A Miserable Pile of Secrets Ch. 02

Being Vince's friend had unexpected benefits.

Sometimes they ate out at some casual restaurant, but one day Vince texted Arthur's phone with the weirdest message. "Hey, Dude! Want some steak?"

Arthur texted back, "Did you buy some steak?"

"Nope. Let's go out! My treat!!"

The restaurant was so nice. Vince said he had a reservation, but the person he was supposed to eat with bailed on him. So, why not go anyway and bring a friend? Arthur had only seen hosts say, "Do you have a reservation?" on TV, so it was surreal to hear someone in real life say it, and it was even more surreal to be in the party that had the reservation.

On another day, Vince invited Arthur over for a "pizza party." That turned out to be a day where Vince would teach Arthur how to make a literal pizza. They had flour and dough on the kitchen table, and Arthur had to pay attention in order to get his just right.

While their pizzas were baking, Arthur had something to teach Vince for a change. Arthur had been able to save up for a very expensive treat, a handheld console, a certain one that was very versatile. It had a tablet-like monitor, a dock for connection to a television, and gamepads that could be taken off. Vince was going to learn how to play at least one game this day.

He sucked.

He sucked so much ass that he might as well have been eating shit.

And Arthur told him exactly that, patting his shoulder and trying not to laugh.

Vince laughed, though. Out loud, like an explosion. He shook from it, even made his seat whine and creak.

One day, something happened that frightened Arthur. His roommate was out. It was the weekend. This made it easier for Vince to hang out at Arthur's place for a change. Despite Vince's size, he was perfectly happy with staying in Arthur's bedroom for a while, sitting behind him and watching the PC's monitor while Arthur played a good old fashion FPS game. Arthur told him upfront that he wasn't the best at those kinds of games, but they were still fun, and he didn't mind dying over and over.

After a while, Vince's warm hand went to Arthur's shoulder. His voice hissed down to his ear, making Arthur's body jolt a bit. "Hey, you might want to take a break. You don't look so good."

Well, Arthur's back, especially in the middle, certainly was sore, and his arm and wrist were begging him to stop using the damn mouse. He put his hand under his elbow and rotated his hand. "Hmmm ... I think you're right." He paused the game. Then he stretched in his seat and tried to rotate his shoulders. "Ahhhhh ... I need a walk."

"You sure?" Vince said as he got up and pushed his chair out of the way.

"Some pacing in the living room ought to do the trick," Arthur said as he too got up. Even his neck started hurting. He pushed his palm on his nape and moved his head around with a grimace.

As he left the bedroom, walking into the hallway, he heard Vince say, "Dude, you need a rub down."

The hair on Arthur's skin stood up. "Huh?!" He turned around to look at Vince's serious face. There was even a shade of concern in those gray eyes.

"Don't act like I'm being weird," Vince softly told him as the seriousness slowly turned a little bit defensive. He folded his arms. One of his eyebrows rose. "Ever got a massage at a spa before? It's a legit thing."

"Uh ... spas are for rich people." Arthur took a step back, feeling the wall behind him.

"Look, I'm not a masseur, but I can at least make you feel a little better." Vince's long hair seemed to flutter as his head tilted to his left. "Come on. You don't even need to lie down."

Arthur shook his head. "No. It's fine. I'll just walk around and stretch my muscles."

"Come on ... you'll feel much better soon." Vince walked down the hallway and waved at Arthur from behind. "I won't stop bugging you until I'm satisfied."

Lightly, under his breath, Arthur said, "God damn it." Then he slowly followed. He barely glanced at Vince, who was sitting on the couch. "I'll get a dining chair." He went to the kitchen and took a chair. He dragged it by its back to the living room. Then he put it near Vince, with the seat facing him. Arthur took a backwards position, leaning on the chair's back as an armrest. He was vaguely reminded of when he'd been in school and he'd seen a few students do this. He'd always thought it made someone look stupid.

Well, things were probably about to get stupid anyway.

"Okay, here we go," Vince said.

As if he was expecting a punch to the face, Arthur grit his teeth.

Holy stupidly amazing pressure, Batman!!

Arthur's eyes felt like they were going to pop out. His throat opened up but his teeth held tight as his voice struggled to come out. In his sneakers, his toes bent hard. His fingers were tight on the chair.

"Are you okay?" Vince asked.

"Ahhhhhhhh ... I'm okaaaaaaaay."

