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Chapter Thirty-Three Understanding Aesthetics 2 page

Fight back.

I released my arms from Jasmine and began to get up, surprising Sam at my ascendancy. I had never been that forceful with him before, even if I was just standing up and not actually doing anything. I was going to defend my ground, and Jasmine’s as well. It was one thing to make fun of me; I could handle it and I had been for a while. The moment he brought Jasmine into things, it wasn’t cool anymore. She had dealt with so much shit from the male gender, she didn’t need anymore. Especially considering what Sam had said. God, we may have been about to kiss, but that didn’t mean we were going to fuck. His insults were completely contradictory. If I was gay, fucking a girl wouldn’t turn me back. I was gay, so there was fucking females on my mind at all in logical terms. I had Gerard for that, little kisses and holding aside. That was just small and something good friends did. I was better friends with Jasmine than Sam and I ever had been, and at that moment, I knew ever would be.

“Sam, seriously,” I started, my voice clear and concise, not wavering a bit despite the surplus of emotions that filtered through me. “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“All right, fine,” Sam agreed begrudgingly, but I still didn’t let my guard down. It was too good to be true; Sam wasn’t giving up this easily. A sly smile spread across his face, proving me right.

“I’ll leave her out of this, but you better not stay out of her.”

He dislocated his gaze from my own fiery eyes, to look at Jasmine still sitting on the ground. An animalistic smile spread across his face, and I felt like I was going to throw up.

“Fuck her senseless, Frank,” Sam concluded, letting his eyes wander back to mine again. My heart pumped and I could feel the blood in my temples. I couldn’t believe his complete and utter disregard for Jasmine, and women in general. Sam treated them like shit, like meat to be consumed, fucked, and then discarded like they were nothing. I had seen what Jasmine was like that day, what an awesome person she was. And how strong she was. I knew she could hold her ground here; I knew these insults were nothing to what she had experienced in her own life, but I knew I had to help. It was my way of proving to her that the entire male gender wasn’t a bunch of assholes. Even if Sam wasn’t harping on me being gay anymore, I couldn’t just let this go. I thought beforehand I had been angry, but not I was steaming.

I stepped forward towards Sam, not really sure what I was going to do. I had never been in a real physical fight before, and I knew I was treading on some dangerous territory. Sam was notorious for his fights, because of his goddamn temper that he could never control. He may have been just as big as me, maybe even smaller in girth, but fuck, he could fight. He fought dirty, too. He’d bring out real weapons (he had been suspended from school for over a week for having a switchblade in his locker), find weapons on the ground (like a rock, or even a fucking tree branch) or he’d just use himself – biting hard enough to leave bruises and marks. I’d seen him break noses before, and cause stitches. I didn’t want to get into a fight with him, but I needed to intimidate him somehow. My brain wasn’t thinking properly; I was too mad to do that. I found myself stepping forward again, Sam’s smile only increasing as I did.



“Bring it on,” he whispered, his lips twisting into a sneer at the end.

My logical mind told me that I shouldn’t have been doing this. My conscious told me the same, too – I would only be stooping down to his level. But I found myself walking forward again, my heart nearly beating into my throat. I was about to take another step forward, followed by Sam’s nonchalant movements, when I felt someone grab me by the shoulders and turn me around. I went with a sharp movement, and stared at Jasmine’s blue eyes. They were clouded over, tears threatening to come soon. She didn’t want this, even if she had been the brunt of the joke; this was not what she needed. She had grown up in a house of violence. I was emulating her father right now, or maybe even the brother she had lost, trying to defend something that would only hurt everyone more in the end.

This was a huge mistake.

“Don’t,” she pleaded the words her eyes spoke. I looked at her and sighed, my anger dying down as I smothered it out unnaturally. This was not what she wanted, so I wasn’t going to do it. She didn’t need to witness another person getting beaten, even if it was a small chance that Sam could be the victim.

