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Chasing a Butterfly	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2592 -:- 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
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Wednesday November 1^st1989 (11.42 a.m.)
Since moving into his new home, Tom found the days dragged by in a slow, boring litany that consisted of eating, sleeping and watching TV. He rarely saw Harry, who was working a case with Booker but when he did, the conversation was awkward and prone to long periods of silence. He felt like an interloper, a chaotic intruder who had forcefully inserted himself into Harry’s well-organized, structured life. He was not deserving of such kindness and the realization only added to his feelings of inadequacy. Booker had been right, without an intervention he most likely would still be a drug-addicted whore living in a rat-infested apartment. Or worse case scenario, he could be dead.
However, whenever the conscious recognition of how close he came to death crossed his mind, he did not feel a bone chilling relief that he had made it through his addiction alive; instead, he felt a twinge of regret because a tiny part of him wished he had died with a needle sticking out of his arm. His thoughts weren’t suicidal, now that he was sober, he wanted to live, but if he had died, it would not have been the worst thing to happen because he would have paid his restitution for taking the life of his best friend. It would have been the proverbial eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the universe would have restored balance, and he would have been free.
But he was not free, he was forced to live with the pain and regret for the rest of his life and sometimes, the reality of it overwhelmed him. It was only when he looked towards the future that he was able to relax, knowing that he would one day make it right and when that day occurred, Penhall would forgive him.
A gentle tapping at the door pulled him from a light doze and staggering up from the couch, he ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. Glancing up at the wall clock, he wondered who it could be. Harry was in bed, having arrived home just before dawn and in the week he had been living at the apartment, no one had visited.
Walking warily over to the door, he opened it on its chain. Booker stood in the corridor looking as though he had not slept in days. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his normally tanned face was pale and drawn. “Hey Tommy, can I come in?” he asked in a soft, hopeful voice, his expression a picture of wretchedness.
Hanson hesitated for a moment before releasing the chain and stepping back from the door, he allowed his lover entrance into the small apartment. Pushing the door closed, he turned and faced the man who, despite their argument, still occupied his every waking thought and flooded his dreams with unfulfilled fantasies. The two men stood in awkward silence for several seconds before Booker spoke again, this time, his voice sounding strained. “You know it was an accident, right? I would never have done anything to hurt you.”
Tom ran his fingers self-consciously over the scab that had formed over the wound on the back of his head. He knew it had been an accident but Booker’s hurtful words remained burned into his soul and lowering his eyes, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled into his chest, “it’s just…” Lifting his head, he gazed miserably into Booker’s eyes. “Every time we fight, you call me a whore and each time it stings just a little bit more than the last. It stings because I love you so much and I know that’s how you’ll always see me, as a drug addicted, filthy slut who ruined his life.”
Tears welled in Booker’s eyes and moving forward, he attempted to pull Tom towards him, but Hanson wrapped his arms protectively around his torso and stepped away. “Don’t,” he muttered despondently. “A hug’s not gonna fix it, not this time.”
“Then what?” Booker implored in a high, desperate voice. “What can I do to prove to you that I love you Tommy and I want you to come home. I’m sorry I stole the tapes, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough to let you make your own decisions, but I was frantic at the thought of you going to prison. I did it for you! Can’t you see that? I did it for you and I did it for us!”
Tom’s lower lip pushed into a soft pout. “And the next time we have a fight, are you gonna throw my past back in my face?” he asked in a moody voice. “Because you’d better get used to the idea that I’m not perfect. I’ve done things I’m not proud of and I’ve let men do things to me that—”
“Don’t,” Booker reacted in a horrified voice. “I don’t want to know what they did to you.”
Frowning, Tom tilted his head on one side and studied Booker’s face with interest. “Why not? What they did to me is a part of who I am. Does it repulse you to know I let men fuck me for drugs and mon—”
“STOP!” Booker yelled and turning away, he began to pace up and down the floor of the small room, his hands raking through his dark hair in agitation. “Jesus Tommy, how can you speak about it so matter-of-factly? They took advantage of you! They used you as a sex toy! Doesn’t that bother you at all?”
Anger clouded Tom’s face and he glared back defiantly as his hands balled into tight fists. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’ve got it only half right,” he muttered in a flat voice. “I used them just as much as they used me. I got all the drugs I wanted and I got off on it. The sex was what kept me alive, there was no intimacy, it was just fucking and I liked it.”
A look of horror passed over Booker’s face and he stared back at Tom in disbelief. It had never occurred to him that he might have enjoyed having sex with a multitude of different men. His stomach churned at the thought of the dozens of men who had violated his beautiful Tommy and he swallowed down the hot acid that rose from within his gut. The man he loved appeared to be vanishing right before his eyes and the desperate, damaged man he had tried to save from the horrors of drugs and prostitution had returned in his place. He was reliving his nightmare except this time, he did not know if he had the strength or the fortitude, to bring the real Tom Hanson back again.