"Alright."

The man's hands were pressing into his back, through his shirt, and it was better than most everything else Arthur could think of. His sore muscles adored the attention. But, and this was mortifying, Arthur soon barked out a wild sound.

And god fucking damn it, his cock was starting to show its appreciation, slowly rising with every deep touch.

"You sure you're okay?"

Arthur actually shuddered, but he pushed Vince away and got off of he chair, purposely refusing to face the man. He was afraid something might be ... noticeable in his pants. "That's enough. I feel great." Even as he said that, he reached back to rub at his own shoulder.

He heard Vince push the chair aside. "No way. You look like you're going to fold into yourself and die. Get back over here."

"I ... uh ... I think you might push the chair over," Arthur said.

"Then get on your bed and I'll rub you down there."

Vince was really determined, huh?

Arthur rubbed one of his eyes as he thought about it. He'd be on his belly, which meant that he could better hide his body's reactions. "Well, okay, I'll get on the bed." Right after he said that, Arthur practically jogged back to his room, kicked his shoes away without much care for where they landed, and stiffly fell onto the bed. His cock pressed into his belly, hot and irritably needy.

Fuck, this was annoying.

Arthur folded her arms under his chin and sighed.

Her heard Vince walk back into the room. "Are you sick?"

"No. I'm fine." Arthur put his cheek on an arm and closed his eyes.

"Okay." The footsteps approached. "Hey, it will be easier if you put your arms down."

Sweet, beachy cologne. Arthur was more aware of it then. His nostrils flared. "Okay." He put a pillow under his head and looked at a wall to his left. Then he moved his arms down to his sides.

"I think I'll go under your shirt, okay? And I don't have any oil or lotion on me."

"Whatever."

When Vince touched him again, pushing under the shirt as he said he would, Arthur had to force himself not to make any ridiculous noises. But when Vince pressed hard again, his hands' rough flesh scraping into the aching muscles, Arthur kicked up a little and groaned.

"Hey," Vince said, "it's okay. I sound like a whale when I get a massage. That's just how it is sometimes."

"It's not okay!" Arthur said. His face felt red. He thought he'd rather have someone listen to him having violent diarrhea.

"Then shove your face in the pillow," Vince suddenly told him, pressing even harder as he moved his hands up and down.

Arthur obeyed, and that made things slightly easier to endure, but he was still embarrassed.

And unusually horny.

Maybe three minutes or so went on. Arthur felt much looser and relaxed. He even thought his lungs felt clearer.

Vince pulled Arthur's shirt down. Then he said, "You okay?"

Arthur turned his head and squeaked out, "Yes."

"You want to get up now?"

"Uhm ... well ... I think I need to rest for a few minutes." He was NOT about to get up in front of Vince.

"Okay ... You need anything?"

Arthur wished he could sink into the bed and disappear. "Nah. I'm okay. Just go watch TV or something. I'll get up soon." He needed to cool his nerves.

"Okay." Vince left the room.

***

A purple and blue night with streetlamps.

Adrenaline and horror.

His breath felt like it was being swung back and forth in his body. He was running. Apartment buildings were whizzing by his sight. Yet, in every window he happened to see, there was always that man grinning at him.

Shaved head, cruel eyes, and even though he was smiling Arthur could hear his voice echoing, yelling, making the most horrible threats.

"I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!! How dare you disrespect me?! Stupid bitch!! What are you even good for?! I'LL TEAR YOUR LITTLE PRICK RIGHT OFF!!"

Arthur managed to hide in a random building, going through room after room. But he'd always find that man cracking his knuckles in a corner, so Arthur had to keep running.

Eventually, he was seized by his arm. It hurt like all hell. Then he was flung across a room and into a window, and that window broke. Shards of glass dug into his skin.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME?!"

***

Arthur woke up. He knew nothing bad was happening, but he trembled and hugged himself. It took a few minutes for him to calm down.

Don't get worked up over nothing. That's what he told himself.

When the nightmare was gone, or mostly gone, he was able to get out of bed.

Autumn was crisp on this morning. Arthur preferred spring, but autumn was nice too. After responding to a friendly text from Vince, Arthur happened to look at himself in his bathroom mirror, shirtless.

