Chapter 1 Kingsley
*KINGSLEY*
I've always thought life was perfect.
But life doesn't work that way.
We have obstacles we have to overcome.
We have to find out who we are.
We have to protect what we love.
And endure pain for those we love.
My life wasn't perfect.
It was far from it.
Until he came into my life.
It took one night for me to give him everything.
My virginity, myself, and my love.
But like I said life isn't perfect.
His name was Augustus Carmichael.
One simple touch of his lips is all I needed for my walls to crumble and for him to heal me.
But life isn't perfect.
He wasn't perfect.
He was August.
And this is our story.
Trigger warnings of mental health, suicide, and abuse. This is also mm (male/male) romance. Thank you for reading.
February 14-My Birthday.
It's been over a year since he took his life. A year where I haven't slept more than 4 hours. A year where I overworked myself to keep the pain from eating me alive. A year where I've seen my mother drink her sorrows away. Thankfully she has stopped. A year where my body halts and I'm lying in bed frozen. My brother took his life. He was lost and confused. And his only choice was to take his own life. Why didn't he come to me? Why didn't he let me know what he was going through? So many whys and I still haven't gotten answers. Maybe I'll never know.
Maybe because Brandon didn't show he was in pain. He was all smiles. He would make me laugh when I was a grump. He would brighten my day when I came tired as hell from work. He was smiley Brandon who kept secrets deep inside his heart.
We didn't grow up in the best living environment. Brandon's dad, my stepdad was a drunk. I'm not sure why my mother dealt with him so long but she did. He's your brother's dad. Your dad. He's raised you since you were young. He puts food on the table. He's just stressed with work. Those are the words she would tell me. I hated him. I hated Phillip. He did have a good career. He was in construction but he held demons of his own.
My mom worked graveyard hours at a hotel so she would leave us at night with my dad. He drank most of the day, yes on the job. I've always wondered how he functioned at work from drinking and the fact he never got caught was alarming. He would continue his drinking when he got home. He would yell at me that I wasn't his son and that why did he have to raise me. Brandon would cry. Phillip would try to hit him to make him quiet but I always took those beatings. My mom would ask what happened to me but I would tell her I got in a fight at school. But that was the tip of the iceberg. I hid my bruises well on my back.
My mother finally had it with Phillip. One night they were arguing. He was drunk of course. I heard my mom scream. I jumped out of my bed and into their room. He was on top of her, choking her. I grabbed a wooden chair and slammed it on his back. He fell on the floor as I pulled my mother off the bed. She quickly called 911. Brandon was crying. I comforted him. My mom still had sympathy for Phillip. She didn't press charges but she threw him out. They divorced and she got to keep the house but we struggled to pay bills. We managed throughout the years. But the damage was done. My family was broken but I kept my head high.
I got a job as a waiter after high school. My mom wanted me to go to college but I told her we couldn't afford it. She told me to trust her. She found a way to get money for my tuition. But we hit a rut. The mortgage on the house got much more expensive. We couldn't refinance so we lost the house. We got a small two-bedroom apartment and life was getting better. But it wasn't.
My brother hadn't gotten home one night and we were worried. He called that he was ok and he'll be home later. He talked to my mom then to me. I love you brother. Those are the words he last told me. Police officers came to our apartment door at 5 in the morning. My body froze when they told me what happened. I dropped to my knees as time stood still. My heart tore into two and bloodshed on the floor. I heard my mother's scream as an echo. Why did you do it, Brandon? Why couldn't you talk to me? More whys.
Until this day we don't have answers. We talked to his friends and teachers. They told us he was full of life and was the energy of the room. Yeah, he was. I fucken miss him. I'm still broken but I need to stay strong for my mother. She's been doing better. She got a job at a diner, that keeps her mind busy. She loves it. She tells me stories of people she meets. I saw a gleam in her eyes and that's all I needed to know that she was healing.
Me on the other hand. I wake up in the middle of the night yelling and full of sweat. I hyperventilate and that worries my mother. I hated being weak around her but these night terrors are the worst. I can't control them. It's just black shadows in my dream. They choke me and drag me into a dark hole. It's an empty void I can't avoid. I'm scared to go to sleep and I don't scare easily. I have to be brave for my mother and get past the struggles I'm dealing with.
