dress. Why be concerned? Chay didn’t keep them waiting when they reached the house on State Parkway. Casey ran down the steps long enough to lift Chay up, kiss him and then tell Logan, “I really, really appreciate this.”
“It is no problem,” Logan asserted.
Chay, the smallest man Logan had ever seen, who still retained a childlike look, carried a travel bag with him and was in a sweatshirt and jeans. Casey was in jeans and an old tee shirt, his black rimmed spectacles making him looking slightly endearing, a little bookish. There had always been a quiet side to Casey. He kept a very political blog about matters of sexuality read by more than gay men trying to masturbate. Logan wondered if Casey felt it too, the danger of going crazy or going numb?
They took the Escalade out of Chicago. It was limo like, but not a limousine. Logan did the driving. Jonathan excused himself to the back and took out a book.
“I can’t believe Barb Affren is gone,” Chay said in a small voice. “Which is stupid, because she was ancient.”
Logan reached over and rocked Chay’s little shoulder. There was so much between them. He remembered again that it was Chay he had known before Sheridan. Chay who had accompanied him on those dark nights to visit clients. Chay, as a fifteen year old, had asked Logan to take his virginity and Logan had refused, leaving that to Casey. Maybe the force of his emotions was too great. Maybe the spell that Casey had fallen under would have happened to Logan. Maybe, Logan thought, he was trying to protect himself from what making love to Chay would do to him, not the other way around. In the end it had been Sheridan, and that had created the triangle ending in what they had done to Chay. All that, and the uneasy years afterward came to him now. And then came the night three years ago, when he had gone to the house on State Parkway, more in need of love than he knew, and for the first time, in Casey’s presence, he had known Chay. The love he had run from ten years earlier, he came to in their bed, in that house, Chay bringing Logan into his arms, the stiff throbbing between Logan’s legs being brought into him as well. He had been with Casey many times before, but this was different. This was the first time Casey had made love to him. The three of them together had become something different from a three way, different from the movies, something that linked them forever. The morning he’d waken up between Casey and Chay, the morning Casey had gotten up to work and left Logan with Chay, they had found their way to forgiveness. He still remembered the jackhammer power in his body while Chay’s mouth and eyes opened wide, and his little hands splayed across Logan’s back. As Logan’s eyes lost focus, and rolled to the back of his head, the darkness before him as his jaw set while his body seized, and he passed into orgasm was the passage through the damage done into restoring what he had lost with Chay Lewis.
He told Chay, very quietly, as they approached Lake Shore Drive:
“I’m getting out of this. All of it. I don’t know exactly what I mean by all of it, and I don’t know what I’m going into. But I do know that I am definitely, definitely, getting out.”


CONCLUSION OF OUR CHAPTER, AND CONCLUSION OF PART FOUR

MORE ON MONDAY

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a very good portion. It was nice to have a Logan centric part of this story after not seeing much of him for a while. I hope he finds happiness. Jonathan seems to be good for him. Great writing and I look forward to more in a few days! I hope you are having a nice weekend.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, it was good to see Logan. That's the thing about this last book. It's so many people that some people leave the story for a while, and it's good to get back to Logan again AND good to remember that Logan and Meredith do have a friendship. Good also to see how Barb's passing effects everyone.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Tonight, as we begin the final part of our story, the present and the past mingle.

PART
FIVE

THE PRESENT
AND
THE PAST​

​

TWELVE



LOVE IN THE NIGHT​

“FUCK!” Dan screamed.
Fenn had put off the telling as long as he could, which was until seven a.m. After all they were all coming to the apartment to start moving at around nine.
Dan Malloy, aged twenty-nine, had been surprised when Fenn came to early morning Mass anyway. And then when he had said, “I need to speak to you,” Dan had raised an eyebrow, shrugged and said, “The new confessional is free.”
The church was also empty at this time of morning, when the sun was barely up, and so when Fenn had told him succinctly, “Me and Tom are done. Tom is having sex with Bryant,” Dan had taken a cup, smashed it against the wall and screamed: “Fuck!”
“That son of a bitch!” Dan breathed out. “That lousy, fucking son of a bitch. I should have, I should have…” Dan raged around the room. “I always knew. I knew he was an ass. I should have… When? How long?”
“I don’t know,” Fenn said.
“I should find out and—”
“Please don’t,” Fenn said. “This is enough.”
Dan turned to him wild eyed and said, “Of course it is. I’m so sorry.”
Dan went to his knees and put his arms around Fenn. This was so strange, so unlike Dan, or at least unlike the Dan he had known in the last ten years. Dan put the side of his head into Fenn’s chest and Fenn could feel Dan’s hands clenching into angry fists
“He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth you,” Dan went on. “I should have…”
Fenn waited for him to finish.
Dan didn’t look at him.
“I should have never let you go to him. I should have never been a priest,” he murmured. “I never would have done this to you. Never. I should have been with you all this time. Not Tom.”
Fenn thought Dan might be talking to himself as much as he was talking to Fenn. He sat up, took a deep breath, blowing out his cheeks and smoothed Fenn’s shirtsleeves.
“Well, no matter. Things will be right again. He’s gone, and I’m here now. I’m going to be what I was supposed to be to you.”
Fenn didn’t really know what he meant by that. He was surviving on five hours of sleep, a terrible revelation of betrayal, the decision to move into his house anyway, a good cry in the bushes, Todd making out with him in the car, enduring a morning Mass and then Dan shattering a cup and raging like a banshee. Right now all he could do was nod and say, “I better get ready for the move.”

Dan and Tara looked at each other, and then at the living room where Fenn sat on the new sofa.
“Are you sure you want us to go?” Dan said.
“Or that you don’t want to come back to the apartment?”
“Well what would be the point in that?” Fenn said to Tara. “I left for a reason.”
“I’ll stay,” Dan said, simply.
Tara nodded. She kissed Fenn on the cheek and she said, “Call if you need me.”
He nodded.

