A Boy Called Q

Jackie

The tears had run dry. The months of torture, grief – pain that was so deep – she ceased to function as a woman and a mother. She ached every day over the loss of her son, Eric. She did stop crying – eventually – but then only to spend countless hours staring into space; often pulling out her most treasured photo of him and remembering what a wonderful boy he was. 19, so young, it had become her mantra.

When her best friend told her she needed something to do, other than what she couldn't change, she was adamant that she couldn't; that she herself might need a way out. Then Debbie insisted that she meet with Steve, because Steve had also been down that same road and had created a helpful path to assist with recovery. Debbie was sure that Steve could pull Jackie up.

A year after Eric's suicide, Debbie came over with biscuits and to make coffee – as she always did on a Saturday morning. "Honey, it's time. I know you're going to say no, but please listen. I love you like a sister, we've been friends far too long for me to leave you like this. I've arranged for Steve to come over and talk to you…" Jackie cut her off. She shook her head and her tangled, blonde hair, reminded Debbie that her insistence was necessary. "I can't, you don't understand it. You don't know."

Debbie nodded and conceded that she didn't know; she couldn't know. But she did know that Jackie needed help.

When Steve arrived an hour later, Jackie was frosty and barely acknowledged him to begin with. Steve was accustomed to this; he'd seen it too many times in past years.

"I know exactly what you're going through Jackie, I've been there. I lost my partner – John – for similar reasons, though he was a little older. I miss him every day. The best way I can help myself is to help others to avoid the same fate. That's why I started 'Life-Line'. We save so many; it makes it easier to move forward. We still lose some, but in some ways, that adds to the healing process. Join us, we could use you."

Something in the way Steve, a 40-something and good looking man spoke to her heart, made her listen. After much discussion and what felt to her like an intervention, she finally agreed. She would join the group and try and save as many as she could.

Within months, Jackie realised that both Debbie and Steve had been right; the healing process was tenfold.

She could never forget Eric, but if she saved others, then she had a reason to live.

A Boy Called Q

It was frenzied – ambulances, police sirens and hundreds of excited voices all clamouring to be heard over each other which made the view much more difficult to appreciate.

As Q walked further away from the bridge, the tension eased from his shoulders and he could think again, though the view of Big Ben wasn’t as good the further he walked. He toyed with the phone in his pocket and pulled it out to check for messages once more. As relieved as he was not to have to take his gloves off, he was also a little disappointed he hadn’t received a text back. 'Maybe I came across as too strong or too eager', he thought. A light rain started then and he mentally commended himself for bringing out his rain jacket. He drew it in tighter and zipped it up, then pulled the jacket’s hood over his beanie.

A vibration in his pocket alerted him to a message. Boom. His heart pounded. Please be him. He pulled the phone out excitedly. He had a message. The unsaved number finished with 773 and his heart beat faster. Thoughts of rejection suddenly entered his mind and he realised that the message might not be what he’d hoped for.

“When are you thinking?”

Wow.

He thought about responding back and decided he’d be best off waiting a little longer. Play the game. He re-read the message and smiled; this was a good turn of events. In a better mood and with a spring in his step, he walked further along the Thames – towards a pub he recognised, suddenly oblivious to the dreary weather around him.

As soon as he walked through the door, he shook all his layers off and left them on a small table by the window, while he walked to the bar and ordered a drink. The woman did a double-take when he asked for a pint of lager, then quickly went off to pour it. He tried not to look at her even though he could tell she was unapologetically staring at him. He glanced back towards where he’d left his coat and was pleased to see that no one had approached his table. When he looked back, the bar girl was whispering to a colleague in a not-so- subtle way. She also looked at him and smiled; a coy and very interested smile.

When the first bar girl returned with his beer, he paid the price and returned to his table. Jesus, 5 pounds?!

Even though they were still staring at him, he pretended not to notice and returned his attention to his phone. He opened up his messages and re-read the last message a few times, “When are you thinking?” He thought he detected a real interest in that question mark. Although aware he was reading far too much into the situation, he did it anyway. It made him feel better. After agonizing over what to respond back with, he decided on, “I’m still new here so it’s really up to you.”

Within minutes, he received another response and his heart beat wildly.

“Got much on tonight?”

Boom.

“No plans, what are you thinking?”

Not even a minute later, “come to my place for a drink and…?”

In less than ten seconds, he responded with, “Ok, I’m free from now really. Say when.”

“How about now?”

Boom.

“Ok, address?”

Five seconds passed before he received the address. Boom. He got hard then too and was thankful to be sitting down. He grabbed his beanie and put it over his bulge which he figured might draw attention – especially with the bar girls – who were whispering to each other and looking his way. I wish I could wear my glasses. He knew his eyes were an unusual colour and he'd spent all of his life being told so. Some people thought he looked odd and many more thought he was adorable. He was sick of the attention because of it. Growing up, he'd always wanted to be more muscular and solid and tried many times to join the rugby team. Unfortunately, he was a combination of too slim and athletic and at 5'9, a little too short. He often thought his eye colour – just like his father's – was partly to blame. Perhaps they alienated people because of their unusual pale blue mixed with grey. When he drank too much, they became a very light grey.

