Kyle and Me Disclaimer: This story is about men having sex with men. If that's not your thing or you're too young to read it, please leave now. The author has no knowledge of Kyle and Lane Carlson's sexuality, nor that of any other celebrity that may be mentioned here, and has written this purely as a work of erotic fantasy fiction. Enjoy!
Kyle and Me
by Remiel78 ------------------------------------------------------------
"Exactly, what are you trying to say," I asked. Don't you hate it when you already know what's been said? It's pretty obvious what was said. It doesn't register. I don't think you want to register. I know I didn't. It was definitely one of those times I didn't want it to sink in. I could feel my eyelids blinking; I still didn't want this to be reality. Unfortunately it was.
"Are you breaking up with me?" He should've seen that question coming. I could be completely logical at times.
"Maybe," he muttered. He being Brian, my boyfriend for the last year and half. The window was slowly sliding up and logic was going to be pitched out the window. "Will..." Will you stop muttering! It's what I wanted to say, but I didn't. My eyes moved from his to something else I don't know what it was. I think it was one of those annoying singing basses. I was quickly losing focus on it. It became this blur of green and silver. Or maybe it was me that was turning green and I was projecting it onto the fish. Is that even possible? Hell if I know. We were at the caf‚ in university district. I guess people tend to think you won't make a stink if you're in public. I wanted to, but I really wanted to hear the reason. "What?" He looked at me with those innocent brown eyes, but there wasn't anything innocent about it. I wanted to stab him in the eye. "Forget it." I guess there was nothing else to say at the moment. He said what he wanted to say. He did what he wanted to do. I should've seen this coming shouldn't I? Does anyone ever see it coming? There's warning signs. There's supposed to be warning signs, but I there wasn't anything. I'm so in shock right now it hurts. It's not even the knife in the heart or the dagger in the gut. "I need to go." "Babe, don't be this way. You knew this was coming. I did," he said. I think I'm going to be sick. I think I'm going to vomit all over him right now. It's not going to be the little bit; it's going to be all over his shoes, his shirt, hell his face. I knew this was coming. I'm not about to get emotional. I could feel my mouth open, the tip of my tongue trace along my the tip of my teeth. There were words itching to be said, but I held onto them. I was attempting to be the bigger person here. Ill, so ill, I feel so very ill right now. If he says we can be friends I'm going to take the spoon and gouge his fucking eye out. It's just that simple. For a moment I found myself doing that. I was a fantasy. I leap over the table tackle him, forcing the spoon into the eye socket doing my best to pop that sucker out. I didn't see anything coming. Maybe I've been caught up in other things. Maybe I wasn't paying attention. "Jack, that's what I saw coming, Brian." My fingers went to both sides of my forehead massaging the eyebrows. I could feel a tension headache coming on. I needed out of here. The words kept rising up, but it wasn't anything I wanted to say. Well, I did. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. The words thought hey kept hanging out there in my throat, rising like bile. That was the problem it felt like that and it made my stomach twist a little. I didn't want it to be like this. We were good together, at least I thought we were. What happened? Where did it go wrong? Could it be me? Of course it had to be, it couldn't be Brian, right! I can't deal with this. I don't want to. He said it there. My eyes were starting to burn. The stung because I was trying to keep the tears in. He caught me off guard. Shaking isn't an option right now. "Seth." The tone brought me back. It's the one he used when he knew that he was in deep shit. Like it should matter he was just ended it. How could I kick his ass over this. I just got this idea that there's more. I don't know. Maybe there was nothing. I don't know. "Just couldn't deal anymore." The more I stood there and wondered the more things became a little clear. There's a lot on my plate these days, maybe I was blind to everything that was going on. I'm not gorgeous and I do have a bit of a weight problem, I'm chunky. I've worked on it and it's been an issue that's been dogging me for a while, for the good part of my life actually.
It's too good to be true, that's what I told myself, but after all this time I didn't think it would be an issue. There were so many things that could go wrong, but they didn't. The anger faded, well a bit. There's nothing else to say. "Sorry I wasted your time," I managed to say without letting my voice crack. Swallowing a couple of times I turned from the table. There was so much to look forward to. "Seth.I'm," he started, but my hand came up and fell silent. I didn't want to hear it. Is anyone ever sorry about the things they do? About the pain they cause, maybe, but I really didn't want to think he was sorry about this. It wasn't a couple of months or a year it was two. I'm so not into the ugly break up scene. It's not me. Is my heart shattering all over the floor? Yeah. Am I mad? Bet your ass, but am I about to have some dramatic moment where I demand answers and pour my heart out in an attempt to win him back by my undying devotion. After a long mental pause I feel a rush of wind from the door shutting behind me. Guess not. I don't look back. I can't look back. I shouldn't look back, this moment has such pillar of salt potential. So I don't. I just keep walking trying to figure out where I go from here.