Tara returned to the apartment and screamed when she entered.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here!” Tom said, forcefully.
Tara looked at him with an evil expression on her face.
She put her purse back over her shoulder and turned to go.
“Please!” Tom shouted. “Please,” he repeated. “I… can’t go anywhere else. And I don’t have any friends anymore. Please. Don’t leave.”
Tara turned from him, sickened and full of pity at the same time. His shout had been terrible. Tara had known Tom for ten years. She shook her head. If one of them didn’t leave it was treachery.
She heard a great intake of breath and when she opened her eyes Tom had gone to the sofa, hiding his face in his hands.
“I’m stupid,” his voice came out high pitched. “I’m such a stupid man.”
“Fenn will never forgive me if I let you stay with me.”
Tom only trembled and kept sobbing. He nodded his head to that, and kept crying.
Fenn would never… Tara sighed, looking at her friend, fallen apart, weeping into his hands, crumpled on the sofa. Fenn would never…
“Stay,” Tara said. “I’ll make tea.”
Tom just nodded, and his body shook harder as he kept crying.
Fenn would never…. The gentle voice went on in her head.
Well… Fenn would have to.

“I am grateful,” Fenn said, after Tara was gone, “for all of you.”
Dan held his hand, squeezing it.
“And I am very sleepy,” Fenn said.
They sat on the sofa a while, in the house which was already home, even though it was empty and had the strange sound of a house that had been empty a long while. As Fenn drifted off, suddenly he felt the pressure of lips on his.
“Dan.”
Dan stopped kissing him. Dan straightened up.
“I just…”
Now Fenn straightened up.
“Daniel,” he said to him.
“Yes?”
“I think I’d better leave town for a while.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great start to part 5! Poor Fenn. I know things get better but I am sad for him right now. I wonder where he is going and if Dan will go with him? The next portion will be very interesting indeed! Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Part 5 really starts in a rough place. I don't think Dan is going with Fenn just because it was waking up with Dan kissing him that made Fenn realize he had to go away, But what happens we will soon see!

 

[ChrisGibson]

IN THE PRESENT, LOGAN, KENNY AND RUTHVEN LOOK AT THEIR OWN PASTS AND TRY NOT TO LICK THEIR WOUNDS


“THANK YOU FOR BRINGING him here,” Noah Riley said, awkwardly. “Meredith will really appreciate it.”
Parental memory was long, Chay observed. Though Chay forgot, Noah did not, that time when he had come home to announce that Sheridan had gone off with Logan to make a life. When things between Sheridan and Logan had ended, Noah had not so secretly rejoiced.
“See, and now you have someone who loves you.”
Never mind that the someone who loved him was Casey, another someone Noah had disapproved of.
“You’re welcome,” he nodded to Noah, and then turned to Chay:
“When you need me, you know. Just buzz. I’m going back to my house to catch a nap.”
“Bye, Logan, Goodbye, Jonathan.”
Chay hugged both of them, and Noah’s face was expressionless while he watched this, and then the two men left for the house that had once been Casey’s.
“This will be the second time I see where you live,” Jonathan noted.
“True, but you didn’t stay for long the first time,” Logan yawned as he came onto Demming Street. “This time around I’m not heading back till tomorrow.”
“Or until Chay is ready.”
“I think Sheridan’s here. If so, he could take Chay back.”
“You all have such a warm relationship,” Jonathan commented. “With everything that you all went through you’re still friends.”
“I guess,” Logan said, offhandedly, as they crossed Birmingham, at the end of downtown, and headed into more country places.
“No, it’s wonderful,” Jonathan went on. “I don’t have friends like that. Now that I think of it, the people in my life are more like associates .”
“That sounds really lame,” Logan told him. “And you are starting to ramble.”
“Well, I could shut up.”
“You can keep on talking,” Logan yawned again. “Just understand I may not be listening.”
They drove on a little longer, into the scree and the bare fields, up the gravel path to the large old white farm house that had once been the headquarters of Casey William’s empire. But what they found there shocked Logan.
“What the fuck?”
It wasn’t profane, It was just out of place. Or rather she was out of place. In the middle of a group of about three or four people sat a youngish Black woman of medium height with a bandanna tied around her head who clearly did not feel like dressing today. She was wearing glasses, and as Logan parked, she rose and approached him.
“Logan Banford!”
“Layla Lawden?”

“At first I was going to stay with Dena all day and then I thought that’s really kind of sad, and at a time like this the last thing she needs is my ass showing up all the time, sitting there looking sad and patting her hand. And, as much as she loved Barb, Barb wasn’t her grandmother anyway, so me and Jonah got together.”
Jonah nodded.
“And Jonah was saying how this house was perfect for filming a short scene in Todd’s new film. Jonah wrote the script and they’re going to Sundance or something.”
“Riverwood,” Jonah said.
“The movie’s called Riverwood?” Jonathan looked at him.
“No, the festival,” Jonah explained. “It’s sort of like a low budget Sundance.”
There were two good looking white guys with the two serious bespectacled black people.
“It is a place of enchantment and discovery,” declared the sturdy young man beside Jonah. He was in fitting blue jeans and an off maroon tee shirt with dark curly red hair. He was beautiful actually.
“You’ll have to forgive him,” said the other guy beside him, “Kenny’s an artist.”
In his way this guy was nice too. Jonathan had seen enough porn to wonder if he was involved in it. He had that look no gay man outside of sex work did, the look of a California surfer, a gay for pay kind of fellow.
“Are you an artist?” Jonathan asked, because he wanted to know if he was right.
“Hah!” the guy with whitish blond hair and the dark gold goatee laughed. “No. I’m a Ruthven.”
“What’s a?”
“He’s being funny,” Layla said. “This is Ruthven Meradan. He’s semi family. So, can we hang around your house?” she asked Logan.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Logan said, remembering himself. He moved ahead of them, unlocked the door and entered through the enclosed porch.
“Semi family?” Jonathan murmured.
“His uncle is my uncle’s spouse,” Layla said.
“This is a progressive town,” Jonathan said.
“No,” Layla disagreed. “Just a horny one.”

