So Franz is spinning out into being this whole series of stories kind of guy. Would anyone be interested in seeing that? (At least half as interested as I am in writing it, because I am totally willing to write the fok out of this. Serious business.)
When I started, it was something different, but it’s been steadily evolving. Not so much a romance as a life story. What’s posted here for the hop is pretty gen. It’s just him dealing with this giant mental shift while powerless and locked up in an asylum. Plus there’s the whole deal with his mom, the giant scar on his face, and the stuff with Nicole.
And you all know that if you go to the “Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia” post and leave a comment I’m giving out free copies of this story. Like, to every single commenter.
Plus one lucky commenter will win a copy of my Allies & Enemies short “Psychotic.” Remember that cut scene I was tossing around? Yeah, it became a thing of angry/fearful/exultant/life affirming emotional displays and violence against some bad people. Kind of darkish, but with a happy ending.
Title: Slipping Through the Cracks
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Franz Caulder/Ryan Wilder, Dr. Pamela Werth, Nicole Carson
Genre: mm
Rating: mature
Summary: Kid Nitro went to sleep in his own bed, and woke up on another Earth in the body of an alternate Franz Caulder. It’s a world without metabilities, which is jarring enough, but it’s also a world where Other-Franz is a mental patient grappling with some serious problems.
* * *
Another groggy hangover day. He felt rundown and as though he couldn’t handle anymore. He wondered if this was what dying was like, a slow sleepwalk through a mental hospital with people moving in and out of his peripheral vision like ghosts.
Lifting his head seemed impossible. So he trudged around with his hood pulled up and his shoulders slumped, and the sight of his own slipper wearing feet became familiar.
*Only they’re not my feet,* he reminded himself. But it seemed hollow and far away.
He’d been in this place a week and he already felt worn down. He was losing bits and pieces of himself to the drugs and the worried faces and he couldn’t stop it. Not once he was caught trying to hide his meds and earned himself a constant presence when it was Happy Fun Pill Time.
It wasn’t even his fault, not really. Whatever they kept shooting into his hip to knock him out had really messed with his brain. His hands felt as though he were constantly wearing mittens, or maybe even boxing gloves, and any kind of fine motor control was right out the window. So of course he was going to be spotted palming his pills when he couldn’t even get his fingers to close properly.
At least the nurses were cool about it, disappointed to a painful degree, but cool. They just shifted things around so he was observed to be swallowing his pills and kept on like everything was normal.
Which meant he was getting a full dose of the meds, and getting used to being zombified was a bitch.
“I think my meds are too strong,” he announced at his first session with Dr. Werth.
“You do, do you?” She sounded vaguely amused, but also as though she was listening.
Franz nodded. “Yeah. I feel like my head is a giant watermelon on my shoulders and… and I haven’t been able to get an erection.” He blurted out the last part and his ears felt hot enough that he thought they might explode from the pressure. Still, it was something he felt was important.
He’d never tied his self-worth in with his sexuality, but sometimes he wanted to jerk off and not being able to get it up *at all* was about to make him seriously lose his mind. Especially knowing that the cause was all the pills they kept jamming down his throat.
“Is that why you stopped taking your medication?” She was looking at him over the edge of her glasses and he had to shift away from her lightning gaze.
He pulled his hood closer around his face. “Maybe.”
Dr. Werth sighed. “Okay, Franz, here’s the deal: You keep taking your meds as directed, and I’ll lower the dosages. We’ll play around a little and see what works.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.
She smiled sadly. “Because you deserve to have someone be nice to you. Besides, you’ve been more outgoing lately. You’ve really been trying, so I’ll try my best too. Your dosages might have been a little strong for you. What do you say, you keep taking your meds and talking to me, and I lower your dosages and maybe in a few weeks we can arrange a visit from your mother?”
“My mother?” *But she’s dead.* He felt nailed in place and would have stopped breathing all together if she wouldn’t have noticed.
“I know you’ve wanted to see her for a long time and I think you’re ready now. You’re stronger than you were and she’s been making all the NAMI meetings and receiving her own therapies. This could be good for you. Both of you.”
“Okay,” it came out a whisper.
The idea of seeing his mother — who had become more myth and legend in his mind than woman — was huge. She’d died so long ago that he had no real memories of her, just the things that he could cobble together from stories and the vague feeling he got when he ate certain chocolates or smelled certain flowers: “She’s been here. This was what she loved.” And that was it.
But she was alive in this world. He could actually see her and talk to her and it was one of those things he’d always half-dreamed about.
*Except she’s not YOU’RE mother.* He shoved that traitorous voice down deep. He didn’t want to hear it. Not when he had a chance to meet his mother in person, something he’d never thought would happen.
All he’d ever had were old videos and photographs. A series of images to encompass the entirety of a person.
“Good.” Dr. Werth rubbed her hands together and lounged back in her leather chair. It didn’t even squeak. “You’ve been making great progress recently, Franz. I’m very proud of you.”
Harper Kingsley
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“Thank you.” It seemed like the thing to say.
“Now, would you like to discuss what happened with Bertie? Are you feeling safe enough to talk about it?”
This wasn’t how he’d thought talking to a therapist would go. He’d imagined lying on a couch while someone nodded and “uh hm’d” at the proper points. It would be some painful process of sobbing and self-hatred. Instead, this was just a casual conversation between two people; Dr. Werth came off more as a nosy aunt than a figure of authority.
“He didn’t do anything to me. I knew he wouldn’t do anything to me. Yet I still freaked out. I don’t know why.” He twisted his fingers in his lap, the sleeves of his red sweater covering most of his hands. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
“It can be frightening, can’t it? I remember my first panic attack — it’s not something you can ever forget — and the way it felt as though I were being crushed. It’s very frightening.” She took a sip of her coffee. He could smell it, hot and sweet. “You’ve always been very brave about how you handle things. You’re one of my heroes.”
He didn’t know where the blush came from. It just seemed to happen by itself.
“If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine. You know I’m always here and ready to listen,” she continued. “I worry about you and like to see that you’re doing okay.”
“I’m okay. I just had a rough patch. Bertie just caught me when I was in a bad head space.” The words came as easy as breathing and sounded completely natural. He was a little stunned by how good he was at filling the silences without sounding like he was just babbling.
“That’s really all that happened?”
Franz shrugged. “Seems like. Can I go? I’m feeling really tired.”
She gave him what might have been a disappointed look on someone else. “You go right ahead. We’ll change up your medication, so don’t worry.”
“Thanks doc.” He stood and gave her a little wave before leaving the office.
Sleep had become one of his havens in this new world. Sleep was the place he went when he simply couldn’t handle anymore and he needed to get away for a little while.
TBC…
[table “24” not found /]
Check out the rest of the hop and all the excellent people that have offered up some great posts and prizes. Spread the word: No more homophobia or transphobia. Equality for everyone.
