The False House Ch. 01

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Two addicts connect.
1.8k words
4.53
10.6k
9

Part 1 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 05/30/2015
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JT_Thatch
JT_Thatch
20 Followers

The False House

I've spent the past year now sitting in the same chair, seeing the same slur of familiar faces and listening to the same old man remind us all about how much we've fucked up our lives. "But don't worry," he says, "there's still hope." The look of complete apathy we always wore would beg to differ—it's not like any of us chose to be here.

I started smoking weed when I was probably fourteen. And that was fine for quite some time. But with your father dead and your mother constantly working at the hospital, you get . . . bored. And I got bored. So when I was nineteen or so, I used some of the money Mom always had lying around the house and decided to buy some of the little green pills all the junkies at school were selling. It turned out to be oxycodone, and I got hooked pretty fast. As the story goes with every worthless pill head, I fell into some bad habits. I'm twenty-three now, and about a year ago I got into trouble with the law. Long story made short, I was forced into mandatory drug counseling with a bunch of assholes here for the same reason. It's been a fate maybe worse than prison.

So just like I do every Thursday afternoon, I lazily fall into the chair I claimed as my own. I watch them all file in, slouching and sluggish—and probably fucked up on drugs. The therapist, Mr. Murphy, sits at the head of the circle and takes his sweet time fixing his tie and sipping his Coke.

"Alright," he clears his throat and adjusts his little, round glasses. "We have a new body present today."

I didn't even notice a different face; apparently none of us did because we are all scanning the circle for fresh meat.

"You know who you are—tell us your name."

"My name's Jesse," he says.

A deep voice to the right of me makes me yank my head in its direction. Jesse. He looks nice enough—golden-green eyes and pouty lips. I can't help but smirk. He just looks too young and too innocent to do anything wrong—much less drugs. His hair was messy atop his head; not sure if he knew it or not but the lazy look makes the ladies loco. There's really just something about this guy that I can't put my finger on—his aura exudes an accidental arrogance that masks what can only be described as complete and utter chaos.

"How old are you, Jesse, and what is your addiction?"

There's a nonchalant shrug and a grin. "I'm twenty-one, and I'm addicted to a lot of drugs. The one I'm here for, though, is Klonopin."

"Okay," Murphy says without even looking away from his notepad, "let's get on with our day, shall we? How can we channel our desires to get high into something productive?" He sweeps his eyes around the room from above his glasses. "Anybody? No? Okay. How about you Roman? What would you suggest?"

He has a tendency to pick on me because I have a tendency to keep quiet. Lazy, though, they may be, the others still display an impressive amount of effort. They must really want to change—I, on the other hand, could not care less. I let out a deliberately exasperated sigh. "I don't know, Murph."

"You know, Roman," he says in his condescending tone, "you will stay with me until I tell the judge you are fit to leave." With that, he moves on to claim his next victim. So I dozed off for the next two hours, occasionally glancing at the new guy to see if he hated this as much as I did. He didn't seem to mind it, although he kept his lips sealed when addressed. It looked like he was listening intently, but just did not want to contribute in any way. Fair enough.

When Mr. Murphy dismissed us, I casually caught up to Jesse. I was a bit taken by the fact that as I'm walking next to him, he looks right at me and doesn't acknowledge my presence. I quickly gather my wits and stick out a hand. "I'm Roman."

He flashes me a thousand-watt smile that made his eyes just shine. I was again taken aback by him, but this time it was at how genuine and natural he seemed—this guy was an enigma. Taking my hand, he gives it a sturdy shake. "I'm Jesse, it's nice to meet you." With that, he gives my shoulder a friendly smack and continues walking.

"Never seen you in the area before. You new to the city?"

He gave me the same nonchalant shrug and grin. "Lincoln's a big city."

I wouldn't say he is uninterested and that's why he's so short. It was more like . . . I don't know. Like maybe he really just didn't have much to say. "Well, listen. I'm having a party tonight. You could stop by."

"That's cool. I'll give you my number and you can text me time and place, alright, man?"

I whipped out my phone and keyed in his digits before we went our separate ways. As I said earlier, my mom was almost never home. Being an only child, I get away with pretty much anything. That's what is so good about having tons of money and a big, empty house: I get to do whatever the hell I want to.

. . . .

Mom was going to be gone for two weeks to attend some medical conference in Boston, so I've decided to throw down a bit while she's gone. Our house is pretty secluded, so the noise issue is never really an issue. It's mostly just the bored rich kids from the neighborhood and my "no-good rotten friends" that show up—although the only difference between the two groups is wealth. And, of course, they bring their friends and so on and so forth. So as you can imagine, it can get quite crowded.