“So you’re an artist?”
“I paint,” Kenny said. “I don’t think I’m an artist. Well, I mean, I guess I am, I can’t do much else. But, I do paintings and I teach over at the college. It’s enough to keep me going, you know?”
“Can I see your stuff?” Jonathan asked him.
“I guess. It’s really nothing special.”
“Sure it is,” Ruthven bounced onto the couch. Ruthven was tall and virile. Jonathan watched the way his jeans fit his thighs, even how he unselfconsciously crunched on the Doritos he was eating. There was a masculine confidence in him that, like the sun, shone on them all but at the same time made something in Jonathan shrink in on itself.
“I’ve been hanging with this boy for three years now, and the stuff he’s put out… Man!”
“So are the two of you… together?”
Ruthven and Kenny looked at each other. Ruthven grinned.
“We’re not apart,” he said. “We hang.”
“He wants to know if you’re fucking each other,” Jonah said, turning away from his conversation with Layla.
“I don’t,” Jonathan protested, but Jonah murmured, “He does.”
Kenny cleared his throat and said, “I thought we were talking about art.”
“We were,” Jonathan declared, happy to switch the subject. “I’m a very failed artists and a moderately failed painter. It comes from having money, I think. So now I just try to promote people.”
“Once you see what Kenny’s done, you’ll want to promote him,” Ruthven shook Kenny’s shoulder.
“You could show him now,” Jonah said from over his shoulder.
“Or whenever—” Jonathan said.
“No,” Jonah differed, firmly. “Now is a good time, I think.”
“Cool,” Ruthven hopped off the couch. “I’ll go with you.”
“Actually,” Jonah said, “Logan told me he needed your help upstairs.”
Layla looked at Jonah. Jonah’s face was expressionless.
“Alright, I guess,” Ruthven sat up and put a hand to his sandy hair. “I can go up and do that. You kids have a nice time back at the house,” he told Kenny and Jonathan.
“What are you doing?” Layla whispered to Jonah.
Jonah confessed, “I’m not entirely sure.”


“Kenny! What are you up to?”
“I’m on Facebook,” Kenny told him. He swung around in his chair and said, “I like to go on there and track people from high school and college that I’m not really close to. Especially the ones who moved to the big city wherever the big city is. They’ve always got bright smiles and maybe a baby or two. The best thing is if you track them long enough and pay attention you can figure out just where the shit parts of their lives are.”
“Really?” Jonathan said.
Kenny nodded.
“There was this one guy I was seeing for a bit while me and my ex were split up. He disappeared before anything could happen. And then I got a wedding invitation from this chick who turned out to be the good Baptist girl he was getting married to. This was all very cute, and then they had a webpage on Facebook with their wedding preparations. After that there were some pictures of them together, and then there were pictures of him apart. She wasn’t friended to him anymore. They weren’t linked. It took a while to realize he’d been divorced. Then there was a picture of him with a guy for a while and now, look—” Kenny clicked a few keys. “Look, here he is again with a girl. He’s all smiley and shit.”
“Kind of cute in a serious way,” Jonathan said. “And that look on his face! He’s like, hey, I’m straight again!”
Kenny burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what it’s like.
“And I like to look between the lines.”
“Is that what you do when you paint?”
Kenny shrugged.
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Because your stuff is beautiful. I mean, I’ve seen some stuff and I’m like… that’s the real deal. I was prepared to be nice and say it was good no matter what. But…”
“I just paint what I’m seeing,” Kenny said.
“Yeah, but the things you see!”
“I think I’m just seeing things other people can’t. For a long time I didn’t trust myself.”
“You are the second really good artist I’ve met in the last few weeks.”
“Really?” Kenny raised an eyebrow. “Who was the first?”
“This writer. He was at Chay and Casey’s when Logan took me there. He’s got a baby. Well actually a three year old. His name is Brendan.”
“Brendan Miller?”
“Is he famous?”
Kenny laughed.
“He’s my ex.”
“What?”
“It’s sort of hard to say,” Kenny reflected. “Even after all this he doesn’t feel like an ex. And we were together so long. It’s like saying ex exes it out. We were together eighteen years.”
“Seriously?”
Kenny nodded.
“I wish sometimes we had a kid or something. Something that lasted between us.”
“But you were both artists.”
“When we were together neither one of us was really doing much of anything. I was starting to paint, and Brendan was just an attorney.”
Kenny looked very serious for a moment.
“I don’t understand it. I loved him so much. I think he loved me. But we didn’t grow up until we left each other. I’m happy for him, but sometimes thinking about it hurts me.”
“What about Ruthven.”
“Ruthven is a good friend.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Ruthven’s been around a while now, and he had a serious love, but that didn’t work out. We help each other. It’s nice to have a friend to wake up with if you can’t wake up with your love.”
“Is—” and then Jonathan stopped.
“What?” Kenny said.
“It isn’t my business. I was just going to say: is Brendan still your… is he the love of your life?”
“No,” Kenneth said after a moment of reflection. “Things were over with us. He has Sheridan. That makes me a little miffed, that he found someone so quickly. I’m jealous of his happiness. I’m not jealous of Sheridan. Brendan was the only man I was ever in love with, and I have waited for another to come along. No one has. And that makes me sad.”


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Lots of interesting discussions in the present. I kind of hope Kenny does find another love, I think he deserves that. I also think Logan deserves happiness. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Not going to say what happens to Kenny, but I thought it important that Kenny remain single. After all, the same thing happened to me and lots of people, and it can be a bad message to tell people that they are bound to find someone and happiness comes in finding someone. I'm conflicted about this myself because I would love to have that, but I also know I may not and that my life is complete, and I wanted to show that tension with Kenny.

 

[ChrisGibson]

