Stories about & for us Queers

Billy's voice trailed off as he recited the rules of the street, telling Josh about how your best bet was to find a small group to hang with, to make part of your family and how without that gang, you stood no chance of surviving for long. You had no one to watch your back or keep you safe while you slept. Slowly he just stopped talking.

Josh listened to the voice, the soft flat voice as horror after horror was told to him. He shrank back into the old seat, and his mind reeled to the descriptions of life alone and on the street. He was scared as more and more of life on the streets was detailed graphically to him.

He looked at Billy, looked at someone who looked so confident, so secure, so proud, and yet now he could see that it wasn't that way. He saw the small outline near the right eyebrow, a scar from some broken bottle?

Before when he looked at Billy, his strong chest and muscular legs and thought how nice they were; now he wondered if the shirt hid other scars or worse. Instead of dreaming what it would be like to see him naked, he wondered if his legs hid other secrets. Josh thought of that firm ass, and now he wondered just how many old men had pawed at it, or poked it or touched it. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart ached, not from the stories, but for Billy.

The silence was deafening to Billy. He stared ahead as he drove on, small tiny flakes of snow were starting to fall and he concentrated on his driving. He heard a small sniffling sound every now and then, and knew his monologue had hit some hard spots. He wanted it that way, maybe Josh would be one who would not get eaten alive by the streets.

Josh's heart was in pain. He didn't know Billy, and yet he felt like he should. He was attracted to him and his thoughts weren't of just having sex, but of being with him. There was a difference in his mind. He knew it was most likely puppy love or some type of infatuation, but this guy had picked him up, fed him, and now tried to warn him off of taking a hard road in life. He also felt admiration for Billy. He had survived those horrors, and it didn't look like it had scarred him too badly.

"You okay Josh?" he asked softly.

"I didn't mean to upset you, but you look like a nice enough guy, just thought you should know, that's all, come on, you all right?"

"I am okay," he replied.

"I didn't mean to cry, it is just that, well, you seemed so hurt and all, and I, well I don't know how to comfort you. I sort of, well, feel so helpless, how....”

“I guess I am just not used to this," he finished lamely.

Billy's head spun as the words came quietly from the far corner. He was crying for me? No one cried for him, not for a long time, if ever. His hardened heart started to ache and he glanced quickly over at Josh, saw the innocence in the blue eyes, the concern written all over his fresh young face. He was telling the truth, as unbelievable as that seemed. Josh watched different emotions wash across Billy's face. He wished he could reach out and hug him, but he knew that would only makes things worse. He wanted to show Billy that he cared, and he wracked his brain for a way.

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