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Post by ▪ ▫ CAPTAIN ALEX on Jan 30, 2012 1:09:48 GMT
dorian and his insecurities
Dorian waited patiently on the edge of his bed, his mobile phone rolling in his slender fingers. He had been sat there for hours, hoping, praying that Will would call him. There were many things that Dorian wanted to say to Will, but he knew he would never be able to pluck up the courage. It was ridiculous to even consider admitting his feelings - it had all ended so well the last time he had done that. He sighed and tucked some of his long blonde hair behind his ear, his eyes still gazing, unblinking at his phone.
Maybe Will had gone to bed. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he'd met someone else. Maybe he'd forgotten the pathetic little blonde even existed.
Maybe he was just late.
Dorian set the phone slowly down beside him, as if he was afraid it would explode if he wasn't constantly checking it and checking it again just in case something had happened in the split second it was out of his view. But, of course, there was nothing.
There had been a time, not too long ago, that Dorian believed in happy endings, that they weren't just for Disney and Hollywood movies. That they happened in real life. Then everything had begun to collapse around him. He had watched Marcus walk away, helpless to do anything about it. He had allowed Joey to get away with the hurt, the pain - no, the agony - he had caused. Now this. Now Will. He was letting the other boy keep him a secret. A dirty pastime that only happened once in a while, because Will wasn't gay. Will was a straight football player with a life plan and Dorian was a small piece in an ever growing web.
Dorian tolerated it, at first. He allowed Will to come over when he wanted and did everything he was asked. He was happy because those few moments of affection were all he could get. He treasured them all.
Will's hands running through his hair, the soft tugging, light biting, slow fucking, rough gripping, nails scratching down his sides.
Even the fast dressing and quick exiting as Will vanished out of the situation they had found themselves in, just in case someone had seen. Dorian would be left pulling up his panties and collecting what little was left of his self-worth. He had slowly turned into a worthless human being, and he was well aware of that fact. Still he kept his smile, held together his pain and kept it bottled up inside him. Because that was the safest place for his emotions, even if the catch was shaking more and more and he was doubting his own mental stability.
As the weeks went on, Dorian found their meetings becoming less frequent as Marcus Otter returned from whatever it was Marcus did. He always seemed to have this beautiful knack of turning up just as Dorian had gotten over his feelings, only for them all to come flooding back. Marcus knew how to play Dorian and the blonde did nothing but accept the terms. After all, it's said that you never truly get over your first love. Dorian would take the insults, the nasty comments and the sheer disregard for his feelings, as long as he knew Marcus was there, that he was safe.
Dorian would smile softly at his computer screen, letting his manicured fingers tap lightly at the keys.
You will never be a real girl.
Dorian had blinked; once, twice, smiled, looked down, back up and continued like nothing was wrong. No, he would never be a real girl, not in Vegas. Where people thought they knew what was best for him. Maybe they did, because Dorian was certainly lost in his own mind. Maybe they were seeing things he couldn't see.
Maybe he was just stupid.
Sitting up straight, Dorian checked his phone again and was surprised to see the flashing red light. 1 New Message.
I got distracted. I'll be over in ten minutes.
Dorian glanced at the message and noticed the periods at the end, there was something wrong. He replied with one word and pressed send.
Okay
Will had once said that he cared for Dorian, even that he loved him. But Dorian didn't believe in love anymore. It was lust. The idea of sleeping with Dorian was far better than admitting that he was doing it. It was all fun and games in the locker room with his team joking about how big a girls' ass was and what bra size she had, but when it came to real life, Dorian wasn't one of those girls.
The boys would talk about him, sure; but with disgust, loathing, he was a freak. They hadn't been the first boys to bully him, and Dorian knew they wouldn't be the last. But the fact Will hadn't made an effort to change their mind; even if Dorian believed in love, this wasn't it.
Nevertheless, ten minutes later George opened the front door to a very grumpy Will. The other didn't even wait at the door for Dorian, instead he stormed up to the blonde's room and banged open the door. Dorian could see Will was already upset about something.
They talked, shouted, cursed. Both avoiding the real problem by bringing in things that didn't really matter. They were nitpicking at each other's faults. Dorian stood and took it, smiling softly.
"What's so bad about me having surgery anyway?"
"I like you the way you are,"
"But only at night...when no one can see me."
Will won the argument and Dorian accepted the loss, he had never been very good explaining himself and Will knew all the right things to say. It was obvious the blonde had no idea about what he had gotten himself into. Dorian watched Will slam the door behind him, the blonde knew he had probably made a horrible mistake and he would pay dearly for it. But he didn't have the energy.
He blinked owlishly at the door to his room for a moment before turning on his bare feet and stepping into his bathroom. It looked ridiculously clean, like a clinic. With it's white walls, white tiles, white bath, white towels. Dorian like it so plain. Slowly he climbed into the bath, his dress bunching up behind him as he stretched out. There was no water, luckily, it would have ruined his outfit. Slowly he slid down a little, reaching forward to where his shaving razors were kept.
He had first started shaving his legs the moment hairs had started to grow. He had prayed to God that he would never get facial hair and, for once, God had listened. But the hairs on his legs and under his arms were dark and prickly and Dorian hated trying to get rid of them. Although he was more inclined to wax them, he never went anywhere without a razor, just in case.
Laying back in the bath he could feel the slow dripping of the blood down the inside of his thigh. He had started cutting the pain away from just fifteen, the small gap between his legs that people would only notice if they wanted to. It still allowed him to wear the shortest of skirts without letting people see his outer turmoil.
I just want to be happy...
You'll never be a real girl...
It was only a kiss...
I love you...in secret...
Alright, princess...
You're calling me a whore? Look in the mirror...
Dorian. Dorian!
There were days when Dorian Moore was happy to die.
Dorian, your appointment with the doctor is in five minutes, are you ready?
He gingerly got out of the bath and washed away his mess, stuffing tissue down his tights to stop the blood.
He could last a bit longer. They hadn't broken him yet.
Yes George, I'm ready.
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