Male
behind the refrigerator
Seen June 27th, 2011
Posted May 2nd, 2010
22 posts
13.2 Years
Title: will (intended no capitalization)
Author: collie
Rating: PG-16
Warnings: References to homosexual relationships, fundamentalist Christianity is painted in a bad light (please be aware that the type of 'Christianity' in this story is NOT intended to be reflective on most Christians today or their religion), civil/environmental/controversial human rights are discussed in this story between the characters, there is alcohol-consumption but no drug-use so far (if there is, I likely won't post it here). While in later chapters there will be sex scenes, they will not be posted here. All curse words (there are a lot of epithets used in this story) will be censored.
Additional A/N: There are points in this story that you shouldn't be clear about (the report following the prologue, for example). The main character doesn't even figure out much of what's going on until later in the story, and you should feel a bit confused. However, if you feel this is detracting from the story/making you want to just brush it off because it doesn't make any sense (which is completely reasonable), please tell me and offer suggestions on how I can improve~ (You know, the whole regular she-bang.)


PROLOGUE

Stop believing in humanity. Right now. It’s easier to swallow everything that happens, everything that happens to you, when you understand that people don’t actually care. There is no ‘good’ in the hearts of people. We’re all selfish and we can only ever care about our singular survival, alone.

When Erika Lemon first said that to me, I told her I had stopped believing in humanity two years ago. She had laughed and said I was a dirty liar. It was the kindest name she could give me, far sweeter than ‘dirty ***’ as she had a tendency to call me in close company.

She told me that my eyes betrayed me, that the way I carried myself displayed my utter faith in the good of the general populace. And she laughed at that faith, a faith I wasn’t aware I had.

But, she told me that every day. Every day I saw her, even when I was in the hospital and it had become painfully obvious from my broken arm to my slashed up legs that humanity was beyond repair, she repeated that one, true statement. Just to remind me.

“Stop believing in humanity, William.”


REPORT ONE

NAME: T’oir Fi’dana
PROJECT NAME: Mercury
AGE (APROXIMATELY): 15
GENDER: Male
SKIN COLOR: White
HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde
EYE COLOR: Blue
HEIGHT: 7 ft 4 in
WEIGHT: 120 lbs
FERAL LEVEL (1-20): 5

LOW-HIGH SYSTEM FOR ALL SCALES
BASED ON 1-50 SCALE
RESISTANCE TO MEDICINE:
47
RESISTANCE TO SICKNESS: 46
RESISTANCE TO WEAPONS: 11
RESISTANCE TO FIRE: 7
RESISTANCE TO PRESSURE: 5

BASED ON 1-10 SCALE
COMPREHENSION OF:
  • SPOKEN LANGUAGE: 8
  • WRITTEN LANGUAGE: 8
  • MATHEMATICS: 8
  • BIOLOGY: 10
  • CHEMISTRY: 10
  • PHYSICS: 9
  • COMPUTERS/TECHNOLOGY: 4

BASED ON 1-100 SCALE
FOOD DEPRIVATION:
31
WATER DEPRIVATION: 10
ISOLATION: 62
BLOOD LOSS: 12
ARID CLIMATES: 15
HUMID CLIMATES: 24
SEA/COSTAL CLIMATES: 44
LIGHT DEPRIVATION: 73
SLEEP DEPRIVATION: 78
COMBATIVE SITUATIONS: 3

NOTES: Partnered with Artemis. Lasted approximately five minutes.

Metal shard located in back, near liver-type organ. No entry wound or cut. Partner was not given any weapons.


1

When I was younger, my father told me about the time when the border had been open. His arms would be hot and safe surrounding me, as we lay in bed together, Mimi smiling in her pained way from the kitchen. He would bend his head close to mine and tell me a story that I could barely imagine, the truth of it darting at the edges of my mind.

