Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Wednesday Briefs: No Way Out #11

Happy Wednesday! For many of us in the US, it's the last work day before the 4th of July! Hooray! Some of us even get Friday off. I would if I could lol Keep watching this blog for the 4th of July blog hop, though. Should be fun!

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!

Elyzabeth VaLey     
MA Church    
Victoria Adams      

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie


  1. 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 :)

  2. I love the way this story is unfolding, tentative yet the tension is building between them. :)

  3. Wyatt 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!