Slow Step
Caution: This story may contain materials mature in nature. Readers' discretion is advised. This story DOESN'T imply any of the writer's personal belief. All names and numbers are fictitious. Constructive advice is welcome.
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Every step is slow and incoherent; however when all the steps add together, you may find yourself at where you want to be.
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Chapter 1 Listless Night
	It was still cold although the new year had passed almost a month. There were not too many people on the street since it was Monday night. It was very night, people with family and friends were already with people they wanted to be. The rest kind of stayed on the street with nothing to do. Silence and dark help to bleed some desire for some people, and Marc is no exception. In his darkest side of himself, he wanted to relief his anguish with his physical burden. He had been in few gay bars but luck seemed to be away from him that night. There was simply no guy he thought he wanted to sleep with or guys he wanted to sleep with simply didn't like his idea. It was getting late, he was a bit drunk. The music in the bar seemed to be a bit boring and he decided to get some fresh air by going out to the back yard. Usually, there were some activities in the back yard, but the cold weather and the Monday seemed to change the normality. It was very empty in the back yard. The moon was high and the place was amazingly well lit by the moon. There he saw a guy. It was hard to see clearly first since Marc was a bit drunk and the moon was just too bright and big for a drunken. His eyes started to use to the light. That guy had a pair of big eyes he had never seem, so watery, as if he had been crying. Marc couldn't really tell had that guy been really crying or it was just the light. Besides the eyes, his lips were also very thin. He was of a slim body type and Marc knew he wanted him. Finally got the drunken mind to think, with a bit help from the growing pressure from the groin, he started to walk to that guy.
"Hi."
No answer. That guy looked at Marc as if he was made of glass. 
"Mmmm," tried to clear the throat, "tonight the moon sure is different." Marc put his hand on his shoulder before the sentence was finished.  That guy quickly shook his shoulder, without looking back, and left. Marc was furious. It was no the first time he got rejected; however, the way that guy looked at him, and also the fact that a few guys had rejected him that night totally enraged him. Sex is something powerful. He thought as soon as he got laid, he would be all right. Now he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, not just because of the desire, but also of the anguish. If that was another guy rejected him, Marc would still be fine. However, something was different with that guy. Marc simply couldn't expect rejection from a guy like that. It was getting late. Marc decided to go. Before he left, he went to the bathroom to empty his bladder. He looked at himself and the movement the current moved. He used to be proud of his size But tonight, no one seemed to appreciate he and he started to curse himself having a big himself while there was no one to sleep with. The full sensation was still here in his groin and he knew it was no the bathroom the place he could use some help. The more he looked at himself the more he hated that guy. He felt like he was totally naked when that guy looked at him as if he was not there. He zipped him, carefully not to let himself hurt anymore, and walked out. It was very quiet and he decided to walk home. Then he saw that guy was still at the corner. He was walking very slowly to a very dark corner. Obviously, that guy wasn't paying any attention walking. If he had, he wouldn't walk into an unsafe area. Marc was like under a spell following him. The full sensation, and the alcohol made him start to think like his penis. He just wanted to grab that guy, take off his pant from his helpless body, and shoot a load inside of him. Why not? Everybody do something wrong sometime, and there is no saint. Doesn't the world treat Marc unfair? Why can't Marc do what the world has done to him? So closed, almost totally silence. He was sweating and the chance was here. Completely silent, dark and that guy certainly was asking for trouble. Then he saw him turned into a corner. It's time, he told himself. Suddenly he heard a loud noise, as if someone was hit. Then some kind of humming noise as if someone' mouth was covered by something by force. Some fabric tearing sound. He rushed in. He was totally stunned by what he saw. The guy was bleeding on his head and there was another guy trying to take off his cloth. Marc didn't need to be a genius to know what it was about. Obviously, the rapist was stunned, too, and he run away as fast he could. Quiet again. Only Marc and that guy in the street. That guy was hit hard at his head. He almost lost his consciousness. Marc left him up. He felt warmth from that guy's body. There was so much life in that guy that Marc felt guilty of what he had in mind a while ago. He understood why that rapist was afraid to be seem and run away and Marc was ashamed of his understanding. That guy seemed to gain so strength back.