I walked away.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

I looked at her and only her, hearing the voices of Sam and Travis and some other people in the background, laughing and mocking. I chose to not listen and make sense of their words. It would only anger me more.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jasmine leaned forward and whispered in my ear. I thought she had been leaning in for a hug, which I was readily wanting to give her, if she needed it or not. My hands were at the small of her back, while the one hand of hers that rested on my shoulder was draped down on my arms, interlocking with my fingers. The hug ended, and I nodded to her requested, and she began to lead me in a hurry out of the putrid smelling room.

***

 

I had no idea where exactly we were going, considering the limit of three living spaces to the cabin, but I figured we were going to the trampoline. It would be good to jump out the anger I felt instead of fighting Sam, and I wanted to see Jasmine smile again. When we bypassed the large object, however, my brows furrowed with confusion. Jasmine glanced back at me, leading the way with my hand still clutched in her own. She noticed my pace had slowed and began to explain.

“The back cellar. Jay closed it off so only he could use it and told everyone that bogus story to get people to stay away. It’s more than just a cellar, though; it’s actually kind of nice. I used to sleep down there, so I could be closer to the trampoline.”

She finished with a smile, tugging and urging me to move. I shrugged and let myself go the few paces before she stopped in front of a small doorway that was slanted into the side of the cabin, leading down. She crouched and undid the combination lock within a matter of seconds, sliding the heavy barricade away. She smiled at me again, a pure innocent smile that I had missed from before. I felt like my mission was already accomplished, and as she took my hand and led me down the dark stairs, I felt the same smile graze my own mouth.

I had never been that much of a fan of dark places, but I felt better having her right next to me; at least she knew where she was going. I felt even gayer than I already was, letting some small fragile girl lead the way into a very creepy space, but I wasn’t going to fight it. It was her house anyway; I didn’t feel comfortable leading.

The lights were flicked on in a matter of moments, and an amber glow washed over the cellar. But it wasn’t a cellar - Jasmine had not been kidding. It was more like an unfinished basement with one large room, and some primary ones around it. It was fucking awesome. There were concrete walls going all around it, boxing it off and showing that it was about half the size of the house that rested on the upper level. There was another floral couch in the corner like the ones upstairs, only this one was far more worn, the flowers peaking up at us looking as if they were dying on the smoke stained fabric. There were a few other things in the room, like a desk and some drawers, along with a lot of bedding, pillows and blankets, but not much else. It was very spacious, making it look larger than it really was. A light hung lowly from the ceiling, and though small, it did a good job of lighting the room. The occasional shadow would dance across either one of our faces, adding to the mysterious quality. Jasmine closed the door behind us, sending a large creaking noise to echo into in the air. It wasn’t too far underground, only about ten steps down, but the chill from the deep earth hit our skin right away, causing Jasmine to shiver. She was still only wearing a tank top, while I had my hoodie zipped up to the top.

“You okay?” I asked, walking closer to her. “You want my jacket?”

She gave me a skeptical look and shook her head, her blonde bangs criss-crossing over her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but a shiver still erupted through her body. She brushed it off, rubbing her hands together in front of her face and took a jagged breath in. I laughed at her cocky demeanor, not wanting to receive help for something when she really needed it. She shot me another look, to which I merely laughed at again, moving over to her and putting my arm around her, hopefully to keep her warm.

“Fine,” she gave in, in a mock annoyed tone, clutching my arm back. Without asking, she unzipped my hoodie right down to the bottom, wrapping her arms around my thick torso. “We can share.”

She nuzzled into my chest, and though I was sure she could hear my heart pounding a mile a minute, I wrapped my arms around her, too, pulling the rest of the fabric over her back. We stood and breathed like that for a while, my hands resting tentatively on her shoulders and upper back. I didn’t know how hard I should touch her; she was so strong on the inside, but so delicate in person. I felt like I was wrapping a breakable object with the excess of my jacket.

“This is slightly uncomfortable,” she said after only few moments of us standing in the middle of the well lit basement area. She scrunched up her face into my chest, and I couldn’t help but agree.

