Stereo Blast Volume 1 [MxM]

Chapter 6.1

Ryan stormed out from Taylor’s house, cursing all the way to the end of the block. He wiped the tears from his face in a quick and rough swipe, accidentally scratching across the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.” He looked down at his hand to see blood on the tip of his fingers. He wiped the blood off onto his pant leg and cursed another time when he tripped on the corner of the street.

He didn’t care where he was going, if he was going the wrong way, or that he’d forgotten his jacket back at Taylor’s. It was better that he was far away from Taylor right now or Ryan might be the one end up killing him tonight. He really couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Taylor thought he would hang with a child rapist or a rapist at all. Things were f****d up in the district and he’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of, but he would never steep that low. Taylor knew that. They both knew each other better than that.

He wanted to believe Taylor was just saying those things because he was angry. But a part of him wondered if Taylor thought he was right if he believed in his own harsh words.

More tears blurred his vision. He sniffled and sat down on the curb of the street.

Back when he was in Nitro, he’d done some f****d up things to survive on the streets. He wasn’t above robbing and slitting a man’s throat if he needed the money. He’d do it even if the man only had a stale sandwich on him. It was all he could do when the Eastcliffs were running the streets and had isolated the subdistrict from the feds, police, and everyone else in Mason. Nitro had been sliced up because a gang had gotten out of control for even the government to handle.

He wiped his face, shaking his head as the memories came back to him.

By the time he hit thirteen, he was too big to hide in the abandon buildings without getting caught. There were people besides the Eastcliffs who lives out there, that’s how the subdistrict had been able to survive. The gang had f****d it up, but it was still functioning. There were men mostly. A few women who were drugged up prostitutes and babies that barely lasted a few months. He’d been the youngest out on the streets.

He’d done what he needed to do.

His hands were shaking. The sobs ripped out from him and he was a gasping mess.

He’d sucked his first d**k for five dollars. Five. Dollars. Men out there had no problem sticking their d**k in a kid. It was probably the best time of their lives and while they got their dreams, Ryan got f****d up in the head.

Ryan searched in his pockets. He pulled out a plastic bag. While Taylor had been out, he’d stopped by the corner to pick up the latest shipment from Tike’s friend. He didn’t know the kid’s name, didn’t care to ask because he’d been too worried about Taylor and what he would do if he found out Taylor had passed out in the street.

Now he wanted it to happen.

The blunt was short and fat. The tip was tinged in a blueish tint. He rolled it between his fingers, holding it up to see the color better. B+. That’s what the guy had said it was.

He lit it up and placed it between his lips. There was a slight hesitance. His eyes looked up and went across the water. This had been where the feds had chased Taylor. The bodies had been cleaned up fast, most like dumped in the water below. Feds were quick to clean up when it was by their hand. Still, they tried to pretend they were protectors and not the pot stirrers.

One puff and the shot went through his body. He shook, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and a pump of adrenaline straight to his heart. It lasted for just a second and he pulled the blunt from his lips, staring down at it. The blue tinge light, glowing back at him, was hauntingly beautiful. He had to force himself to not take another hit. There was a voice, a feeling, that told him to stomp the thing out. This was almost too good. One hit and he was ready to fly the sky.

The minutes rolled by and he thought back to the fight. Taylor had been ready to kill him. If he’d stayed longer, he didn’t know if he and Taylor would have been alright.

Some days, many days, he wondered if it was even worth sticking around. It wasn’t like he could fix Taylor. They weren’t right for each other it seemed. Even after all these years, running with each other, and knowing that Taylor was a good person deep inside, it didn’t seem like it was enough for them to survive. That’s what mattered most around here. Surviving. Ryan had to put himself first. It’s how he survived when the Eastcliffs took over Nitro and it was how he was going to survive here.

Taylor could look out for himself. He knew it, Ryan knew it, everybody in Kitro knew it. But after all these years taking care of Taylor, it was hard to let go.

Ryan stumbled to his feet, clothing the blunt between his fingers. He braced himself against the wall of a crumbling building. The only place he knew he could go was Tike’s. That’s where Taylor and he should have been heading if Taylor wasn’t such a bigot. Taylor knew Tike was gay, knew that he didn’t have a problem with flaunting his sexuality. For some reason, Taylor was fine with Ryan being trans, but if one guy said he liked d**k then the whole world was crumbling.

It was just like Taylor to think like a backwards hick. He was dumb, no good, and just a plain asshole. He questioned why he’d become friends with him in the first place. Had it been out of necessity?

Oh. That’s right. He did anything to survive. Which seemed to also including pretending to be someone’s best friend for a decade.

He walked along the side of the building until he reached the street of Tike’s shop. The sun was waning, just a few hours until sunset. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been out on the street. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been thinking just a second ago. If it was a second ago or if it had been an hour.

The door of the shop was unlocked. He slipped through and at the counter was Tike. He wore a black t-shirt that hung loosely on him and black jeans with a studded belt. It all matched and if Ryan had been sober he might have complimented him. Tike had a sense of fashion that he’d helped inspire Ryan’s own. Much of what Tike wore always rubbed off on Ryan.