“How long will you be?”

Q looked up the address on his GPS and then checked out the route; twenty minutes.

“20 or so?”

“Great, see you soon.”

The bar-girls were still staring at him as he quickly left the pub.

The apartment block was fairly old; perhaps about a hundred years, though it looked well maintained. It was a standard white-plastered building which was common for Kensington; a wealthy area. He was excited and nervous as he approached the front door and saw the illuminated list of residents. Number 5, he pressed it and heard a chime followed by some feedback. He stepped back and put his gloved hands over his ears.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Q,” even to him, his voice sounded timid.

“Just a minute,” then a loud buzz and an audible click and the door unlatched.

“First floor, first door to your right, take the stairs, elevator’s not working.”

He walked up slowly, feeling a little intimidated. This guy was really good looking and Q had thought that the guy might have been a tad drunk the other night when he’d given him his number.

He approached the first door and noticed it was slightly open. He took his gloves off, removed his beanie and unzipped his jacket; then knocked softly.

As the door swung open, he suddenly had the feeling he may have made a mistake. Maybe this wasn’t what he needed. Just as he began to consider that he couldn’t go through with it, the guy appeared and his last chance to escape vanished.

“Hey mate, nice to see you again,” a hand extended, which Q shook. Compared to his own, the guy’s hand was really warm and he also felt a jolt of static that caused him to nearly jump back. Instead, he composed himself and said, “oh hey, good to see you too,” as the guy opened the door wider and stepped aside so he could enter. He’d gotten another glimpse of the guy in the brighter light and he definitely liked what he saw and hoped the guy felt the same way.

He was breathtakingly handsome, in a way that made him think of the underwear models that he used to wank over not too long ago.

“Can I get you a drink?” the guy was already walking towards the kitchen as Q stood inside the door, holding all his outer garments in one arm and trying to forcibly calm his nerves.

“Yes please, water would be good,” his throat sounded hoarse; croaky. The guy walked into a freshly refurbished kitchen filled with tastefully decorated wooden cupboards that reached up to the white ceiling and immaculate floor with white tiles. He pulled out two glasses and set them down, then opened a new-looking fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and poured two glasses. With a fairly slim-fitting, white t-shirt – which showed off his well-defined muscles – the guy looked as though he might spend more time in a gym than anywhere else. As he turned away to return the water bottle to the fridge, Q checked out his ass and felt a familiar stirring. Perfect, round ass. Then the guy picked up the glasses and moved towards him with one arm outstretched. Q took the glass and was struck by his eyes, a warm and dark almond colour. These were features which Q thought were highly attractive.

“Thanks,” and he took a big swallow, then followed the guy out of the kitchen into a narrow walkway. He saw a coat rack and dumped his outer layers onto a spare rung. The guy put his palm up and apologised, “sorry, I should have said, please…” pointing to the coat rack.

“It’s ok, thanks,” Q smiled and thought it was cute that he’d worry about such a small detail.

“Come in, don’t mind the mess, I’m still renovating and haven’t really had a great deal of time to put things away. It’s easier you know? When you’re working on home-projects; putting things away then getting them out again is half the hassle, so I leave them out,” his eyes bored into Q’s. He wondered what the guy was thinking but the smile put him at ease. Such a genuine smile.

“I can imagine; I mean…I’ve never had to. A home-project…I mean,” he looked at his water then tried to feign interest in the large room. It was a little messy, some paint tins along the side sitting on top of a painter’s blanket and an out of place screwdriver, a hammer and some nails on the floor in a pile, but nothing Q thought would need apologising for. He stood uncomfortably, wondering how this was going to go. The guy stood facing him, that same stare; a half-smirk on his full-red lips – red as though he’d been eating something that would leave a stain and a sharp contrast to such light coloured skin.

“Come, have a seat,” the guy said and moved to a cream-coloured sofa. He leaned forward and placed his own untouched glass of water on a wooden coffee table. Q noticed that the coffee table wood matched the kitchen cupboards. He moved around the coffee table and sat at the other end of the sofa; a one-man gap between them. The guy surprised him by shifting forward and suddenly put his hand on Q’s knee.

Shit! He could feel the heat rush to his face as his heart pounded harder.

The guy must have sensed this as he removed his hand and picked up his water and sipped it. Then he put the glass back down and said, “you haven’t done this much have you?”

Q shook his head no, but didn’t say anything; he gulped loudly.

The guy laughed but in a pleasant way; softly.

“It’s ok buddy, take it easy! We can just talk. How about I get us a beer huh? Sound good?” Q quickly nodded and tried to force a smile.

