Strangers on the Street (Finished)

AS Jonny leaves his antique shop one Sunday, he sees a man and his son, and he's reminded of his sad past.

It's a slash fic!

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The antique shop was always closed on Sundays. It was the way it had always been, since we first opened it. Nearly all of the shops were closed, actually. There would only ever be one or two very daring entrepreneurs who left their doors open.

This particular Sunday was no different. I walked downstairs and over to the door to make sure that the sign was up. It was, but it had fallen slightly from its resting place just in the middle of the glass pane of the door. I fixed it so it was upright and in place, then left for the park. Sundays are lovely for a brisk stroll through town and through the park.

As I left the shop, making sure that the door was properly locked, I noticed a man and a small boy walk by. I swiveled to leave, and began to walk when I heard the man speak.

“Not now, Christopher, the shops are closed today. It's Sunday, remember?” the man said.

Christopher...

It was once such a sweet and lovely name. One that had carried with it the most wonderful feeling as it penetrated my eardrums. Over time, the name grew bitter and angry, as did the man who owned it.

I turned around to see the backs of the man and child, who were stopped outside of my shop. Every time I heard that name, I had to look. Though it pained me greatly to remember, he had played such a grand roll in my life.

The small boy was protesting, yet he knew it was not a battle to be won. The shop was closed and that was that. He protested anyway, as it was in his nature.

“Christopher, cease this disobedience this instant or you'll get a taste of-”

“No! No, sorry father. I shouldn't have acted in such a manner.”

The man nodded approvingly and placed a hand on the small boy's back. The boy was withdrawn into himself now, and he flinched noticeably at his father's touch.

I knew the two personalities well. It rather frightened me the similarities I saw between the boy and I. Never the loud one, always shied away in the corner, obedient and conforming until the end, lest he face the consequences of speaking his mind. And the father, well, he was very much the same as my old friend. A booming presence, so filled with energy and so capable of stating his opinion loud enough for the world to hear and even accept. Unfortunately, when the world was not so kind, the man became bitter and angry. His presence never dulled, however, and that was how he gained control over everyone in his life. He had realised that he could use his powers for evil, and so he did.

My old friend Christopher and I had known each other since we were young lads. We had lived on the same street, nearly right next to each other, and all throughout our childhood we were ne'er apart. As we grew, we seemed to become more and more isolated from everyone else. We were so wrapped up in each other that we barely knew what was going on in our own families, let alone the rest of the world.

One day we met in my back garden. We were teenagers now, around fifteen or so if I remember correctly. Christopher walked over, grinning as he always did. I smiled back and greeted him, but all he did was stop in front of me and continue to smile, almost dreamily.

“Jon,” he finally said, “I don't think it would be so odd to say that I am completely infatuated with you.”

“What?” was my immediate response. It was a bit of a shriek, I suppose, though I was much less offended than I sounded. I actually rather wanted to make sure that I heard him correctly.

“Oh, it's all right if you don't feel the same,” he replied, still beaming. “It's not like I would suggest that we act upon this, anyway. I just thought I would let you know that I have very strong feelings for you.”

“Well, thank you for letting me know. Erm... I rather like you, too,” I blushed.

“Of course,” he said, taking a step forward, the smile slowly fading and his voice taking on a more seductive tone, “if you wanted to act upon this, I also wouldn't object.” He bit down on his bottom lip and stared deeply in my eyes, and my nervousness began to grow.

“Chris, that's... that's certainly a daring proposition you've made,” I stammered. “But, surely we would have to find some privacy.”

His eyes softened and his cheeks rose, outlining his lower eyelids as they always did when he smiled. “Follow me,” he said, waving his hand and leading me to some place I wasn't sure of.

We stopped in front of an old building that had been buried somewhere in the trees. Christopher told me that it had been abandoned for quite some time. Neither of us were certain what the building had once been used for, though.

“I suppose we won't be disturbed here,” Christopher said as he leaned against the side of the building. “I don't think anyone has even come close to this place in years.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this place earlier?” I asked, joining him.

“I only discovered it yesterday, actually.” He smiled and lightly and affectionately hit my jaw with his hand. “Don't you worry, Jon, I'm not hiding anything from you.” We were both silent for a while after that, then he moved so he was in front of me, nearly inches away. “Do you know what's strange? I've never even kissed a girl before.”

“I have,” I replied, holding my clenched fists against the building to control my nervousness. “Once. I was four, though, so I don't suppose that counts.”