-Six Months Later-
"He what?" Teresa looked up from the magazine she was flipping through. She really wasn't reading it. Busy work, idle hands are the devil's playground or something like that. "You are so not going. I forbid you to go." She didn't smile, she usually smiled when she said stuff like that. She's looking out for me. "I'm serious," she snapped tossing the magazine at me. I threw my hands up in my face. "Bitch!" "So!" Teresa was close to five-five, a hundred forty pounds, with dark curly hair and dark eyes. I never called them deep brown, dark brown, they were just dark eyes. She said so much with her eyes and right now they told me that she was ready to kick my ass. "What?" I didn't know if I was going or not. It's only been six months. It's sudden, but sometimes you have to jump on the things you want. Right? "Don't what me." Teresa was on her feet walking over to me. It was my apartment I could toss her out, and I was bigger, but she hit hard, pinched hard, everything she did was hard. Making a impact one would think. I was still dealing with the weight issue. I just wanted to I don't know. I look in the mirror and wonder what I see. I don't know what I see. I don't know if it has anything to do with being fat. Fat, chunky it all means the same to most people. I stare in the mirror and wonder about the person who's staring back at me. Sometimes it's ok to look at and sometimes it's not. Right now I could give a rat's ass. "Terry, I didn't even say if I was going or not. I don't know if I'm contemplating it or not." "Uh huh." She didn't sound convinced. Funny. Neither did I. "You're not going. I told you it's final." "Such a serious tone you have, Teresa. Have I been a bad boy?" I smirked attempting to lighten the mood, but it wasn't happening. I didn't talk to anyone for about a week after it happened. I didn't know what to say. I was stunned into silence. Sure I could speak and talk to people, but what I was going to say and friends have a way of trying to help when you really don't want them to. I'd recover, but I didn't want to be bothered. I didn't want to trash anyone or get upset. I was upset enough. Friends have a way of taking those levels to new heights. "Seth." Turning towards the couch I let my head rest along the back of it. I didn't want to discuss it not right now. This is all my fault. "I told you I haven't made up my mind," I sighed. "It's a no brainer, Seth. Say no. Commitment ceremony? What kind of fucked up game is Brian playing," she hissed. "Does Sar know?" Does Sar know. What does she think? If Sar knew she would know. So that should tell her no Sar doesn't know, but I'm guessing she's going to know soon. I glance at my watch hoping up to my feet. "I'm late." "Don't..." she started. "It's not a lie. I really am late. I should've been at the studio thirty minutes ago. I'm surprised they send someone out to hunt me down. Don't get all bent, Terry. I haven't decided anything," I explained while slipping my sneakers on. I could wear jeans and a decent shirt. I loved this part of the job. All I needed to do and see how the photo shoots were going, check the pictures from a previous one decide which ones to go with and then I was done. The build up was a different story, that involved a lot of work, securing the space, the photographers, the models. Making sure everything was ok and that there weren't going to be any problems. Teresa's still giving me her `What I say goes' look and I'm so not dealing with it right now. "I'll talk to you later tonight ok." I give her a kiss on the cheek before she has a chance to respond. I hate being late, it's a pet peeve and this unconscious fear that something special happens during that space of time. I know it's a little irrational, but it's me. "Lock up before you leave," I call out letting the door close behind me. I take the stairs rather than the elevator. The shoot's half way across town. Hitting the stairs I pull my cell phone hitting Johnny's number. "You're late," he snarls out. He always snarls, his snarl is worse than his bite. He's really a big pussy cat. "Tell me something I don't know, Sherlock. I got held up. Has the shoot started?" "Yes." Someone's in a mood. He's still snarling. "I'll be there in less than fifteen." "You better be." Cue my eye roll. "Stop rolling your eyes." I hate it when he does that. Reaching the bottom I walk out the back way to where my cars parked. I get in and try to make that fifteen minute window. It doesn't take the long to get there. I make it in sixteen minutes. Walking out of the elevator Johnny was there tapping his foot and his watch. It takes real talent to pull that off. I've told him that once or twice before. "What?" Everyone keeps giving me looks that say I should know better. Better about what? "You were supposed to be here to do the meet and greet. People don't want to talk to me, Seth. They rather talk to the big cheese." I stopped looking right at him when he said that. I had to make sure there was no venom in that. "Did you forget to take a pill?" I was being completely serious. Ok not completely, but I was pretty close. That has to count for something. He was dressed in pair of black slacks. I didn't need to guess who they were by. The belt tells me, Prada. The entire outfit was Prada right down to the shoes. Johnny is just about my height and had the stream line look that most people would die to have. We've been friends ever since I started working for LMG, Logan Media Group. "Funny." He wasn't always so serious something's got him ticked. "What happened?" "Nothing. Just my life is falling apart that's all. You know?" Oh shit. I don't have time for Johnny break down. I really don't. It better be something serious. I swear if some bull shit I'm going to kick his ass. "Johnny." The tone was a mix of things. Fifty percent was concern, twenty-five percent represented the stern, ten percent actually drifted to worry. Worry is higher than concern despite their similar nature. At least that's what I believe. Five percent was reserved for the absolute worse and was ready to console and ten percent was there for the oh shit factor. "I might have to dump Dante." Might have to dump Dante?