“Cool, I’ve got some Australian beers my boss gave me,” he said as he walked off to the kitchen.

Get a grip! Relax, you don’t have to do anything, just take it easy. But try as he might, his leg began to shake. When the guy came back with two beers – with blue labels he’d never seen before – he was pressing down on the leg which had developed a mind of its own. He quickly grabbed the open beer and drained about half of it before realising the guy wanted to clink the bottles. He held it up and tapped the guy’s bottle with his own as he said, “cheers.”

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking?” the guy asked him.

“22,” he responded in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

“Wow, so, have you got a girlfriend?”

He took a little longer to respond this time, sipping more of the beer slowly this time, then placing it on the low table. The instant buzz made him relax slightly, though he was aware his leg was still lightly trembling.

“Not anymore, we broke up; about a year ago. What about you? I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

The guy laughed again then returned that look again, the half-smirk, perhaps half-knowing gaze as he regarded Q.

“Actually, I don’t think I gave it to you. I’m Michael, Michael Annett. I’m 29.”

Q didn’t say anything and picked the beer up again.

“And you’re Q right? Mind if I ask what it stands for?”

He nodded, then said – in a slightly stronger voice – thanks to the beer, “Quebec. My parents joked it’s where they conceived me. I try not to think about that.”

Michael’s mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes sparkled a little. Q smiled too.

“So tell me, with an accent like yours, I’m guessing you’re from Yorkshire somewhere.” It had been more a statement than a question, but Q nodded anyway.

“Yeah, York actually. Been in London just a few months so I’m still finding my way around.”

“It doesn’t take long. Once you get a hang of the tube system, you’ll quickly start to get a feel for the areas.”

“Yeah, I should be ok.”

“So where do you live then? Are you sharing?”

“Yeah, 3 others; it’s a little cramped but it’s ok. The worst part is sharing a bathroom. One of them is a girl and the other guys are always having a go at her. We’re in Hammersmith,” Michael nodded as Q finished.

“I had exactly the same situation a few years ago, I was living with two other guys and a girl; one bathroom – it was a nightmare, I’d never do that to myself again,” as though realising he might have offended Q, he quickly added, “but obviously it’s so much cheaper to share, especially while you’re still finding your way around. What do you do for work?”

“I’m an electrical engineer; I’m working on a new concept for a wind-turbine project. Pretty long hours and intense but the money’s good. What about you?”

“Ah, you must be pretty smart; an engineer, hey? I’m a lawyer, intellectual property…nothing too exciting I’m afraid.”

Q was unable to stop staring at the guy’s mouth; it was perfectly formed. The lips were so full, perhaps they were Botox filled. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, then quickly looked away, as though Michael could read his thoughts. He picked up his beer and took a bigger mouthful. When he replaced it on the table, he realised he’d almost finished it. Michael looked at it and jumped up, tipped his head back and drained the remainder of his as he walked off and said, “well, if we’re going to slam the beers, I might as well try and keep up with you. I’m not working tomorrow so I’ll be ok. What about you?”

Q shook his head, then realised Michael couldn’t see him from the kitchen, “no, I don’t work on weekends usually. Well, not yet anyway,” Michael's musical laugh echoed out of the kitchen. He watched him appear with two beers; both open, seconds later. As he walked, Q guessed that Michael would be about 6 foot tall. He returned to the sofa and passed a beer to Q, who immediately took a big sip.

“So you live alone here Michael?” the beer was kicking in.

Michael cocked his head, nodded then said, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Q feared what it might be, but nodded.

“Is this your first time? You seem very nervous.”

He felt a little relief that the question wasn’t that difficult to answer, but at the same time, he was embarrassed that he was so easy to read.

“I haven’t. Well…I mean, I did once, back in high school with a mate. But not really, nothing proper,” he picked up the bottle and begged the cold beer to help him settle his nerves, he continued with, “but I’ve been watching a bit of…porn and…” he suddenly thought how that might sound so he quickly added – even as Michael’s smile calmed him, “just trying to get a…you know…feel for things.”

“It’s ok, I know what you mean. To be honest, it wasn’t that long ago that I was in a similar situation. We can just chat for today, if you want. I’m not a pushy kind of guy, you’re really…cute, actually. And your eyes, I’m sure you get this a lot, they’re the most unusual colour.”

Q was thankful to still have the beer in his hand; he drained the rest of it and looked away, wishing a TV could be on or something to minimize the awkwardness. He wished he could be as confident as Michael seemed to be.

"Thanks, though I don't see myself that way – cute, I mean."

"Well you are, from my perspective anyway. I guess it's subjective isn't it? Some people think I'm good looking and just as many don't. I don't care, I guess I focus on those who like me and try not to think about those who don't."

"That's a good way to look at it. I guess."

"Thanks, I hope so! Anyway, you should be relaxed..." Michael brushed his eyebrow and paused, then said, “what I mean by that…well, we have all been in that situation. Your first time should be fun and go easy.”

