A gay story: The Darkroom Ch. 03 The parking lot was flooded with a hazy artificial orange from the buzzing streetlights when Jeremy burst through the side doors of Wilson Hall. He haphazardly pulled on his pants and Bryan’s shirt then took off running. He didn’t want to go back to his room yet, not while the tears were still hot on his face. So he ran, barefoot, in the opposite direction of home.
The campus was essentially deserted on a late spring Saturday night, so there was no one to see the disheveled, half-dressed young man running across the central lawn, toward nothing but the darkness. He didn’t feel the stones and branches cutting into his feet, didn’t feel the chill, barely saw enough through his tears to avoid falling.
He was furious with Bryan for putting him in that position, furious with Carson for the hateful things he said, but most of all furious with himself, and it was the kind of helpless fury that ate away at him from the inside.
This is what I was afraid of, he thought bitterly. What I have always been afraid of.
He knew better. He had always known he needed to be careful, to make deliberate moves, not these impulsive behaviors that Bryan pushed him into.
That’s not fair, Franken, his rational side told him. He doesn’t push you anywhere you don’t want to go. You’re just mad that you got caught.
Stupid rational side.
He slumped to the ground under one of the oldest trees on campus, out on the edge of the property near the library. The streetlights didn’t reach out far enough to hit him, so he let himself rest in the darkness, the damp earth beneath him.
Even with his blood pounding in his ears and his lungs heaving from his sprint across campus, nothing could distract Jeremy from the image of the girls and that Carson staring at him. Any time he was called on to speak in public or even in a small study group, he usually felt really exposed; this time it was more than a metaphor.
As the adrenaline began to recede, Jeremy became aware of the state of his bare feet. He had suffered a number of small cuts — nothing serious but everything annoying. Now he needed to walk the length of the campus on these tender soles.
He thought about calling Stephan and asking for a rescue, but his phone wasn’t in his pocket. It must have fallen out in the basement, he figured. Then he realized that he’d left everything else behind in his rush out the door — he’d have to go back sometime to retrieve his camera and backpack.
He couldn’t bear the idea of returning to that basement, to those stares and giggles. And the one thing he’d always hidden behind — his camera — was trapped down there.
God, how am I going to face Bryan again? Or any of them?
But when he got back to his dorm room, he saw his missing bags sitting in front of his door, and his cell phone was tucked into one of the pockets. On the dry erase board on the door, there was a new note: “We need to talk. Please. B.”
His heart shimmied; he was grateful to Bryan for taking care of his things, but he was also glad he didn’t have to deal with him in person tonight. He didn’t know how long he had been gone or how long Bryan might have waited for him. He checked his phone — it was past two in the morning. And there were two missed calls showing on the screen.
The room was dark and empty. Stephan must be staying with Lauren again this weekend. Another bullet dodged; he didn’t want to explain himself or even be around another human. He gratefully stepped under a hot shower in the empty communal bathroom and let the spray wash away his exertions and lull him closer to a much-needed sleep.
Jeremy spent all day Sunday in the library, away from his room and phone. He figured Bryan was trying to reach him, but he didn’t want to be found. The basement dwellers were notorious for adamantly not visiting the library if they could help it, so he knew he’d be safe in the third floor stacks.
Returning to his room, he found Stephan lounging on his bed, trying to hide the worried look on his face.
“Your boy has been calling,” he said. “A lot. Didn’t sound that great.”
Jeremy didn’t meet his eyes as he put his books away. “Sorry if he’s been bugging you.”
“He tried your cell, but that rang here, too. Since when do you leave your phone behind?”
“Forgot it,” Jeremy muttered.
“I would have told him where you were,” Stephan continued, “but you didn’t leave a note. Which you usually do. Hell, you leave me a note to tell me you’re going to the bathroom.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “No I don’t.”
“No, you don’t,” Stephan conceded. He moved to stand in front of Jeremy. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No, I don’t,” Jeremy repeated.
Stephan nodded. “Got it. Well, if you ever do, let me know. Breakups can be a bitch, trust me, I know.”
Jeremy’s heart dropped. Breakup? Is that what he had done? Were they broken up? God, he didn’t want to think about that right now. All he knew was he didn’t want to talk to Bryan. Yet.
“If he calls again, I’m still out, okay?”
Stephan patted him once on the back. “Sure thing, buddy.”
Jeremy’s cell phone vibrated four times that evening. He knew he shouldn’t be this way, but he couldn’t help blaming Bryan for this pain — a physical, wearying ache — that he was suffering.
*****
He didn’t remember the negatives until halfway through his Advanced Algebra class on Monday. He had to cover his gasp with a coughing fit. That would just be the icing, wouldn’t it, he thought. He dashed over to the darkroom right after class to retrieve them.
Again using his back stairs entrance, Jeremy was relieved but not surprised to find the room empty. Unfortunately, so was the drying closet where his negatives should have been hanging.
His helpless frustration nearly choked him. He tried so hard to be careful, to keep everything he could under control, and now it seemed to be unraveling, one maddening piece at a time. Jeremy angrily kicked the battered metal closet just to hear it clang.
“Watch it, freshman. I will make sure you replace anything you break.” Carson, of all damn people in the world, was suddenly standing behind him.
Jeremy spun around, his breath coming hot and feverish out of his mouth. “You gonna tattle on me, Carson? Dust the cabinet for footprints?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve left more evidence down here than footprints.”
Jeremy started. Did Carson get ahold of the negatives? Is that what he meant?
Carson looked at the floor and grimaced. “I don’t even want to think of the fluids that CSI would find down here.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Jeremy ground out.
“I was coming out of the bathroom and saw you sneaking around the corner. Were you hiding something in here, Franken?
“That’s not really your business, Carson,” Jeremy muttered.
“Oh, it’s completely my business,” he replied. “Pretty soon, everything down here will be my business.”
“Did they make you dean of the J school or something?”
“Ivy interviews are on Friday,” Carson huffed. “And after Bryan’s little stunt down here, there’s no way they’re going to make him editor. Thanks to you.”
