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What Is and What Should Never Be	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1336 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Several days passed before money once again became an issue. Despite assurances to the contrary, Booker did not think Tom was well enough to sleep rough, which meant going back on the game.
Waking early in the morning, Tom felt Dennis’ now familiar embrace holding him tight. Sighing contentedly, he wriggled backwards so he could enjoy the heat radiating from Booker’s body. As he made contact, he felt the hardness of Booker’s cock pushing against him. He immediately stopped moving and held his breath.
Dennis moaned in his sleep as he pulled Tom closer. In a semi conscious state, he began to grind himself against Tom’s backside. As his cock began to swell, he opened his eyes so he could fully enjoy what was about to follow. Seeing Tom’s bruised back in front of him he pulled away with a cry of alarm. “Jesus Tommy, I’m sorry! I was asleep, I didn’t… JESUS!”

Inwardly composing himself from the initial shock, Tom rolled over. He had known for a while that Booker fancied him; he just had not expected him to act on it so quickly. He had seen the covert glances when he was dressing or undressing and at first, he felt panicked at the thought of Booker touching him in that way. But over the last few days, he had made the decision that if Dennis wanted to have sex with him, he would allow it. More than anything, he wanted to keep his friend happy, especially now that he was the only one going out and earning money to keep them both housed and fed. It was a small sacrifice to make, considering everything Booker was sacrificing for him.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he smiled sweetly as his finger trailed down Dennis’ naked torso before stopping just above the waistband of his boxer’s. “Do you want me to help you?” he murmured as his fingers slipped underneath the elastic and entwined themselves around Booker’s erect cock. “I know you—“
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Dennis yelled, as he pulled Tom’s hand roughly away. “I was asleep! I didn’t know it was you!”
Tom pouted angrily as humiliation burned his face. “I thought you wanted it,” he retorted crossly. “I wanted to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”
“PAY ME BACK?” Booker screamed, as he jumped out of bed and hastily pulled on his jeans and shirt. “Spoken like a true whore!”
Tears pricked at Tom’s eyes as Booker’s words seared deep into his heart. “I’m n-not a wh-whore!” he sobbed, “I j-just w-wanted to m-make you h-happy.”
Pulling on his boots, Booker turned to face the anguished teen. “Yeah? Well guess what?” he replied as he stomped over to the door. “You doing that does not make me happy.” As he exited the room, he slammed the door loudly behind him.
Angrily wiping the tears from his face, Tom stood up and began to dress. “Fuck you,” he muttered under his breath and grabbing his coat, he headed outside to the chaos of the streets.
**
Walking briskly along the wet pavement, Booker hunched his shoulders against the wind. He knew he should be soliciting on a street corner rather than walking off his bad mood but he needed time to think before he could deal with servicing a client. He walked several blocks before his breathing had calmed to a normal rate. Several blocks later and he began to regret his outburst. Tom was such a fucked up kid it was little wonder he had thought he needed to repay Dennis’ kindness. What bothered Booker the most though, was that Tom knew that he wanted him. He thought he had managed to keep his true feelings buried whilst still showing Tom love and kindness. Tommy was obviously more astute than Booker had given him credit. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was to blame, not Tom. It saddened him to think that Tom thought the only way he could thank Booker was with sexual favors.
Feeling sick, he remembered that he had called Tom a whore. He knew all too well the feeling of degradation that he felt when labeled in such a way. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what a hypocrite he was. Here he was, walking the streets getting ready to suck some guy’s dick for money. Not only that, but he did want Tommy’s fingers wrapped around his cock. What stopped him was that he was terrified of taking advantage of a boy who had only been on the streets for a week. Not that he wanted sexual favors as gratitude. If he and Tom were ever going to have a sexual relationship, he needed it to be because Tommy wanted it, not because the teenager felt obliged to do it.
Exhaling loudly, Booker turned around and began walking back to his usual corner.
