Today we're doing flash fiction, of course. It wouldn't be Wednesday without our weekly dose! Today I used a picture prompt:
As you'll recall, Shy met Wyatt at the grocery store, and they are connecting a little bit, or at least trying to. Will Shy finally loosen up and talk to Wyatt? Find out in this week's episode of No Way Out. Then visit the other Briefers and see what they're up to! Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
No Way Out #11
Shy felt each and every beat of his heart. As though the
organ had slowed to an agonizing crawl, each reverberation echoing in his ears.
Don’t... tell...
Randy...
But they were so good, his taste buds protested.
It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.
“I won’t,” Wyatt promised, and everything fell back into
place, and the world spun back onto its axis, and Shy remembered how to breathe
again.
“So, who else lives with you?” Wyatt asked. He nibbled at his chips, careful not to talk
through his food, which Shy appreciated. He could still smell them, and that
was okay. He liked the spicy scent and wondered if Wyatt’s breath smelled of
it, or tasted... He yanked his mind back to the conversation.
“Who... what? Oh, no one. Just us.” He turned quizzical eyes
to Wyatt.
“Just you? But you said we a minute ago. We moved in fifteen
years ago. I assumed—”
“My mother.” Shy’s voice dropped a decibel or three. His
eyes fell to the table.
“I’m sorry.” Shy felt the warmth of Wyatt’s hand as it
encompassed his on the table between them.
“Sorry? For what?”
“I didn’t realize... I mean... she died, right?”
“Died? Not that I know of. Actually, I have no idea where
she is.” He didn’t dare look at Wyatt, face the contempt that was undoubtedly written
there. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. His stomach churned. He suddenly
felt sick. Bile rose up his throat, into his mouth.
He hastily stood, shaking off the hand that tried to cling. “I...
I...”
“What’s wrong?” The
voice sounded concern, but that was an act, all an act, to lull Shy into a false
sense of security.
“I... gotta go...” He knew where the restroom was. He
should; he’d been coming to this store long enough. Without a backwards glance,
he raced toward it, pushed through the door of the small men’s room, which was
happily unoccupied, and into the first stall, where he heaved the contents of
his stomach.
* * * *
Wyatt didn’t know what the hell to do. He wanted to run
after him, see that Shy was all right. Judging by the speed with which he raced
toward the back of the store, he must be sick.
He’s a grown man,
his inner voice argued. He doesn’t need
you to babysit him.
Doesn’t he?
Wyatt drummed his fingers across the Formica tabletop,
counting the moments since Shy disappeared. Two minutes, three, four... At
five, he’d go after him, leave the groceries where they were and be damned. Who’d
bother them, anyway?
At four and a half minutes, he rose from his seat. At four minutes
and forty-five seconds, he began to scoot out. But before he’d had a chance to
act on his gut instinct, he saw Shy heading toward him. He waited until Shy
reached their table, and kept waiting until Shy sat before resuming his own
seat.
“Are you okay?” he demanded to know, his voice fraught with
concern.
Shy nodded. He reached for his water and took several very
short sips.
“Yes, I’m fine.” His attention was riveted on the water
bottle, as if it was the most fascinating object in the world. His voice
sounded so... mechanical. So... lifeless. So... hopeless.
What in the hell was going on? Wyatt wanted to ask Shy so
many questions about so many things. About Shy’s mother. About his relationship
with Randy. When did it begin, and what did it consist of? Did Shy love the
older man, ass though he was? Did Randy love Shy? Did he ever hurt him? Why was
he so fucking strict with him?
What happened between them when no one else was around?
But Wyatt didn’t have the right to ask him these things and
he knew it. And something told him that if he said any of the things he was
thinking, he’d push Shy away, and whatever fragile connection they may have begun
to forge here would be irretrievably broken.
Shy was like a delicate flower. A pale delicate blossom that
was being allowed to languish in darkness and neglect. Wyatt yearned to bring
him into the light. To nurture him and allow him to bloom. To ease his tortured
soul.
But he just didn’t know how.
“Something I ate,” Shy added, and the subject closed between
them. At least for now. Wyatt was determined to find a way in later. If he
could only figure out how.
“So, I guess you went to high school here?” That seemed a
safe topic. The local high school was a good one. Certainly nothing to be
ashamed of.
Shy’s response wasn’t what he expected.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m home schooled.”
By whom? Wyatt didn’t dare ask. Was it the now absent
mother? Or perhaps Randy had overseen little Shy’s education. And wasn’t that a
disturbing image? Yet, somehow, Wyatt could imagine him doing it, if for no
other reason than to keep control over Shylor.
That seemed to be the crux of the matter. It all came down
to control. Randy had it, and he exercised it with an iron fist. And Shy seemed
helpless to do other than obey.
“Are you in... do you go to college?” Wyatt wasn’t surprised
when Shy shook his head.
He started to ask another question, but whatever it was left
his mind as soon as he heard the cell phone go off. He knew, without thinking
hard, that it wasn’t his phone, or his ring tone. His own ringtone was E.S.
Posthumus’ Nara. This was something generic and ordinary.
And it was Shylor’s phone, apparently.
He watched Shy raise the instrument to his lips. “I’m here.”
A moment of silence, followed by, “At the store.”
Another moment. “Almost.”
A longer pause. “I’ll be waiting.” And then, “Yes, Sir.” He
hung up, slid the phone into his pocket and began to rise.
Yes, Sir? What the
fucking hell?
to be continued
Now, go see what's up with the other Wednesday Briefers!
to be continued
Now, go see what's up with the other Wednesday Briefers!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
♥ Julie
I love this story. It's developing sweetly and gently but I'm hoping that all hell will break loose in the end and looking forward to some sweet torture :)
ReplyDeleteI love the way this story is unfolding, tentative yet the tension is building between them. :)
ReplyDeleteWyatt has good musical taste ;-) I'm loving this story even if I am dying to shake the answers from Shy and know right now at this instant what is going on!
ReplyDelete