Jeremy felt his face burn with fury, with helplessness and with the truth of that last part. If Bryan lost out on editor, it would be partially his fault. He felt guilt begin to overtake his blaming of Bryan.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” Carson continued. “Your timing was perfect. If he’d pulled this crap with one of his boy toys earlier in the year, he probably could have gotten around it.”
That was enough. Jeremy didn’t want to listen to another nasally word. He grabbed his backpack and moved toward the door.
“I hope it was worth it, kid. Nobody is ever going to take you seriously down here again.”
That stopped Jeremy in his tracks. Tears stung at his eyes, but he fought them back. He would not cry in front of this jackass.
“When I’m editor — and believe me, that’s pretty much in the bag — we’re going to have standards on the Ivy,” Carson announced. “I only want to work with the best. And you’ve shown that you are willing to fuck away your career just for the thrill of it.”
Jeremy was choking on all the words he wanted to throw at him, but none of them made it past his closed throat.
“And for what?” Carson scoffed. “For Bryan Ross? I’d generously call him a ladies’ man, but we both know that’s not his style.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Jeremy replied shakily over his shoulder. He refused to turn around.
“I’ve been around a hell of a lot longer than you, freshman,” Carson snarled. “Everyone knows Bryan plays the field. You’re not the first, and I doubt very much you’ll be the last. You’re probably just the most convenient.”
Jeremy flinched. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that Bryan wasn’t that way with him. But the reality of their relationship censored his words. They’d only been together about a month, and he didn’t really know anything of what Bryan was like before they met.
He had to say something. “It’s not like that.” Not for me, anyway.
“God, you can’t even face me when you say that. You fags are all alike,” Carson sneered. “You’ll fuck whatever moves, won’t you? God knows Bryan has.”
If he stayed any longer, Jeremy was going to break this guy’s nose. And you just know he’d sue me or something. Without another word, he slammed open the door and took off.
*****
That disastrous encounter with Carson sunk Jeremy deeper into his funk. He went to class, not hearing a word the professors said, and spent the rest of his time sleeping or moping. He hadn’t shot anything since last week — the longest he’d ever gone without using his camera.
Finally, Stephan had enough.
“OK,” he announced, bursting into the room. “It’s time to talk, Jeremy. I’ve been exceptionally patient — saint-worthy, really. But I want my roommate back.”
Jeremy smiled wanly. “Back? I’ve never been here so much.”
“In body. Your soul is long gone. We need to fetch it. Now.”
Jeremy ran his hand over his face. “I know I’ve been a little down, Steph. I’m just trying to work through things.”
“And I’m here to help. That requires out-loud words, not all this painful brooding.”
Jeremy snorted. “I thought one of the benefits of being guys is that we don’t have to talk about our feelings.”
“Pretty sure there’s a gay exception to that rule,” Stephan said, his tongue poking comically into his cheek.
“Fuck you,” Jeremy said without venom, flinging a pillow at Stephan’s head.
“There we go. He’s coming back.” Stephan plopped down on the bed, jostling Jeremy’s reclining body.
Jeremy just looked at him, wondering if stubborn silence would deter Stephan from his mission.
“Out-loud words, Jer,” he said kindly. “It’s the only cure.”
Jeremy scooted up and leaned against his headboard. “I think I’ve fucked everything up,” he began. Then he told him everything, reliving the mortifying scene in the darkroom, the infuriating meeting with Carson, and every thought that had been torturing his waking hours.
“This probably sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? Worrying so much about this shit?” The tears on his face overwhelmed his hand’s ability to wipe them away. Stephan tossed him a box of tissues.
“Not pathetic at all,” Stephan said. “I can totally see why you’re so twisted up about this. It’s about your resume, essentially. You’re afraid you’ve sabotaged it. I’d be freaking out, too.”
“Oh God,” Jeremy wailed and buried his face into his hands. “I thought I was overreacting!”
Stephan winced and repositioned himself on the bed. “No, I didn’t mean that. Gaaarrrgh, I’m not good at this.” He pulled Jeremy’s face up. “Remember, we’re in college. We’re allowed to fuck up. It’s expected. You are, officially, overreacting. I’m just saying I probably would too. Because I can be a little quick to freak out.”
Jeremy breathed deeply, shakily, trying to control himself.
“God, I just feel so stupid, crying over this. I know it’s not the end of the world, but I wanted to fit in down there. Now all they’re going to see is the little fag who got caught fucking in the darkroom. I’ll be a joke.”
The silence hung between them, as Stephan didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make things worse.
“Right.” Stephan slapped his legs decidedly. “We need alcohol for the next step.”
“We’re about two years short of that. I don’t need a Minor in Possession on top of everything else, thanks.”
“Oh, live a little, roomie!”
“I did.” Jeremy gestured toward himself. “Observe where it got me.”
“Come on,” Stephan implored. “I can get a couple of the older guys in my fraternity to buy for us.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t think beer is the answer here, Steph.”
“Who said anything about beer? Beer is for football and other joyous occasions. This is a cheap wine night.”
Jeremy studied him with narrowed eyes. “Wine? Weepy roommates require wine?”
“Trust me, nothing gets you drunker quicker than a couple of bottles of Two Buck Chuck.”
“You realize that it’s Wednesday,” Jeremy said.
“Yup.”
“A school night.”
“Yup.”
“I have class at 9:15 tomorrow.”
“Yup.”
“This doesn’t bother you.”
“Nope.”
Jeremy sighed, nearly defeated. “We’re in deep shit if we get caught with it in the dorm,” he warned.
“That’s why we’re going to Lauren’s apartment.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Oh Christ. You’re going to pass me off to your girlfriend so I don’t cry all over your shoulder.”
“No!” Stephan squeaked, indignant. “Yes,” he immediately relented. “But only because she’s a really good listener. My shoulder is still available for crying on. Metaphorical crying, preferably. Cause you’re kinda all snot-leaky right now.”
Jeremy flung his other pillow at Stephan.
As it turned out, it took fully three bottles of the two dollar wine before the cloudy buzzing drowned out everything else in Jeremy’s head. Every step was a roller coaster ride, dizzy and exhilarating.