Though it was quite warm for both us in there, it was really awkward standing so close together, and yet doing everything I possibly could to keep our hips from touching at all. I pretended to ignore the sensations going on below my navel, writing it all off as the coldness in the room, in contrast to her warm body. Or to the fact that this act in itself reminded me of how Gerard and I used to spend our time. I kept my mind running with excuses - anything other than the truth. Jasmine had been turning me on, and it didn’t help matters when she dislocated her arms from me, only to pull me over to the couch that was in the corner.

“Sit here,” she dictated, dragging me and placing me on the couch cushion next to her, my body to the side so we could look and converse with each other again. The couch was soft and squishy, seeming to swallow my body whole, while Jasmine merely floated on top of the cushions like she was floating. Or flying.

There was a silence for a while, filled up by the odd buzzing noise of the music, the voices, and the electrical equipment above our heads. I could also hear crickets from the outside night filtering through the wooden doors, and finally Jasmine’s shiver was added to the list of noises. It seemed to snap me out of my dazed state, in awe of the cellar and the total seclusion it had, moving closer to Jasmine.

“You want a blanket?” I asked, pointing to the pile where fifty must have been rolled up against the wall, in all colors and textures. She shook her head again like a little child, pouting her lips a bit. Like her actions before, she moved closer to me, sliding her arms around my waist, but this time, balancing herself more gracefully. Our legs interconnected and tangled for a bit until we both found a position we were comfortable with. I held onto her, pulling myself up from the depths of the cushions.

“So, where were we before?” she asked, the other connotations of the statement lost on me.

“Umm, I was telling you that people do know me, I think,” I started, racking my memory past the confrontation with Sam. I looked around the room as I thought, not seeing her face fall. She didn’t say anything, so I went on, trying to prove her point wrong. “Gerard knows me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said, her voice sounding a little deflated. “You talk about him a lot.”

I swallowed, feeling my body stiffen around her. And I felt her grip on my body go a little weaker. “I do?”

“Yeah,” she verified, her smile waning and her voice lower than usual. “You must really like him.”

Again, I swallowed hard, but I didn’t say anything. I nodded my head feebly, but that was all I trusted myself to do, and somehow, I thought that was too much.

“Oh,” she suddenly uttered, realizing where she had gone wrong. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick like Sam. I was just saying…” She released her hands from my waist, and started to motion with them, trying to find her words, while I laid in quiet anxiety. “He’s your teacher, of course you like him. That kind of thing. You get what I mean?”

She tilted her head and looked up at me, biting her lip to the side. I nodded again, not willing to say much else.

“Yeah… He’s a good teacher.”

“I’m sure he is,” she said, a little too quickly for my liking.

We were silent again, the aura in the room seeming to be getting thicker by the second. Finally she broke the air into pieces with a question. “What’s his favorite painting?”

“Of his own? Or others?” I asked too quickly, grateful for the distraction.

She shrugged her shoulders, telling me either was fine. I opened my mouth to answer, expecting it to come right away, but for once that day, no thoughts came into my head. I was completely blank. Gerard had never told me his favorite anything before. We looked at art piece after art piece, but he never ranked them. He gave critiques and praise for almost all of them, and though they weren’t always perfectly balanced, he never acquitted anything to a specific order. He hated numbers, so why would he?

As I thought more, I begun to realize that it wasn’t just with his paintings that Gerard didn’t uphold positions – it was with everything else. Gerard didn’t have a favorite anything. Not movies, book, or food. Though we had discussed those genres before, Gerard had never used the word ‘favorite’. It was preferences. He preferred the movie Star Wars over something else, but he never specifically favored anything. It was too secluding and ranking, and that was not like Gerard in the least. We may have eaten French bread and cheese all the time, but he would change it up, having feta one day and brie the next. Gerard was never the same. He tried everything at least once…

And that’s when the answer hit me.

“Everything,” I told Jasmine, smiling.

“Everything?” she questioned back, raising her eyebrows. “Everything can’t be his favorite. There is some real shit out there.”

“I know,” I nodded, not fazed by her challenge this time, and almost happy about it. “Gerard’s an artist. He wants everything.” I could feel something strong inside my chest rise and fall, making me feel grounded and whole. There was so much more behind my statement.