Now I'm laying on a couch, staring at the ceiling. A yellow circle is drawn on the ceiling as my body relaxes. My mind clears just like the blue ocean. I blink and blood rushes to my fingers. I was numb when I came in. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"It seems like your thoughts are clear and your body is relaxed," my psychiatrist said, Dr. Cunningham.
"Yes," I told her. She wanted to switch to another room and now I know why.
"Yellow is a calming color. It relaxes the mind and thoughts. I wanted to come to this room so you can experience the yellow circle on the ceiling. I know it seems weird but I see how your body is less tense," her voice was so soft and tranquil.
"It seems to work. My body felt like I was carrying the weight of the world. My mind was like a stone and my feet felt like bricks. I wanted to scream but the words don't come out," I tried to cry, to relieve the tightness in my heart and the knot in my throat but nothing comes out. Nothing.
"I want to prescribe you some antidepressants. It will help ease your panic attacks. You're doing well right now," her voice sweet like candy.
I have a mixture of emotions. I was angry that Brandon was gone and sad that he couldn't be here. He's not here to celebrate my birthday. I would always celebrate my birthday with him. Today, February 14 but today I don't have him or ever will.
"It's my birthday today," I swallowed the knot in my throat.
"I know. I saw your chart. Happy birthday. You should go out and celebrate. It would be good for you. Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No," is all I saw.
"Boyfriend?" I stayed quiet. A little too quiet. Say something before she suspects. Too late you took too long.
"No," I said softly.
We talked a bit more. I started seeing Dr. Cunningham a couple of weeks ago. My mom told me that she made an appointment for me to see a shrink. I told her to not waste her money on things we can't afford. She only gave me her sweet smile and told me to not worry so much. I didn't question my mother but I know psychiatrists are expensive especially if I'm coming weekly.
I stood up and put my trucker hat on. I didn't like anyone seeing my eyes or directly at them. They wouldn't question me or see past the darkness that hid inside me. They would feel sorry for me. I didn't want to be a martyr. I could handle this, well I'm trying to. I just keep telling myself why did he do it?
I turned the knob to exit her room. "Kingsley?"
I pivoted slowly. I didn't look directly at her. "Yeah?"
"Go out and have fun. You only live once. I know it hurts that your brother is gone but you must move on. It isn't healthy. You'll consume yourself. You'll forget who you are," she was determined to fix me.
"Thanks, I can take care of myself," I opened the door and walked out. I squeezed my hand and closed my eyes. I needed to go out.
******
I went to the nearest pharmacy to get my new prescription. The pharmacist told me it will be 20 minutes. I walked around the convenience store. I stopped in the magazine section. I grabbed a college magazine and flipped through the pages. Brandon loved football, any football from college to professional. I heard laughter on the other aisle. A deep voice. "We owe it to ourselves. We won that's why we're here. Let's go out and celebrate, August."
"August?" That's a unique name.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty tired but you won't let me stay in the hotel so I guess I'll have to go," damn his voice was deep and husky.
I heard their footsteps coming around. That's when I saw them. A guy with dark blonde hair, his silver eyes landed on me. I tilted my head. "Ohh shoot, he's reading the magazine you're in August," I tightened my grip on the magazine. Tiny sweat beads formed on my nose. I pulled the front of my cap forward. I heard footsteps get closer.
"You a football fan," I heard blondie.
"Naw but my brother was," fuck, my chest tightened and my throat was closing. You're good Kingsley. Don't panic. That's when I aligned my eyes with the dark-haired guy. He had a slight curve on the corner of his lips. His eyes changed from aqua to hazel, never seen that before. His lips were cherry red like a heart. He had a square jawline and a dimple that was dying to show itself.
"Was?" his eyes softened.
"Why are you being nosy, August?" Blondie said. "August has no manners, Vincent St James," he stretched his arm. I gripped it. I tried to hide under my hat but it was too late.
Kingsley Hudson, your prescription is ready. The speakerphone was loud enough for the whole pharmacy to hear. I closed my eyes. I placed the magazine back and played it cool.
"Kingsley. Pleasure. I have to go," I did a glance at August. His eyes shifted from hazel to aqua. I averted quickly and nodded at Vincent.