Lauren was as good as Stephan said. She literally gave him her shoulder to lean on during his second drunken retelling of his troubles. She was appropriately pissed at Carson, pledging her eternal hatred of the man and planning cruel acts of retaliation.
“You know, we should go over to Sin City and tell Bryan…” she started.
“No!” Jeremy interrupted. “Can’t see him. Can’t tell him,” he mumbled unsteadily. “Miss him.”
“Oh honey,” Lauren said sadly.
“Ruined everything,” Jeremy slurred. “My fault.” He stood and swayed dangerously. “Can’t … worse.”
Lauren stood to steady him. “You better get him home, baby,” she told Stephan.
“This ought to be entertaining.” Stephan slung Jeremy’s limp arm over his shoulder. “If Campus Safety or Jake the Evil RA asks, you’re sick and about to vomit on their shoes. That usually works.”
During the car ride back to campus, Jeremy kept up a shaky litany of self-blame.
“Are you in love with Lauren?” he asked suddenly.
Stephan considered it. “I think so. I haven’t told her or anything. I want to know I love her before I say it, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy drawled. “Too soon is bad. Embarrassing. What if, you know, silly … and stuff.”
“Yeah, silly and stuff is a problem,” Stephan laughed lightly.
Jeremy didn’t provide much help getting back to their room. He decided he could have happily slept under any tree they passed along the way, and said as much. Stephan kept tugging him to the front entrance but stopped just short of the door.
“Oh shit,” Stephan murmured.
“Sorry, roomie,” Jeremy trilled. “I’ll help more. I’m all helpfully.”
“Jeremy?” said another voice.
“I don’t feel well, officer,” Jeremy automatically announced. “I’m about to vomit on your shoes.”
He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. Not Campus Safety, and definitely not Jake the Evil RA. Long fingers, warm palm — he could feel the tingle through his shirt that his touch always caused.
He looked up and found sad brown eyes. He couldn’t stop the silly smile that spread over his face.
“Are you serious about the vomiting?” Bryan said. “Cuz I was waiting to talk to you, but I can reschedule if there’s going to be vomiting.”
“We’ve been drowning sorrows in the time-honored tradition,” Stephan said, a little out of breath.
“Two Buck Chuck is very potent,” Jeremy said solemnly.
“Let me give you a hand,” Bryan said, bolstering Jeremy’s sagging side.
“Want so much more than a hand,” Jeremy sighed.
The two of them slowly maneuvered Jeremy inside and up the stairs. Jeremy was floating on the high-powered buzz the cheap wine had given him.
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Do you know something? This is the first time I’ve ever been drunk!”
“I believe it,” Stephan grunted under the inert weight pressing on his shoulder. “But I give you high marks for your first attempt.”
“So did Bryan,” Jeremy laughed. Bryan cleared his throat and readjusted his backpack as Jeremy continued to find himself hilarious.
“Hell,” Jeremy continued, “I still haven’t ever had any beer. This was seriously the first liquor of my life.” He stopped walking suddenly, bring the others to a jerky halt. “Wow, am I pathetic.”
“Do you mean that you’ve had an older boyfriend for the last month and he never bought you booze?” Stephan asked, incredulous.
Jeremy snorted. “As if he needed booze to get me into bed.” He lolled his head toward Bryan. “Just needed to look at me the right way. Smile at me, that mouth.” He swerved back to Stephan. “Have you seen him smile? I mean, really seen him?”
“Not lately,” Stephan said grimly, still trying to get his roommate to their door.
“Mmmm, that mouth,” Jeremy cooed, low and gravely. “The things he can do with — oh, but that’s details, sorry Steph. Noooooo details about mouths and boy things. Nope. Noooooo details.”
Even as drunk as he was, Jeremy found it odd that Bryan remained curiously quiet this whole time. Normally, Bryan did the lion’s share of their communicating; Jeremy was content to simply observe and listen. Well, not tonight.
Stephan let Jeremy hang exclusively from Bryan while he unlocked their door. “Here we go, buddy.” He tried to reposition himself to help Jeremy inside.
“I’ve got him,” Bryan said.
“From day one,” Jeremy said with his face muffled in Bryan’s chest. “Got me good.”
Bryan briefly caressed the back of Jeremy’s head, and Jeremy leaned into the touch.
“Got me too, babe,” Bryan whispered.
“Come on, roomie.” Stephan tugged Jeremy away and steadied him in his extended fall onto the bed.
“Oooh, dizzy!” Jeremy exclaimed as he experienced his first bed spin.
“Let me help.” Bryan pulled off Jeremy’s sneakers as Stephan eased off the shirt.
“Yeah, Bryan likes to do the unwrapping,” Jeremy giggled.
They awkwardly removed all his clothing except the undershirt and briefs. Jeremy felt sleep settle over his humming bones, and he dug under his pillow to find the thing he needed to fall all the way.
“Where is it,” he mumbled, groping under the pillow. He pulled out Bryan’s shirt — the one he had grabbed by mistake during his flight from the darkroom — and snuggled it against his cheek.
“Oh Jeremy,” Bryan whispered.
“God, I’m so pathetic,” Jeremy moaned, his eyes shut tight. “It’s only been a month, and I want to tell him I love him. But that’s insane. I’m convenient.” He sneered the last part, thinking of Carson’s hateful words. “And I ruined everything. Everyone will laugh, and that’s not even the worst part.”
Stephan grimaced, knowing that Jeremy would hate it when he realized later that Bryan was around for this drunken speech.
“The worst part is that Bryan won’t even be in the basement next year. All because of me.”
“That so?” Bryan asked softly.
“Fucking Carson.” Jeremy’s words were muffled by his pillow. “Won’t hire me, hates him. Can’t make it worse. Can’t go back.” He was nearly unconscious, but he felt a warm hand on his head.
“Bryan.” Stephan’s low voice poked through the haze of almost sleep.
Bryan pressed his lips to Jeremy’s temple, and Jeremy felt the warmth recede as Bryan walked away.
*****
People lie about not remembering the stupid things they did when drunk. Because Jeremy remembered everything — every word he said, every moment Bryan was touching him again.
He woke Thursday to his first hangover — and to Stephan’s worried gaze.