Q didn’t know what came over him. Perhaps the combination of the beer had finally given him courage – no, it was making him feel great – he guessed it was probably because the last comment had made Michael seem so much more relatable and less intimidating. He suddenly leapt over and put his face in front of Michael’s, then put his lips against his and lightly caressed his small, thin nose with his own.

Michael looked startled; surprised. Though the way his eyes widened, it seemed as though – at least from Q’s perspective – he was happy at the sudden turn of events.

The kiss was extremely awkward at first; a hard smack that almost pushed Michael back, but quickly softened and suddenly became a warm meeting of two lips. Michael slightly opened his mouth and put his free hand, such a beautiful alabaster colour, behind Q’s and brought him in more. Their noses touched; lips fully immersed into each other’s and a sudden raging hard-on developed that was uncomfortably pushing into his tight jeans. Michael’s lips were passionate and hungry. He turned slightly and looked away, he leaned forward to place his beer on the table, then looked back at Q.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Q began, but Michael’s mouth was back on his again before he could finish, this time, both hands were behind Q’s head and he was aware of too many things at once. The warmth coming from him, the soft lips; tongue darting in and out of his mouth. One side of their shoulders touching and currents of electric lust rushing through his body.

Michael’s hand gently caressed the back of Q’s neck and pulled him in. His other hand had wandered down the front of Q’s shirt – fingers pushing through the gaps between the buttons, to lightly stroke his chest. They slowly moved down, spending a few seconds between each gap, then pushing through the next gap. The combination of kisses, fingers travelling down his chest ensured that Q was very much lost in the moment. The fingers hooked into the belt on his jeans, then the hand pushed its way behind the belt, against his lower belly. Then suddenly, the tips of his fingers stroked the top of his dick. He almost came there and then.

Almost in a dreamy and quick move, Michael lifted him to his feet and moved his hands behind Q’s back and continued to pull him in closer. He could feel Michael’s hard-on pushing against his lower abdomen. At that very moment, Q wanted nothing more than to get naked and do everything.

Michael slowly walked backwards, pulling Q towards him. He began unbuttoning Q’s shirt; each stroke of his fingers against his chest creating fresh currents through his body. By the time they’d reached the bedroom, Q was bare-chested and Michael pulled his t-shirt off in a quick movement. His lips were back on his and his tongue softly pushed into his mouth. When Michael moved to kiss his chest and his smooth nipples, Q noticed how hairy Michael was. He moved his hands against it and heard Michael moan with pleasure. Then Michael was suddenly unbuckling Q’s belt and undoing the top button. He felt the zipper loosen and hot breath down there. He could feel his pre-cum wetting his briefs.

Michael turned him and gently pushed him back, for a second, Q lost his balance but quickly realised the bed was behind him. He sat. Michael pushed his chest back and forced him to lay down. He looked up at the ceiling as Michael’s mouth lightly bit his underwear. His mouth moved up towards the tip of his manhood and again, he felt more pre-cum. Then Michael’s mouth was over the top of the underwear and he used his hand to lift it away. His mouth gently licked the tip of his foreskin and Q quickly tried to think of something else. He pressed his hand against his head as he lay there looking up at the ceiling. Then suddenly Michael’s mouth opened and he could feel it being swallowed. The hot mouth was almost too much. For a few seconds, Michael pushed his mouth closed and held him inside without moving. Then he went deeper. Then a little more. He guessed it was in about half-way. Then further and further. Then he knew that he was all the way inside his mouth and he had to concentrate not to cum.

Michael stopped and appeared above him. He pulled Q’s blue-jeans the remainder of the way down and took a moment to pull his shoes off, all the while he held a dirty, knowing smile. Q was naked and felt a little cold. Though within seconds, Michael had pulled his own chino’s off and was suddenly naked on top of him. He kissed more vigorously this time, pressing his hard-on against Q’s and his chest-hair almost tickled Q’s bare chest. With Michael pressed down on him, cock to cock, chest against chest, he suddenly realised years of watching porn had come to this moment. He knew what to expect and was very excited to be the star this time.

He turned Michael over and took charge, seemingly experienced. He started with kissing Michael, then moving down to his chest. He licked his nipples and heard Michael moan. Then he followed the hairy-trail down and saw Michael's for the first time. It wasn’t big exactly; average perhaps. Unlike his own, Michael was circumcised. He repaid the favour and put Michael’s in his mouth and worked his way from the tip to the centre. Then tried his best to take it all in but felt his gag-reflexes object. He kept it at three quarters of the way and began to suck. While he’d never done this before, he’d been shown online many times. Michael’s pleasure was obvious with each moan. He found that when he used his hand to slowly wank him, while he sucked lightly on the tip, Michael’s moans became more vocal. He realised he himself enjoyed it too. He continued for a while longer and fell into a beautiful rhythm of sucking and lightly wanking. Then Michael’s hand shot out and pushed his head away. Confused, he looked towards his face and saw Michael’s face, it seemed he was almost in pain. Then he realised; he was too close. He stopped and moved back to kiss Michael and lay on top of him.