I went back and grabbed the college magazine. Now I'm sitting in my truck. I opened the magazine towards the middle and there he was. Augustus Carmichael, quarterback for St James Academy in Oregon. He will be a senior in the fall and on his way to being drafted to the NFL. Damn, he looks good in his black and gold uniform. His pose is pure perfection. His sweating hair came down his forehead. He had a wide smile and the most perfect teeth I've seen. And those chameleon eyes that shift from aqua to hazel. "What the fuck am I doing?" I threw the magazine in the passenger seat. I turned on the ignition and drove home.
I opened the door and spices invaded my nostrils. "Mom. I'm home!"
"In the kitchen, birthday boy!" I smirked. I passed the lounge and walked into the kitchen. My mom held her hair in a bun and was still in her diner clothes.
"Mom, you didn't have to cook. I want you to relax after work."
She pivoted and held her hands in the air. "No, it's your special day and I made you your favorite spaghetti and meatballs," my stomach growled as soon as she mention it. "Come here my baby boy," she pulled me into a hug as her floral perfume sucked me in. My throat knotted but my eyes were dry. I was an ocean of tears inside but dry as the desert on the outside. I wanted to cry but nothing. I squeezed my mom and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you, mom."
"I have one present for you. I know how much you love photography so," she walked over by the dining table. My eyes widen.
"No way mom, those cameras are expensive. Take it back," I covered my mouth. No tears but I know inside I was a torment of waves.
"Sweetie, I've been saving money for so long and I know how much you've been wanting a professional camera. Please accept it. You know Brandon would give you hell," I glanced at her eyes. Her green eyes filled with tears but a grin that made my heart bleed. She is getting better at saying his name.
I chuckled and grabbed the Canon EOS box from her hand. "I didn't wrap it because why do we waste so much paper," we both chuckled lightly.
"I miss him, mom," she pulled me into a hug.
"I know, sweetie. Me too. You always celebrated your birthday with him. You were such a good brother. Please go out and celebrate. Call your friend Malcolm. You've ignored him long enough. Talk to him. He was there when Brandon...," she stopped herself and pulled away. "Sweetie, let's eat and celebrate your birth. Let's not ruin your day," she wiped her tears and walked towards the stove.
I took out my phone and scrolled to Malcolm's name.
Me: Forgive me.
Malcolm: Let's go out. Pick you up at 10 :).
I fixed the dining table then admired my camera. I love you, Brandon. I wish you were here.
******
Author's Note
Hey everyone. I'm back with my newest story The Perfect August. Prepare for another roller coaster ride. And enjoy the story of August and Kingsley. Follow me on Instagram: ariesawrites for updates on future projects. Thank you for the support.
Love
Aries Angelo.
February 14-My Birthday.
It's been over a year since he took his life. A year where I haven't slept more than 4 hours. A year where I overworked myself to keep the pain from eating me alive. A year where I've seen my mother drink her sorrows away. Thankfully she has stopped. A year where my body halts and I'm lying in bed frozen. My brother took his life. He was lost and confused. And his only choice was to take his own life. Why didn't he come to me? Why didn't he let me know what he was going through? So many whys and I still haven't gotten answers. Maybe I'll never know.
Maybe because Brandon didn't show he was in pain. He was all smiles. He would make me laugh when I was a grump. He would brighten my day when I came tired as hell from work. He was smiley Brandon who kept secrets deep inside his heart.
We didn't grow up in the best living environment. Brandon's dad, my stepdad was a drunk. I'm not sure why my mother dealt with him so long but she did. He's your brother's dad. Your dad. He's raised you since you were young. He puts food on the table. He's just stressed with work. Those are the words she would tell me. I hated him. I hated Phillip. He did have a good career. He was in construction but he held demons of his own.
My mom worked graveyard hours at a hotel so she would leave us at night with my dad. He drank most of the day, yes on the job. I've always wondered how he functioned at work from drinking and the fact he never got caught was alarming. He would continue his drinking when he got home. He would yell at me that I wasn't his son and that why did he have to raise me. Brandon would cry. Phillip would try to hit him to make him quiet but I always took those beatings. My mom would ask what happened to me but I would tell her I got in a fight at school. But that was the tip of the iceberg. I hid my bruises well on my back.
My mother finally had it with Phillip. One night they were arguing. He was drunk of course. I heard my mom scream. I jumped out of my bed and into their room. He was on top of her, choking her. I grabbed a wooden chair and slammed it on his back. He fell on the floor as I pulled my mother off the bed. She quickly called 911. Brandon was crying. I comforted him. My mom still had sympathy for Phillip. She didn't press charges but she threw him out. They divorced and she got to keep the house but we struggled to pay bills. We managed throughout the years. But the damage was done. My family was broken but I kept my head high.