BARB AFFREN'S FUNERAL IS A WAKE UP CALL FOR MANY IN ROSSFORD



“This is my friend Milo Affren,” Kenny said. “Jonathan came up here with Chay and Logan.”
Kenny held out his hands, Jesus like, to introduce the two of them, and Milo shook Jonathan’s hand in his loose, casual way.
“Can I get you a beer in this fucked up time, my friend?” Kenny asked.
“Absofuckinglutely,” Milo said, following them into the kitchen where Kenny opened the refrigerator, took out a beer and cracked it open before handing it to his friend.
“You’re related to the woman who passed?” Jonathan inquired.
“She was my grandma,” Milo said.
“I’m very sorry,” Jonathan told him. “We brought Chay up because of a friend, Meredith. Is she your sister?”
“Meredith is my cousin,” Milo said, as they returned to the couch. “She is a ballsy bitch, but all the ladies in the family are. Especially Grandma. I actually thought she was too ballsy to die.”
“Meredith is also his sister-in-law,” Kenny interjected.
“What?”
Milo explained. “Meredith’s dad is my dad’s baby brother. While I was dating my wife, he came to town and started seeing her mother. And then when he got divorced he married Nell, my mother-in-law. So by the time Dena and I finally got married, Nell was already my aunt, and so my uncle is also my father-in-law, or at least my stepfather-in-law, and it’s all real weird except for Dena’s actual father was a crazy bastard.”
“To make it more fun,” Kenny went on, “Meredith got married to this guy who already had three children, and so one of Meredith’s stepchildren is pretty much engaged to Milo’s oldest daughter.”
“Oldest daughter. She can’t be more than ten.”
Milo made a flip of the hand and a courteous bow before taking another sip of beer. He was one of those sexy straight men you might be game for anything and a flash of heat went through him. Milo seemed like the kind of guy who might sleep with a man, rob a bank or snort cocaine now and again.
“Bless you my son,” Milo drawled, “but Maggie is eighteen years old and almost nineteen.”
“He had her young,” Kenny plugged in.
“I guess,” Jonathan said.
“So tell me,” Milo continued, “because I cannot tell these things for myself, Jonathan.”
“Yes?”
“Are you or are you not a homosexual?”
Jonathan almost choked over the question and then he said, “I am. I mean, I am a homosexual.”
“Oh, good,” Milo said. “You like my friend over here? He’s a very good artist.”
“He’s a brilliant artist,” Jonathan declared.
“And an all around good guy?”
“Yes.”
“Milo, what the hell are you doing?” Kenny demanded.
Milo kept talking to Jonathan: “Well, he’s good looking and smart and talented, and you are into art and he’s an artist and I mean, look at this guy! He’s fucking gorgeous. I mean, half the time I want to bang him myself.”
“Ignore the borderline pothead on the couch,” Kenny said.
“I mean, I love you man, and you are great. You’re hot as hell. I mean, you are hot, and you should have someone. And Jonathan: You’re good looking too. You’ve got the emo hair, chocolate colored. Like me. Soulful eyes, and I noticed when you bent over, not a bad ass. And Kenny loves a nice ass. I mean, I’ve known this guy for twenty years, He’ll look at an ass all night.”
“Oh, God.”
“So I’m saying you two need to go out and see how things work. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Milo!”
Milo put up a hand and took a long swig of beer.
“That’s all I’m saying,” he said.

IT TOOK A LONG time for a statue of Ganesh to transform into Shri Ganesh. He had come to this for Krishna and a few well done kirtans and then, gradually, the whole boat began to make sense to him. That time a few months ago, when Tom had suggested that he and Tara and Bryant all go up to Chicago, he and Tara had gone to the temple up in Aurora. That was the first time the elephant man, with such roundness, such voluptuous luxury and such a grave look of pleasure in his face had meant something to Fenn, the first time he’d recognized in the playful deity what Hindus called shri.
Now he remembered that it was that trip to Chicago which had revealed to Fenn what had been going on. How long had it been going on? Was it going on still? Who cared?
So he sat here now, not speaking, not singing, scarcely aware of his own breathing, his hands palms up on his lap.
“Fenn,” he heard someone whisper. “Fenn.”
Fenn placed his hands together and made a small nod of departure to Ganesh, and then turned to see Dan.
“Father Malloy,” he whispered, “What are you doing in a heathenish place like this?”
Dan frowned.
“I’ve come to bring you home, Fenn.”

“You think I’ve run away, but I did what I always wanted,” Fenn said. “You’re not the only one that wanted to go off to God.”
They were sitting on the porch of the monastery, looking over a broad vale that ended in distant hills rising into the trees.
“I don’t know that I wanted to go off to God at all,” Dan admitted. “I think I just wanted to know that I was alright.”
“Well, of course you’re alright,” Fenn said.
“And when you went off to God did you meet him?” Dan asked.
“My God,” Fenn told him. “Maybe I met me. Maybe that was more important. I left Rossford. I needed to get away from all of it.” He wanted to say all of you. “I was neck deep in the drama, and I needed to get rid of it all. And Tara living with Tom...”
“She is his friend.”
“She was supposed to be mine too.”
“He doesn’t have anyone else.”
“You’re defending him?”
“Defending her. Defending mercy, Fenn.”
“Fuck mercy. If Tom can fuck Bryant and Tara can fuck me over, then I can certainly say fuck to all of them.”
“There is still one good reason for you to come back,” Dan said.
“Because you want me back?”
“I wouldn’t even be in the damn city if it wasn’t for you.”
Fenn touched Dan’s hand.
“I will come back. For you.”
“We’ll even have a little party,” Dan said.
Fenn was about to say that he didn’t know if it was a good idea. But then there was another part of him, the largest part, that really didn’t care.

Bhaja mana hū re
bhaja mana hū re
śrī-nanda-nandana
abhaya-caranāravinda re

Bhaja mana hū re
bhaja mana hū re
śrī-nanda-nandana
abhaya-caran āravinda re

The chanting of the devotees came out of the monastery onto the porch.
“I will pack my things,” Fenn told Dan. “I will leave this place. Let’s go home.”


I AM THE RESURRECTION
I am the life
If you believe in me
Even though you die,
You will live forever

It came home to Logan that he was not really Catholic. His mother was Catholic. He was a little Catholic. He liked churches, but this was not his place. Not that this was about him. It wasn’t about him at all. He was just here because people he knew were vaguely connected to this woman, and Jonathan was with him because he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Also because Logan didn’t wish to be alone.

And I will raise you up
And I will raise you up
And I will raise you up on the last day!

Three of Barb Affren’s sons and three of her grandsons were her pall bearers. Following them came Milo and Bill, some people Logan did not know, a woman he had never met. And then there came two priests. They weren’t Catholics, and they hadn’t done the Mass. Logan knew the dark haired one. He didn’t even laugh about it anymore. He had been Bick Throbbing. The sweet looking blondish one had been a priest here a long time ago. Logan had heard they were lovers.
The church was crowded, the mass dignified. It wasn’t like the funerals he’d been to that were too long, or too trite. Logan wished he were in better with God, or deeper in with a group that was in with God. And now they were at the communion line. There was something heavy on Logan. It was like a hand weighing him down, and he could not get up and go into the line. He could not go.
Logan looked around and saw that there were some people sitting down, but for the most part everyone was kneeling. Jonathan was kneeling, so he did too. Even Radha was kneeling, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t even a Christian.
Logan wasn’t sure why he did it, but when the singing stopped, and church was filled with the sound of music, when only a few stragglers remained for communion, Logan unfolded his hands and quickly reached between Jonathan’s legs. Jonathan made a small noise, but while the priests began to clean up the altar, or do whatever they did, suddenly, Logan cupped Jonathan. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t want eye contact. He just began to stroke Jonathan, feeling him harden.
At the altar, the priest genuflected, and everyone began to rise. Logan pulled on Jonathan a little longer, and then stopped as they both stood. He looked at Jonathan, and Jonathan’s handsome face was confused. He put his hands to his front. Logan looked to the long casket on the floor before the altar. A censer was on it and sweet smoke was wafting up from it. This was death, a corpse in a beautiful box. When they sat back down Logan slipped his hand under Jonathan. His ass felt so nice. Jonathan turned to him, his face almost afraid. Logan stopped his hand from moving, but he didn’t pull it away. He wanted the warmth. He wanted to put his hands in Jonathan’s pants again, to make him feel something while he felt something. The priest must have said something, because now everyone was rising again. They rose too. Logan wanted to feel alive. He needed to be away from death.



MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Lots going on and 2 different periods of time in one portion! I am glad Dan came to get Fenn home. Sounds like the start of something is happening between Logan and Jonathan. I am very interested to see where that leads. Barb's death and funeral has really made people think. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, two times in one and a lot of lot of feelings all round dying and breaking up. In the past Fenn is headed back to Rossford and in the present, here is Logan, looking for something. A sort portion, but a lot going on.

 

[ChrisGibson]

PART ONE OF A DOUBLE HELPING OF ROSSFORD

It was easy to leave church because no one knew them really. Everyone was involved in talking to each other, and Logan said, “I just need to get out of here.”
“Logan!”
“Shit,” Logan swore. Jonathan looked at him, still confused.
Sheridan ran across the parking lot.
“Thanks for being here, and thanks for bringing Chay.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jonathan,” Sheridan shook his hand warmly. “It’s good to see you again. The family’s having a repast, and if you want to join us—”
“Sheridan,” Logan said, “I honestly don’t think we could-”
“We would love to,” Jonathan interrupted. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” Sheridan nodded. “Alright. Well, you guys better get out before the procession to the cemetery. Unless you wanted to go to that?”
“No,” Logan said, honestly, “we don’t.”
“But we can go get something if you need it?” Jonathan said. Logan was looking at him.
“Uh,” Sheridan searched between his two hands. “Ice is always good.”
“We can do that.”
“And on a strictly selfish point, I would be eternally grateful if you picked up some animal crackers for Rafe.”
“Animal crackers,” Jonathan said. “We can do that.”


“When my great grandmother died we all sat around the house in white,” Radha said. “Lots of Indians, lots of incense, lots of aarti fires.”
“White?” Dena said.
Radha, who was in a black skirt and a black blazer nodded.
“White is the color of death for Hindus.”
“I thought your family was Christian,” Meredith said.
“My parents. And my grandmother when she came to America. But not my great grandmother. She was really, really Hindu. Grandma put the fear of Jesus into my dad, but Great-Grandma put the fear of Vishnu into her.
“I remember,” Radha mused, “once when Great Grandma came to visit, Grandma ran around her house hiding all of the crosses and all of the Bibles. When Mata Sanalini died the Catholic Hatangadis, the Protestant ones, the Buddhist and the whatever all had to sit on the floor in white in front of a statue of Ganesh.”
“When do you head back to Aurora?” Dena asked.
“I’m staying with Layla, then I’m going back in the morning.”
“You could have stayed with us,” Dena protested.
Meredith laughed.
“What?” Dena said.
“You have three very lively children,” Meredith said. “Radha shouldn’t stay with either one of us.”
“Layla might be having another.”
“Layla might be having another what?”
They all turned around to see Layla.
“Is it true you’re having another kid?”
“It’s true Will’s brought it up. Which isn’t the same thing. And has anyone seen Liam?”
Dena nodded. “He’s off with Riley and Thackeray.”
“I left my monsters with Chay,” Meredith said, rising to indicate she was leaving the company of women. “He didn’t come here just to babysit.”
“And the children are almost bigger than him anyway,” Radha added.

“Well, now you’ve met Milo,” Kenny was saying.
“Yes,” Jonathan told him.
“And did you meet Dena yet?”
“Who is she?”
“Over there. Right there.”
“The pretty dark haired one.”
“Right. That’s Milo’s wife.”
“Who’s going to live in this house now?” Jonathan asked Kenny.
Kenny shrugged.
“Maybe it’s in the will. Barb Affren had so many relatives, but I don’t think the ones who live in Rossford really need a house.”
“You know what this reminds me of?” Jonathan said, suddenly.
“Hum?”
“Hobbits.”
Kenny snorted and looked at him.
“What the? How do you get to…?”
“The socialization,” Jonathan shrugged. “Actually, that’s about it. And you know what? The only reason I read the Lord of the Rings was for the first chapter. Bilbo’s party.”
“His eleventy-first?”
“You did read it! Or was that in the movie.”
“No, my uncle used to read it to me. He read the whole thing. I used to have him read parts of it over and over again. Especially when old Gandalf is trapped up there on Orthanc and Saruman’s going on and on. Yeah.”
“‘I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like,’” Jonathan began.
“‘And I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.’” Kenny concluded, grinning.
Logan was suddenly standing beside them.
“Where’ve you been?” Kenny asked him.
“I was just talking to Chay and Sheridan. Jonathan, can I see you for a minute?”
Jonathan looked to Kenny, and Kenny said, “I’ll be right here. Or somewhere close by.”
Jonathan nodded, and followed Logan through the house.
“Jonathan!” Logan looked a little annoyed as Brendan greeted Jonathan, interrupting their progress.
“Hey, Bren.”
“I saw you with Kenny,” Brendan said. “You all friends now?”
“Uh, I hope so,” Jonathan said, at a loss in the face of Brendan’s noseyness.
“We’ll be back,” Logan told Brendan, and pulled Jonathan down the hall.

