I Can Never Be A Man For Him

As I approached his house, was as much as I felt stressed and anxious, I shouldn't have taken the wheel to drive to his home under any circumstances. Still, as usual, my acting faculty always takes over my thinking ability regarding Kenan.

Everything with him often takes an unexpected or unplanned turn. He makes me angry, nervous, happy like a kid, daydreams, distracts, and worries me.

He puts me in a state that asks me to be more careful in everything I do. I have that feeling of exposing my weaknesses to others, but I know I don't have any. My only problem before was that I got caught without accomplishing the goals I set for myself, but now it isn't effortless.

I'm afraid to leave him out of my sight for just a second, and he'll get kidnapped or worse by some ill-intentioned people who are even more twisted in their minds than I am.

I'm afraid that something serious will happen to him that could make him lose his humanity, which is his bright and joyful side. This sensitivity, like no other, makes him cry even if he is not the one who suffers or has suffered an injustice.

I don't want that joy of life, that positivity, to be taken away from him and transformed into something sullen, bitter, foul, and dark. I categorically refuse that something horrible falls on him.

I want him to keep his light, to continue to shine, even if he has no reason to do so, and even if it makes some people around him angry or uncomfortable.

It's not up to them or any man to decide how he should be. He came into the world like this, and the day he will leave, I would like this light to accompany him so that he always remains pretty and attractive in all ways.

I want him to remain and stay this glowing beacon at the end of this frightening and dark tunnel that shows us the way, which lights the way for those like me who cannot even see when it is bright daylight and even less at night.

And for that, I am ready, ready to bend over backward, to move heaven and earth to help him keep it, even if, in the end, I will not be the one who will benefit from it.

After all, he will never be one hundred percent happy with me, and I will never be able to do better than that to keep him comfortable all my life.

Unwittingly, I always hurt him; I don't deserve him. I think somewhere else, there's someone out there who can take better care of his emotions and feelings than me, but for now, I'm content with what I can do to watch over him and let him take from me everything he wants.

But right now, it's only me who can hurt him. No one else has the right to hurt him, make him cry, or abuse him either physically or verbally.

I don't have that right either, but I refuse to see him with someone else. I refuse to have him stay away from me, too, as long as I don't know how to get him away without hurting him so that he doesn't get caught by my demons.

They're going to chase him as they do me, and I won't allow them to touch him. He's mine until he decides he's not.

When I start to think, I say way too many things. I don't even know if I'll be able to keep them all because this time, I'm dealing with a reasoning human being that breathes, talks, and thinks for himself. I don't think I'll be able to treat him like a thing, not to mention that I've never seen him that way, not even the first time I set my eyes on him.

I have this intense need to speed up more and more. It's like something is pushing me to do it. And that feeling that I might be late if I don't speed up is crushing my guts. But why?

And without asking more questions or doing more demonstrations, I sped up. After all, that's what Ewen does to me. Nothing can be programmed in advance with him; I'm more human, I do stupid things, and I do not check or calculate things before doing them. I do them, that's all.

After all, I have decided today to take him back with me since I risk putting his life in danger by arriving unexpectedly at his house as if I were the master of the place.

I don't want to put him in a worse position than he already is with his parents. I'm talking about his father and his grandparents, of course. At the same time, I can't stop poking my nose into his life and turning it upside down just because I hate that he ignored me.

The two of us form a mixture that is not too compatible, the mix of light and darkness, but in some ways completes the other; he is my light, and I am his shadow.

I'm afraid that my darkness won't swallow up his beautiful light. I see how he is when I'm worried and in a trance. I see how sad he is when I do everything to avoid thinking about the things that bother me.

He made me cry, something I hadn't done since I was a child, I had no one to wipe my tears away, to tell me everything was fine, so I stopped crying.

I do everything not to let these things overwhelm me and take control of my life more than they already are, yet he helps me get rid of them without realizing it.

It would be best to cry when you feel like it; it can help sometimes.