"What?" He didn't say anything he just pulled me along to where they shots were being done. They hired George Colton to do the shoots. We hired that is. I liked his worked and we've worked with him before. They wanted someone that was fun and willing to take a few risks. Gordon's was looking for something a little on the new side for their catalog. I smiled to George when he saw me. "I know. I know I'm late." I glanced towards Johnny waiting for him to get to the root of things here. I had pictures to sign off on. "Look." George resumed taking a few shoots. It was all test shoots in various scenes. He would basically see what he was working with. Know exactly what he wanted from the models and build the concepts from there. They were doing a fall scene at the moment. Warm sweaters, earth tones, light fabric but thick enough to keep you warm. "And who is the one that's going to replace Dante," I ask him. Just then a pair of guys walk out and I start laughing a little. It's not loud, but it's enough to get two sets of blue eyes turned in our direction. "You are such a freak." I say softly nodding towards Lane and Kyle Carlson. I hired them, because of their appeal and they did great work for Abercrombie and Fitch. I'm surprise we were able to work something out. "You don't understand, Seth. I mean come on. When you weren't here." Johnny started. "You got to touch them," I teased. I was loving it. "I need to catch up." He slipped me a clipboard that contained various papers and budgets that needed to be signed off on and a post it with numbers of the pictures that he that was good. "Go ogle." Smirking I head over to the to the table to look a couple of things over. I hear a frustrated sigh and I keep my mind on my business. Definitely easy on the eyes, but he needs to stop. It's just not going to happen. I mean come on. "You know." My eyes move from the pictures towards George who's loading up film into his camera. "You would look great in front of the camera." "We've had this discussion before, George. Behind the scenes. I'm not model material." "Not what they're looking for, but there's things that you have to offer. Your smile. Your eyes. You're personable. People can appreciate that, Seth." The week after I came to my senses over being dumped I was pretty raw. George loved it. I told him I would crack him over the head with his camera if he tried to take my picture. "Perfect shade of chestnut brown," he said looking at my skin. "Several shades darker than chestnut," I correct him. "Stop trying to milk us for more money, George or I'm going to start negotiating for flat fees on the slim side." He grinned at me and went about his work. I don't know how many pictures that they took, but I know it lasted another two hours. Everyone had packed up. We had the place for another two weeks. No need to break everything down. Johnny kept giving me so many looks that I threatened to tell Dante about his knew `love.' He called me a whore. We're having lunch tomorrow. Walking out I headed towards the elevator listening to George talk about another project that he's working on. "I think you would be interested in this, Seth." "Promoting?" "No, you'd be apart of it. It's different." "George, I told you." He looked at me and I relented. George has to be close to fifty. He's been in the business for a while. He hasn't always done fashion, well that's to say that his work isn't limited to fashion. He's well respected. He has the entire silver fox thing going on with the hair and it works for him. "Go." That's me speak for him to pitch his idea. "You need something more than, this. You need something that you can be proud of." But I am proud of the things I do and he knows it. I know what he means though. "You need to enjoy life. You need." I was going to let him finish until I realize I was missing my cell phone and I left a couple of papers behind. "George..." He looked at me and I fell silent. "I want you to be happy, Seth." I nodded. Happy was entirely different thing. "Let me think about it ok." He seemed satisfied with that as the elevator doors opened. "I need to go back in, left a few things inside. I'll be alright." I let the doors close and headed back to the studio. It was locked on the outside. I pulled out the keys and let myself in making sure that the outside was locked up. Walking across the studio I found my cell phone and papers. I was about to head out when I heard something around the wall, probably one of the models. Walking towards it I was about to tell them I was headed back out, didn't want them getting spooked or anything. Coming around the corner I froze at what I saw. Kyle Carlson stood there with his back to me dropping his towel. I didn't say anything, but heard my foot falls. "Hey Lane." When he turned at waist he stopped talking, but here was a smile on his face. "I thought." I wasn't speaking so that caused him to stop speaking. "I'm sorry." My eyes went down to the floor and I could feel the heat at my cheeks. I wanted to touch them, but that would be really lame. "Just..." "Why," he said in a soft tone. I swear he was closer. "Why what," I answered. "Why are you sorry?" I raised my head up a little and found myself face to face with a set of blue eyes, eyes that were for some reason were staring into my brown ones. "I'm not."
TO BE CONTINUED --------------------------------------------------- What do you think? Feedback and suggestions? remiel78@hotmail.com