“Hmm... I would think not.” The next few moments were embarrassingly awkward. We both knew what was coming, yet we both were too afraid to initiate it. Christopher kept his gaze on me, and I was forced by my nervousness to look elsewhere. I tried to gather my courage, but Christopher seemed to have an easier time doing so. Slowly, apprehensively, he leaned closer until his lips were nearly against mine. He stayed there for a few seconds, breathing, “Lord, lead me not into temptation,” and then finally made the connection.

I would give almost anything to go back to that moment. It was the happiest I'd ever felt, and I'm certain it was the same for Christopher. It was probably also one of the last times he was happy at all.

A few days later, we went back to the abandoned building. Something about Christopher was off; his smile was gone and there was no enthusiasm in his diction. He quietly sat down on the ground, not caring about his clothes being dirtied. He was sitting cross-legged, his hands laying limply in his lap. I sat down beside him and carefully placed my hand on his knee.

“Chris, what's the matter?” He looked at my hand, then at me. There was a sadness in his eyes that I'd never seen before. I removed my hand and asked again.

“My parents... are sending my brother away,” he hoarsely replied. “Jon, they're sending him away... because...”

“Because of what?” I asked. I was deeply concerned by his distressed manner. I cared for him, of course, so it was hard to see him in such a state and to feel quite helpless.

“They're sending him away because he told them he is homosexual... We... We can't.” Christopher struggled to speak, his pale hands trembling and his face terribly gaunt. I wanted badly to embrace him and comfort him, but I knew that it would almost be counterproductive.

“I understand. Will you be all right?”

He turned his gaze towards the vast landscape flowing with trees. He sighed shortly and gave a small shrug. “I will be fine, eventually. This is definitely a sign...”

I followed his gaze and nodded, “It does appear to be that way.”

“You... were never a boy to me, you know? You were always just Jon.” He looked back at me once more, the sadness even harsher than before. He lifted one hand and quickly, gently brushed my cheek. When he let his hand fall, I noticed how gray his eyes looked. “Now you're a boy.”

If there was ever an official sound meant to represent the breaking of a heart, it was that sound that rung throughout the trees and echoed into our ears. Doubly so, as I know fully well that the gray was not for his brother.

And now it was time for me to break his heart. “As are you.”

The deafening silence was unbearable. I can not recall any time in my life where I shed a single tear, but I will admit that at that moment I came so close to that and more.

Finally, Christopher spoke, his voice shaky and regretful. “I should probably return home now, I don't think my parents knew that I left.”

“Then you should leave. Wouldn't want them to send you away, too, right?” I halfheartedly smiled, wishing desperately that I could lift his spirits, even a little bit. Much to my dismay, it only seemed to make matters worse.

“Goodbye, Jon. I shall speak to you again soon.” He lifted himself off of the brown earth, and dragged his feet along the path out of the woods. I stayed for a while longer, wishing to be alone with my thoughts. It's strange how after one small event, one's life can change so drastically.

I was in no rush to speak to Christopher afterward. Make no mistake, I wanted to speak to him, but I thought it best to allow him to approach me first. But, as I walked home from my parents' shop one day after my work was finished, I passed by his house to find him sitting on his front porch. He was crying.

I stopped on the sidewalk and watched him. I didn't want to say anything, though I had the feeling that my staring was not much better.

“He's dead,” Christopher told me. I hadn't expected him to say anything, in fact I hadn't realised he knew I was there. “They killed him.”

“They killed him?” I repeated in shock. I dared to step closer to him, though I only took one step.

“There was an accident,” he continued. “That's what they told us, at least. My other brothers and sister, they believed it. They're young. But I'm older, I know better.” For the first time since I had arrived, he looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, and his face was much more pale and tired than it had been the last time I had seen him. “It was no accident.”

“Oh, Chris-”

“Go away now, Jon. I don't feel much like speaking today.” His tone was a bit more rash than I thought it should have been, but I accepted his request because I knew it was what I should have done.

“Of course. My condolences.”

“Thank you.” I stood there for only a moment longer, deeply saddened by what I knew was going to happen.

Christopher was never the same. As the days passed by, he became more and more angry and, frankly, extremely rude. He took advantage of my willingness to obey him, and I think he realised it, so one day he decided to cut any and all connection between us. From then on, I only saw him a total of twice, and both were merely in passing on the street.

When my parents died many years later, I was given the privilege of running the shop. It was something I took pride in, something to distract me from the mess that my life had become. I was and will most likely always be very reluctant to say that I was in love with Christopher, but at the very least he was the most important person in my life. I also firmly believe that he will continue to be until I die.

The man and boy were still standing in their positions, seemingly frozen in time while I was stuck reminiscing. Then I noticed the man had removed his hand from the boy's back and was looking at me. His eyes softened as he kindly smiled and waved. And for the first time in more than twenty years, the Christopher I had known so well shone through once more.