I got a job as a waiter after high school. My mom wanted me to go to college but I told her we couldn't afford it. She told me to trust her. She found a way to get money for my tuition. But we hit a rut. The mortgage on the house got much more expensive. We couldn't refinance so we lost the house. We got a small two-bedroom apartment and life was getting better. But it wasn't.
My brother hadn't gotten home one night and we were worried. He called that he was ok and he'll be home later. He talked to my mom then to me. I love you brother. Those are the words he last told me. Police officers came to our apartment door at 5 in the morning. My body froze when they told me what happened. I dropped to my knees as time stood still. My heart tore into two and bloodshed on the floor. I heard my mother's scream as an echo. Why did you do it, Brandon? Why couldn't you talk to me? More whys.
Until this day we don't have answers. We talked to his friends and teachers. They told us he was full of life and was the energy of the room. Yeah, he was. I fucken miss him. I'm still broken but I need to stay strong for my mother. She's been doing better. She got a job at a diner, that keeps her mind busy. She loves it. She tells me stories of people she meets. I saw a gleam in her eyes and that's all I needed to know that she was healing.
Me on the other hand. I wake up in the middle of the night yelling and full of sweat. I hyperventilate and that worries my mother. I hated being weak around her but these night terrors are the worst. I can't control them. It's just black shadows in my dream. They choke me and drag me into a dark hole. It's an empty void I can't avoid. I'm scared to go to sleep and I don't scare easily. I have to be brave for my mother and get past the struggles I'm dealing with.
Now I'm laying on a couch, staring at the ceiling. A yellow circle is drawn on the ceiling as my body relaxes. My mind clears just like the blue ocean. I blink and blood rushes to my fingers. I was numb when I came in. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"It seems like your thoughts are clear and your body is relaxed," my psychiatrist said, Dr. Cunningham.
"Yes," I told her. She wanted to switch to another room and now I know why.
"Yellow is a calming color. It relaxes the mind and thoughts. I wanted to come to this room so you can experience the yellow circle on the ceiling. I know it seems weird but I see how your body is less tense," her voice was so soft and tranquil.
"It seems to work. My body felt like I was carrying the weight of the world. My mind was like a stone and my feet felt like bricks. I wanted to scream but the words don't come out," I tried to cry, to relieve the tightness in my heart and the knot in my throat but nothing comes out. Nothing.
"I want to prescribe you some antidepressants. It will help ease your panic attacks. You're doing well right now," her voice sweet like candy.
I have a mixture of emotions. I was angry that Brandon was gone and sad that he couldn't be here. He's not here to celebrate my birthday. I would always celebrate my birthday with him. Today, February 14 but today I don't have him or ever will.
"It's my birthday today," I swallowed the knot in my throat.
"I know. I saw your chart. Happy birthday. You should go out and celebrate. It would be good for you. Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No," is all I saw.
"Boyfriend?" I stayed quiet. A little too quiet. Say something before she suspects. Too late you took too long.
"No," I said softly.
We talked a bit more. I started seeing Dr. Cunningham a couple of weeks ago. My mom told me that she made an appointment for me to see a shrink. I told her to not waste her money on things we can't afford. She only gave me her sweet smile and told me to not worry so much. I didn't question my mother but I know psychiatrists are expensive especially if I'm coming weekly.
I stood up and put my trucker hat on. I didn't like anyone seeing my eyes or directly at them. They wouldn't question me or see past the darkness that hid inside me. They would feel sorry for me. I didn't want to be a martyr. I could handle this, well I'm trying to. I just keep telling myself why did he do it?
I turned the knob to exit her room. "Kingsley?"
I pivoted slowly. I didn't look directly at her. "Yeah?"
"Go out and have fun. You only live once. I know it hurts that your brother is gone but you must move on. It isn't healthy. You'll consume yourself. You'll forget who you are," she was determined to fix me.
"Thanks, I can take care of myself," I opened the door and walked out. I squeezed my hand and closed my eyes. I needed to go out.