"Are you doing all right?"
"I guess."
"Don't you know it is unsafe to walk in here so late."
"I wasn't paying attention."
"You'd better pay more attention next time. I don't want those straight people think we are all rapists."
Silence again. Marc realized it maybe a opportunity for him.
"So, what's your name?"
"Zack."
"Could you walk?" 
Zack was sitting on the road, without lifting his head and looking at Marc.
"I need some time to sit."
"Let me take you home. Come on."
"But...."
"Don't forget I am the one who rescue you. You have to let people help you some time." Without waiting the answer Marc lift up Zack. Marc was amazed how easy to lift Zack up. He felt the body warmth again. He remembered there was once he didn't need to go out to bar to feel the body. He had a boyfriend once, but he left him because he said he "doesn't understand anything."
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    	Now, they were at Zack's apartment. Look's like Zack was a college student. Marc knew he should let Zack rest but he wanted to have his telephone number so that he could call him.
"Zack, are you doing better now?"
"Thanks, I am doing a lot better."
"I guess I'd better go so that you can have some rest. By the way, could I have your telephone number?" Marc hesitated a while, continued, "So that, I can call to see if you are all right tomorrow."
"Thanks, my phone number is 221 6903."
"Bye now."
"You too."
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	That night Marc had a very weird dream. He dreamed of two pairs of eyes. They were looking at each other and he was scared. Then he woke up. It was still early. It was rare for him to wake up bright and early. He decided to try his luck to call Zack later in the evening. The day seemed to be usual and he couldn't wait to call Zack after work.
"Hi"
"Are you Zack?"
"Yes, I am."
"It's me, Marc. The guy you met last night. I was wondering if you want to have something to eat tonight."
"Well, I eat every night."
"No, I mean would you going with me to eat tonight."
"How are about some coffee?"
"Good, what time?"
"How about nine?"
"Sound great."
Coffee, Marc thought, it's funny. He had never been really a coffee guy. He sure likes beer. Coffee. Marc started to wonder what kind of guy Zack was. Zack seemed to be different, so quiet, so "slow", and so...quiet again, he guessed.
Finally in the coffee shop, Marc had his first coffee date with Zack It was a totally different experience. Zack seemed to talk a bit more. Most of the time, Marc only listened. He wanted to talk, too, but he didn't know much about the stuffs Zack said. Biology, religion, philosophy, fine arts, music, and so on. Marc had barely completed his high school. He only knew these by their names. Who cares about religion and philosophy when you have to work 12 hours a day to support yourself. Marc's mother died when he was very young. His father was alcoholic, Both of his parents were British. He remembered his dad used to curse him with his heavy northern British accent when he was drunk. Alcohol is funny. Marc thought he would never drink like his father but he ended up just like his dad. Who really knows all the to-be society pillars will be people just like us? Coffee, alcohol. Funny combination, Marc thought.
Marc was getting a bit bored by what Zack was talking about. He noticed Zack talked a lot but all the stuffs he talked were about what he learned in college. He seldom mentioned his friends or family. Marc asked, "So, do you mind telling me what happened last night? The way you looked at people last night was very different from now."
Pause. Ask if it was a wrong question. Zack suddenly acted like last night. His eyes once again looked so far away that Marc knew there must be something.
"I broke up with my ex."
"Sorry."
"No, it was okay. I know someday I have to do it."
"So what happened?"
"He suggested a threesome and I was so angry that I told me I didn't want to see him again. He suddenly started to kiss me and I pushed him away and left."
Marc suddenly remembered last night he wanted to do the same thing to Zack. 
"It is getting late I want to go now."
"It is only ten. Do you want to come to my apartment to listen to some music?"
"Well, I don't go to people's home on the first date."
Date? Marc thought it was only coffee. To he, a date is something people talk, then drink, then fool around, and .... He was glad Zack regarded it was a date.