“Your papa and I,” he would start every time. All the stories he told always started with, “Your papa and I”. I rustle against him, wondering where papa is, and he squeezes me back in return. “We were just finished with visiting your grandmother. She had finally let me in her house,” he jokes, reminding himself of the old woman who refused to let her son’s lover inside simply because ‘she knew about men like him and no man like him would be touching her son, no not while she was alive’. “And we got to talking. About Mexico. Do you remember Mexico?” he asks, and I shake my head. “That’s okay, you were little. It’s a good place, with water and lots of plants. There’s even an ocean,” he says, thrilled, but I can’t conceive what an ocean is. It’s too far beyond me, though I know it’s a big expanse of water. But I barely know what water is. “And your grandmother wanted to go back to Mexico but she kept saying she couldn’t. And your papa and I, we didn’t know how to tell her. It seemed to us to be the most natural thing to cross over, but to her you still needed papers and certificates and couldn’t be Chicano or they wouldn’t let you back in.”

“But you still need papers,” I protest. He chuckles.

“Not back then. Things were different, Will.” For a moment, he seems lost in himself and the memories, but my fidgeting draws him back. “We tried to tell her, let’s go visit, we’re close enough. She kept saying no. Finally, your papa managed to drag her out the door and into the car. It was a trip, that one. Four hours of an old Chicana griping about her crazy son and his boyfriend. She swore she’d never let me in her house again.

“And then we got to the border, which was only the border because of the little sign saying so, and just drove through.”

“But, the immigration police,” I whimper, fearful that my father had done something terrible. He laughs.

“They didn’t care. We weren’t breaking the laws, Will.” He holds me tight, so tight. Then he goes quiet. He’s thinking of now, when no one crosses the border. We haven’t heard from Mexico in years. No Mexico, no Canada. We were all alone, isolated by big fences and walls and a whole bucket of fear.

“Well, you would be now. You better not let nobody hear that story, Jacob,” Mimi pipes up, wiping her hands on a towel and throwing a scalding look at him. “You let that boy sleep now. You’ve got work soon anyway,” she bites. But her eyes soften as she sees me and she sighs, moving into the kitchen once again.

“You really got through the border?” I ask, hushed so as not to irritate Mimi.

“Everyone got through the border,” he replied, before mussing my hair. “Sleep, Will. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

He always said that, but that night, that one night, he really meant it.

*
“Turn that trash off,” Charlie snaps, throwing a thin washcloth at the television screen. With a plap, it falls against Luke Blair’s bright, white, and obnoxiously pristine face. He’s chattering animatedly with an elderly, equally white woman who nods, encouraged by his advice.

“It’s a testament to the Revolution,” I say snidely. Charlie glares at me but I smile back at him, probably looking like I’m stoned. That’s what everyone at Leana’s says at least: my big dopey smile, my never really open eyes, and the fact that I just don’t give a **** about anything. Charlie just growls at the tv again. Of course, I know what his problem is. I just don’t get the problem.

“That wasn’t a Revolution,” he says, his voice deepening with hatred. I shrug. “Of course, you’re too young to know about real revolution.”

“Ah, shut it, Charlie. Give me another beer, man. Last night was…whoo,” I exhale, shaking my head and eying the ceiling. Somebody taps the tv and switches it to another channel, but Blair’s just consoling a young gay man who’s lost his lover.

“What you have to know, what you have to know,” Blair starts, letting his eyes bore into the young mans. Of course, the boy’s white. Whiter than anyone around me is, but we’re just blobs of black and deep gray. Even most of the people who should be white go gray with the dirt floating around the city. “Is that this will be okay. There’s a reason this happened. God wanted to save you. Save you. Can you feel Him? He’s trying to save you from Satan. Satan’s led you down a path of sin, and God wants you to come back from it.”

A collective groan escapes everyone in the bar, and with a hiss the tv flickers off. I just shake my head and take a swig of the piss-like alcohol Charlie serves.

Sending one last glower at the tv, Charlie turns his full attention back at me and raises one perfect eyebrow.

“Last night? What, they doing raids in the student buildings again?” he nods at me. I shrug an affirmation and yawn, having been up the better part of the night. Charlie lets out a huge sigh, and before I know it his hands are rubbing my cheeks and his light, light gray eyes are staring into my own black ones. “Ah, William.” He doesn’t say anything more. I know what he means, of course. At times like this, it’s good to have the contact. The weird warmth of another human being, their skin rubbing against yours. Grimacing, he pulls away.

