Rating: PG-13
Original Date of Completion: May 2002
Disclaimer: Don't own em, will one day. I do not own Cookie Crisp cereal, by the way. I couldn't even tell you which company makes it. But whatever one it is, please don't sue me. And yeah, I apologize now to any Nextel enthusiats out there, my comments are all for fun.
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Kirk's POV
I'm an idiot. And usually, that's okay. But today, today it backfired on me. I should've known better than to go spilling my guts to Kennedy, with Kris and Julie in the same house. But I just couldn't walk away from that little girl without giving some kind of explanation, she meant too much to me. It doesn't matter she was sleeping, I know she got it. The look in Kris' eyes when I walked out of the bedroom was haunting. I don't think I'd ever be able to look at him again. I'm such a fucking idiot. And I only enforced that when I ran out, not stopping to think that Kris lived a good 30 miles from me. God knows I need a nice 30 mile walk, alone with my thoughts. I've done enough damned thinking lately, I'm sick of it.
Since I'd left in such a hurry, I left all of my stuff at Kris', including my cell phone, which I'm sure Kennedy would probably turn into a nice toy. Oh well, it was Nextel, it sucked anyway. But worse than that, I left my jacket. And while it may be May, it was still freezing outside. Stupid Michigan weather. I needed to find a phone booth, or I could kiss my testicles goodbye. Of course, I was still left with the question of whom to call. All of my numbers were in my cell. The only number I knew off the top of my head was Mac, and I really didn't want him to see me like this. He was too protective of me. He'd see me all weepy and red faced, and blow a gasket. I didn't need to cause anything between him and Kris. I've already lost a best friend today, why should he?
When I reached a phone booth outside of a broken down old Shell station, I made the best decision I could, call information. I dropped 50 cents into the phone, and dialed the number. As hard as it was, I tried to cease the tears before someone answered. Complete strangers did not need to hear me cry. And besides, I'd have plenty of time to cry myself sick once I got back to my nice warm apartment.
"411 Directory assistance, what city please?" The operator asked in an annoying pleasant tone. I wanted to reach through the phone and choke him.
"Detroit," I replied glumly.
"What listing?"
I thought for a second on whom I trusted most, and who would lecture me the least. There were only two people who weren't big on the lectures, so I decided on the first one that came to mind.
"Boyd Devereaux? D-e-v-e-r-e-a-u-x,"
"I'm sorry sir, there is no listing,"
"Try Matheiu Dandenault. M-a-t-h-i-e-u D-a-n-d-e-n-a-u-l-t,"
"I'm sorry sir, there is no listing for him either,"
'Well fuck!' I thought to myself. 'Can't people list their phone numbers now days? Not like anyone would try and stalk them, except all those slash writers on the internet.' Since the who I trusted most thing was out the window, I just started naming off names. One by one, I heard "I'm sorry sir, there is no listing." I felt the tears creeping slowly back to me. This was one of those situations where I could've called Kris, and he would've come to my rescue. But I didn’t have that anymore. After what happened tonight, I didn’t know if I'd ever speak to him again, let alone call him to come rescue me from something. I fought diligently to keep the tears back. After the operator shot down Manny, I went with my last ditch effort. A quick sharp pain in my head told me this was going to be the ONE guy on the entire team who had their number listed.
"Steve Duchesne? D-u-c-h-e-s-n-e," I asked, cringing slightly as I spoke.
"558-1987. Would you like me to connect you?"
"Could you please?"
"You have a good night sir,"
"Uh huh," I replied, kicking at the dirt.
I was going to regret calling him, I knew it already. But I didn't feel like having Mac coddle me all night until he was sure I was okay. I felt like his child sometimes. I love the guy and all, but come on. I'm 29, I don't need him watching over me. As the number began to ring through to Duchesne's house, I thought about hanging up. It's not that he was a bad guy, he was just boring, and often quite weird. And hard to understand a lot of the time. You think his accent would've faded over the years? I gave a glance at my watch, and cringed when I realized how late it was. I hoped he didn't freak out at me for calling so late. But at least I knew if he did, I could always call Mac. The phone rang about three times before I heard it pick up. All I heard was muffled noises, then "fils d'une chienne" yelled. I thought for a second and remembered that meant son of a bitch in french. This was not a good way to start the conversation.
"'Ello?" Steve asked groggily.
"Um, Steve. It's Kirk," I said hesitantly, clutching the phone to my ear.
"Malts? Is something wrong?"