"OK, I guess we'd better go. Could I call you tomorrow?"
"Sure, bye."

Chapter 2 The eyes of Marc himself
That night, Marc couldn't stop thinking of Zack. There was something different about him. Marc had slept with so many guys that he couldn't even named all of them. How come this one guy could make him think that way? He doesn't know. He was getting sleepy but he couldn't sleep. So many things were on his mind. He decided to washed up for. When he looked himself in the mirror, still sleepy, he saw Zack was looking at him from the mirror. Amazed and shocked, he knew it was almost impossible. He looked more carefully, and only to find out those were his eyes. He started to understand why Zack's eyes were so special. They were exactly like Marc's. Marc remembered once he used to think like Zack. Once he thought about going to college and meeting new people. Then something happened to him before graduation. Marc hated to think about it. He thought he was over with it. So many years now, why he still remembered it? He knew it was the rule of the world that he should forget that and play  by the rule. He thought he would never have to remember that incidence again or he would just laugh at it but he couldn't. Zack reminded Marc of his past. Those pair of innocent eyes of a college kid could make a mature guy become naïve sometime. He remembered it was about high school graduation, he had a tremendous crush on the football coach. He remembered he used to stare at the coach. When he was in the football team, he would try to prove himself even it may upset other players. He wanted the coach noticed him. He didn't know what is homosexuality. What he knew was that he wanted the coach to like him, pay attention to him, and to praise him. One night, coach asked Marc to stay after the usual practice because he needed some personal training. Marc was sure ecstatic because this meant coach really had paid attention to him. . After the personal training, coach told him to take a shower and wait for him in the small prayer's chapel besides the gym. Marc knew coach was a very devoted Christian and he thought coach must want to convert him into a Christian. Well, when Marc went into the chapel, it was dark. The coach said, "Let's pray." Marc sat along with coach and closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt when there something on his thighs. Then the hands moved closer to the groin. Marc was scared and he didn't know what to do. It was the first time he had sexual experience with a man. They later had several more "personal training" and Marc started to enjoy the sex. To Marc, it was like a dream. The man he dreamed of, not just only paid attention to him, but also made love to him and told him he loved him. One night, the coach asked him to stop by his house. He did, and there were three other men. He thought coach was going to introduce him to his friends. At first, they were only talking some usual stuff. Then they started to talk about sex and coach started to kiss Marc. One thing led to another, and Marc ended up in bed with three guys. Marc was confused. He thought he and coach were going to be lovers. He sure liked the sex but he was confused. The special "personal training" had taken too much time of Marc and his GPA started to drop, and this made his dad angry.
"You bastard. I want to you to study well so that you don't have to like me working like a dog. Now you are going to drop out...." The sentence still had not yet finished and his dad slapped him. He knew there was no way talking to his dad when he was drunk. Moreover, what could he say? Spending too much time with boyfriend? Trouble with gay relationship? Marc just left, slamming the door and drove to coach's house. There was no one he could think of except the coach. When he rang the bell, the door didn't open until a few minutes. There was coach standing besides the door and a female: "What's that, honey?" Coach looked at Marc, frown, and said, "You have to go. I have guest in here." The woman walked out of the living room and now standing next the coach. "Is he your student? Why don't you let him in?" "It is kind of late. He only wants to know something about the game next week." "OK, honey" She kissed on his cheek and vanished up the staircase.
"Who's she?" Marc asked. He guessed he knew the answer but he hoped coach would tell him he was wrong.
"My fiancée."
Marc was silent. He didn't know what to say.
"Marc, you are a big kid now. There are things you don't understand. There are rules in this world and being gay is not socially acceptable. When you can't beat the system, join them. Let go for a walk and I will tell you more."
That night, they walked to a very quiet and they had their last sex. Marc started to understand why gay men are more promiscuous than straight men. When outer culture and norm are contradictory to what you are inside. There are simply no rules to follow and gay men have to make up their norms so that they can  have a culture even the culture is weak and unstable. They simply have no choice. 