However, it was 10:00 and I saw no sign of my new friend Jesse in the haze of faces. I hate to lose my cool and admit it, but I'm a little disappointed. He gives off a vibe of confidence that I suppose I like and walks with a swagger that lets you know he's got it going on but doesn't care, and maybe doesn't even realize it. I can't say for sure why but I definitely want in on that.

Another two hours go by before I feel a tap on my shoulder. "You're quite popular." I turn around to see him smiling at me.

"Have trouble finding the place?"

Taking a swig of Dr. Pepper, he shook his head. "I've been in the neighborhood before. I had a friend that lived here."

I'm mighty impressed by the fact that he knew what kind of neighborhood I lived in and, without knowing what kind of guy I was, still came dressed in Adidas Daily Vulcs and a black pullover hoodie. He doesn't at all even seem phased by the glittering girls or the boys in Abercrombie, and wasn't marveling at the size of my house.

"Let me get you a beer."

Before I could move an inch he nodded. "I don't drink."

I feel bad, I really do. But all I could do was laugh, assuming he was joking. He kept a straight face, however, so I just smiled in bewilderment. "An addict that doesn't drink? How do you get that?"

There's that nonchalant shrug and grin. "Tastes like fucking ass."

The blatant nature of Jesse's comment leaves me cackling. So intrigued by him, I lead him outside by the pool. The music is still very audible and there are still tons of people around, but at least out here I can actually have a conversation with the guy. We sit at the table across from each other and shoot the shit. It's a completely natural conversation, but I have to ask. "You seem absolutely harmless and totally laid back. How in the fuck did you of all people end up in drug therapy?"

He laughs and sips his Dr. Pepper again. "Probably the same way you did." He sees I'm expecting more, so he playfully rolls his eyes and continues. "So, maybe a month ago I'm just doing my thing. I'm fucked up on Klonopin and shit, right? I get into this huge argument with my boyfriend and we split up. I'm a mess, you know? I—"

"You're gay?" I'm not sure why, but I'm just shocked. I guess I have this stereotypical image in my head of what gay is. Deep voice and masculine don't usually fit the type. Realistically, though, I can't be too shocked—I only met this guy earlier today. But being as I'm so captivated by him for some unknown reason, hearing that he's gay takes me by surprise a bit more than it probably normally would.

His smile is huge, shamelessly flashing those pearly whites. "I'm so fucking gay."

I laugh it off and leave it alone. It doesn't bother me at all. I've never personally known someone gay, except for students at high school. I never avoided them or anything—but I just never saw myself fitting in with them. Call me ignorant, and that's okay. I just never in a million years would have suspected him. Even more so, I never saw myself being curious about what it would be like to kiss another dude. But I just can't help but wonder, as I'm watching his mouth move while he talks and smiles. He is very, very attractive for a guy.

We continue talking for what feels like forever, and I have to say the guy is incredible. When he finally decided to go home, I looked around and there was really nobody left. And that has never happened to me before. At my own parties especially, I'm talking to everyone and doing dumb shit to get laughs and impress my buddies. But tonight I spent all my attention on Jesse. I'm excited, but mostly scared, to say my interest in him is different than I've felt for other guys—and even most girls. It's something . . . deeper. You know? It isn't just one thing, or a superficial thing. He as a whole is different than anyone I have ever known.

I can't help but be drawn to his brilliant personality. And maybe I've just never met someone before that I think is brilliant. So my excitement could just be my mind appreciating the fact that he isn't just like everyone else. But I can't shake the feeling that it's more than just appreciation. Only time will tell.

....

Clearly just the first installment. Let me know whether or not you'd be interested in more. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

JT Thatch

JT_Thatch
JT_Thatch
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3 Comments
shirohshirohalmost 9 years ago
keep writing, please

is so good!

I like so much the idea of a straight guy finding himself attracted to a guy.

and the thing with being hooked to drugs, and being a spoiled (or too alone) rich kid, all that is very refreshing and, oh yeah, I want to read more.

I hope all this between Roman and Jesse goes so, SO slow, but its up to you. I hope to find troubles and relapses, and recovery, and love... in the nexts chapters.

luedonluedonalmost 9 years ago
Well-written and intriguing

So where do you go from here? You have classified your story as 'Novels and Novellas' rather than in the gay category, so what you intend to do with the later episodes is intriguing.

D

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 9 years ago

post more pls and make it longer

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