“I thought they’d stopped with the raids.”

“Nah. I think someone caught wind of Raphael sneaking girls in, but it’s good Sandy wasn’t there,” I say, referencing my part time boyfriend. Charlie nods firmly.

“Where is he?”

“California. Near the ocean,” I say, but Charlie just laughs and rounds the counter to pick up the tossed towel. His laugh is taunting, false. I sigh, knowing he’s going on another of his rants.

“Like **** he’s near the ocean, William. Nobody is near that ocean,” he points the towel at me as he talks, trying to accentuate his position but only succeeding in making my shoulders shudder in humor. His eyes narrow. “I’m serious, William. Why do they take people to the ocean? To off ‘em. You better hope Sandy isn’t anywhere neared that ****** water.” With a huge sigh, I turn to him and frown.

“Chill,” I demand. Charlie just eyes me up, from my white jeans to my white shirt, all striking against my black skin. After a few moments, most of which he spends analyzing my cheekbones and big lips, he shakes his head and comes back to the bar.

“Where is Sandy, really?”

“Cali. Hunting down alien tracks, like usual,” I say, leaning my torso onto the counter and sipping the beer dejectedly. Charlie knows right how to knock my blasé attitude into the danger zone; mention Sandy, and I’m pissed. On the good days I just act normal, but now Charlie’s making me remember things that shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t affect me.

“Oh. You mean actually doing something,” he comments. I clench my beer.

“Shut it, man. I do ****” I say. I take another swig but Charlie yanks the beer from my hands when I bring it down.

“Exactly. You’re doing ****, he’s doing something.”

“Aw, **** you man. Lemme have my beer,” I groan, trying to cover up my irritation, my growing frustration, with drunkenness and whines. Charlie just tosses it in the sink with a loud kerchang. I stare longingly after it. He just shoves his face into mine. With an eye roll, I back up. If he keeps up the old revolutionary talk, I’m going to tear out of this place like a bat out of hell. “Dude, what the ****?”

“Don’t you think you have an obligation?” he starts. Unable to help it, my mouth opens in a gape. “If not to yourself, to Sandy.”

“Sandy’s a prick—“ I start, but Charlie just gets in my face even more.

“You’re gay, William. You know what that means now? You’ve gotta fight for yourself. Sandy’s out there fighting, why not you?”

“Dude, Sandy’s fighting for a bunch of friggin’ Skinnies,” I retort, and a few dirty glances from the other people in the bar hit me. I bite my cheek. Okay, it was rude to call the aliens Skinny, but all of their pictures in the paper don’t exactly make them look attractive. I doubt they weigh more than an anorexic *****. There’s rumors that the Skinnies are being put under testing, being abused, the usual banter from the underground radio that Charlie plays on the safe days. A part of me blames him, blames the radio for dragging Sandy into all that revolutionist crap.

“Sandy isn’t fighting for no ****.”

“Hey!” a few people shout at me, their voices sharp with hurt. I shrug.

“He isn’t.”

“You’re right, he isn’t,” Charlie growls. “He’s fighting for something bigger. More than you’ve ever done.”

I shove my chair from the bar and swing off it, flipping the bartender off as I go. He just sighs.

“William,” he starts.

“Piss off, Charles. I gotta get back to the dorms before the raids start, or they’ll kick me out.”

“What if they test you?” a female voice, loud and commanding, calls. I almost stop in my tracks, but my stronger half lets me shove the door of the bar open and invite the biting chill of winter inside the room and inside me.

“Nah. Raphael’s got my back,” I reply, before stepping out and letting the door close behind me.

Only to heart it open again seconds later. A warm hand falls on my shoulder. I want to punch Charlie, for his coming out here and chasing me down just because I don’t give a **** about his ‘revolution’ or anything like that.

“Dude, would you—“ I start, turning around and about to give him a good kick in the crotch. Instead, dark hair and light gray skin greets my eyes.

“Hi,” the same female voice from before says, her almond shaped eyes crinkling. I just stare at her like the dumb*** I am. “You’re William?”

“Will. Call me Will,” I say. She laughs loudly and takes her hand gingerly from my shoulder.