For a time, they moved like that, with Q on top and Michael underneath; gyrating and rubbing hard against each other. Then Michael would take charge and push his way on top and they’d repeat. Michael’s head-job was amazing. Q didn’t think he’d ever had one so good. Then he realised he was also close and copied Michael’s original gesture by pushing his head away. He tried to think of something else; successfully.

Again, Michael was on top and kissing him. He realised they weren’t having sex, but were making love. He kept his eyes open and watched Michael’s beautiful face. Occasionally, Michael would open his eyes and they would stare at each other intimately. He saw more than lust there; a fondness for him, a searching for something more. Then he’d close them again and Q would follow his example. Then he would reopen them again as they kissed and tongues explored. Passionately tasting each other’s mouths while Q wondered what else he could find in those dark eyes. Michael had this look on his face that Q couldn’t place. It was more of a need. Then suddenly he rearranged himself to sit on Q’s cock and leaned down and kissed him. When Michael next pulled away, he whispered, “I want it inside me.”

Suddenly Michael leaned away from him and grabbed a condom packet and some lube. In a well-practiced motion, he ripped it open and pulled it out. Then he sucked on Q for a bit longer before sliding the condom on him. Then his lips were against his again and he saw him reach behind and add lube to his hole. Michael’s hand slowly wanked Q’s dick and slid lube all over it. Then he positioned it so the tip was pushing against him. He pushed down and kissed him again and Q could feel Michael lower himself. Then suddenly, as Michael gasped, he felt it enter too quickly. For a moment, Michael sat frozen and looked up, a faint light drifted into the room and illuminated his short-black hair. Then he settled and slowly pushed it in further.

Q thought he was going to cum again as the hot, warmth swallowed him, but he managed to hold it off. The feeling that came over him was euphoric; he was inside him and he hoped he wouldn’t come too soon. Michael looked like he’d reached new levels of ecstasy and slowly moved up and down on his very hard member. Whenever Q felt too close, he slightly pushed into the bed and thought about something else. Then he’d get back into it. The rhythm was great – no, it was the best sex he thought he’d ever had.

Michael leaned down and kissed him, which only made him want to cum more but he kissed him back regardless. He kept his eyes open so he could savour the experience because he needed to memorise everything. Q suspected that for many weeks – perhaps even months – he would be drawing back on this and wanking over it. Michael had his eyes partially closed, but Q could clearly see that he was watching him with a satisfied grin.

Q slowly pushed him off, somehow managing to stay inside him, then manipulated Michael's face up while he held his legs up. He then fucked him harder and harder. Michael seemed to have no boundaries and with every thrust, seemed to enjoy it more and more. He leaned in and kissed Michael’s full lips again, so thick and passionate and juicy – they were made for big long kisses. For a brief moment, as the light caressed Michael's body, Q had a vision of them elsewhere. Perhaps in a log cabin in Switzerland or a sun lounger on a beach out in the sun, doing exactly what they were doing then.

Again, he needed to slow as he felt himself getting too close. He slowed down and slightly pulled out and looked down. He couldn’t see the condom anymore. Oh no! He wondered what that meant, perhaps it had come off. Whether it was because he felt the bare flesh sliding in and out or not, it didn’t matter. The sensation was too good. He was getting very close to cumming.

Michael quickly flipped him and sat on top again. As he sat down and took him all the way again, he was close yet again.

Then he knew he was going to. He wanted to apologise but it was too late. He was all the way inside as Michael sat straight and pushed down, then up again and down as Q’s cum exploded inside him. Michael lifted up slightly and then hot cum spurted out of Michael, all over Q’s chest, all over his face and down his neck, just as he himself continued to fill Michael. Michael moaned so loudly that Q suddenly thought about neighbours, even as he finished inside him. It seemed to go on for a long time; for them both. He could feel it run down his neck, his face and even down the sides of his body. More of it kept coming out; it looked like it was going everywhere.

Then suddenly Michael was on top of him, kissing him some more and Q began to tremble. The passion was gone. The feeling of being connected to him had vanished. All the feelings and all the urges, evaporated.

Suddenly, Q had a very clear picture of himself laying on the bed with another man on top of him and his own dick inside his ass. The revulsion was immense. The shame and disgust, was immediate. He closed his eyes and prayed Michael would get off him. Instead, Michael kissed him, his tongue desperate for a continuation of their previous passion. Q’s lips froze and his body went stiff. He felt himself go soft and finally, it slipped out of Michael. He lay there and tried to think about any number of things that had nothing to do with where he was, and was relieved to see the condom hadn’t come off completely, it was hanging off the end.