"You might say that. I'm stranded at the Shell station on Macarthur Park and Western. Is there any way you could come get me? You're the only one I could get a hold of, I lost my cell,"
"Yeah, no problem. I'll be there in about 10 minutes,"
"Okay, thanks Steve,"
"Don't mention it,"
I hung up the phone then leaned against it. I felt bad for calling him, but I was relieved he was coming to get me. I was sure he was going to ask just how I got there, with no car, bag or jacket of any kind. I thought about coming up with some big elaborate lie, but I didn't have the brain power left to think of anything. That left me with only the truth. I scanned through my mind to make sure someone in the posse had slept with him, thus assuring me wasn't a homophobe. According to my brain's records, Dandy, Homer and Lucky could all claim him. So, at least I knew he'd be accepting of the situation. Understanding of it, that could be a different story. I wasn't sure I understood it. I still couldn't believe he'd heard me. I'd never be able to erase that look on his face from my eyes. He looked...utterly horrified. I can’t blame him. I don't know how I'd react if I found out my supposed straight best friend was in love with me. Actually, I'd be ecstatic, but only if it was Kris. If it was Mac, it might be a different story. I don't think I had to worry about it. Mac had dabbled in the gay arts, and not liked it, so no worries there. And after tonight, I'm sure Kris wanted nothing to do with me. As that thought crossed through my mind, my stomach began to ache. I sat down on the ground and buried my head in my hands. I was sick of fighting. Tears, do your worst.
My eyes were painfully bloodshot by the time Duchesne arrived. He looked at me with concern in his eyes, but he never asked what was wrong. I guess he just assumed I'd tell him. Under normal circumstances I would have. But the less I had to rehash this evening the better. We drove in complete silence to my apartment. I could not stop thinking about that look in Kris' eyes. Every time it passed through my mind, I jammed my eyes shut and begged it to go away. I couldn't begin to think how I was going to face him. My career was fucked. There was almost no way I could play on a line with him. So much for the Grind Line. My stupid feelings ruined that, along with a 6-year friendship, my career, and quite possibly my life. When I said I liked to make things hard for myself, I guess I wasn't kidding around.
When we arrived at my building, Steve shut the car off then turned to face me. I didn't want him to see me like this, tears streaming down my face, my eyes feeling as if they're about to pop out. But I had no choice, I couldn't just dart out of the car and run up to my building, not after he'd cool enough to come get me from the middle of nowhere at 3:00 AM. I just looked at him, occasionally wiping at my tears, waiting for him to speak. When he spoke, his words shocked me to the core.
"This is all about Drapes isn't it?" He asked, staring me directly in the eye.
"How did you know?" I asked quietly, glancing down at the floor.
"Anyone with half a brain could figure it out. So basically, about half the team knows you're in love with him,"
"What?"
"Don't worry about it, no one told him,"
"Yeah, someone did," I muttered. "Me,"
"And it all makes sense now. I take it he didn't take it well?"
"I don't know, I didn't stick around to find out. I just saw the look on his face, and I..."
I found myself unable to finish speaking as the tears waged battle with my eyes once more. Much to my surprise, Steve reached across the seat and pulled me into a hug. I submitted meekly to his grasp, and sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. My soul hurt. I had never been in so much pain. No physical injury could compare to what I felt. I had lost the one thing in my life that I ever really loved. This was why I never wanted to love in the first place. This unbearable pain of knowing the person I love doesn't love me, in any way now. I couldn't bear to think about this anymore. I wanted nothing more than to go up to my apartment and sleep, and pray I wake up from this terrible dream. I broke free from Steve's embrace, and wiped my tears on my shirt.
"You going to be okay?" He asked, concerned. The concern in his voice was enough to elicit a smile from me, albeit a weak one.
"Yeah, I'll be fine, I think. I just want to go to bed," I replied, opening the car door.
"Sleep will do you good. Everything will look better in the morning,"
"I hope so," I replied sadly, not believing a word.
"You have my number if you ever need to talk. I'm a surprisingly good listener,"
"Thanks Steve, for everything. And don't be surprised if I take you up on that," I spoke, stepping from the car.
I heard him pull away as I made the steps up to my apartment. Since my keys were one of the things I left at Kris', I pulled back the broken piece of door trim and pulled out my spare. I shoved it into the lock, and let myself in. I kicked the door behind me, and collapsed immediately to the couch. The tears quickly resumed kicking my ass. I just let them flow, it was pointless to try and stop them. A part of me always thought I'd be relieved when Kris found out. Well, it had happened, and I felt nothing except pain. After three years, at least, Kris now knew I was in love with him. And because of that, I've lost a best friend. I never wanted him to find out, ever, because I knew it would end like this. But he had, and now I've lost him. That thought caused my heart to ache. I needed to stop thinking about this, if only for a brief time. I got up from the couch and made my way to the bedroom. I crawled into bed, and clutched a pillow tightly to me. 'Sleep will do me good.' I told myself as I closed my eyes. 'Everything will look better in the morning.' I told myself that repeatedly, believing it more each time. But as I started to drift off, something hit my mind that shattered any chance for me to believe that. We had practice in the morning.