It is good to let those tears that blind you flow from time to time. It is not a sign of weakness; on the contrary, the one who dares to get rid of his evils by shedding his tears is much braver than the one who hides and feeds them.

These held-back tears make you vulnerable, and anyone who knows of their existence can use them against you. To let them flow is to mourn and say goodbye to them.

Cody was right. I also think my feelings for him are jumbled up in my head; sometimes, they're out of control, and other times I don't know where I am with them.

Sometimes I know that I love him, and other times I feel that he deserves much more than that, that he deserves better than me, and one day he will go in search of this better than me.

So, when I have these thoughts, what I felt for him before dissipating leaves me almost bitter. It's a real rollercoaster, and I'm not fond of this damn feeling at all.

It's not like I want to deny that I like him. It's just... I don't know where I am with all of this... I am torn and confused.

Does this have to do with the lack of love I grew up with? No, I don't think so. I really don't know... Besides, I'm not that broken and in need of love. Nodge did everything with Guenieve to provide me with the emotional comfort I needed, except that I was not very receptive.

And the rings that I bought, the same day I wanted to put them on his finger and, even if he did not agree to wear them, I would have done it. Then, the next day, I told myself I must wait before I did such a thing.

Wanting to chain someone to yourself without even knowing what's going on with you is cruel to the other, and I don't want to be harsh to him. I want to be his best experience and his most beautiful encounter.

That's what I want, so it's better that I leave it to his free will, even if I'm a bit possessive and selfish when it comes to him.

See that; I giggled nervously... It's not me thinking these things at all, yet they're in my head. No matter what I do to keep him away from me in the future, this boy will remain etched in my flesh like a fire imprint.

He already put his stamp on me; he's marked me even though I don't know how to admit it, even though he doesn't know it yet.

He'll call me when he's ready. I'm not going to impose myself on him and put him in a bad situation because of my selfishness. So it's time for me to stop this damn car and turn around; it's time to return home, Aim.

I stopped at the side of the road, put my head on the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. After a few minutes of calming my nerves, I changed my thoughts to the right frequency and changed direction.

I was the one who started all this, so I'm going to be patient; if he comes back, it will be a good thing, and if he doesn't come back, too bad.

After all, I can't afford to keep a person who somehow killed my beloved parents around me. They were the only people I cared about in the world.

*****************************

Amazement, disgust, anger, and rage are the states in which these people find themselves who have all turned to me, and what they have in front of them was not very pleasant at all for them.

According to the stories I've read and research on boy-boy relationships, girls are most often the most interested and the easiest to like these stories.

There are even those who can't look at two boys walking side by side without visualizing them together, lovey-dovey, doing all kinds of nasty things to each other, and they also write novels about it.

But what I'm reading on Zack's sisters' faces is shockingly sickening and unsettling.

If only I hadn't dressed in front of a large, rococo-style ceremonial mirror from Napoleon III, I would have started running like a madman in defiance of myself to go and change immediately and, above all, buried myself in a grave and hide so as not to come back here again.

But not only has my mirror always been very faithful to me but there are also those I passed before throughout my journey to lead me here. They all sent me back the same image, so what I see on their faces right now is just a representation of their soul, nothing more, because I'm not a disgusting piece of shit.

A moment of amazement passes when my parents and Zack's parents, including Zack, realize that the very person standing on this porch is me. They start spitting out their wine, cocktail, mimosa, or whatever the drink they are drinking. Only my mother remained zen.

It's as if she knew I would do something like this. It's as if she had foreseen my future nonsense. And that doesn't reassure me at all. I prefer to see her upset by my actions instead of playing her Buddha that nothing disturbs.

So I would know that I hurt her, disappointed her, or went too far and that I gave her a low blow, but no, she is doing exactly what I did not expect. Which means nothing...

Moreover, I have just put water in the new flame of her relationship with my father; I have just fucked everything up, and she expresses nothing; she lets nothing appear, which is disturbing.

Yet she is the only person whose emotions matter to me right now and no one else.