He turned his head and could feel Michael’s confusion on top of him. Then Michael slid off and tried to hold him, but he was frosty and distant, so he asked him if he wanted a towel or a shower. He nodded but looked away, as Michael jumped up – briefly casting a worried glance in Q's direction – then walked away.

When Michael returned, he passed a large towel to him. Q used it to wipe as much of the semen as he could from his face and neck and body. He scrubbed a little too hard and felt raw skin being aggravated. He jumped up and began to pick up his clothes; hastily dressing as Michael asked him if he was ok. He could tell Michael was confused and he also felt bad that he was making him feel that way, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to leave right then. He needed to be away from this scene as quickly as he could. He just knew that he couldn’t think about this anymore. He drowned out any further words from Michael and concentrated on coming to terms with what he had just done.

In seconds, he was dressed and heading to the door as Michael asked him for the third time what was wrong. He didn’t respond, he just went to the door and opened it; quickly realising it was latched. He undid the latch and stepped out, closing the door too forcefully behind him and stepping outside into the rain and the cold, which matched his mood.

Innocence Lost

His paranoia was great as he rushed towards the Underground station and tapped his card. He moved automatically towards his train line without thinking about it. He sat on the train and didn’t care how he must look or smell. He wanted to be home as soon as he could.

The rest of the journey seemed to take forever; though he found himself at home within forty minutes.

As soon as he was inside, he undressed and was grateful that the bathroom was free. He turned the water on too hot and scolded himself as he began scrubbing. He used a scrubbing brush that didn’t belong to him and was clearly designed for feet – on his body. He felt the sting of the shower as he scrubbed too hard and caused his skin to split. He showered for so long with the hot water on full, that it soon ran out. As it began to run cold, he started to realise he’d really scrubbed too hard. He spat several times in the shower and felt the need to be sick, but managed to hold it in; though he still gagged a few times.

He dried and went to his room and locked the door. He dressed because the thought of being naked disgusted him. He got under the covers and grabbed his laptop and tried to think of a program he could watch that would distract him but he couldn’t think of anything, so he dug up an old program about Zombies. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake his feelings. Nothing seemed to distract him. He heard his phone vibrate and read that he had several messages. All of them were from Michael. He didn’t read them, he deleted them all then blocked Michael’s number. He pulled the bed cover right up to his chin and lay in bed and tried to focus on the movie and let the bed swallow him. Even after his long shower, he could still smell lube; and Michael on his body.

Q barely slept and found himself crying a few times. At one point he heard one of his house-mates knocking on his door but he didn’t respond. He muffled his tears with the blanket and forced himself to think about normal things.

Several times, he thought about his parents; his mother. He wanted to call her and tell her he loved her but he couldn’t do it. She would ask too many questions. His dad – the thought of him finding out – would be too much. The very thought of his parents knowing what he’d done, terrified and shamed him. He thought about being the only child and their expectations. Their pride when he’d finished University and chosen to enter Engineering Sciences and the pride they’d felt when he first brought a beauty home to meet them. That they would receive beautiful children from him, was a given. Memories of his childhood threatened to completely break him. Visions of his ex-girlfriend – a girl he'd known since he'd been ten years old – forced fresh feelings of guilt through him. The last images of her, that day he'd said goodbye to her; that day he'd said, "no, I can't do this anymore, I need to find myself first. I'm sorry, I still love you and you will always be in my heart, but I need to go and explore." It was that day that he remembered well at that moment. Her smile, her tears, her beautiful face, shattered by his words. He had never known another who had shown him such love and support and he knew without a doubt, that he never would again.

His parents filled his thoughts again, standing at the door and waving him off – filled with tears – as he left them to go to London, to build a new life, to show them what he was capable of. They'd stood there, full of tears and pride and hope, that their son – their only son – was going to return with broader shoulders and nicer suits and for certain, a sports car and a woman – whom he would intend to marry – standing by his side.

No, he couldn’t destroy them and let them know what he’d done. It would have to be something he would put behind him and he’d bury it. Then he thought about Michael and the sex they had and how much he'd enjoyed it and gone along with it and done everything and he dry-retched; quickly sitting up in bed and feeling the shame pushing his limits. His heart was already broken, but he feared his mind was soon to follow.

He returned his attention to the programs on his laptop, and continually forced himself to concentrate on them and ignore his thoughts. For a long time, he lay there struggling with them.

The following morning, although he was hungry, he didn’t want to get up. In fact, he stayed in bed that entire day. It wasn't just the shame, he felt disgusted and he thought that he wasn’t going to be able to get past it. He was also very tired from lack of sleep. He’d drifted in and out of troubled sleep – occasionally he would dream of his parents, pointing fingers at him and asking him what he was doing – then he’d be awake for even longer. He'd dream of Lisa, that kind-hearted girl who had told him she'd wait for him, even though he'd said goodbye.

The Fight for His Life

Two days later, Q’s hunger had caused his stomach to cramp and his thirst was making his mouth and throat very dry. Still, he couldn’t get up.