“He left those for you,” Stephan said quietly, mindful of the angry drums attacking his roommate’s head.
The missing negatives were sitting on Jeremy’s desk.
“I told him not to call,” Stephan said, causing Jeremy to frown in a painful use of his throbbing face muscles. “You know, give you some time and stuff. You’ll call him when you’re ready.”
Now that I’ve made it worse. Yeah, definitely want to have that conversation.
He couldn’t make himself look at the negatives until the next day. He realized that he probably needed to make a contact sheet and any prints now, while he still had darkroom privileges.
On Friday afternoon, Jeremy slipped down to the darkroom and began making prints of each shot, and each one brought a fresh stab of pain to his heart. They were good. They were happy. They were —
“Hot!”
Jeremy spun around at the woman’s voice behind him. There stood Kelly and Britton, examining the prints drying on the line.
That’s it, he thought. I’m buying a fucking deadbolt and installing it myself.
“Damn, I want to be a gay man,” Kelly groaned. She pulled a dried print closer and caught an eyeful of Bryan barely wrapped in a sheet. “Not that I could put up with Bryan for very long, but damn. Damn.”
“Nice work, kid,” Britton said. “A little more of Ross than I’d like to see, but the composition is cool. Good natural lighting.”
“So, what did you guys need?” Jeremy asked, hoping to dislodge his visitors.
“We were thinking about pulling a Ross down here,” Britton said casually, throwing an arm over Kelly’s shoulder. “You know, leave our mark.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and flushed deep red. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Is that all anybody will ever think about me?” he asked angrily.
“Actually, it has improved my opinion of you, kid,” Britton said.
Jeremy squinted at him. “Fucking in the darkroom is how to get on your good side?” he said flatly.
“I’d been a little worried that you were too timid to make it down here.” Britton peered closer at the prints. “Nope. Not timid.”
“Everybody has a basement story,” Kelly said. “Yours was pretty spectacular, of course, but we all have something. We’ve all been caught.”
“Carson walks in on a lot of sex, is that it?” Jeremy scoffed.
Britton and Kelly simultaneously shuddered. “Oh spare me, St. Elmo,” Britton intoned. “That would have required a ritual sacrifice to cleanse me.”
“Mine was champagne,” Kelly said proudly.
“Huh,” Britton scoffed. “Yours was that Delta Chi asshole who turned out to be a screamer.”
“Aaaand there was champagne involved,” she insisted. “That’s what got me caught. We kind of sprayed it all over and left the darkroom all sticky.”
“From the champagne,” Britton emphasized.
“Yes!” she squeaked. “And, ew, to your implication.”
“Mine was smoking,” Britton said.
Jeremy frowned. “But you smoke all the time. How does that get you in trouble?”
“Apart from the blackened, diseased lungs you’re walking around with,” Kelly added.
“It wasn’t nicotine,” Britton smirked.
Kelly rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t do that at your apartment like everybody else?”
“We were on deadline,” Britton defended. “It was a stressful time in my young life. And we figured the scent of fixer would mask things.”
“Did you set off the smoke alarm or something?” Jeremy asked.
“The janitor came in to empty the trash and caught us.”
“What did they do to you?”
“Turns out Calvin is pretty cool. He joined us for a toke and told us stories about his ugly girlfriend.”
Jeremy shook his head. “That’s your embarrassing basement story? I think I still win this contest.”
“True. You’re definitely in the record books,” Britton agreed.
Jeremy grimaced and ran his hand over his face. “Great. I guess everybody needs someone to laugh at.”
Kelly rubbed his back. “It’s not like that, sweetie.”
“Well, not entirely,” Britton added.
“We all laugh at each other,” she said. “It’s our charm.”
“Our ruthless, take-no-prisoners charm,” Britton clarified.
“Until the champagne incident, I was a just pretty quiet English major who only wrote stories and tried not to speak much.”
“And afterward she was the English major who fucked a really loud Delta Chi.” Britton said.
“You just have to have a sense of humor about it,” she advised. “Because nobody ever lets anything go. Especially when it involves loud D-Chis.”
“Now you’ve got some skin in the game,” Britton said. “We demand our pound of flesh before new people fit in.”
“Oooh, nice Shakespeare reference, shutterboy!” Kelly said.
Britton nuzzled into her neck. “Must be a pretty, quiet English major rubbing off on me.”
This actually made Jeremy feel worse, knowing that he would never feel comfortable in the basement with Carson in charge of anything — even if he now had some skin in it, so to speak.
“I don’t think I’ll be spending much time in the basement, actually,” he muttered.
Britton frowned. “Why the fuck not?”
“Well, Carson said –”
“God, you’ve been listening to Carson?” Britton asked. “Okay, second rule of leadership: Don’t listen to Carson. Ever.”
“But what if they don’t let Bryan become editor? I want to vomit every time I see Carson. I can’t be in the basement if he’s there. Not that he’d let me be down there anyway.”
“First, I think you’re overestimating the power of the editor-in-chief of the Goodman College yearbook,” Britton drawled.
“Second, if Carson gets editor, I think the newspaper will get a lot bigger,” Kelly added. “I’d quit, immediately.”
“You can shoot for anybody,” Britton reminded him. “The yearbook is not the be-all and end-all of photography.”
“And if — IF — Bryan’s not in charge of the Ivy, the Courier will steal him away, just to spite Carson,” Kelly said.
This all made sense. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He let that whining asshole convince him that he’d lost everything in one night.
“God, I feel so stupid,” Jeremy moaned.
“What did Ross say about it?” Britton asked.
Awkward silence. “I haven’t talked to him,” Jeremy said in a small voice.
“Hmmmm.” Britton cocked his head. “Interesting technique.”
“He’s been a wreck since this happened,” Kelly said. “And no wonder, if you’ve been avoiding him.”
“I thought I’d fucked everything up for him,” Jeremy said. “I was going to wait until after the interviews. Figured I should stay out of the way, improve his chances.”
“The interviews are actually right now,” Britton said. “Up in the conference room on the second floor.”
Jeremy’s heart jumped into his throat. Could he do this? He stared at the door for a long moment, deciding.