“I guess,” she shrugged, turning her attention away again. Her face was close to my own, but for the most part, she kept her head on my chest, looking up at me every once in a while. “So, since you’re an artist, you don’t have favorites either?”

I paused for a bit, furrowing my brow. In technical terms, it did apply, but I wasn’t a painter. I didn’t know what my art, my passion even was just yet. Gerard had told me I was an artist, and I believed him, but there was more to it. It was like intimacy; you never stopped unfolding yourself, you never stopped learning about yourself. I was still looking for the passion I could be intimate with.

“I guess…”

“I know what my favorite picture is,” she stated, moving on quickly with a smile on her face. I nudged her, urging her to continue. “The Mona Lisa.”

“Really?” I nearly gasped.

I knew that Jasmine hadn’t seen as many pictures as I had, but she was still as knowledgeable, especially after we had spent the whole day talking about art. She knew her artists well, but I couldn’t believe she had picked that one out of everything on this planet. Da Vinci was all well and good, but the Mona Lisa, in my mind, was too dull. It was just a woman standing there, not even smiling. Half-smiling. It was too famous for its own good, too. Da Vinci had so many other great pieces of work, I never had a clue why this one was such a big deal. Jasmine was so original herself, I would have thought she would have picked something more withstanding to her needs, especially since she did relate everything back to her own life.

“Yes!” she stated right back, almost as shocked as I was. “How can you not like it?” She leaned back from me, displaying her wide countenance.

“How can you like it?” I shot right back, earning another childish tongue protrude.

“Her smile,” she answered, after pouting for a bit. I raised my eyebrows at her, and urged her to continue. “You never know what she’s thinking when she’s smiling. It’s not even a whole smile, but I’ve always wondered why she was like that. What was she looking at when he painted her? What was she thinking? Was she happy?”

Jasmine stopped suddenly, only to intake more air. She was really getting into it and I had to admit, she was making valid points. I felt my face drop from shock into a placid stance as she bantered on a little bit more, validating her point thoroughly. The Mona Lisa was intriguing, just like she had said. She was mysterious and honestly, when Jasmine was done her talk, I had the very same questions that she did. I had just never been bothered to think about them before. I hadn’t interpreted the piece that way. Gerard came into my thoughts like the chill in the air, and I smiled, his lessons on painting still affecting me.

“I like her smile so much more than my own,” I heard Jasmine add quietly, at the end of her explanation. It perked up my attention, causing me to look at her with a baffled expression.

“What?”

She blushed, for what I thought was the first time since I had met her. It had only been last night, but it seemed like years by that point.

“I don’t like my smile,” she stated again, stifling the hated object as it spread across her face.

“But why?”

I adored her smile; it was what made her Jasmine, the child-like woman who always wanted to have fun. Her teeth were so white and they seemed to be brand new, just like her.

“People always know what I’m thinking when I smile,” she explained, trying not to make eye contact with me. “I don’t like being able to be read so easily. I’d much rather be mysterious…” She let her voice trail off at the end, and I felt her hand move to the small of my back, trailing like her voice lightly.

I was still stuck on the first part of the sentence.

“People know what you’re thinking when you smile?” I repeated her words, thinking they would maybe make more sense if they came out of my mouth. They didn’t.

Though I adored Jasmine’s grin, it was almost as bad as Gerard’s. While I knew that she didn’t have an ulterior motive like he always did when he smirked, I could never tell just why she was smiling per se. It seemed like she did an abundance of it, especially around me, for no particular reason. It was an infectious smile, too, and would spread like wildfire, leaving me to wonder why exactly I was laughing and giggling in the first place.

“Yeah,” she nodded, her tone serious. She looked over at me, taking an eyeful of my perplexed countenance and let out a deep breath. “You don’t?”

I shook my head, causing her to let out another breath and take her free hand to her forehead in an emotion that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was aggravation, threaded with the roots of embarrassment. I still didn’t get it.