**
As Tom exited the hotel, he took a moment to look at his surroundings. He was still unfamiliar with the streets but he was sure if he stopped on any corner, someone would proposition him. He wanted money and he wanted it fast. He needed to numb the pain in his heart and mind and there was only one way he could think of doing that; drugs and alcohol. Crossing the street, he walked several minutes before he stopped on a corner outside a seedy looking hotel. It did not take long before a middle-aged man approached him and offered him twenty dollars for a blowjob. Tom agreed on the condition that the man purchase him a bottle of cheap whiskey. The deal sealed, he followed his client down a side alley. They emerged ten minutes later and true to his word, the john found a liquor store and bought the whiskey. Depositing the bottle into his coat pocket, Tom set out on his second mission; pills. During his convalescence, he had spent several hours staring out of his window. He had become familiar with one particular street kid, a rough looking teen who begged outside of a 7-Eleven across the road. He had witnessed many dealings from the refuge of his hotel room. All he had to do was find the boy.
It took a frustratingly long time for Tom to locate the teen but only seconds to secure a deal. With most of his money now gone, Tom returned to the sanctuary of the hotel. Switching on the TV, he sat on the edge of the bed and opened the bottle of whiskey. He knocked back several large swigs before turning his attention to the pills. Pulling two Percodan from his pocket, he swallowed them down with another gulp of whiskey. The pain in his body slowly began to subside as the drugs took effect. It took longer for his mind to become comfortably numb but eventually the mixture of drugs and half a bottle of alcohol took hold. Sinking from the bed to the floor, his head lolled to the side as he fell into a drug induced stupor.
**
Having secured enough money to keep both he and Tom housed for another few nights, Booker slowly made his way up the hotel’s narrow creaking staircase. He had practiced his apology repeatedly in his mind and he hoped that Tom would forgive him for reacting the way he had. He did not want his friend to carry the burden of responsibility for what had happened. He felt he was far more to blame for the mix up than Tom was. As way of an apology, Dennis had stopped off at Joey’s and bought two burgers with the lot, large fries and a bottle of cola. It was not a very healthy meal but he knew how much Tom enjoyed it.
Opening the door to their room, he started to call out but stopped when he saw Tom lying on the floor. Seeing the half-empty bottle of whisky in Tom’s hand, Booker dropped the carry bag of food to the floor. “Tommy!” he cried as he ran over to kneel beside his friend’s unconscious body. Lowering his head next to Tom’s, he could hear shallow breathing. Relief flooded over him. All too often, a runaway died from a drug and alcohol overdose. It was a sad fact of street life, which was why Booker avoided using either as a means of comfort.
Needing to know what he was dealing with, Dennis rummaged through Tom’s pockets. He found several Percodan in the pocket of Tom’s grey trench coat. Placing them on the bedside table, he put his arms around Tom’s chest and slowly dragged him backwards towards the bathroom. Laying Tom gently on the floor, Booker set the shower to cold and once again wrapping his arms around Tom’s unconscious form, he heaved him into the cubicle. Using all his strength, he managed to get Tom to a standing position by keeping his arms firmly around Tom’s chest and using the tiled wall as support. As the freezing water surged over both boys, Tom started to moan. The veil of fog lifted from Tom’s mind and he began to struggle to free himself from the vice like grip squeezing at his chest. Dennis held firm, managing to keep Tom under the water for another two minutes. Eventually breaking free, Tom lashed out viciously, his fist connecting with Booker’s face. Cracking his head painfully against the shower wall, Dennis immediately fought back. Grabbing Tom, he shoved him violently out of the shower stall. Tom cried out as his bruised back hit the corner of the sink. Blind rage flooded through Tom’s body as he charged at Dennis, both boys ending up of the floor of the shower as the cold water cascaded over them. Booker instantly got the upper hand and he slammed his fist hard into Tom’s damaged face. Blood spurted from the teen’s nose and dark red droplets mixed with the flowing water. Defeated, Tom collapsed onto the shower floor as he began to throw up from the effects of the alcohol and pills. Standing up, Dennis stepped out of the cubical, leaving Tom lying on the floor as vomit and blood swirled down the drain. Leaning against the sink, Booker caught his breath before stepping back into the shower and turning off the faucet. Tom lay gasping on the wet tiled floor as blood continued to drip from his nose. As Dennis leaned down and attempted to help him up, Tom pulled away angrily, spitting blood as he yelled, “FUCK OFF!”