“Right.” Britton started gathering up the prints, and Kelly collected the negatives and returned them to the sleeves.
“We’ll be right behind you,” she said. “Go.”
*****
Breathless, Jeremy tore around the corner to reach the conference room. He wanted to find Bryan before his interview. He wondered if the committee would let him tell his side before they got to him.
Instead of his boyfriend, he nearly ran into his least favorite person.
“Jesus, freshman,” Carson sneered. “You don’t give up.”
“Where’s Bryan?” Jeremy demanded.
“He’s in there, trying to explain himself. Already had my interview,” he said smugly.
“Then why are you still here?”
Carson narrowed his eyes. “I imagine it will be a quick decision, and I wanted to wait to hear from Quinn in person.”
Quinn. Carson had mentioned that name before. The adviser, maybe? Jeremy could talk to him.
“Where is Quinn? Is his office up here?”
Carson barked a laugh. “God, you don’t know anything, do you? Martha Quinn is a woman, dumbass. She’s the adviser, which means she’s in the interview right now. You’re too late.”
Something inside Jeremy snapped. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him or even if anyone heard him. He was tired of being scared of this asshole, tired of regretting what he had done. Britton was right. Fuck ’em.
“Why do you want this so badly, Carson?” he asked with tightly controlled anger. “You clearly don’t like anyone in the basement — and believe me, I hear that’s mutual. Why do you want this job?”
“Because I’m the best, you moron,” he sneered. “I know how to do this right. Everyone else is just fucking around, literally. This is serious work, this is how we get jobs. I will not have a couple of faggots fuck up my future!” he thundered.
“Oh, I think you’ll do a bang-up job of that all by your lonesome.” Britton and Kelly had appeared behind Jeremy.
“Fuck you, Keith. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Like I’d miss this show,” Britton grinned.
“It’s not your fucking business!”
“And this isn’t YOUR fucking future,” Jeremy said. “It’s a yearbook. It’s fun. It’s about making memories and having a good time doing it. That’s what Bryan told me, and I agree with him.”
“I bet Bryan told you all kinds of things,” Carson simpered.
“Not as much as the bullshit you have,” he countered. “I’m through listening to you.”
“Thatta boy.” Bryan was standing outside the conference room door, watching the scene before him.
“Bryan!” Jeremy rushed over to him. “Can I talk to the interview people? Are they still in there?”
“It’s okay.” Bryan touched his arm hesitantly. “It’s all over.”
Jeremy’s face fell. Carson was right; he was too late.
“That’s a fucking understatement,” Carson said. “You are definitely over.”
“Shut up, Carson!” Bryan, Kelly and Britton shouted in unison.
“Serves you right, preying on freshmen boys, getting your rocks off wherever you can. You should have never started seeing him in the first place. There’s too much of that down here.” Carson looked pointedly at Britton and Kelly.
“Well, that’s just insane,” Bryan snapped. “Do you know how many basement alums have gotten married? You really believe they didn’t sneak down here in the middle of the night to get a little kinky?”
“They weren’t stupid enough to get caught,” Carson sneered.
“They also weren’t gay.” Silence. “Is it worse because we’re gay? Because you walked in on two guys, Carson?”
Carson looked away nervously.
“Or it’s just me, then,” Bryan said. “You don’t hate all gay people, just me? Which is it? Are you homophobic or just Bryanphobic?”
Carson responded with a glare.
“It’s both,” Jeremy said. Bryan moved closer to him.
“Just try and prove it to anyone who matters,” Carson snarled.
“Easy. We just have to wait for you to open your mouth,” Bryan said.
Carson took that the wrong way. “Get the fuck away from me!” He shoved Bryan toward the wall, and Bryan instinctively pushed back.
“As if I would touch you! As if anyone would!” Bryan wrenched Carson’s pale hands away from his own arms.
“That’s enough, boys.” A middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair emerged from the conference room and everyone stepped back from the explosion. “Retreat to your corners, please.”
She turned to Jeremy. “You’re the only face I don’t know in this scene, so you must be Jeremy. With me.” She went down the hall, and He paused only a moment before following her.
He looked back at Bryan as he walked away and tried to tell him everything with his eyes in that split second. But what he had to say would take much longer than that.
Time to stand up for his boyfriend — and himself.
*****
“Ms. Quinn, please let me explain,” Jeremy began.
“It’s just Quinn, actually.” She added her armful of folders to the mountain on her desk and sank into a large office chair.
“Okay. Quinn.” He took a deep breath and dove in. “I know what Carson must have told you, and I know it wasn’t right to do what we did, but –” He ran out of steam. “Please don’t hold this against Bryan,” he finished. “Not because of me. I’ll stay out of student pub if it will help. Just –”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she interrupted.
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“If you think I’m letting an incredibly talented photographer slip away, you’re crazy. It’s bad enough that we’re losing Britton this year. Can’t lose you too.”
“Oh.” Jeremy didn’t know what to say to that. How did she know about his skills?
He plunged back in. “I don’t know if this is coming too late or if there’s anything I can do to help, but it feels like my fault and it would kill me if –”
“Breathe,” Quinn said kindly. “This feels like the end of the world, doesn’t it, kid? Everything does when you’re 19.”
Jeremy swallowed hard. “But he’s not entirely wrong, is he? Carson, I mean. If this happened on a job, we’d both be very fired.”
“True, yes. But this is college. A learning environment. You’re supposed to make mistakes here. And, as mistakes go, yours was kind of innocent, in a way.”
Jeremy snorted lightly. “Didn’t feel that innocent,” he mumbled.
“Oh, kiddo, trust me,” she said. “That’s not the worst thing to go down in that darkroom. You should have been here in ’82 when Connie and Frank and I decided to …” she trailed off. “Well, anyway. Ask one of the editors about that story when you’re 21 and you can go to the Saloon with them.”
Jeremy purposefully ignored the implications of that last statement. “So, what about Bryan?” he asked with hope.
“Bryan’s the best one for the job,” she said. “People like working for him, and I can’t tell you how many people have told me they would quit if we made Carson the editor. That boy is a good journalist, but even the little power he had this year really went to his head.”