Marc dropped out. He decided to be on his own and he worked. He started to learn the rules, use them and be like them. He met quite a few guys but he could never feel the same way he had felt for his first one. When everybody doing the same thing , you start to follow and you begin to forget what you really want to do. It is life. Marc told himself. It's life. He began to think more of himself to the point that he would only think of himself. He remembered there were time he would try to get his dates drunk and take advantage of them. He remembered he used to like to get high with some cute guys so that he could have sex with them. One led to another and last night he even wanted to force Zack.... He stopped. He began to see the pattern. He's gone too far and Zack reminded him of himself. That pair of eyes he found on Zack were actually his. Another part of Marc was trying to tell Marc something and the other part of Marc was determined to eliminate the conscience by trying to ruin Zack physically. He had to stop now. He was tired and he was confused, by both he himself and Zack.

Chapter 3 Laura
It was eleven in the morning and thanked God Marc didn't have to go to work early since he worked late shift today. He worked in a gay bookstore, and usually by himself. All the customers were gay except a few of them. When it was late, sometime some customers made passes to him and he may get laid several times in one night, depended on his mood. He absolutely didn't feel it tonight since no customers, in his eyes, were as good as Zack, although he couldn't tell if he and Zack could hit it off. They were so different. 
It was almost 2am now and it was very quiet. There were some guys tried to made passes to him but he just simply ignored them. He usually would let them, at least, give him a blow job since he thought he had nothing to lose. But now, everything changed. 
	The door was opened. It was Laura, one of his best friends. Laura was a lesbian, and she worked for the Museum of fine art of the city. Once in awhile she would stop by and chat with Marc. Well, besides working in a gay bookstore, Marc also sold drugs. 
"Any news lately, Marc?"
"Tell you what. I have met a very cute guy and I think I really like him."
"You mean you finally found someone you can fall in love with?"
"Well, I don't know. He is very different. He is kind of younger. Those college-kid-type guy."
"What's wrong with it? Many gay men like guys younger."
"Well, we are very different."
"Oh, I see. So, what do you guys do mostly besides having sex."
"We haven't had sex yet. Usually we went to coffee shop and his apartment listening to music."
"No sex? You must be kidding. Marc with no sex. I thought I saw your picture with the Caption "SEX" in the encyclopedia. They must have a new edition."
"You don't understand. I really like him and I don't want to push and risk anything. I want him to think I am one of his kind."
"Jesus, you sound like you are having a temperature. Now, many of those horny guys who come here must be disappointed."
"I can't always let guys I don't like touching me."
"What about women?" Laura leaned forward. Her hands almost touched his penis. 
"Only beautiful women."
"You SOB." Laura hit him not too hard on his arm, and continued, "Why not you, him and me went out together and have some coffee some time. Maybe I can help you with him."
"How?"
"Just trust me."
"Sounds great."
"Yep, any new stuff?"
"I have some but I think you have been doing too much lately.'
"There are two things I must have: pussy and heroin. Just give me my stuff or I will bug you for the whole night."
"All right, just be careful."
Laura took a small plastic bag from Marc and left.
[The next day]
The phone rang. Marc picked up the phone. It was Laura.
"Hey, Marc. Any fuckin' to do tonight?"
"Is that the way artists talk?"
"I do those arts only for a living. I am so bored. Do you have any plan tonight?"
"I am going to see a concert with Zack."
"Great. Can I come?"
"Well, I don't know."
"See, you told me you want Zack to think you are one of his kind. If you take me, he is going to think all your friends are artists."
"Yeah, third class artist."
"I am trying to help you."
"I will see if that is OK with Zack. Let me call you back later."