“Logan,” Jonathan wondered, “what’s going on?”
“Are you in love with me?” Logan said.
“I don’t… I…. don’t really know.”
“I think you like Kenny.”
“I do.”
“But I think you want to fuck me.”
Jonathan said nothing.
“Jonathan, I’m going to fuck you, alright?”
“Uh…” Jonathan felt very slow right now, like so much was happening to him so fast.
“Alright,” he said.
“Great,” Logan said. “We’re gonna make that happen.”
Frantically, Logan opened a door near the kitchen, but it was a pantry. A very big pantry, but a pantry nonetheless.
“Hi,” one of the family said, “you need anything? You’re the ones who brought the ice. I’m Maisy,” she came forward offering her hand.
“Logan,” Logan shook the hand, looking strange and nervous. “We just wanted a bathroom.”
“Well,” Maisy said, confidentially. “This was a house where two people raised seven kids, so there is actually a bathroom down in the basement. I’d tell you the history, but when you gotta go you gotta go.”
“Thank you,” Logan told her, opening the door and pulling a somewhat bewildered Jonathan behind him.


“Scuse me Aunt Maisy,” Meredith said, bumping into Maisy in the kitchen.
“Don’t tell me you’re off to the bathroom too?”
Meredith looked at her aunt quizzically, and then said, “I was looking for my children.”
“They’re riding on Chay’s back,” Sheridan reported, suddenly in the kitchen. “Anybody seen Logan?”
“If Logan’s that good looking blond guy,” Maisy said, “nature called. Nature called him and your other friend?”
“Other friend.”
“Brown hair,” Maisy shrugged, and then went back out into the living room.
“Chay?” Meredith reminded Sheridan.
“Oh, he’s being what my grandfather used to call a play-pretty for the kids. I hope he has kids one day.”
“Everyone doesn’t love kids.”
“I think he would. I think Casey would too. For so long me and Chay couldn’t be friends. Cause what I did. But look at him now. He’s got my Rafe in his arms. He is officially a play-pretty.”
“I have never heard that expression,” Meredith said as they went to the sun porch of the house.
“When me and Will would crawl up on him or try to play games, Grandad would say, ‘I’m not your play pretty.’”
“He sounds folksy.”
Sheridan shook his head.
“He was a mean old fuck, actually.”

“I feel,” Brendan began as he walked across the room and sat down on the sofa between Milo and Kenny, “like I might be a little, itty, bitty drunk.”
“The way your legs wobbled?” Milo said. “Man, you’re totally drunk.”
“You’re living the writing life,” Will told him.
Brendan collapsed between them and with a goofy smile on his face he shrugged.
“I never drink!”
“It’s true,” Kenny told them. “He never did. And the boy’s a rail.”
“I am not a rail!” Brendan protested and almost knocked a drink over. “Sheridan says I’m lean and toned.”
Milo burst out laughing.
“Is it true, Ken?” he asked him. “Is Bren really lean and toned?”
“I guess. He was when we were together. I don’t know what’s going on under that shirt now.”
“William,” Milo said seriously, “how does it feel to picture your best friend and your brother in coitus?”
“Yuck!” Brendan said. “You just said coitus!”
“You are really drunk,” Kenny observed from the edge of the couch.
Maisy Baird came into the small parlor and said, “Oh, my God, you are drunk!”
“I’m sorry, Maisy,” Brendan said.
She threw back her head and barked. “Hell, that’s what a wake’s all about! Mom would love seeing you this fucked up. I’m gonna fix you another.”
Maisy headed out of the room and Milo said, “But, Dr. William, my friend, as I was saying…”
Will clapped his hands on Brendan’s shoulders and said, “We’ve had this discussion already, and nothing makes me happier than the idea of my Brendan and my Sheridan making sweet love all through the night.”
“I’m going to throw up,” Brendan said.
“So am I,” Kenny swatted Will on the head, and then Milo.
“The only reason you say that shit is to gross him out,” Milo laughed.
Then Milo said, “Guys, seriously.”
“Yes?” they all said, turning toward him, Brendan a little woozily because he had shaken his head too fast.
“I’m going to be serious here.”
“As implied by the phrase, ‘Guys, seriously.’”
“No one likes a smart ass, Will.
“What I was going to say is that you guys are my very best friends. Even you, Bren.”
Bren frowned at him.
“Brendan, I’m just fucking with you. I don’t think I ever tell you how much—”
They all looked up at the new entrant to the room.
“Maggie!” Milo said.
“I was just coming to see if you were alright, but you all look fine to me, so I’m going to head on out.”
“Sit a spell,” Milo gestured to an empty chair.
“Sit! Sit!” the men chorused and Maggie shrugged, then said, “fuck it,” sitting down in the chair.
“Sit and watch this beautiful friendship,” Milo continued. “See how much we love each other. See how much—”
“I need to talk to you,” Brendan frowned and pointed at Kenny.
“Alright?” Kenny looked at the drunk man.
“You guys are funny as shit,” Maggie said.
“Right now,” Brendan continued.
“Right now?” Kenny said. “At this very minute.”
“Yes, goddamnit!” Brendan said drunkenly.
“Kenny,” Maggie turned to him, “I think you better do what the man says.”
Kenny shrugged and stood up. He held a hand out to Brendan and pulled the thin man up, walking him out of the parlor.
“Brendan, what is it that just couldn’t wait?”
“I love you,” Brendan said.
“You’re… really nuts.”
“No,” Brendan said, flinging his arms heavily around Kenny’s neck and stroking his hair. “I love you and that’s why you have to hear this.”
“This isn’t going to be some weird drunk confession that break’s Sheridan’s heart?”
“This will be the most undrunk thing I’ve said all day.”
Brendan parted from him. He startled Kenny by slapping his own face.
“There,” Brendan said while Kenny was still staring at him. “That sobered me up. Now listen:
“You are the love of my youth,” Brendan said. “And one of the two loves of my life. I’m letting you go.”
“Letting me—”
“In my heart I never let you go. In my heart I was selfish. But you are my best friend. You’re my friend. I love you. I want you to have what I have. That Jonathan… The way that kid looks at you… Quit being dumb. Go to him.”
“Bren.”
“Don’t Bren me, Kenny. Go get that guy.”
“Maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe we don’t all have to have what you have. Maybe just because as soon as we broke up you were with Sheridan, it doesn’t mean I have to have someone too. Had you thought about that?”
Brendan crossed his arms over his shoulders like a mummy. He did seem to be thinking about that, and then he said, “You know what I think, Kenny?”
“Hum?”
“I think that’s bullshit.”