Jeremy felt his body melt with relief. He hadn’t ruined things. All the weight pounding on his head and heart this last week flew away, and he could breathe once more.
“That’s not to say we were terribly pleased to hear about your antics downstairs, but I have to think about the health of the publication as a whole.”
Jeremy swallowed, sobering. “Of course. And I’m sorry, officially.”
“Then that’s that. Don’t pull that again. You don’t want to make this a habit.”
No shit, he thought.
“Now, I haven’t told Bryan the news yet, so no spilling,” she said. “This is one of the best parts of my job, telling someone they’re going to be editor. Don’t steal my fun.”
“Of course not,” he promised. But Bryan would know the second he saw his face what he knew. Bryan always seemed to know what he was thinking.
Quinn rose from her desk and steered Jeremy toward the door. “So, what are you applying for? Courier or Ivy?”
Jeremy dropped his head. “I only just started shooting with Britton a few weeks ago. I doubt either of them would hire me.”
She squeezed Jeremy’s arm. “Around here, talent trumps experience, and enthusiasm trumps everything else. If we only hired the really experienced, we’d have a bunch of burnt-out seniors who’d quit by October.”
Now for that other issue, he thought. “Suppose I’d like to work on the yearbook. If Bryan is editor, would I be allowed to do that? I mean, won’t people be mad that I’m dating their boss?”
“You know, if editors didn’t date within the basement, I don’t think they’d ever get laid,” Quinn chuckled. “I trust Bryan, and so do the others. The fact that you’re worried about it tells me you won’t take advantage of things.”
So long as we stay out of the fucking darkroom, he thought.
“But it’s up to you, kiddo. If you’re not comfortable working for your boyfriend, you shouldn’t put yourself in that position.”
Before she opened the door, Quinn turned back to Jeremy.
“Whatever you decide, better figure it out soon. We start picking section editors next week.”
“I don’t actually have to be an editor to shoot, though, right?” he asked, concerned.
“No,” she conceded. “But you’ll get paid a little bit as an editor. And you really should take some ownership down here. Be a shepherd for your photos. Get some skin in the game.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Is that a code around here or something? You’re the second person to tell me those words.”
“Well, like it or not, you’re probably going to be associated with skin for a while,” Quinn grinned.
“Oh Lord,” Jeremy moaned, shaking his head. It was getting easier to find the humor in this bizarre situation of his — especially if even the adviser was teasing him about it.
*****
Bryan was waiting for him as he left Quinn’s office, but before he could speak, Quinn stepped out.
“Bryan, you’re up next,” she announced and held the door open for him.
Jeremy avoided eye contact, knowing he would give everything away. He was dying to meet his eyes, tell him everything was okay, but he had promised Quinn.
He thought about waiting outside her office for Bryan to come out, but right now he just wanted to escape this place after such a charged series of events.
He walked the short distance to Sin City and sat on the concrete step outside Bryan’s building. The time stretched on forever; Jeremy tracked the creeping descent of the sun into early twilight.
Finally, Bryan’s blue car came into view. He sprang to his feet, ready to run to him. But Bryan emerged from the car hunched over, dejected and defeated.
Oh no! Did he not get the job after all? Did something happen? I should have stayed!
“Bryan,” he called softly.
The older man’s face lit up at the sound of Jeremy’s voice, and that wide smile was back.
Jeremy returned the smile and waved. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “You looked, you know, not okay.”
Bryan pulled him into a deep hug. “You weren’t there. I thought … I was worried.”
Jeremy sighed and breathed him in. “I’m here.”
Bryan reluctantly released him. “Let’s go inside.”
Once there, Jeremy couldn’t keep it in any more. “So, Quinn? News?”
“Oh, I got the job,” Bryan said, almost as an after-thought. He looked closer at Jeremy’s open face. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Jeremy dropped his head. “She told me. I was so relieved. I was afraid that I ruined … that you wouldn’t…”
“Is that why you stayed away? Why you wouldn’t answer my calls?’
Jeremy nodded. “Thought I, well, didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Not possible. This wasn’t your fault at all.” He gently cupped Jeremy’s chin. “I would have told you that if you hadn’t run from me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I think you made this much worse in your head. I know it was really awkward in the darkroom, but people get over stuff. Why did this bother you so much?”
How do I explain this? Jeremy fumbled for the right words. “I didn’t want everyone to know,” he finally said.
Bryan’s jaw tightened. “Are you ashamed of me? Of us? Is that it?”
“No,” Jeremy said, frustrated. “Not at all.” He blew out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could be more like you — not afraid of what people think. Confident.”
“It’s just like everything else. Need to practice. I could teach you.” Bryan waggled his eyebrows.
“It’s more than that,” Jeremy gave a small laugh. “You’re from a much bigger city than me. Small towns are different. The last thing I ever wanted was for anyone to gossip about me, to talk about me at all. I worked so hard to make sure they didn’t have anything to say about me. I dated a couple of girls — girls who were even shyer than me — and I kept my mouth shut and hid behind my camera.”
“And hid in the darkroom,” Bryan guessed.
“Yep.”
“So, getting caught like we did,” Bryan started, then paused.
“Pushed my big, red, blinking button,” Jeremy finished.
“I’m so sorry, babe.”
“Before this — before you — nobody knew I was gay. There was never anybody for me to tell, to trust enough. So I went from nobody knowing to everyone knowing — and making jokes about it. Everything I was ever scared of was happening at once.”
Bryan tugged him to his side and settled them on the couch. “My poor boy. Remember that baptism by fire I told you about? I think you’ve had it.”
“I wish I’d taken it better.”
“But you took it. And threw it right back at Carson.”
Jeremy snorted. “Eventually. Asshole.” He looked up at Bryan. “Please tell me you’re not going to hire him for the Ivy.”
“Oh, that’s a guaran-damn-tee. I see a bright future for him kissing university ass in the PR offices. That’s where all the wrung-out J-school students end up.”
Like you almost were. Jeremy fought back the sickening memory of all his worries. “Is that what you would have done if Carson had gotten it?”
“Honestly, I was ready to walk into Quinn’s office and say, fuck student pub. I would have walked away — happily — as long as I could have you back.”