“I thought I’ve been making it obvious,” she breathed, laughing and smiling yet again in the palm of her hand, as if to hide how exposed she felt. She had been exposed before, but I had been oblivious to that fact. Now that she was telling me just where to look, she felt shamed and wanted to cover up. I knew that feeling of being exposed and bare, and though it was only metaphorical for Jasmine, I knew how to help her fight it. I grabbed her wrist lightly in my hand, pulling the shield she had placed in front of her mouth down. She went willingly, making eye contact with me the entire time as her hand slinked to her side. I blinked a few times, checking over her white teeth and then her blue eyes, but nothing sank in. What was she trying to say with her smile?

“I don’t get it,” I answered after what seemed like forever. She looked at me for a bit longer, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. She reached forward slowly in the next moment, during which I had blinked, and placed a hand on my cheek, bringing our faces inches apart.

And that’s when I got it.

I hadn’t been a complete idiot beforehand, I just hadn’t wanted to understand what was going on. I couldn’t ignore the sensation of her almost in my lap, the phantom feeling of her arms around me, and now this hand on my cheek. I knew and as she saw the understanding in my eyes, we finished the act we were going to do upstairs ages ago.

My lips stayed stationary for a while as she pressed into me, but my arms grabbed her closer and I began to kiss back. Images of us together, on the rocks, eating ice cream, and sitting in the living area came back to me, just as our hands found each other’s bodies like we had never been exposed to them before. It was starting to make sense why she was always so close to me, why she was gripping my hand, and climbing into my hoodie.

She liked me, she wanted to get closer to me, and wanted us to be alone. She had said this was only about kissing someone for the sheer sake of it in the morning. And it had been then. The trampoline had brought out the best in us, making her happy and making me realize that I could fly if I really wanted to, without being completely ready yet. Even this afternoon, I could have written off the ice cream fight and kiss and something done in the moment and nothing but. I had wanted that kiss; the time had felt right for it.

With this one, though, our limbs intertwined and our tongues soon diving in much deeper than they had before, I didn’t know what this was; I only knew bits and pieces.

This kiss had more to it than just perfect timing. Before, the environments had presented themselves to us and we had merely taken advantage. This time, it was reversed. She had to seek out this basement for us to kiss in, so we could be alone and take advantage of it ourselves. This was more than just an occurrence; it was progressing faster and faster, and was soon going to be too big to erase. It was clear she wanted it, she initiated it, and gave it all away with her smile. Jasmine was confident and strong – she knew what she wanted. But there was still the matter of myself. If I was going along with this, did that mean I felt the same way?

She was in my lap at that point, her legs wrapped around my waist as our lips met over and over again, going from quick pecks to prolonged embraces. Our breath was changing rapidly and I could feel her press herself into my crotch, sending shockwaves up my spine.

This was going too fast, I realized. Too fast without a name.

I pulled my lips away from hers temporarily, but wrapped my hands around her back so she knew I still wanted her to stay. Despite my confusion, it felt so nice having her there, having someone touch me like Gerard did again.

“This is more than just a kiss for the hell of it, isn’t it?” I asked lowly, spilling my thoughts out into the chilled air. I felt her sigh, her breath tickling my face.

“I don’t know what this is,” she confessed, her fingers toying with the hemline of my hoodie. “I just feel like doing it.”

I nodded, absorbing information before I confessed as well. “Me too.”

I watched as her face lit up, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned down to kiss me again. I found myself letting her, pressing my lips against hers again quickly, then pulling away just as fast.

“But…” I added, sensing her disappointment. I looked at her, then looked down at my hands on her small arms, thinking hard.

Gerard was still present in my mind. I could write off a kiss, I could even write off the amount of careless touching Jasmine and I had been doing the past few hours. But her in my lap? My growing erection? I wasn’t so sure I could bypass those things and explain them as nothing to myself, let alone Gerard. I felt like I was stuck, and the only person who I would have gone to for guidance in this type of situation would have been Gerard. He was too far away – and the person I would be hurting – and I didn’t even know how he would have dealt in this situation, if it had ever been presented to him. He was gay, when would he have to deal with a random occurrence and inkling for a female that he couldn’t help?