Stepping forward, he grabbed hold of Tom’s wrist and squeezed it tight. “Are you telling me you liked being a whore?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Tom tried to pull away but Booker’s grasp was too tight. Pain flared through his wrist but he refused to show any outward sign of discomfort and staring back at Booker, he spoke in a low, steady voice. “I’m telling you what you already think,” he replied calmly. “You already see me as a whore so I’m just making it easier for you to turn around, walk out the door and forget I ever existed. I’m giving you a guilt free pass.”
Booker’s eyes blinked rapidly in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want to end this relationship, I want to be with you forever.”
A slow, sad smile played over Tom’s lips. “Forever’s a long time Dennis. Everything I just said, about enjoying the fucking and using those men so I could get drugs, that’s how you really see me isn’t it? You don’t look at me and think I lost my way for a while, you look at me and see a drug-addicted, manipulative whore who played men to get what he wanted. I’m sorry Dennis, but I can’t be in a relationship with someone who will never really trust me. I know you love me, I can see it in your eyes, but I don’t think it’s enough. You’ll always have doubts about me and eventually, those doubts will tear us apart because let’s face it, I’ll never be good enough.”
A cold chill ran down Booker’s spine and he gaped back at Tom incredulously. Everything his lover had said was true, he had not been able to let go of Tom’s transgressions and deep inside his psyche, he did still think of him as a drug-addicted whore. The insults had tumbled so easily from his lips when they had been fighting and at the time, he had not even registered what he was saying. But Tom had, Tom had heard every single word and he felt sick knowing that he could have been so cruel and insensitive towards the man he loved.
Loosening his grip, he reached up and cupped Tom’s cheek in the palm of his hand. “Please baby,” he whispered, his dark eyes begging for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel worthless, I just… I just wanted to protect you and I didn’t realize all I was doing was hurting you. You know me, I’m a hot head and I say things in the heat of the moment. I don’t think you’re a whore, I love you, I’ve always loved you and no matter what, I’ll always be by your side.”
Before Tom could speak, Harry appeared from the bedroom, his eyes bleary with sleep and his hair sticking up in soft peaks around his head.
“Harry,” Tom muttered in surprise. “I’m sorry, did we wake you?”
Harry’s eyes flitted from Tom to Dennis and back again and letting out a weary sigh, he sat on the arm of the couch and studied the two men collectively. “You’re both idiots.”
Hanson and Booker exchanged confused glances. “You heard me,” Harry continued and standing up, he walked across the room and laid a hand on each man’s shoulder. “You obviously love each other but you fight like little children. Forgive and forget already, or split up, or do whatever, but for fuck’s sake, stop arguing in my living room when I’m trying to sleep!”
Booker’s lips twitched at the edges and turning his gaze back to Tom, he took hold of his hand and gave the fingers a squeeze. “I don’t want to lose you Tommy,” he murmured, “and I’m sorry for all the horrible things I said. I love you baby, can’t you please forgive me?”
Tom unknowingly began chewing on his lower lip, a sure sign to both Booker and Ioki that he was deep in thought. Seconds turned into minutes and Booker began to lose hope that Tom would forgive him. But just as he was about to walk away, he felt gentle fingers squeezing his own.
“Okay,” Tom murmured in a barely audible voice, “I forgive you.”
Pure happiness shone from Booker’s dark eyes, but he kept his emotions in check. “Does that mean you’ll come home?”
The corner of Tom’s mouth tilted upwards in his signature lilting smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Thank God,” Ioki sighed, but he could not hide the genuine smile that lit up his face. “See yourselves out fellas, I’m going back to bed.”
When the bedroom door closed with a bang, Booker ran his fingers through Tom’s unruly locks. “God I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his dark eyes boring deep into Tom’s soul with the intensity of their love.
Tom leaned forward and wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist, he rested his head on his broad shoulder and snuggled in close. “I’ve missed you too,” he murmured softly.
Booker kissed the top of Tom’s head. “C’mon baby, let’s go home.”
****
Wednesday November 1^st1989 (10.18 p.m.)
Tom lay in Booker’s arms listening to the steady, hypnotic rhythm of his breathing as he slept peacefully beside him. They had agreed to ease back into their relationship and so they had spent the day talking and watching television. When they had finally climbed into bed, Booker had attempted to initiate contact but Tom had remained stubbornly resolute and although disappointed, his lover had not pushed the point. Now, twenty minutes later, Booker lay softly snoring next to him, lost in the fantasies of his dreams. But for Tom, it was not so easy to put the last week of his life behind him. He had made a monumental decision about his future only days before and he knew that when Dennis found out what he had done, he would be furious. However, he knew he had made the right choice, after all, it was his life and he was the one who had to live it.
Tilting his head, he gazed up into Booker’s sleeping face and a physical pain stabbed at his heart. More than anything, he wanted to know what it felt like to have Dennis make love to him. He wanted to share the explosive joy of their bodies coming together as one, completing them both as they shuddered out their release in unison, sating the desire that burned within their souls. But he was hesitant to take their relationship to that level because if he did, he knew he would never be able to leave, and although Booker was unaware of it, he understood their relationship was now a ticking time bomb, counting them down to the moment when they would cease to be.
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Chasing a Butterfly