On the Monday morning, he’d called in sick – something he had never done before. Then he got up, showered and felt the water and soap sting his skin again. The wounds he’d created still open on his body and sensitive to the mild soap.

He dressed and went out. He managed to eat a bagel – because he had to – then he went straight to the nearest Pharmacy and bought some sleeping tablets. Then he went to another Pharmacy and bought more of the same. Then to a third and did it again. Then he returned home, took a bunch of them and got into bed, still fully clothed. He thought about it and decided he’d take the remainder. He managed to swallow 48 sleeping tablets.

****

“Hello?”

Jackie pushed the receiver into her ear in case the caller was soft-spoken.

“Hello?” Still no response.

Before asking for the third time who the caller was, she changed tactic.

“It’s ok. You can talk to me,” her voice was soothing and calm. She had been told a hundred times that it was an asset and one of the reasons – though not the main one – that she did this job. Her main reason had died a couple of years before. She missed him every single day.

But the caller still didn’t say anything. She checked the LED and closed her eyes, whoever it was hadn’t hung up. Please talk to me.

“Just let me know that you want me to talk. Or if you’d prefer I just listened. It’s up to you.”

“Hi,” finally, a voice – that of a young man – she thought.

“Hi honey. Are you ok?”

A pause, then, “yeah, I will be.”

Definitely a boy. Late teens, maybe early 20’s she figured; he sounded nice. Within seconds, a whole host of possibilities came to her as well as her gut instinct. Her training kicked in.

“Want to talk about it honey? Do you have a name? I’m Jacinta but my friends call me Jackie. You can call me Jackie if you want.”

“Ok. Thanks. I’m Q. My friends call me Q, but my parents…they…um, called me Quebec.”

“Hey Q, mind if I call you Q?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Q, where are your parents now?” establish the support network and where they are, that was the second most important thing she needed. The first she already had; his name. It was important to get their names.

When he didn’t respond, she added, “you can tell me whatever you like. It’s up to you. I’m not going to take any personal details down from you ok? Everything you tell me is strictly between you and me, ok?”

“Ok,” there was another long pause. She was about to say something but then he said, “they’re both at home but I’m in London. By myself.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with her. She couldn’t shake what it was. There was something about his voice; something in the way in which he spoke. Maybe he was buzzed.

“Have you had a good day Q?”

“Actually no. To be honest, the last couple of days were…um, bad. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. I thought I’d struggle to accept what I did. But I realised that it doesn’t really matter actually. As soon as you realise that you don’t have to live with it, then that’s the only acceptance I need.”

“Q, do you mind telling me what it was that you did? And why doesn’t it matter? Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“I found your number online. It’s funny what comes up in Google when you search for something. But straight away, your number came up and I realised that I wanted to make one last call. I didn't want to be alone for…”

“Q, honey. Tell me everything? Please?” that dreaded feeling was starting to come up from her chest to her throat. She softly tried to clear her throat.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind telling you because it won’t matter. I had sex with a guy. That’s not the hard part. I liked it, that was the hard part. But it’s ok Jackie, honestly. I don’t have to live with it anymore. I won’t be telling my parents or coming out to my friends because they won’t like it. My father, he’s definitely not going to like it. I can’t imagine his face if he ever found out. Nor my mother’s. But they won’t find out, so it really is going to be ok. In fact, strangely enough…right now I do feel ok.”

His voice, definitely starting to slur his words. She’d thought initially that he might have been stoned, perhaps on something as simple as weed. Often it was alcohol and at other times, it was a lot worse. These kids turned to that when they were scared. But she didn’t think that was the case with this one. She suspected something worse. Something a lot worse.

“Honey, can you tell me what you took?”

“Does it matter? I mean really? What I did, what I took. I think now, it matters a lot less,” his chuckle sounded eerie.

She knew then. It smacked her in the face. She decided to press the record button. He wasn’t giving her much choice.

“Q honey, listen. It’s important to me, ok? Don’t you think you called this number for a reason? As I said earlier, I can’t tell anyone else about what you tell me so you can tell me everything. But please, tell me everything, ok? Now, please tell me what you took.”

For a long time, she waited. At one point, she thought he’d hung up. She opened her eyes – because she worked better when they were closed – and checked the LED. He was still on the line.

“Please honey? Q? Will you tell me what you took?”

When he finally spoke, she struggled to understand him. He’d gone from slightly slurry to completely wasted. Her eyes darted around the room; wild and panicked. She clicked her fingers loudly when she saw who she wanted. Her mentor came rushing over as soon as he saw the urgency in her eyes.

She put the phone on mute and said, “I’ve got one, he’s overdosing, I’m sure of it. Can we track it? Please? We need to get help there now!”

He didn’t ask her if she was sure, it was her job to be. He trusted her instinct and knew that she’d made the call. He leaned over and tapped his authorisation into her console and stood back.