Well, he wasn't a massive beast of a man, but Arthur did notice that he seemed a bit tighter, even lithe in a way. But Arthur knew he wasn't badass in any sense of the word. His hands were tougher, but he couldn't beat most people in a fight. Sometimes, Vince would playfully say, "Hey, try to hit me if you can! Go on! See what you can do!" And Arthur, trusting that man, would try a to put a strike on Vince's chest or arm. Then Vince would block or dodge the attack easily and give some random advice. Despite all this, Arthur was still a slow learner.

On the other side of the friendship, Vince had recently bought a nice console for himself. It was white and hooked up to the television in his comfy living room. He spent tons of money on games he probably wouldn't even like. He'd only asked Arthur, "Hey, does this look cool?" Not all gamers enjoy the same types of games. Some of them even thought that casual mobile games didn't even count as video games. Arthur tried to explain the best he could, but Vince didn't really listen. He just went on an online shopping spree.

Arthur's phone dinged again. He checked it. Yep, another text from Vince. He asked if Arthur wanted to try out working out at an actual gym for once, the kind where you could just pay money up front for the day instead of getting a subscription.

"What's the point?" Arthur typed out. "You have everything at home."

"Yeah," Vince answered, "but I'm so damn bored. Need a change of scenery."

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned on the sink's countertop. "This is stupid. I don't need to smell a bunch of random people's body odor."

"Aw come on! It's on me!"

Smiley face emoji.

Arthur hated emojis.

"I really don't want to drive to a gym."

"I'll drive."

Again, Arthur rolled his eyes. "You can go if you want, but I'll stay home."

"Okay. Let's just work out at my place."

"Sure, if you still want to."

"See you tomorrow."

***

Arthur won the rock-paper-scissors match. He got the shower first. Vince groaned and turned the on television as he sunk into the couch. "I feel like some Steven Universe."

"You watch Steven Universe?" Arthur said as he folded his arms and gave the man a suspicious look. Over time, he'd learned Vince liked animated shows in general, but he didn't expect any god damn Steven Universe.

Vince's eyes were oddly stiff as they moved towards Arthur. His lips pouted out a bit. "Yep. I watch Steven Universe, and I loved Adventure Time." He said all this with a gruff voice, manly as the taste of well prepared bear meat. Well, at least Arthur thought bear meat tasted manly.

"Okay, that's cool," Arthur said as he went off to their favorite bathroom. Vince was a grown ass man. Arthur wasn't in any place to judge.

When he was in the shower, letting the hot water pressure calm his aching muscles, Arthur wondered about that guy. He was weird, and the more time Arthur spent at his place the more aware he was of it.

For example, one day Arthur happened to think, "This place is nice. I should give my room a makeover. Maybe put up some photos. I miss my parents." Then he looked around and thought, "Wait. Vince doesn't have any photos on his walls, not even of himself." Arthur didn't say anything about it, and he wasn't planning to, but he couldn't help but think about it.

Vince was just so weird.

He had a whole house to himself, and it was carefully decorated. One could see all the care and love put into it, but there weren't any family nor friends in any photographs. There were some copies of paintings and other wall art, but nothing much else.

And Arthur was beginning to wonder why he didn't have to pay for anything. Seriously. Anytime they did anything that cost money, Vince paid for it, completely willingly, sometimes even after insisting on it.

This was ... kind of too good to be true, really.

And too weird to be true, but then again, reality always feels unrealistic to certain people.

Some people were very, very nice, just like how some people were sick and twisted pieces of evil shit.

One hand holding a bar of soap, Arthur hugged himself and sighed as he thought of the man in his more painful nightmares.

He trembled.

When he was nice and clean, Arthur changed into some fresh clothes and went back down to the living room, where an episode of Steven Universe was playing. Vince looked away to smile at Arthur. "Hey, you want to watch something else? I don't mind." He held the remote control out.

Arthur took it and sat down beside him. "Yeah, this isn't my thing."

Vince got up. "Whatever. Fridge's open for you."

Arthur appreciated the offer, but he chose not to search that fridge for any extra food. He was afraid of accidentally taking something Vince had saved for later. He watched game shows until Vince returned from the shower, again in a pair of slippers and a robe. Arthur tried not to look over at him, but he was only human. There was a bit of faint hair on the man's chest, peeking out from a looser part of the robe.

Vince sat down next to Arthur and leaned back, draping his arms on the couch's back. "Aggghhhhh ... I needed that." His head turned to face Arthur, and he lazily smiled. "Want to go out tonight? I'm not in the mood to cook."