“No way. You don’t have any will in you,” she snides, making a lame pun. I continue staring at her, but now there’s malice in my eyes and I hope she feels it. Instead, she flips back her long straight hair over her shoulder and dazzles me with a perfect straight smile. Nobody has straight teeth anymore. “You come to Leana’s often?” she inquired. I shrug.

“You chase after gay boys often?” I ask. The question doesn’t have anything to do with anything, which is good. This girl is just another girl, not quite skinny and not quite fat. She was fat once though, I can tell by the way she holds herself with bright confidence. I’ve never been fat, always toned because you can’t be black and not have some muscle. Or at least, you can be black and not have muscle, but then you die. You have to learn to fight fast out here, in society.

She laughs again, tossing her head back.

“Yeah, actually. Gay boys like you make the best companions,” she says, smirking.

“I don’t know what **** you’ve been hanging with, but I sure as **** ain’t nobodies companion,” I spit. I go to Leana’s for a nice beer, some time to think about anything except Sandy, but now I’m just tired. This girl is not worth my time, and I give her my best glare. Then I’m turning around and crunching across the snow and bundling my jacket tighter. I don’t need this **** right now. I don’t need Charlie pestering me, I don’t need this weird chick trying to get a new best friend, and I sure as hell didn’t need Sandy running out on me last week. All I need is to be back on my futon, sleeping off the booze and getting ready for more lectures that I could follow but won’t.

“Hey. Hey, William. Hey, wait! I wanna talk to you!” she yells over the rush of cars on the main road I’ve turned onto.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” I call back, waving her off. Suddenly, her fingers are finding my hands and turning me around, and I’m faced with this stupid girl who thinks she has some right to touch me. I yank away. “Dude,” I warn.

“Just for a second,” she says, smiling weakly. I glare again, almost turning back and leaving towards the University’s dorms but something holds me to her. Her grin gets bigger. “I’m a student at the U, too.”

“Yay,” I deadpan. She falters, a small sigh falling out of her before she slides closer to me.

“I work for the ARA,” she eyes me pointedly as she says this. ARA, ARA…it’s hard to remember all the groups on campus. ARA sounds so familiar though, almost like…

“Alien Rights Advocates…” I breathe. She nods furiously, and I almost smack her across the face before remembering that the ARA didn’t make Sandy leave, Sandy left because Sandy wanted to and because he just couldn’t handle me anymore.

“—all you ever do is sleep through your classes and get piss *** drunk at Leana’s. I’m sick of it, Will! Sick of it! People are out there dying; people like you and me and you don’t give a ****! I’m so tired of being here, stuck under this same sky and suffocated by the same god**** pollution. I’m going to do something, William.”

“Like what? Save a bunch of Skinnies?”

“God**** it, William! They’re not Skinnies! How many friggin’ times have I told…”


I shake my head of the memory and keep my lips pressed tightly together so ARA girl doesn’t get any of the juicy, painful details that all stemmed from when Sandy drifted into their little revolutionary group.

“Yep, alien rights. Sandy was big on them,” she informs me. As if I need her to tell me about my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. I have to remember he’s my ex-boyfriend, or else the facts will get all jumbled in my head and I’ll end up calling him in a drunken stupor again. Instead of dwelling on him, I nod and put on my plastic sympathetic look.

She takes the bait, her eyes lighting up.

“You are too, aren’t you? Sandy, he talked about you a bit. And Erika sure thinks you’d be a great advocate!”

Grace is not my friend. I slip, gaping and spluttering, and crash to the sidewalk in a heap of limbs. Even when the girl leans down and exclaims a few worried gasps I’m trying to untangle my tongue and concoct a proper sentence. My head keeps shaking back and forth.

“Ooh, that was quite a fall. I didn’t tell you to kill him, Jessie,” comes another female voice. I groan, continuing to try to orient myself. Snow flutters down to me, coating me in cold wet goo, and with a firm blink I’m staring up into the whitest eyes I’ve ever seen. And my blood boils.

Erika Lemon.

-~-

I hope you enjoyed this little...bit of story. There's more chapters to come...
so...prom. -Axel
don't you dare say that dirty word. ever again. -Roxas