They both watched the call tracing software begin. It would be quick. It was also alerting an ambulance at the same time. The clever software would narrow the county, then the area; updating the ambulance as it went. Within a minute or two, they should have an address.

“Q, can you say that again honey?”

Her mentor – Steve – stayed next to her. He knew that the next few minutes were going to be crucial. He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up. Her eyes, filled with fear and compassion. He could see what this was already and he also dreaded what this could mean to her. She’d been so strong lately.

“Q? Honey, are you still with me?”

“Yeah,” his voice was so distant now. Groggy and despondent.

“Q, did you take something bad? Is that what this is honey?”

He didn’t respond but the software did. It silently flashed a message within a green container. It read, Trace Sent. Medical Services Notified.

She clicked the box and launched the tracking module and waited for it to refresh. Steve leaned in closer and squeezed her shoulder. They both knew she was going to need more than his support if she lost this one.

ETA 8 Minutes.

She hit the pause quickly and looked up at Steve, her eyes suddenly filled with tears, “I can’t lose this one too Steve! There’s no way he’s going to make it! 8 minutes is too long!”

“They’ll make it, they have to. Let’s be optimistic. Talk to him.”

She bent her head down and closed her eyes while pushing the headphones into her head so she could hear every word.

“Q honey, will you please talk to me? I want to ask you a couple of questions. I can hear your accent. You’re from the north, am I right?”

“Yeah.”

She opened her eyes briefly and felt comforted that Steve was with her still; his hand still sat reassuringly on her shoulder. The support network was extended.

“Can I guess that you’re from Yorkshire?”

Nothing.

“Q? Are you from Yorkshire?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that where your parents are?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me honey; did you talk to them today? Do they know where you are?”

Silence.

“Hey Q, are you still with me?”

She opened her eyes, checked the LED and closed them again, while pushing the headphones – almost painfully – further into her ears.

“Q?”

“Yeah,” it had barely been a whisper, she was losing him. Her heart pounded and she looked up at Steve. He reassured her with his eyes, he is going to make it. He squeezed her shoulder once more and stayed beside her. He really hoped he was right. She stared up at Steve's big brown eyes, under full-eyebrows that furrowed slightly, then his face softened and his smile was reassuring. He was confident for the both of them.

“Q, listen to me. I need you to tell me what you took ok? Please, can you tell me?”

Just then, a window flashed up with a new message, Medical Personnel Arriving.

“Q? Listen honey, I’ve sent a couple of my friends to help you. You can trust them; they are my friends ok?”

Nothing.

She tried to imagine the front of the apartments and the ambulance drivers racing towards the door. The police may have got there at the same time too. She knew they would be pushing all the buttons asking for Q. Someone in the building would know which one he was in.

The next few minutes were going to be agonizing. She looked up at Steve and hit the silent button, “they’re so close! Did we make it? Will they be able to save him?”

Steve shook his head and tried his best to reassure her, “we can only hope Jackie.”

He watched her resume her position; in this line of volunteer work, it was their prayer position. He knew what she was doing again and he was hesitant to remind her.

“Jackie, this isn’t Eric ok?”

She didn’t look up.

“Q?” nothing.

She repeated his name several times and each time, she pressed the headset into her ears a little harder. She could hear nothing but silence. Then in the background, suddenly she heard knocking and a man’s voice. Silence. Then more knocking. Agonizing moments ticked by as she called out to him and she waited. Then some murmured voices then a sudden, loud bang as she guessed that the door was being knocked down. Then lots of voices and activity. The line stayed open and she listened to every single sound, her heart beating too quickly. Small beads of sweat began to form above her thin brows.

Then there was silence again and she knew they’d taken him out. She prayed they’d taken him to the hospital in time. She hoped and she prayed. For now, her headset was useless. She took it off and put her face in her hands.

“Hey, Jackie. He’s going to be ok. Let’s go get a coffee ok? We can come back and get the results. Come on.”

She didn’t move; couldn’t. Jackie knew what he was trying to do and she appreciated it but she needed to know. In just the last half an hour, she’d come to put a face and a personality to a boy called Q.

Then suddenly, what felt to her like hours later, the small window popped up and informed her. She swivelled away within a second. Steve grabbed her and pulled her up into a hug. She sobbed.

“Jackie, you did your best. You were amazing.”

He looked down at the box and sighed while his arms tightened around her. Oh boy. He knew exactly how she felt at that moment.

“Come on Jackie, I’ll take you home. I’ll get someone else to take over your shift.”

Steve led Jackie away from the workstation towards the staff area. Others, those she'd gotten to know over the many months she had worked there, looked up and saw instantly what had happened. Some stood and reached out to her and others simply nodded to her in reassurance. Others looked at Steve to let him know they would be there for him too. All of them knew that it was a statistic. They were going to win some and they were going to lose some. Every single loss, was a loss to all of them and they knew; they would all work harder to reach out to more of them because sometimes, they were the fine line between life and death.

****

The End.