The way he said that ... it didn't sound normal. "Huh?" Arthur nervously fiddled with the remote, playing with the soft button's textures. "It's not dark or anything. I'm sure if you wait a while you'll turn the kitchen upside down and make something good enough to be on Food Wars." He starting looking for something that could properly distract him on Netflix. "Besides, I wanted to go home and play something on Steam."

"Awwwwww ... I want to try that crappy Chinese Japanese buffet place up north." Was this man really whining like a kid? It didn't suit his deep voice at all.

"Why are you acting like I'm stopping you or something?" Arthur said as he tried to look at a summary of some gambling anime. It looked interesting, at least visually. "I don't own you. Go eat dinner by yourself."

Arthur heard what he thought was Vince's palm slapping the couch's armrest, then Vince's irritated tone. "Who am I supposed to eat with, the pill-heads on the streets?"

"Geez, fine. Quit being a baby." Arthur really didn't like this side of him.

The restaurant was a buffet that sold American style Chinese, Japanese, and a few typical straight American foods. It was huge and if you wanted your food you had to get it yourself. It was cheap but it seemed fair enough. It wasn't filthy. It didn't smell bad. And the food looked nice. There was even a place to get sushi, mostly maki rolls, California rolls, and nigiri.

Once their plates were full, the men sat at their table and happily ate. They talked about the safest, happiest topics, until at point where half their food was gone and Vince's face was suddenly dark. He sighed very dramatically and said, "Hey, mind if I talk to you about something?"

"Hm?" Arthur took a sip of his cold sweet tea through a straw. "What's up?"

Vince brushed some hair out of his eyes. Then his fingernails drummed a testy little tune on the table as he looked down at his plate. "You don't really talk about your family a lot."

"Neither do you," Arthur countered.

"Yeah, well," here, Vince shrugged, "my folks are mostly dead, and the ones who aren't dead aren't on good terms with me." He fiddled with the straw in his glass, making wet and clinking noises with the ice and liquid. "But you're so damn normal. Why don't you bitch about anyone, like your cousin or mom or something?"

Because ... it hurt to talk about them.

A frigid sensation zoomed up Arthur's spine. He twitched and shivered. "Uhm ... it's really complicated."

"We got the time."

Arthur looked down at a sticky sweet bit of chicken. He poked it with a fork. "I sort of ... ran away from home."

"What? But you're grown. What, were you part of a cult?"

With a light chuckle, Arthur told him it wasn't anything like that.

"I don't know how you'd react, I mean, you're my only friend around here. I don't want to weird you out."

Vince picked up a napkin and dabbed at his mouth before saying, "It's pretty hard to weird me out."

"You might not want to be my friend anymore."

"Take the damn plunge."

Arthur sighed. The worst thing that would happen, as far as he knew, would be for Vince to break everything off. As painful as that would be, it wouldn't be the most horrible thing in the world. Arthur was doing okay before Vince showed up in his life.

"Well ... this sounds kind of weak, but I was in a pretty bad relationship."

Vince nodded with an attentive expression. "Mm hmmm. A stalker?"

"Yeah. It got pretty bad." Arthur put his fork down and took another sip of his tea. "I would have hidden in a shelter, not a homeless shelter, a shelter for victims of domestic abuse, but ... well ... where I'm from, there are only women's shelters, and they didn't let any men in."

Vince interrupted with a bitter phrase. "Male privilege at its finest."

"Uhm ... yeah, but the funny thing is, I didn't run away from a wacko bitch. I ran away from a guy."

Silence.

Vince's face was blank.

Arthur's heart and breath both toiled for a moment, but he gripped the edge of the table and calmed himself down.

Please don't freak out. Please don't freak out. Please don't freak out!!

"I'm gay," he said, his eyes rolling down to his tight fingers.

"Oh. Okay, so how bad was this dude?"

Vince had said that in the most laid-back way.

Arthur looked up. Vince's face was every bit as unconcerned as his voice. Relief flooded through Arthur's nerves as he said, "So, you don't really care about me being gay?"

"What gets your pecker up is none of my business," Vince said with a slightly quieter tone, but he was smiling. "I just wanted a buddy, and when I picked you out, I wasn't wondering what kind of porn you jerk it to." Arthur was glad he wasn't being loud. It would've been embarrassing to have someone else hear him. "So," Vince said as he slightly leaned in, "just how bad was this dude?"

Arthur pointed up at his face. "I used to have a straight nose."