Under the Love (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 5

It had been several months since Cerulean had even glanced my way.  I had hoped with my whole heart that he would except me for who I was, not who I was stereotyped to be.  It hurt, but I could feel my heart repairing itself from the defeat my soul had felt.  I just have to except th fact that I will probably never meet a human that will love me for my personality and my quirks, not for the fact that I might not be human.

Wow...I'm an idiot!  Of course no human would ever accept me for me; humans don't believe in mythical creatures.  Man, am I pissed at myself or what?  Why did I tell him that before our first date?  I could have told him further along into our relationship.  It might not have even worked out, but if it had maybe he would be too devoted towards me that he wouldn't leave.  No, that would have just been cruel.  I believe that I did the right thing, but it didn't mean I felt good about doing the right thing.  I felt like complete shit.

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Another few months had passed, and it felt like any other Tuesday.  I was sitting in my uniform in the SWAT van loading my sniper.  We had gotten a call about a foreign diplomat being held at gun point by a heavily intoxicated American citizen.  Suspect was white, about six feet tall, wearing grey sweatshirt over blue jeans and black and orange tennis shoes.

The van came to a stop and Jorge, the other sniper on our team, and I ran to the building next door to set up.  Captain Paul and about seven other guys ran to building holding, we believed, the suspect along with a foreign diplomat.  It was most likely one of the Chilean Ambassadors of Chief Diplomats.

As Jorge and I ran up the stairs of the building parallel to the suspected building, he and I heard rounds start to go off.  Immediately, Jorge and I heard Kyle Styl's voice come over the walky-talkies, "Officer down!  Officer down!  Cap is down!  Dammit we need an ambulance!  Cap's down!"  

The wind immediately left my chest as I heard the incohesive yelling coming from the talkies.  My feet began moving without my permission as David Keen yelled on the talkies, "Suspect's getting away!  He's coming towards you, Alex!"

I left the building as the suspect came tearing down the main entrance's stairs, and I pulled my Glock out.  

"Police, stop!" I addressed myself, but the suspect kept running.  I used my inhuman speed to run in front of him where I knocked him to the ground.  The man was shaking and sweating, his gun pointed right at my face.

"Police, lower your weapon, sir.  I don't want to have to hurt you," I said sternly, my gun pointed at his chest.  "You can change your future right now, sir.  You don't have to do this."  I saw the tip of Jorge's sniper in the window's building above us.

The anonymous man began to cry, and he turned his gun on himself, "I can't do this anymore.  I can't live anymore."

Anger and fear pumped through my empty veins, "Sir, I know how you feel.  I'm just gonna put my gun down so we can have a talk man-to-man, is that cool?"  I felt sweat dripping down my neck, and the fear in my chest was budding like a lilly in fresh water.  I placed my Glock and sniper rifle down on the ground behind me.  "I went through exactly what your feeling, sir.  You feel pathetic and hopeless, right?  You feel as if you let yourself and everyone around you down."

The guy's hand wavered, but he returned the gun right back to his scalp.  "You don't know me!" the man yelled at me.

"I know, I know," I calmly stated.  "My name's Alexander, sir, but people call me Alex for short.  I've been on the SWAT team for a little over a year now, and before I got to where I am, I almost killed myself and everyone around me.  I was so miserable with my life.  There was no point in me living.  I didn't go to college, I wasn't a good student in school, and I became openly gay.  No one believed in me, not my mom, dad, friends, no one.  The only thing I was good at was sports, so I joined the police force, and I worked my way up onto the SWAT team.  Sir, I'm positive there's something you can do that will help people."

"No.  No there isn't, I'm a trash collector," he screamed.  Dammit, why a trash collector.  That's a hard one, I thought to myself.

"What's your name, buddy?" I asked him, quietly.  His hand wavered a little bit again.  My fear lessened a bit.

"Charlie," he whispered.  "My mom named me after Charlie Brown.  Dammit, that bitch.  She's the reason why I'm like this!"

His hold on the gun strengthened, and I felt a knot in my throat begin to grow.  i really didn't want to see this guy blow his brains out, not today.  "What did she do, sometimes talking and venting about people help relieve the stress you're feeling."

Charlie sighed, and let out a quiet sob, but his hold never wavered.  "Her name was Karen, and she gave me a good life.  She loved me...a lot.  She was just an amazing person.  I thought she was happy, but nexxt thing I know, I find her this morning in her closet with a belt around her neck, and a suicide letter saying that she hated every-fucking-day of her life.  She hated me, my dad, my brothers, and my sister so she fucking hanged herself!"  Charlie let out another sob, "No, that's not what happened.  She loved me, but she hated my dad.  Yes, she did love me!   Stop lying to me!"

I was watching Charlie fight with himself, and it was beginning to worry me.  "Hey, Charlie, who are you talking to?"

Charlie sobbed some more until he started throwing his hand around, the gun still tight in it, "It's your fault she's dead, Tommy!  You did it!"  Charlie dropped the gun, and he began scartching at his arms and face.  "Get away you motherfucker!  You killed her!  You wrote that letter."

I took this as my chance, and I grabbed his hands, and I cuffed him.  He was still screaming and fighting with himself, and I assumed he was schyzophrenic.  The poor man, that would be horrible.

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I finally got to the hospital to see Paul.  Apparently, he got shot in the ass, and he pulled his groin.  Damn, that sounded painful.  I reached Floor 4, and I walked into room 434 to see the Captain laying on his stomach icing his ass and balls.

I couldn't help it, I laughed.  Captain threw some expletives at me, but he seemed to be doing just fine.  He was joking around with the guys until his wife finally arrived.  She was in a panic considering she was six months pregnant, and she received the news that her husband was shot in the line of duty.  The first thing she did was slap him across the face, but then, she kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

"Don't ever do that to me, again," she whispered in his ear, "Don't leave me, ever."

I decided to not listen to the rest of their conversation, and the guys and I all left the room leaving get-well soon presents.  It wasn't everyday your Captain got shot in the ass.