MORE LATER

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! Sorry I didn't get here earlier, I had a busy day. Jonathan is one popular guy but I still hope he ends up with Logan. I will just have to wait and see. I am guessing that this is the only portion for today so I look forward to more tomorrow or whenever you are posting it. Excellent writing and I hope you have a nice weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, I decided that there was no point in throwing two sections down last night. And, yes, Jonathan is quite popular for a variety of reasons and we'll see a little more of what happens in our next chapter.

 

[ChrisGibson]

POSTING IS MEANT FOR ONCE A NIGHT, BUT SOME SCENES AND SITUATIONS ARE MEANT TO BE READ ALL AT ONCE, AND SO SOME SCENES FROM THE LAST FEW NIGHTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO THIS TO MAKE ONE SMOOTH AND CONCENTRATED SCENE


Logan looked around and saw that there were some people sitting down, but for the most part everyone was kneeling. Jonathan was kneeling, so he did too. Even Radha was kneeling, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t even a Christian.
Logan wasn’t sure why he did it, but when the singing stopped, and church was filled with the sound of music, when only a few stragglers remained for communion, Logan unfolded his hands and quickly reached between Jonathan’s legs. Jonathan made a small noise, but while the priests began to clean up the altar, or do whatever they did, suddenly, Logan cupped Jonathan. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t want eye contact. He just began to stroke Jonathan, feeling him harden.
At the altar, the priest genuflected, and everyone began to rise. Logan pulled on Jonathan a little longer, and then stopped as they both stood. He looked at Jonathan, and Jonathan’s handsome face was confused. He put his hands to his front. Logan looked to the long casket on the floor before the altar. A censer was on it and sweet smoke was wafting up from it. This was death, a corpse in a beautiful box. When they sat back down Logan slipped his hand under Jonathan. His ass felt so nice. Jonathan turned to him, his face almost afraid. Logan stopped his hand from moving, but he didn’t pull it away. He wanted the warmth. He wanted to put his hands in Jonathan’s pants again, to make him feel something while he felt something. The priest must have said something, because now everyone was rising again. They rose too. Logan wanted to feel alive. He needed to be away from death.

It was easy to leave church because no one knew them really. Everyone was involved in talking to each other, and Logan said, “I just need to get out of here.”
“Logan!”
“Shit,” Logan swore. Jonathan looked at him, still confused.
Sheridan ran across the parking lot.
“Thanks for being here, and thanks for bringing Chay.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jonathan,” Sheridan shook his hand warmly. “It’s good to see you again. The family’s having a repast, and if you want to join us—”
“Sheridan,” Logan said, “I honestly don’t think we could-”
“We would love to,” Jonathan interrupted. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” Sheridan nodded. “Alright. Well, you guys better get out before the procession to the cemetery. Unless you wanted to go to that?”
“No,” Logan said, honestly, “we don’t.”
“But we can go get something if you need it?” Jonathan said. Logan was looking at him.
“Uh,” Sheridan searched between his two hands. “Ice is always good.”
“We can do that.”
“And on a strictly selfish point, I would be eternally grateful if you picked up some animal crackers for Rafe.”
“Animal crackers,” Jonathan said. “We can do that.”



“Well, now you’ve met Milo,” Kenny was saying.
“Yes,” Jonathan told him.
“And did you meet Dena yet?”
“Who is she?”
“Over there. Right there.”
“The pretty dark haired one.”
“Right. That’s Milo’s wife.”
“Who’s going to live in this house now?” Jonathan asked Kenny.
Kenny shrugged.
“Maybe it’s in the will. Barb Affren had so many relatives, but I don’t think the ones who live in Rossford really need a house.”
“You know what this reminds me of?” Jonathan said, suddenly.
“Hum?”
“Hobbits.”
Kenny snorted and looked at him.
“What the? How do you get to…?”
“The socialization,” Jonathan shrugged. “Actually, that’s about it. And you know what? The only reason I read the Lord of the Rings was for the first chapter. Bilbo’s party.”
“His eleventy-first?”
“You did read it! Or was that in the movie.”
“No, my uncle used to read it to me. He read the whole thing. I used to have him read parts of it over and over again. Especially when old Gandalf is trapped up there on Orthanc and Saruman’s going on and on. Yeah.”
“‘I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like,’” Jonathan began.
“‘And I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.’” Kenny concluded, grinning.
Logan was suddenly standing beside them.
“Where’ve you been?” Kenny asked him.
“I was just talking to Chay and Sheridan. Jonathan, can I see you for a minute?”
Jonathan looked to Kenny, and Kenny said, “I’ll be right here. Or somewhere close by.”
Jonathan nodded, and followed Logan through the house.
“Jonathan!” Logan looked a little annoyed as Brendan greeted Jonathan, interrupting their progress.
“Hey, Bren.”
“I saw you with Kenny,” Brendan said. “You all friends now?”
“Uh, I hope so,” Jonathan said, at a loss in the face of Brendan’s noseyness.
“We’ll be back,” Logan told Brendan, and pulled Jonathan down the hall.

“Logan,” Jonathan wondered, “what’s going on?”
“Are you in love with me?” Logan said.
“I don’t… I…. don’t really know.”
“I think you like Kenny.”
“I do.”
“But I think you want to fuck me.”
Jonathan said nothing.
“Jonathan, I’m going to fuck you, alright?”
“Uh…” Jonathan felt very slow right now, like so much was happening to him so fast.
“Alright,” he said.
“Great,” Logan said. “We’re gonna make that happen.”
Frantically, Logan opened a door near the kitchen, but it was a pantry. A very big pantry, but a pantry nonetheless.
“Hi,” one of the family said, “you need anything? You’re the ones who brought the ice. I’m Maisy,” she came forward offering her hand.
“Logan,” Logan shook the hand, looking strange and nervous. “We just wanted a bathroom.”
“Well,” Maisy said, confidentially. “This was a house where two people raised seven kids, so there is actually a bathroom down in the basement. I’d tell you the history, but when you gotta go you gotta go.”
“Thank you,” Logan told her, opening the door and pulling a somewhat bewildered Jonathan behind him.