******
I went to the nearest pharmacy to get my new prescription. The pharmacist told me it will be 20 minutes. I walked around the convenience store. I stopped in the magazine section. I grabbed a college magazine and flipped through the pages. Brandon loved football, any football from college to professional. I heard laughter on the other aisle. A deep voice. "We owe it to ourselves. We won that's why we're here. Let's go out and celebrate, August."
"August?" That's a unique name.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty tired but you won't let me stay in the hotel so I guess I'll have to go," damn his voice was deep and husky.
I heard their footsteps coming around. That's when I saw them. A guy with dark blonde hair, his silver eyes landed on me. I tilted my head. "Ohh shoot, he's reading the magazine you're in August," I tightened my grip on the magazine. Tiny sweat beads formed on my nose. I pulled the front of my cap forward. I heard footsteps get closer.
"You a football fan," I heard blondie.
"Naw but my brother was," fuck, my chest tightened and my throat was closing. You're good Kingsley. Don't panic. That's when I aligned my eyes with the dark-haired guy. He had a slight curve on the corner of his lips. His eyes changed from aqua to hazel, never seen that before. His lips were cherry red like a heart. He had a square jawline and a dimple that was dying to show itself.
"Was?" his eyes softened.
"Why are you being nosy, August?" Blondie said. "August has no manners, Vincent St James," he stretched his arm. I gripped it. I tried to hide under my hat but it was too late.
Kingsley Hudson, your prescription is ready. The speakerphone was loud enough for the whole pharmacy to hear. I closed my eyes. I placed the magazine back and played it cool.
"Kingsley. Pleasure. I have to go," I did a glance at August. His eyes shifted from hazel to aqua. I averted quickly and nodded at Vincent.
I went back and grabbed the college magazine. Now I'm sitting in my truck. I opened the magazine towards the middle and there he was. Augustus Carmichael, quarterback for St James Academy in Oregon. He will be a senior in the fall and on his way to being drafted to the NFL. Damn, he looks good in his black and gold uniform. His pose is pure perfection. His sweating hair came down his forehead. He had a wide smile and the most perfect teeth I've seen. And those chameleon eyes that shift from aqua to hazel. "What the fuck am I doing?" I threw the magazine in the passenger seat. I turned on the ignition and drove home.
I opened the door and spices invaded my nostrils. "Mom. I'm home!"
"In the kitchen, birthday boy!" I smirked. I passed the lounge and walked into the kitchen. My mom held her hair in a bun and was still in her diner clothes.
"Mom, you didn't have to cook. I want you to relax after work."
She pivoted and held her hands in the air. "No, it's your special day and I made you your favorite spaghetti and meatballs," my stomach growled as soon as she mention it. "Come here my baby boy," she pulled me into a hug as her floral perfume sucked me in. My throat knotted but my eyes were dry. I was an ocean of tears inside but dry as the desert on the outside. I wanted to cry but nothing. I squeezed my mom and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you, mom."
"I have one present for you. I know how much you love photography so," she walked over by the dining table. My eyes widen.
"No way mom, those cameras are expensive. Take it back," I covered my mouth. No tears but I know inside I was a torment of waves.
"Sweetie, I've been saving money for so long and I know how much you've been wanting a professional camera. Please accept it. You know Brandon would give you hell," I glanced at her eyes. Her green eyes filled with tears but a grin that made my heart bleed. She is getting better at saying his name.
I chuckled and grabbed the Canon EOS box from her hand. "I didn't wrap it because why do we waste so much paper," we both chuckled lightly.
"I miss him, mom," she pulled me into a hug.
"I know, sweetie. Me too. You always celebrated your birthday with him. You were such a good brother. Please go out and celebrate. Call your friend Malcolm. You've ignored him long enough. Talk to him. He was there when Brandon...," she stopped herself and pulled away. "Sweetie, let's eat and celebrate your birth. Let's not ruin your day," she wiped her tears and walked towards the stove.
I took out my phone and scrolled to Malcolm's name.
Me: Forgive me.
Malcolm: Let's go out. Pick you up at 10 :).
I fixed the dining table then admired my camera. I love you, Brandon. I wish you were here.
******
Author's Note
Hey everyone. I'm back with my newest story The Perfect August. Prepare for another roller coaster ride. And enjoy the story of August and Kingsley. Follow me on Instagram: ariesawrites for updates on future projects. Thank you for the support.
Love
Aries Angelo.