Tears stung behind Jeremy’s eyes. “I tried telling her that, too. She wouldn’t allow it. People don’t defy her much, do they?”
“Oh, what a freshman. Quinn isn’t scary. She’s the best, most loyal mom you’ll ever know.” He sighed. “She probably wouldn’t have let me quit, either. I’d be designing the front page of the Courier next year and plotting elaborate, evil revenge against Carson.”
Jeremy swallowed hard. Carson. There was one other thing. “Carson said some things, and I know I shouldn’t listen to any of them or even let myself remember them. But it’s been bugging me.”
“What did he say?” Bryan’s voice was strained.
“That I was one of many. That I was merely convenient.”
Bryan slowly closed his eyes. “I’m going to murder him,” he said through gritted teeth. He took Jeremy’s face in his large hands. “You are not convenient. You are nothing that is merely. Believe that.”
Jeremy nodded, grateful. “And the many?”
“I enjoyed my first three years of college, yes,” Bryan said. “Does that really matter now?”
“Only if I have to worry that you will continue to enjoy it on a grand scale in the future,” Jeremy said, looking down.
“Oh, I’ll be enjoying myself, but only with you.”
Jeremy looked up and couldn’t stop the words. “God, I love you.” He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth.
Bryan gently removed the hand by the wrist. “Don’t try to take that back. Because then I’d be alone in this.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened. “So, you too?”
Bryan’s wide grin filled his face. “Me too. Me always.”
He cradled Jeremy’s face in his palms and slowly licked his way into Jeremy’s mouth. This wasn’t the time for fast or hard. This wasn’t a quick fuck in a dark space. This was lovemaking, not any dirty euphemism for something else.
Slowly, slowly, Bryan danced Jeremy into his bedroom, his mouth never leaving his lover’s. They pulled apart only to undress each other, letting the fabric caress their skin on the way to the floor. Finally, they stood naked before each other once again.
“My God, I’ve missed you,” Bryan sighed. “It’s been the longest week of my life. Let’s not do that again.”
“I promise,” Jeremy said, serious about it. His body was primed, taut and ready for his lover, but he wanted to offer himself up, let Bryan do what he wanted. “I’m yours.”
“That’s a two-way street, you know.” Bryan caressed his neck and pulled him back in. “I want every inch of you, every sound you make,” he growled, lightly biting against the pulse at Jeremy’s neck.
“Yours,” Jeremy moaned.
Bryan lay Jeremy on the bed and trailed a path down his body with his tongue. Maybe it was the week of celibacy, or the cleansing relief of being free of his worries — or maybe it was the love he saw so clearly in Bryan’s eyes. But this time felt different, better. Every touch echoed in tingles on his skin, every breath was charged with heat. Every movement was better, scorching and sweet at the same time.
Bryan took his time preparing his lover, first with his tongue until Jeremy thought he was going to pass out from pleasure. Then with his long fingers and plenty of lubricant, never letting his brown eyes leave Jeremy’s moist blue ones.
He seemed to be in no hurry, but Jeremy’s control was close to snapping already.
“Please, oh God Bryan, fuck me.” He threw his head back, feeling the fingers teasing him inside. “Killing me. Need you.”
Bryan carefully covered his cock with a condom and placed Jeremy’s legs on his shoulder. He slowly entered him, inch by maddening inch, until he was fully seated inside him.
There was pain — there was always a little bite — but it faded to a perfect fullness, the kind that made his nerves sing.
Bryan established a steady, almost casual pace. “Feel that?” he asked, breathless. “Feel me inside you? Concentrate. Feel every bit of my cock. Feel how much I want you.”
“Ahhhh yes,” Jeremy moaned. He squeezed around Bryan, hoping to make him speed up, wanting more.
“Patience, Jeremy,” Bryan chided. “Let me love you.” All the way in and out, over and over, Bryan drove Jeremy mad with need.
Finally, he could take no more. He grabbed Bryan by the nape of his neck. “Goddammit, fuck me! Pound me! I need it!”
Bryan’s eyes darkened to black pools. He tugged Jeremy by the legs to the end of the bed and stood over him before slamming himself home.
Jeremy screamed in primal pleasure, and Bryan hammered his cock against his prostate again and again.
“Oh. Yeah.” Jeremy grunted with each thrust. “Missed. This. Love. You. So. Much.”
Bryan was beyond responding, and Jeremy knew they were both getting close.
“Bring yourself off,” Bryan panted. “Want to feel you come while I fuck you hard.”
Jeremy grabbed his painfully swollen cock. In just a few strokes, he felt his climax roar upon him, blanking out his mind.
As he clung to the remains of his ecstasy, he felt Bryan slam into him one last time and empty himself into the condom.
We are never again going without that for a whole week, he thought.
*****
They lay in a sweaty, boneless heap on top of the twisted bed sheets, enjoying the feeling of melting into each other. Bryan regained his senses first and pulled them both up to rest against the headboard.
“So, what do you want to do in student pub next year?”
The one puzzle I have left. It’s time to figure it out. “I just want to shoot. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do in school. I don’t really care for whom.”
“I’m not going to tell you that you can’t be on the Ivy, because I would love seeing you every day and all weekend in the basement,” Bryan said, his mouth against Jeremy’s hair. He pulled away to look into his eyes. “But I won’t lie — I think we would distract each other too much.”
Jeremy nodded. “I worry about that, too.”
“The Courier will give you some great tight deadline experience,” Bryan reasoned, “and I can still use your stuff in the Ivy, too.”
He’d never been on a newspaper staff, but his philosophy of photography wouldn’t change. “You know what I would like?” he said. “I don’t want to give up film. But I know I need to convert to digital eventually. How about if I shoot film for the Ivy whenever I can, whenever I think I can make a great photo for you.”
Bryan gave a theatrical sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to drag out the damn negative scanner.”
Jeremy punched him on the shoulder.
“It will suck a little, you on the Courier schedule, me on Ivy time,” Bryan said, serious again. “But we can come back here and escape to each other.”
Jeremy blinked at him, struck. “Are you asking me to live with you?”
