Original Fiction >> Romance >> Hawthorne's Heights and Downfalls
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Don't Let The Sun Go
Down On Me...
The daylight was waning faster than usual; or at least to Hawthorne it seemed so. The Converse
sneakers on his feet were battered and torn and the hoodie that was once a maroon was now a stained,
purplish brown. He brushed is black and pink hair back from his face trying to spy anywhere he could
shelter himself for the night. Bayne had promptly kicked him out after he accused Hawthorne of lying
to him, which, in itself, was a lie. Bayne had been lying to Hawthorne. Hawthorne knew this. He'd
known all along.
Bayne only kicked him out when Damion, his star and "unofficial boyfriend" as he so called him, came
over to do a shoot for their newest film. Hawthorne knew the business that Bayne and Damion went
about when he left.
He knew it all.
Hawthorne was jealous of what Bayne and Damion shared. He and Bayne were remarkably close, but he
couldn't find the strength in himself to admit he was gay. Hawthorne was in a state of confusion
over the matter. It was a matter he dicussed little and
thought about even less for fear of finding himself guilty to the sin of homosexuality. He couldn't
Now Bayne was a movie-maker, this few people knew. Bayne never accually told anyone what he did for
a living. Bayne was a pornographer. Bayne was also gay. He and Damion shared a very intimate
relationship and it was when Hathorne met the young star that he discovered his feelings for Bayne.
It was not a bad feeling perhaps, but when Hawthorne thought about his friend in such a way, he felt
that he had done something wrong, like he had committed a crime. It just wasn't that way. Hawthorne
continued to disreguard his feelings. They were wrong, he said. Feelings are never wrong.
The alleyway Hawthorne usually slept in was occupied by a few of the street urchins he'd grown to
hate. It wasn't right to hate them for being homeless, he knew this, but he couldn't help but feel a
hostility toward them. He gave them a haughty look and turned to walk away, to find somewhere else
to sleep, but was swiftly thrown off his feet and onto the ground. He scrambled backward and stared
at the man that had thrown him down, wide-eyed and bewildered. The smile that crept across the man's
face was one of evil. He kicked Hawthorne in the ribs and sides repeatedly. Once, Hawthorne got his
footing back, but he was thrown down again with a punch to the jaw. He ached and he was bleeding and
the man wouldn't stop. No,no, the man wouldn't stop. Hawthorne began to lose his vision, stumbling
around, trying to get away from the man that was so brutally attacking him. He finally lost the
feeling in his limbs and head and fell, almost losing conciousness. The last
thing he remembered was watching the man who attacked him fall and arguing voices.
When he woke, he was surrounded by people he didn't know, staring down at him while he lay in pain
on the cold cement of the alley. A girl, probably about his own age was talking to a police officer
and pointing to him. Her hair was a dark auburn and fell in loose curls to her shoulders and from
what he could see, her eyes were a nice greenish blue. He smiled at her weakly. He tried to sit up
but a splitting pain roared through his skull and he screamed out in frustration. The people began
to disperse and an emergency vehicle pulled up along side the alley. The paramedics raced forward
and slid him onto a stretcher and he was taken to a nearby hospital. He didn't speak but tried to
remember what had happened in the alley. He knew he'd been hit, that was the obvious, but he
couldn't remember why. He groaned as the paramedic in the back of the ambulance with him poked and
prodded all his bruises and broken bones.
"Stop...fucking...touching me..." Hawthorne managed to grumble through his gritted teeth. The
paramedic didn't listen and Hawthorne sighed as he continued to poke him.
The hospital was big, a large building in today's standards, and Hawthorne was wheeled into the
emergency room through a pair of large glass doors with large red X's on them. They placed a mask
over his face and he feel asleep in seconds.
He woke in a small white room. Two doctors were talking quietly outside the door and a nurse was
wheeling a cart of food to a room down the hall. He was aware of a tube running from his nose and a
cast on his right leg. Breathing
was painful. No doubt he had broken a few ribs. A heavyset african-american
woman, probably in her mid 30's, entered his room and her eyes lit up when
she saw him.
"Ah, Mr. Moore. You're awake! There's someone here to see you." Hawthorne looked at her stupidly,
then gave her a thumbs up to give her consent to let them in. He had no idea who even knew he was
there, let alone anyone wanting
to see him. No one really knew him. A girl entered the room, whispering quietly to the nurse who
nodded and smiled, closing the door to his room. A smile crawled across his face, despite his urge
to yell at the top of his
lungs. It was the girl he'd seen when he woke up in the alley.
"H-hi..." She said quietly, "How're you feeling?" Hawthorne was stunned. She was a beautiful girl.
Flawless skin, good body, the whole bit down to her voice. He had that same feeling he'd always had
when he thought about Bayne and he blushed a little thinking about it.
"I've been better. Who are you?" He croaked. His throat was sore and it hurt with every breath he
drew. She smiled and pulled up a chair next to his bed. He loved the color of her eyes...
"I'm Kylie." She said, "I-I saw you in the alley when you were in that fight and I called 911. I
didn't know what else to do. I'm so glad you're alive" So this was who saved him. He was overwhelmed
with admiration for this girl. "Who are you by the way?"
"I'm Hawthorne and thanks for what you did." He whispered. His voice was raspy and he coughed,
wheezing afterword. She handed him a cup of water and he sipped it gratefully. "Hey, when I get
better do you think you'd want to go out for lunch or something with me?" She smiled broadly and
"I-I'd love to."
"I'll pay. It's the least I can do." She smiled.
"Call it a date then?"
Hawthorne's smile was currently plastered to his face, probably making the girl a little
uncomfortable but he really didn't care. Not only did he have a date with Kylie, but he proved to
himself that he did like girls. He had an incredible urge to run around and jump and sing but he
restrained and just sat there, smiling like an idiot.
"I-I'd better go." She stammered. She leaned down and kissed his gingerly on the cheek, stroking his
face momentarily before standing up and grabbing her purse. "Bye, Hawthorne..." She trotted out the
door, a smile on her face as well.
"Bye.." He mumbled. He placed his arms behind his head and leaned back with a smug grin on his face.
He felt the spot on his cheek where'd she'd kissed him and he could still feel her soft lips against
the soft surface of his skin. The fluttering feeling in his stomach wasn't stopping, but he didn't
want it to stop. Could this situation -given he broke some bones and had a tube through his nose-
get any better?
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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.
Please see the Terms of Service for more information.