With a skill learned in the making of many low budget movies, Logan ripped away Jonathan’s shirt without snapping the buttons. Up until now, Jonathan had been confused and disconcerted, but it was so simple. Lust was so easy. He had wanted this. He’d wanted it the moment Logan came walking naked out of his father’s bedroom. There had been ridicule and jealousy and scorn in it, and all of those things veiled fear. There was fear in being so close so often to Logan, and the power of sex that accompanied him. He could not make the first move. He couldn’t. But he could bow to Logan’s will. He had to. Logan was a god. The thought of being with him would always be there.
When Logan tugged at his pants, Jonathan kicked them off and felt his underwear tugged away harshly, His dick came up harder and bigger than it had ever been. Like a miracle, with a light touching of the hands, Logan was naked too, and then he was fitting Jonathan’s legs about him from where the younger boy sat on the sink.
“A condom,” Logan muttered.
“No,” Jonathan said, tremulously.
“Huh?”
“Come inside of me.”
“Ahright,” Logan breathed.
He opened the medicine cabinet behind Jonathan and muttered, “I’ll be goddamned. This will do.”
He pulled out a small viscous bottle of mineral oil and then a moment later Jonathan felt Logan’s hand in his ass, now his fingers penetrating his asshole. It felt so good and then there was a grunt and a time of almost pain when they fit themselves together, when Logan pressed his cock inside of him. It was thick and blunt. Jonathan’s eyes watered.
“I’ll go slow,” Logan whispered. “I’ll go…”
And then Jonathan began to ease onto him. It wasn’t that it felt good. It was just that this was the pain he needed. Slowly they began to find a rhythm and Logan picked him up, moved him around and slowly began fucking him against the wall.
In times of sex, in times when Jonathan played the slut, he liked to have profound thoughts go through his head. In the Dhammapada the Buddha said one moment of deathlessness was worth more than all the moments in life where no one experienced transcendence it. This moment of he had Logan moving fiercely together, of the moment when he saw Logan’s face full of some type of terror while tears came to his own eyes, was the eternal moment. He squeezed his thighs tighter around Logan and ran his hands up and down his back, down to his ass, pulling him in. He needed to own Logan. He needed to be united to him. In the end, in great lifting, desperate pumps, Logan sobbed, “Oh, my—
“Gawwwwwwwd,” Logan rasped, loosing strength, almost dropping him. Jonathan felt Logan ejaculate inside of him. He felt it dripping from him, between his legs. They fell to the floor, and still ejaculating, Logan fucked him some more.
“Fuck me,” Logan charged him in a low, almost defeated voice.
Jonathan couldn’t believe how sore his ass was, how thoroughly penetrated he felt, or how hard his cock, still on the verge of coming was. He took the mineral oil, and rubbed it on him, then in Logan, and slowly he began fucking him. They both moaned with a noise like surrender and then, very quickly, Jon felt himself spilling. He felt so helpless. He felt almost like he might die. He collapsed across Logan’s perfect back, his penis still pumping inside of Logan Banford’s perfect ass. They lay like that for a long time and then slowly Jonathan rolled off.

Logan cleaned up the bathroom and made sure Jonathan looked presentable again. He straightened his tie and looked in the mirror, satisfied, and then he led Jonathan out of the bathroom.
In the basement, Logan said, “Are you alright?” before they walked up the steps into the kitchen.
“I…I guess,” Jonathan said, shakily.
“I don’t think we should ever do this again,” Logan said.
“No,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t sure if he agreed.
Back upstairs things between them were odd. Logan had just gone off to talk to Sheridan, and Kenny was coming toward him, merry faced.
“You disappeared for a while!” Kenny laughed.
“Yeah,” Jonathan tried a laugh.
“Ey,” Kenny said, in a low voice, “you alright? You look worse than the Affrens, and they just lost their mother.”
“Kenny, I don’t know if I’ve ever been alright in my life.”
“That’s pretty heavy,” Kenny told him. “I don’t know if I can ease your existential dissatisfaction, but I was just wondering if you’d ever like to go out. Me and you. A real live date? If you’d like that.”
When Jonathan didn’t say anything, Kenny continued, “I know I’m a bit older than you, and I’m not good at the whole dating thing, but—”
“Yes,” Jonathan told him. “Yes, Kenny, I’d like it a lot.”


Logan sat on the porch, drinking a beer. He wanted to leave. After all there was really no reason for him to be here. Except, there was Jonathan by the car, talking to Kenny. He had brought Jonathan here. He couldn’t just leave him.
“You know what that’s the sound of?” Someone spoke to Logan. He turned and looked up. Butter colored hair sticking up a bit, stroking his small brown goatee, Ruthven Meradan answered his own question.
“It’s the sound of you being left out.”
He sat down on the porch beside Logan and said, “It’s the sound of two people coming together, and you knowing that you’re not one of them. Click,” Ruthven added with a chuckle.
“Are you drunk?”
“No, man. Wish I was.”
He was looking after Kenny.
“Are you in love with Kenny?”
“No,” Ruthven said.
“I like fucking Kenny. Kenny’s fun to stay with. He’s easy. I’ve been in love before. That’s not easy at all. Besides, Kenny was always hung up on Brendan. Real polite about it, but you could tell he was.”
“And were you hung up on Dylan?”
“For a while,” Ruthven answered.
“And then?”
“And then it didn’t make any sense.”
“You think it’s that easy?” Logan challenged.
“Yes. When you know. When you really know it’s over, you’re not hung up.”
Logan shrugged.
“You hung up on your little friend Jonathan the way you were on Sheridan?”
“I like Jonathan a lot.”
“It’s like snapping two Legos together. It fits. Snaps nice. But you need more than a nice snap.”
“Is that… Are you talking about sex?”
“That and other things. People aren’t Legos. You just can’t stack ‘em and all. You gotta fit. You gotta go into each other.”
“Alright, you are drunk.”
“Look, I’m gonna tell Kenny to take Jonathan home, and you and me are going to see if we like each other or not.”
Logan looked at him.
“Why not? Right?”
Logan watched as Ruthven got up and went to Kenny and Jonathan who were talking by Kenny’s car. He had smoothed off the back of his jeans and Logan watched the shape of his ass, the way his jeans fit, the almost feathered wings of his California surfer hair. Also the little bit of worry in his face, the age betrayed. How old was Ruthven? About twenty-four. He looked, like most people who stayed out in the sun, a little older than he was. Ruthven said a few words to them, and then shoved Kenny in the shoulder and returned to Logan.
“That’s it,” Ruthven said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “They’re gone. It’s just us.”

TOMORROW, WE RETURN TO THE BLUE HOUSE