Holding his hands up in surrender, Booker silently backed out of the cubical. Grabbing a towel, he walked into the bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. Stripping off his soaking wet clothing, he quickly dried himself off before pulling on boxers and jeans. Grabbing up his wet garments in one arm, he picked up the Percodan tablets and walked back into the bathroom. Throwing the drenched bundle of clothes onto the floor, he gazed at Tom who was still lying on the floor, his thin body shivering from cold. Tossing the tablets into the sink, Booker gave his friend a withering look. “These,” he said, as he turned on the faucet and washed the pills down the drain, “are never helpful.”
“What do you know,” Tom mumbled resentfully.
Booker gave Tom a stony look. “More than you, you fuckwit. If you want to drink and take drugs, you’re on your own, ‘cause no way in hell am I coming home one day to find you dead on the floor from an overdose.” Bending down to pick up his sodden clothing, he walked out of the bathroom and and exited the room, slamming the door behind him.
Tom pulled his aching body into a sitting position. His head swam and for a moment, he feared he might once again vomit. As the room stopped spinning, he pulled his legs up and wrapping his arms around them, he began to slowly rock back and forth. It was something he used to do as a means of comfort when he was young and first experiencing the sexual molestation at he hands of his father. He let his mind wander to the special place where his mother still existed and their family was a happy one. Silent tears poured down his face as his imagination ran free. It was so much easier living in a fantasy world than in reality and he wished he could close his eyes and stay there forever. Time slowed down and he had no idea how long he sat shivering in the shower cubicle before he was aware that Booker was squatting in front of him.
“Hey Tommy,” Dennis murmured softly, no sign of his previous anger evident in his voice. “Let’s get you dry before you catch cold.”
Having no energy left to fight, Tom allowed Booker to help him from the shower stall. He stood meekly as his friend undressed him and rubbed him dry. As Dennis led him to the bed, he felt hot tears once again burning at his lids. Naked and vulnerable, he pulled away from Booker’s embrace and climbing under the covers, he turned away and sobbed into his pillow.
Deciding to give Tom some privacy, Booker picked up Tom’s wet clothing and silently left the room. As he walked down the stairs to the basement, he marveled at how quickly things had changed. In less than two weeks, he had made a new friend but in doing so, had lost four. It now appeared his new friend might not be who he initially thought him to be. It frightened Dennis to think of Tom turning so easily to alcohol and prescription medication.
Tossing Tom’s clothes into the machine along with his own, he closed the lid and started the cycle. Closing his eyes, he felt tears prick against his lids. He did not want to lose Tom from his life, but keeping him in it might end up being just as painful.
**
After returning to their room, Dennis had found Tom fast asleep. Standing at the end of the bed, he stared at Tom’s battered face. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt when he noticed the fresh bruising under Tom’s eyes. Everything had turned to shit and he was ultimately responsible. If he had kept his feelings for Tom hidden, nothing would have happened. Sighing heavily, he grabbed a spare blanket from the wardrobe and curling up on the battered armchair, he fell into a fitful sleep. He awoke several times in the night to check on Tom but each time he found him asleep. Eventually allowing his tortured mind to relax, he fell into a deep, coma like slumber.
Booker awoke to the sound of thunder. Hearing the traffic noise rising up from the street below, he knew he must have slept late. Painfully extricating himself from his cramped sleeping position, his eyes searched the room for Tom. His heart began to pound when he realized that the room was empty. Standing up and hobbling to the bathroom, he saw that it too was vacant. Rubbing at a painful crick in his neck, he tried not to panic. Tom might have gone out to buy breakfast, or he could be downstairs talking to Morty. Booker rapidly searched the untidy room for any clues as to Tom’s whereabouts. His eyes eventually settled on a torn piece of burger wrapper lying on the nightstand. Picking it up, Dennis’ heart sank as he read the barely legible scrawl: I fuked up. Im sorry. Dont look fore me. I dont want to be fownd.
“Oh Tommy,” Booker whispered, as he reread the note. Looking around the room, he saw Tom’s bag and clothing were gone but the trench coat lay across the end of the bed. Searching through his own jacket pocket, he found the money he had made the day before. Counting it, he realized that no money was missing. That meant that Tom was on the streets, alone and penniless.
Ignoring his growling stomach, Booker grabbed up his jacket and headed out onto the bustling city streets in search of his friend.
- 11
- 12
- 13
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What Is and What Should Never Be