The twins started squealing. It was their playground, where gossip and gossip again, only gossip matters, making jokes and tasteless comments about everything around them as long as it does not affect them.

"Fucking hell! Tell me I'm dreaming. Did he dare?"

"Shit, I told you he was a softball, a fag, and a queer. Watch him strut around in his outfit of shame as if he had adorned himself with the most beautiful clothes in the world. "

"Lower your voice a little; his parents will hear you," their mother tells them with a high-pitched laugh. She pretends to want to calm them down, but she tries to push them to say a lot more things. That's always how she acts.

"When I think that our brother is one of those degenerates, ah, I want to drag him through the mud like the shit he is, as he does with his own family."

"I don't care if he smears his family's image. After all, it's only their problem. We just have to sit down to watch the show that's going to unfold. "

"Look at Zack. It looks like he wants to eat him alive." I don't even find him handsome; he just makes me want to puke. I don't think I will be able to eat anything after that. "

"Calm down, Ava, but that's what we're here for." And we are going to eat. Their cooking is better than ours. Wasting all these good little dishes because of this poor lost soul will not help matters. Whether he's disgusted at will, it's his problem; as long as he stays away from us and our show, we don't care. "

"Stop talking about that, and then he's still in the show after all, right? he was not fired. "Nothing or no one could tarnish his image or prevent him from passing this audition."

"Mom, we did what we could to prevent them from calling on him." It's just that it's impossible to get rid of this vermin. "

"So you should have done better than that, like when you go all the way when you go shopping."

I was still perched up there watching them. I witnessed the nuanced differences between annoying and angry expressions that scrolled across their bored and austere faces and other expressions that I felt to grasp the meaning.

My grandfather and his wife must surely know their names, but they are disgusted, which is understandable.

My father is probably saying to himself with this dazed and ridiculous expression that he displays: "This time it's over; he's screwed." He's lost. There's nothing I can do to get him on the right track. I should have known all that by now. Why am I surprised to see him? He is a shame. "

Then there are the sideways glances the twins and their mothers throw at me, thinking they're discreet. I can assure you they're not whispering anything good.

And now I am stuck; I don't know how to move to get down there and step over the few centimeters that separate me from them.

Joining them feels a bit heavy now. I was bursting with pride when I walked out of the house, but now I feel like she's leaving me, but I'm scared to run away. I'm afraid to turn around now.

They will laugh and ridicule me even more. It's like offering them the instruments to torture me on a golden platter.

Why am I scared? Why do I have to feel so crummy and scared? It wasn't what I said and expected. Why do I feel trapped all of a sudden?

If I capitulate now, it will give them satisfaction, telling them that I am giving up and shouting to them that everything they think and say about me is true. I am nothing but trash, good for nothing, a vermin, an error of nature, that I'm just a coward, some kind of fragile thing without any value.

But deep inside, I know it's all wrong, I know who I am, and it has nothing to do with what they think about me... so my fears and my conviction started to fight fiercely inside me.

One tells me to run away from here, while the other tells me I don't have to run away. You have to keep moving forward with your head held high.

I was about to burst into tears as I boiled with anguish and rage under their repulsive and dismissive gaze when I noticed the most unexpected thing in this small crowd gathered not far from me.

Zack's father is jostling him to come to get me, Zack's father beckons him to come to get me. I can't believe that, but "What the heck is going on?" I shouted in my head, which kind of distracted me from my fear and panic.

Indeed, he never treated me the same way as the others; he never expressed his thoughts or opined on what makes me kind of a shame to my peers; he also never interfered in any way with my friendship with Zack.

Apart from the time he took the liberty of buying me a bouquet, which he then gave to Zack so that he could give it to me, during one of our shows, Zack awkwardly told me the bouquet was from his dad because I thought it was weird that he gave me flowers. That's not Zack's style.

His thing is to offer me his unfailing friendship, to worry about me even when he's sleeping, and to support me in everything I do, sometimes accompanying me to my rehearsals.

He used to spend hours waiting for me without complaining, something he would never do for his sisters.