And then it hit me again. Vivian.

“But what?” Jasmine asked, perking up a bit.

I looked up at her, my eyes darting around and trying to find the right words to express this, without totally confessing that I didn’t want to cheat on my fag boyfriend.

“This happened to Gerard once,” I started.

“Really?” she asked again, but I couldn’t tell with what emotion.

“Yeah,” I nodded, feeling more confident with myself. “This woman, Vivian. He used to draw her at art school. They were really close friends, and they still are now. They kiss and hug all the time, but they’re just friends. It’s a way of showing affection, that’s all.”

I smiled at her crookedly, chewing on my lip as I nodded my head in conclusion. She matched my countenance, bringing her lips to mine again for a few quick pecks. We started to kiss again, at a slightly slower rate, and I was beginning to think that my explanation had sufficed for both of us. We were just like Gerard and Vivian. It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything – just that we were really good friends.

When she stopped kissing suddenly, placing her hand on the nape of my neck and drawing our foreheads together intimately, I knew something else was up. We breathed like that for a while, not saying anything to ruin the moment, but I knew something big was coming. Something was going to happen, I could feel it in the chill in the basement air, and in the way Jasmine’s lip quivered when she finally started to speak again.

“Did Gerard and Vivian…” She paused, blinked, and took a shaky breath. “Did they ever have sex?”

I swallowed hard, all of my body stiffening. I knew the answer to the question, and I knew its real life context that it would have. I could feel our hips touching, and I knew I was getting hard. And getting hard for her. She had started to feel me, too, and was rocking into me slightly. I ran my hands up and down her back while she played with my hairline, tangling her fingers in the locks softly. We just breathed for the longest time, our foreheads pressed together, before I couldn’t take it anymore. I placed a kiss over her raw lips, diving my tongue in quickly before I uttered my answer lowly on the tips of our tongues.

“Yes.”

She breathed in deeply through her nose, pulling herself more into my body and nodding into my neck. I had been scared to answer, scared of what she would think, and what we would do with the new knowledge. My fear was still present, but we were both understanding each other in that fear. She kissed me again and again quickly, while her hands started to fall down to my sides. When she caught the hemline of my shirt and began to pull it off, it was the ultimate act of comprehension.

 

*runs and hides*
i'll try to have the next chapter soon. wednesday at the latest. promise.

 

A/N: OKAY. SO JUST AS A WARNING, THERE IS STRAIGHT SEX AND EXCESSIVE TALK OF BOOBS. Frank and me, apparently, really like boobs, so he, like with everything, does not shut it about them. I think I avoided anything too bad as far as terminology goes, though.

Don't be mad at Jasmine, she is not a whore. :[

Sorry I didn't answer people's comments; I figured getting this posted was more important. The next chapter will be Friday because I am so behind in my school work right now and my class schedule for the next two days is bad.
And for people who were asking - Gerard is not around for the next chapter, but does come back for 36. I will hopefully be posting most of those Friday-Monday. :]

if you are horribly against straight sex, then just skip down to the last few paragraphs where frank realizes he's a big douchebag for doing what he did, lol.


Chapter Thirty-Four
The Ground

Our kissing was hot and fierce, almost angry; something it had never been with Gerard. I knew it wasn’t a fair comparison, but no matter what we did, I kept comparing everything we did back to the man that I hoped would forgive me for all of this later. His forgiveness and the consequences of this act were not on the forefront of my mind. I was focused on Jasmine, and only her and the way she felt in my arms. She was so small; I was not used to that at all. I used to be the tiny one in the relationship, both height and girth, but as she sat on top of my hips, rocking into me while our lips met hurriedly in front of us, it felt like she weighed nothing. She could apply pressure when she wanted to (and at all the right places), but I felt like I could lift her up and throw her across the room if I needed to make this end. I didn’t and I knew I wouldn’t; I wanted to keep her right where she was.


Date: 2015-12-17; view: 527


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