Marc called Zack and told him about Laura. Obviously Zack was interested to meet Laura. Marc was a bit unhappy. He thought he could spend some quality time with Zack but he didn't want to upset Zack by telling him his feeling. He didn't want to risk anymore. The more he had to risk, the more he felt like a loser. He remembered when he was in elementary school, there was a special program in which students would exchange diaries with each other so that they would know their classmates better. There was a very pretty girl and Marc wanted to exchanged diary with. He knew he would never be able to get to close to her. He was so common. Everyday, he would try to look for chance to talk to her and ask her to exchange diary with. Day by day, he was too chicken to ask and his diary would just stay in his drawer with pages and pages written. At the end of the term, he ended up the only one who had not completed the assignment and the teacher described him to his dad as "unfriendly, in-cooperative, and quiet." His dad was ashamed of that incident and Marc had suffered quite a bit from this. He looked up at the window thinking what had happened to him. What if he didn't have an abusive father, would he be straight? What if his mom be still alive? Maybe he would be straight? And what about his ex? If he knew how much Marc had changed, would he come back to him?  He knew he had to stop thinking and let his tiny brain rest. 
	It was about time for the concert, and he went out. Laura was already there and Zack came in about a minute or so. He introduced Laura to Zack and they, no surprise, found each other interesting to talk with. Marc felt like he had been left out as if there were something he could grasp but it just slipped away. The rest of the day Marc couldn't remember well. The day was full with the voices of Zack and Laura. The man he loved so much would rather talk to a lesbian than him. He was a bit mad. Suddenly he could feel there was a tightness across his chest. He found breathing hard. Dizzy, angry, tired, Marc decided to go home early. Neither Zack or Laura noticed what happened and they didn't try to ask Marc to stay for a while. They were just too occupied with their conversation. 
	Marc felt so much better when he left them. He felt like a jerk. He had never feel this way before. Why he cared so much for the attention of Zack. He remembered he used to be ignored. He was boring and simple, and he knew about that. So, he usually hide himself in public and used to be ignored. But why this time.... Jealousy? He didn't know. He walked and walked and didn't really care where he was heading. Someone asked him for some changes and he stopped and looked around. He saw the bar he used to frequent. He walked in, asked for several beers, and some gin. He could feel the burning sensation in his throat but he liked it. The burning sensation burnt away some of the guilty feeling he had. Didn't know what time but he sure was drunk as a fish. He left and knew he had to ask for a sick day tomorrow. He walked and walked and coincidentally it was about a block to Zack's apartment. He was bold, superficially because of the alcohol and he decided to get what he wanted to have. He rang the bell, then started to bang on the door. Zack opened the door.
	"You?! What's up?" Zack asked with his eyes half open and half closed. 
Marc, without a word, stumped into the apartment. He closed the door with his feet and held Zack with his arms.
	"What's your problem? Lemme go!" Zack struggled with so much force Marc was shocked.
	"You really hate me, do you?"
	"No, just let me go."
Marc held him even harder. With his weight, he pressed against Zack to the ground. He pressed his lips against Zack's. His lips were warm and soft. Marc liked it. The desire controlled him. Zack could smell the alcohol from Marc's breath. Zack was terrified. He tried to scream but Marc had his mouth closed with his mouth. Marc started to put his hand under Zack's clothe. Smooth, the type he liked. His hand moved further until he could touch Zack's pubic hairs. He wanted to feel Zack. He wanted to have Zack. He looked up and tried to kiss Zack. The struggle stopped. Marc was surprised a bit and he looked up. There was Zack, with his big eyes, starring at infinity. His eyes were wet but he was quiet. He was so lifeless and that remind Marc of something he knew better than anyone. His sex started to lose his stubbornness. Zack pushed Marc aside and stood up.
"So you are not going to do it?"
"....."
"You want to rape me just like the time we met."
Marc was shocked. How did he know? He didn't tell anyone 
"How do you know?"
Zack tried to clean himself up a little bit and said, "It's easy. Anyone with a brain can figure out. Why would you be there so late, following me? You don't even live there and there was no reason for you to be there except this.'
Suddenly Marc couldn't see anything. A think mass of blackness covered his eyes. He wished the blackness could be think enough to cover Zack too but it couldn't. his eyes were so bright that Marc couldn't escape. He opened the door and left. He didn't know what to say or to do. He had no excuse to defend himself before Zack. 
   

       
 


