Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Christian & Roman's Tale - 3
Christian didn't wait for the fireworks; he just went out into Russley Street and started walking home.
Roman Dallas had saved him (!), but he didn't know if he'd do it again if those jerks came back, and he didn't want to take any chances.
Damm! His ribs hurt. Maybe he should go and get the hospital to check him over? No. They'd just laugh at him.
He limped home, cleaned up and inspected his wounds. He was going to have some major bruises, but the only cut was the one above his eyes, so he taped that up to stop it bleeding.
Ten minutes to ten. The fireworks would be starting soon. He went out to the garage and dragged out a ladder. They had plenty - his father was a painter. He stood it up on the side of the house and climbed up on to the roof.
His body was really sore, but, stuff 'em. He was going to see the fireworks. It wouldn't be the best view from there, but at least he'd see some of it. They were not taking that away from him.
Perched up on the roof, like an overgrown seagull or something, he saw the display begin. The view wasn't that bad, it wasn't too far away, but he still couldn't see much; he was crying. Again. He was such a girl, but he couldn't help it.
Tonight was one of the biggest nights, the biggest party of the year, and everyone was there. Everyone who was welcome, that is, and he was not. How had his life got to be so stuffed up? He didn't know, but he knew that he hated it.
It couldn't just be because he was gay. That was part of it but it wasn't the whole reason for his horrible life. Other people were gay and their lives weren't as bad as his. Nobody's was.
Despite the beating he'd received, there was one bright spot in his night - Roman Dallas had saved him! That was great. Why did he do that anyway? He was no friend of his. Nobody was. Roman said that he hated bullies, so that's why he did it. Nothing else. It made him look good for the girls too - Superboy lives.
Roman really was a Superboy, he was the greatest. He was. . . he was probably snogging three or four girls about now. Lucky bitches. Why couldn't he be more like Roman? God! He hated his life!
He stood up and looked down from the roof. There was one thing he could do about it. He could do what Lennie Peterson had done and just end it. If he took a running jump off the roof, would that be enough? No, probably not.
It wasn't high enough. It was only a single-storey house and he'd just finish up hurting even more than he was now. Probably break some bones too. Bugger that.
A car came around the corner, cruising along slowly. It turned and stopped in his driveway.
'What the? That's not Dad. Who's that? What do they want? Are those bastards coming to finish the job?'
It wasn't them. One door; the driver's door opened and Roman Dallas got out of the car. Wow! Roman was standing in his driveway. It was hard to see against the glare of the headlights, but he knew it was him.
He leant back into the car and killed the lights, then stood up again, looking up at the loser on the roof.
"Hey, Christian. What are you doing up there? You're not going to jump are you?"
"Hey. No, I'm not going to jump, I'm not that stupid. It's not high enough anyway."
"So what are you doing?"
"I was . . .I was just watching the fireworks at the Square."
"Of course you were! Why didn't you stay at the Square? You'd see them better from there."
"Maybe. I'm not welcome there. Obviously."
"Yes you would have been. You could have come and hung with us."
"Really?" ('Really???') "Thanks, Roman, but I couldn't do that."
"Why not then?"
"Because . . . Because. Look, you're the coolest kid in town and I'm the biggest loser. I don't think that even you could afford to be seen with me."
"Sure I could. You're not a loser, Christian. I know a loser when I see one, and you're not. Those bullying bastards back there are losers, not you."
"I am you know. Look around. All of my friends are here - every single one of them."
"Your friends? I don't see anybody."
"No, you don't. Neither do I."
"Oh, I see. Well, I'm here."
"Yes, you are. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Checking up on you. Someone said that you hobbled off home. I wanted to make sure that you got here all right."
"Really? Well, as you can see - I did. Thanks. That's nice of you."
"Hey, I'm a nice guy. Are you sure that you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I got up on the roof didn't I?"
"You did. Well, if you're sure that you're okay, I'm going back to the square. Do you want to come?"
"With you? No. Thanks, but I've had enough fun for one night."
"Yeah, I guess. Well, I'm going. Take care, Christian."
"Thanks Roman. Thanks again for what you did. You were great."
"No troubles, Kid. Anytime. See you around."
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks. 'Bye, Roman."
"'Bye, Kid." He got back in his car and drove away.
Christian stood up on the roof and watched him go. It must be so cool having your own car. Roman Dallas had everything. He was a great guy too - a really great guy. Ah, if only.
He, painfully, crawled down from the roof and went to bed.
'To sleep, perchance to dream. Bloody Shakespeare! Get out of my head!'
He knew who he'd be dreaming about, no doubt of that. If only he wasn't Christian, the Loser, Squires, he could so easily fall in love with Roman Dallas. Roman was the perfect boy, everything about him was perfect and he had the perfect life too.
Roman didn't imagine that he was perfect and his life was far from it. But, it was going to get better - he had a Plan.
Roman was tired, sick and tired. He was sick and tired of always trying to live up to the role that his parents, and everyone else, had cast him in. The good son - the perfect son and the top-notch scholar and sportsman.
He was sick of it. He was tired too of the girls. All the silly, simpering and giggling girls fawning over him and trying to get their hooks into him. Into his family name and fortune that is. Like his parents were ever going to let that happen!
When he got married, if he married, it would be to some girl that his parents deemed suitable. It would not be one of the local wannabes.
He'd tried sex. He'd had sex with more than a few of them, but straight sex just didn't do it for him. He wanted more. He was gay, he had no doubts about that.
He was tired too of gay sex - gay old-man sex with Bruce, his tutor. Bruce didn't do it for him either. They were just fucking. He was years older than him anyway, and he was paid to do it.
Someone here was no better than a prostitute; Roman wasn't sure who.
What he wanted, what he needed, was a boy - someone his own age who he could bend to his own will. A boy who would do whatever Roman wanted him to. Now he was pretty sure that he'd found just what he was looking for - Christian Squires.
Christian wasn't perfect either, far from it. Firstly, he was a local kid, one of the hoi-polloi. More importantly, their fathers were sworn enemies. Preston Dallas was the arch-typical, idle capitalist. Christian's father was a working man and a union organizer - the enemy. Roman had often heard Trevor Squires' name mentioned and never in a good way.
What else? Well, he was a bit young; at least 2 years younger, and he was a bit of a wimp. But, hey, he wasn't looking to marry him or anything. He just wanted a bit of fun, a bit of hot and nasty sex. If the kid was young and a wimp, and a peasant, that just meant that Roman would be able to do whatever he liked with him. To him.
He was tired of being the younger, submissive, partner in bed, he wanted to be the man. He could have that with Christian Squires.
There were other pluses too. The boy was gay, single and available - very available. He'd been watching. The kid had no friends and he'd seen the longing looks he threw his way. It was obvious that Christian adored him already.
Also, well, the kid was bloody cute too! He couldn't believe that no-one else had ever picked up on that. Christian was very good-looking, when you saw his face. It was usually hanging, shyly, downwards. He had a neat, trim, little body, and those legs!
He had long, slender - impossibly long legs for such a little kid. He couldn't wait to get them hung over his shoulders. Oh yes! Christian Squires would do very nicely thank you! Until something, or someone, better came along.
Roman was SO going to fuck with him! To hell with what his parents thought. For once, he was going to do what he wanted to. His way, all the way. Oh yes, Roman had a Plan.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
