The Ramen Psychosis

The pop-up made him blush every time, without fail. William tried his damnedest not to react to it, but he simply couldn't help himself, it embarassed him. If anyone saw...if anyone were to come up behind him as he launched his browser and see what would manifest on the screen of its own accord...he'd simply die.

For this reason, William had stopped using his laptop on the bus. It didn't matter if he was alone, or if everyone else was occupied, he simply wouldn't do it. When he needed to check his e-mail or look something up, he'd hijack Sisky's for a few minutes, or sneak onto Cobra's bus and ask Ryland. His poor neglected computer soon shifted its way down to the bottom of his bunk drawer, buried under old tee-shirts and boxers that he couldn't wear with his tight jeans.

Potentially, it wasn't as humiliating as he was making it out to be in his head. Anyone else would've just rolled their eyes and clicked out, not thinking about it twice. Perhaps, what was really bugging him wasn't the fact that it happened...it was that it made him curious as fuck...

Time passed, sets blurred together, and before he could blink, William found himself of the last day of the tour. It was a scorching mid-August afternoon, and they were in Tuscon. Everything seemed to be glowing orange, like at any moment the scenery would just catch fire. One lit match could send the whole metropolis ablaze. The others had gone to find relief in the form of a swimming pool across town.

The air in the bus might have been devoid of humidity, but it was heavy with temptation.

He did everything he could to occupy himself, make himself think of anything but the pop-up. After hour one of his solitude, the bus was spotless for the first time since they'd left Chicago back in June. Everyone's clothes were folded with the type of precision that requires a ruler, and the fridge was organized both ergonomically and chronologically. He'd even managed to Swiffer the bus ceiling. All the while, the image of the pop-up kept invading his head, burning itself onto the back of his retinas so he saw it everytime his eyes closed. The pressure was reaching a fever pitch by the time hour two was over.

Digging his nails into the palms of his hands, William sighed heavily and accepted defeat. "Fuck it..."

His computer had layed dormant for almost a month, so it was a little slower than usual turning on. It tested his patience, his boot-clad foot tapping out a brisk staccato pace at the bottom wall of his bunk. The wallpaper loaded, displaying the 2007 Fueled by Ramen Spring Break retreat photo. William despised it, really, as his hair had been in a horrible state that day, but Gabe forced it on him, and he was a push-over when it came to Gabe. The Saporta boy had his arm around his waist in the picture, forcing their bony hips together, and he was flashing that shit-eating grin of his like his birthday had come early.

"Hmmm..." William wondered aloud. "I'm starting to think that Gabe might get curious sometimes, too..." With a heavy sigh, he slid a thin finger across the scroll pad until his cursor was on Internet Explorer, and then he double-clicked.

As if it knew he was expecting to see it, the pop-up appeared onscreen at the same time as his home page opened. There he was, in all his glory: a shirtless, tanned and muscle-bound brunette, leaning against a wall and giving him come-hither eyes. Just below his waistline was a link button to a site called Charlie's Candy Shop. "A man for every taste," the slogan promised. William's finger shook slightly as he manuevered the arrow to the button, his eyes slamming shut as he followed the link.

When he finally peeked out from under an eyelid, the site had loaded, showing a long list of different catagories, each one a different "taste." The slogan was right; there was every type of male you could name there, subdivided and cross referenced. It put him strangely at ease to have things mapped out for him in such a manner. So, William set about deciding what his "taste" was.

A lot of the catagories made him cringe. He scrolled as quickly as he could over the older selections: men with facial hair and leather, big burly guys that looked like they'd be the ones raping him if he ever ended up in prison. Certainly, he wanted nothing to do with those "types." The same went for the drag queens and the overly flamboyant twinks, the bodybuilders and pin-up hunks. They just...they weren't what he wanted.

Towards the bottom of the page he found a small "Alternative" section. These boys...and they were boys, not the men he'd been having thrown at him...these boys looked more like what he knew. They looked like they could've been his tourmates, boys with tattoos and piercings, stoner boys and emo boys and scene boys and punk boys and one plump little geek boy who caused him to doubletake at his disturbing resemblance to Patrick. Try as he might convince himself he didn't, William quite liked this section.

There was one boy in particular that caught his eye, or rather, his thumbnail picture did. He was tall and lean, with lightly tanned skin and short curly hair. His shirt was off, showing his toned form, but his face was hidden behind a theatre mask. William stared at the picture a while, memorizing the pose the boy struck with his back against a wall and one hand over the mask, the other shoved in the pocket of his black jeans. A look at the boy's photo gallery was needed.

The shots were very tastefully done, black and white, slightly fuzzy. Pose after pose the boy struck, artistic and dangerous and volatile, with barely a hint of sexuality implied. But William could feel it, feel his energy. His subject's provocative spirit paired with the hot laptop battery was causing his skin-tight jeans to become tighter still, especially when he came to the last few photos.

His chosen boy was finally being sexual on purpose. He started by palming his own bulge through his denim, making William want to do the same. Then he teased by undoing his button and zipper, but leaving the front of his pants closed. And then his jeans had slid down his thighs slightly, but he covered himself with a hand. Lastly, there was the money shot: his right hand was wrapped around his hard, pink length, while his left lifted the mask just enough to show him biting his lip. It made him seriously evaluate just how far he'd let his "curiousity" take him...

"Yoink!" All of a sudden, a figure rushed past him, stealing his laptop from him as it kept its momentum and sped towards the lounge. In his newfound rage and embarassment, William recognized the thief's horrid purple hoodie. "Gabe, no, give it back!"

"What, were you looking at porn or something?" Gabe giggled, looking at him and not the screen. "Did little Willy need some alone time?"

"Gabe, in all seriousness, gimme back my computer, it's none of your business!" William flushed a deep crimson red, desperately wishing that this moment was not really happening.

"You were, weren't you? Dirty little Willy was getting all hot over..." Gabe trailed off as he looked down at the screen finally, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

Figuring the damage was done, William snatched back his laptop, rushing back to his bunk and drawing the curtain. "This is not happening, this is not happening..." he whispered to himself over and over, trying to hold back terrified tears. Please let my goofy clueless best friend not have put two and two together...

Just when he assumed that Gabe had finally left the bus, his curtain was drawn back slowly. His friend's face was red with embarassment as well, and strangely sad. "Just for the record..." the Saporta boy whispered, looking him right in the eye. "If you want to see more of me, I did a racier photoshoot for Adonis Review...or...you could just ask..." He bit his lip and lowered the brim of his hat over the rest of his face.