And weirdly, he wasn't with me the two times I was assaulted. The first time he was on a meeting or something with my dad. I don't remember exactly what it was about or any details.

He often does things with my dad because he likes to talk about aviation and stuff, so when my dad buys a new plane, he often goes with him to the place of acquisition for testing, and he has fun doing inventories with him of their stock.

It's not even my father's role; his people do everything for him. He only receives their reports and signs their documents, and he manages the company's problems. Well, that's not anything...

And then the last time, I can say that he was not with me because of me. I could not say anything to my parents or Aim, but there would be no way of leaving the house alone at eight o'clock without a driver or Zack, and I would have done anything to dissuade him. He would still have come with me anyway.

I couldn't get rid of him. It would be with him, or I wouldn't go out; He or nothing. That's Zack's friendship and protection.

This simple gesture gave me faith in myself again. I took a deep breath and drove away from my sobs, which wanted to shame me.

This is not the time to cry, there is no question about it, and I can assure you it's that stupid ass named Aim who made me so emotional that I'm crying so much lately.

Zack jumped at his dad's nudge. He shook his head briskly as if to wake up from his daze. He and his dad were the only ones with that daydreaming expression on their faces. They were stunned, genuinely amazed.

I smiled, and I don't even know how or why I smiled when Zack's mother stopped him by grabbing his arm to prevent him from coming to my rescue.

So I went down the two steps to find myself on the grass. Head held high; I approached the group with a beautiful smile drawn on my face. My behavior disconcerted them even more.

I can touch and embrace their embarrassment materializing in front of me, seeing how daring I am for putting that flirtatious, bewitching smile on my face when they do nothing to encourage me down this path.

And suddenly, I start thinking about Aim's eyes. I wonder what they will be like if he sees me now. I was lost in thought, imagining his eyes and his hands all over my body...

And every time I think of Aim and the things he does to me in his bed, his terrace, his living room, his dining room... I always have this sultry and devastating lewd expression that grips me and my senses.

So I'm not telling you what they should be witnessing now. I feel embarrassed for them and sorry for being a witness to my bitchy side.

Sometimes I'm afraid to think of him in front of a mirror. It's disturbing and alluring at the same time to take a look at myself. I didn't know I could have such a look on my face.

As I came down to earth trying to get this damn Aim out of my mind, I felt my head fly to one side... I felt a sting on my cheek, and I stumbled before coming out of my daydream, bringing my hand to my cheek.

The violent slap I received shook all my lacrimal glands like a earthquake. For a slap, it is quite one... and my tears blinded me instantly, like a stream flowing down a hill.

"How dare he raise his hand in my face in front of all these people?" I growled between clenched teeth.

But my surprise was great when I came face-to-face with my mother. She was standing in front of me with an angry, contorted face, and my grandfather was one step behind her. He was much more enraged than my mother was.

My mother's hands trembled as she tried to keep them under control by twisting them like a child. She bit her lower lips, which must be in agony right now.

So even before I could let my anger out, I tried to analyze the situation. Knowing my mother, she would never have slapped me.

For my mom to arrive before my grandfather, so she had run on her heels in the grass to prevent me from being hit by the latter, who would probably have knocked me out with a big punch.

He sure would have crushed my jaw if he had had time to hit me first with his gorilla arms.

I took two steps in her direction and presented my cheek to her, red and swollen with her fingerprints and palm inked into my flesh. She looked at me and burst into tears, taking me in her arms.

"I'm sorry, my baby; I'm really sorry," she whispered. " I didn't want him to hit you. I'm sorry, my angel. "

"I know, I get it. Don't worry, mom. I'm sorry to put you in such a position."

" You didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to apologize."

"So that's why you rushed to slap him, huh?" The harsh voice of my grandfather rose behind her.

"Dad, leave them alone." She has the right to do what she wants with her child. She is his mother. "

"So you're the one who dares to raise your voice at me to tell me how to raise a son. Did you see what you had as a child?"

"This thing is not even a child. It's just an abomination; how dare you present this thing to me as a grandson? Did you do a paternity test to ensure he is your son? " My grandmother barked at her son hysterically.