“Do you have a better offer on the table?” Bryan asked with a smile.
“Better than living with you in picturesque Sin City?” Jeremy teased. “This wonderland, this secret garden of delight, this –”
Bryan cut him off with a deep kiss. “Allow me to show you some of the amenities of your new home.” He gently guided Jeremy’s head down his body, and Jeremy quickly got the hint. He swirled his tongue around the head of Bryan’s cock, waking it from its brief nap.
“Ahhh, you’ve learned a lot, little freshman,” Bryan groaned.
Jeremy pulled away with a grin. “I’ve had a great teacher.”
Bryan got an odd look on his face and cocked his head.
“What?” Jeremy didn’t know how to interpret this.
“What do you think about one more lesson?” Bryan grinned.
Jeremy’s cock jumped at the idea of learning something new to do with Bryan. “What do you have in mind, Professor Ross?”
Bryan tugged Jeremy up to face level again. “You’ve never fucked anyone, have you?”
Jeremy’s mouth went dry. Did he mean? “You offering?”
“For you and no one else,” Bryan said seriously.
“Have you ever, you know?” Jeremy gestured helplessly.
“Been fucked?” Bryan finished for him. “A few times. It’s been a while, though. I figured out pretty quickly that I was meant to be a top. But I want you to know all you can, as a young man majoring in gay.”
Jeremy smiled and thought back to that first time in the stairwell, how nervous he was, how much he wanted this man. That want had only gotten stronger the more he was around him.
“And I want to give you all of me,” Bryan continued. “Just like you have.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know,” Jeremy said softly.
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” Bryan quirked an eyebrow.
“No!” Jeremy said quickly. “I’m a little nervous, though.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” he grinned.
Bryan positioned himself on his stomach and coached Jeremy over his shoulder.
“The most important thing is preparation. That’s a nice, big cock you’ve got, and I need to be open so I can take you. Remember what I do to you?”
Jeremy nodded. He reverently cupped his hands around Bryan’s ass, kneading the firm cheeks and relishing this opportunity before him. He teased his fingers lightly around Bryan’s hole, drawing a shudder out of his lover. Emboldened, he probed one finger in further.
“Lubricant,” Bryan gasped.
“Right, right, sorry.” He fumbled with the bottle, his hands shaking. Really, getting fucked is a lot easier.
Bryan hissed slightly at the cold, wet touch. “Go slow. Really open me up.”
Carefully, Jeremy inserted his index finger as far as he could, and Bryan instinctively tightened around him. How was he ever going to fit his cock in there?
He slowly pumped the finger in and out, loving the feeling of tightness.
“Add another.” Bryan tried to hide his moan and failed. “Then start scissoring them back and forth.”
Jeremy did as instructed. It was such a tight fit that he thought the blood to his fingers would be strangled.
Once he had loosened things a bit, he began searching for Bryan’s prostate, remembering how explosively good that felt every time for him.
“Looking for something, young man?” Bryan peered over his shoulder, grinning at the look of concentration on Jeremy’s face.
“Care to give a fella directions?”
“Curve toward my front. It’s the hard, round ball of — OH!”
Apparently, Jeremy found it just fine.
He got into a rhythm of finger-fucking Bryan, eventually adding a third finger, relishing every moan and grunt he elicited.
“Oh God, uggghn,” Bryan moaned. “Okay, next lesson. Fuck me.”
This was it. Jeremy reached for a condom and struggled through his shaking hands to put it on properly.
“More lube. Lots more,” Bryan said.
He slathered his cock with the cool gel and tugged on Bryan’s arm to encourage him to roll over onto his back. Bryan stayed put, thrusting his ass determinedly back against Jeremy.
“Want to see you,” Jeremy protested.
“It’s easier this way at first. You’re going to be doing all the work now, and I want you to focus on your cock and my ass, not on the acrobatic trick of my legs and your shoulders.”
Jeremy ceded the point. He lined up his aching cock against Bryan’s winking hole and started to push in.
“Aaaaaah, slow, slow!” Bryan implored.
“Sorry sorry!” He wanted so badly to feel that tightness, to sink into Bryan’s ass. But he forced himself to creep forward, waiting for Bryan’s breath to calm with each half-inch he dared to add.
Finally, he was fully inside him, his balls flush against Bryan’s ass. He was afraid to move because he was that close to coming.
“How are you doing?” Jeremy asked in a tight voice.
“So good,” Bryan purred. “Lesson the third: move your ass.”
Jeremy chuckled and did just that. Slowly at first, but soon his need outstripped his wish to be gentle. He gripped Bryan’s hips tightly and pounded into him, hard and fast. He threw his head back and lost himself in the feeling of Bryan’s ass tightening around him.
“Ah, yeah, that’s it, fuck me!” Bryan ordered.
Jeremy could feel his climax rising within him, and he had just enough sense left to remember how generous Bryan always was with him. He reached around and took Bryan’s throbbing, hot cock in a tight fist and jerked him quickly.
“Come for me, come for me,” he chanted as he kept thrusting into him. Bryan froze and arched his back as his orgasm claimed him, a strangled grunt leaking from his mouth.
Bryan’s ass clenched rhythmically around his cock, and that pushed him over the edge into his own blinding orgasm.
Jeremy collapsed on Bryan’s back, unable to move, unwilling to lose this connection, this tingling feeling of completion. Bryan panted roughly under him.
This was his home. Jeremy pressed his lips against the nape of Bryan’s neck and tasted his sweaty skin. This was his partner, his path. Nothing had ever felt better.
“Promise me something,” Jeremy whispered.
“Anything.”
“No more fucking in the basement?”
Bryan maneuvered under him until he was on his back, looking up at Jeremy. “It’s possible I can arrange that.”
“It’s possible I can think of some creative ways to thank you, professor.”
They met in a long kiss, both of them finally at home.
End.
Thank you to everyone who so generously left comments or sent me feedback; I can’t tell you how much it has meant to me to know people are reading this. “The Darkroom” is the first long-form story I’ve finished, and I know I wouldn’t have been motivated to complete it without your urging and encouragement. Now I’ve got to figure out what to write about next.