* * *
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my smoke detector blaring. I sprang from my bed and rushed into the kitchen, where I was met with a rather amusing sight. There in front of a smoking stove stood Avery, wearing an apron. Not just any apron, the fuzzy pink apron Mac had worn for Halloween the previous year. I couldn't help but laugh aloud at that sight.
"Well, I was going to try and be sweet and stuff, and make you breakfast," He explained as he noticed me standing behind him. "But I think I caught your kitchen on fire instead. So uh, good morning," He giggled, smiling brightly at me.
I just shook my head at him and flipped on the exhaust fan. After the shitty night I'd had, this was exactly the type of thing I needed to wake up to. Once the smoke cleared, I identified what Sean claimed were pancakes once upon a time. I scraped them into the trash, then put the pan in the sink. I opened up the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk. I put it on the table then opened up the cupboard. I sighed as I saw what cereals I had left.
"Okay, so we can eat the box of generic corn flakes that've been here since the last time the Tigers won a pennant, or we can eat the Cookie Crisp I got when I babysat Kennedy. Which is it?" I asked, looking over at Sean.
"Cookie Crisp, no doubt,"
I pulled the Cookie Crisp from the cupboard and sat it next to the milk. I grabbed a couple of bowls and spoons and shoved them toward Sean. Then with a "Make yourself useful, I have to piss," I made my way to the bathroom.
When I came back out, Sean had poured two bowls of cereal and had already dug into his. I smiled as I sat down and dropped my spoon into the cereal. I stirred it around slowly, and found myself being hit with a wave of sadness. I'd probably never get to babysit her again. All because I had to fall in love with her father. I closed my eyes as I felt the tears starting to well. I refused to cry about this in front of anyone else. Duchesne was bad enough, even though he'd been so great about everything. I know I'd probably never get past the sad feeling eating away at me. But that didn't mean I had to spend the rest of my life crying about it. I guess Duchesne was right. Sleep did do me good, and everything looked better today. I just began to eat as Avery drank the remaining milk from his bowl with a loud slurp. I smiled as I realized how often he resembled an eight-year-old.
"So do you want to talk about what happened last night or what?" He questioned as he got up and put his bowl in the sink.
"How do you know what happened?" I asked, staring down at my cereal.
"Kris called Mac, Mac called me, Kris called me, then Duchesne called me. So, take your pick," He relayed as he sat back down.
"What all do you know?" I inquired, still not looking up at him.
"I know that Kris overheard you say you loved him talking to Kennedy. That was about all anyone could understand over Kris' hysterical tears,"
I laughed stalely. "Hysterical tears of disgust, that's a new one,"
"What makes you think he was disgusted? Shocked, maybe. Disgusted? Not Kris, not with you,"
Just hearing him say that caused my patience to reach its end. "You didn't see his face, Sean. I'd rather not talk about this,"
"Too fucking bad," He replied angrily
My head immediately shot up. "What?"
"You heard me. You're going to have to deal with it, Malts. But I'm not going to argue with you. Get your ass ready and let's go to practice. It'll do you good,"
With that, Sean walked into my living room and flipped on the TV. I sat at the table bewildered with what had transpired. Sean was never one to pass up an argument. He was better at getting you to talk than anyone, which is why it didn't surprise me he was here. Then on top of that, Kris had called people hysterically crying. Over what? I was the one that had to see that look on his face, not him. I was the one who had to live with knowing I ruined the strongest friendship in my life, not him. As I thought about that, I felt the tears coming back to me. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until they went away. I choked down the last few bites of Cookie Crisp, then dropped the bowl into the sink. I walked into the bedroom and grabbed a change of clothes. I stripped down to my boxers and tossed my dirty clothes at the closed laundry hamper. As I walked back out to the bathroom, I heard Sean yell "All right, Duck Tales!" from the living room. I laughed and for the second time that day likened him to an eight-year-old.
I took as quick a shower as possible. I didn't allow myself to think of anything. I just washed, rinsed, got dressed, then walked into the living room. As I entered the living room, I felt that wave of sadness slap me in the face. There on the couch, surrounded by everything I'd left, sat Kris. I looked around the room, and saw Sean was nowhere to be found. 'That little fucker!' I thought to myself. 'He set me up!' I was instantly furious with him. But I wouldn't get the time to think about that, as the sadness would reconquer my mind as Kris spoke.
"We need to talk,"
TBC
© 2002 Triple X
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