"Dad, mom, this time you went too far. I do not doubt this subject. Why would I have done paternity tests on my child?"

"Because it's not yours, fool. Did you examine yourself and this thing afterward? Have you seen the difference between you two and me? First of all, our family has never had such offspring. So, frankly, how can that misshapen disgusting thing be your son? "

" But I have to remind you, you were the one who accompanied my wife to the hospital during the delivery, and you were the very one who told me how much he looked like me when I was born, right?"

"That was something else..." This little reminder surprised him, and he stuttered a little while taking a break before throwing out the dumbest line of his life.

"Who would have thought such a cute baby would become this thing?"

With these last words, he rushed toward my mother, violently snatched me from her arms, and scrapped her to the ground. My mother let out a high-pitched cry as he grabbed her like a piece of shit, as she lost her balance, fighting against her impending fall to keep me out of the gorilla's hands.

He shook me like a rag doll. I feel dizzy as he shakes me eagerly with that rugged grip of his on my arms, which burn like hell.

My dizziness is becoming heavier and unbearable. I usually spin around for hours without being vertiginous.

My mother screamed in desperation, ordering him to let go of me while my father rushed to help and stop her from coming to my rescue before she too fell into the hard and stiff hands of this awful old thing I have as my grandfather.

"Honey, stay calm; otherwise, you too risk suffering the same fate," my father says to my mother, who is struggling like a devil to get out of his embrace.

"Let go of me," she cried. "Let go of my son, you despicable, ruthless monster; get your filthy paws off him."

While my mother tries to get out of my father's embrace, I try somehow to free myself from my grandfather, but it's an impossible mission.

He took me by surprise. I had no time to prepare myself; even if I couldn't do much against his barbarity, but I could try to escape him, at least.

And the rest of the crowd just stood in the background, amused by what was happening.

The twins and their mothers can't stop pecking and nibbling at everything on the menu, like chickens following the roughness of my gorilla grandfather, shaking me with delight.

My grandmother stands guard like a special forces commando, forbidding Zack and his father to take a minor step toward us. While his husband is having his time uprooting me like a lousy weed, my feet lose their firmness, and I become a lifeless toy in his hands.

He has dreamed of doing this for a long time.

He continues to shake me with one hand like an ordinary tie and goes with the other to slap me or crush my head with a punch or worst. Maybe one single punch would not appease his anger, and he'll help himself by going wild.

When I saw his big hand rise higher than his head, I told myself, "If I receive this blow, it is certain that I will not last long."

I closed my eyes so as not to witness what was to follow. I didn't want to witness the final clash that would undoubtedly lead to my death.

I can withstand long hours of intensive rehearsals without feeling tired or idle, but for the blows, I'm not sure I was built to receive any kind of abuse or mistreatment.

I relive the moments spent with Aim that gave me wings. Those moments made me realize how beautiful and paramount I was, how the world and all those people who can't stand my build are stupid and poor in spirit to believe that a boy can't look like me.

My tears started to run down my cheeks. Maybe I'll die here without reconciling with Aim and, above all, without knowing why he didn't want to see me, without knowing if he loved me or if I was just a hobby for him until he found his new toy.

I didn't know I was that fragile; I didn't know some physical violence could make me so hopeless.

Yet I know how to fight; it's just that I've never found myself in a position to fight in a real fight other than training.

It's not like the opportunities were missing; it's just that I'm always at a disadvantage compared to my attackers.

If that blow doesn't kill me on the spot, know that there will be nothing helpful left of me after that. I will no doubt be paralyzed and stuck in a chair for the rest of my life if only I had the opportunity to use a wheelchair, of course.

I may be a vegetable strapped to all kinds of medical devices on a hospital bed to control the little life that remains in my body.

And like magic, the hand that should have crushed me to end this show never came down on me, and my mother stopped screaming at death like a pig being slaughtered without mercy under the ill-sharpened knife of a capricious sadistic butcher.