Jin Boys Volume 1: Triple Toil And Trouble

Jin Boys, Vol. 1

Triple Toil and Trouble

by

Ajatsa Lyng

*****

Copyright 2012 Ajatsa Lyng

Smashwords edition

Smashwords edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

1. Japanese/English dictionary, results for Jin: man, person, people, as it is, as one likes, because, virtue, benevolence, humanity, charity, gin, jinn.

2. Popular Japanese male name that may be written with the character for humanity; virtue; benevolence; charity. As a female name it means tender. As a Chinese unisex name, Jin may be written with the character for gold.

3. Abbreviation of Japanese Information Network.

Table of Contents

Jin Samaritan

Jin Narcissist

Jin Erotica

Jin Narcissist

Atogaki

Jin Samaritan

Act 1

Charlie was on his way home from university. As he passed the baker’s, his eyes fell upon a person standing at the rim of a small square a little further down the street, the one with the trees and the stone sculpture of a baby koala, that kids loved to ride. There were no kids out, though, as it was during school hours, so the only people around were Charlie and that person standing in the square.

As Charlie got closer, he could see that it was a man, probably in his late twenties. He was dressed in a long black coat and had the most spectacular hair. It was fuzzy and magnificently ginger and it went all the way down to his waist, held together in a ponytail with a black ribbon. Charlie had never seen anything as amazing as that before.

In his right hand the man held an empty soda can, his arm stretched out in front of him as if the can was filthy. He surely didn’t want to get too close to it. Charlie noticed that the man’s pinkie was sticking out in a way that made him look gay.

Charlie’s footsteps made a distinct tap-tap sound as he walked down the street, making the man with the can aware that he was not alone. As soon as he caught sight of Charlie, he started walking straight towards him, not stopping until they came face to face.

Do you know where there’s a litter bin? he asked. His voice was a bit high-pitched, but not unpleasantly so, and he talked in a slightly affected manner. Charlie felt himself blush, but to be polite his eyes quickly searched the square in order to help the stranger. The square was a public area so there ought to be a bin, but no. Having passed this square almost daily for a month, Charlie realised for the first time that there weren’t any.

No…I don’t know… Charlie looked back at the baker’s. Usually there was a bin outside the shop, but not today.

I really don’t know, Charlie repeated, turning his head back to face the stranger. Without Charlie noticing, the man had moved closer, his face only inches away. He looked at Charlie for what seemed to be an eternity, but it was probably just a few seconds. During those few seconds every detail of his face burned itself into Charlie’s mind.

The man was somewhat shorter than Charlie and his face was slim although his body was a bit stocky. Charlie noticed that his eyebrows were as ginger as his hair. He had narrow eyes, brown with a dash of green, his nose was long and slim, his lips so thin that they were hardly there. He had perfect teeth. His face was freckled with a ruddy complexion and on the left cheek he had a small mole. He was actually handsome in a sort of innocent way.

Although Charlie wanted to, he couldn’t tear himself away from the ruddy, innocent face, but in the end the man turned his head in order to have a look around, Oh, there’s one!

With the can he pointed further down the street to an abolished bus stop. The stop sign had been removed, but the bin that used to stand beside it was still there.

I must have passed it on the way without noticing it, he said, because that’s where I came from. Silly me!

He turned to look at Charlie again, his face even closer this time.

Will you walk with me? he asked.

Down there? Charlie asked stupidly, feeling rather puzzled. It was indeed an odd request. The bin was only a hundred feet away, hardly a journey for which you needed company and besides, who’d ask a total stranger for companionship in order to put an empty can in a bin? But without thinking Charlie heard himself say, Well, yes, okay.

Immediately Charlie had the feeling, that he was getting himself into some sort of adventure, but to be fair Charlie was going that way anyway, so why not walk with him?

You will? the stranger beamed, his smile being warm and calm and almost childishly innocent. Oh, that’s lovely!

They walked side by side so close that Charlie could feel their sleeves brush against each other, the man with the can talking all the time.

I pick up empty cans when I find them lying on the ground, he said in a confidential tone of voice. They’re not good for the environment. I don’t like to touch them if they are too dirty, but this one – he held out the can – is not too bad.

Charlie didn’t get a chance to say anything (not that he would have known what to say anyway) as they had already reached the bin. The stranger dropped the can into the bin and sighed a pleased sigh.

It’s so nice getting rid of it, he said. Then he turned to face Charlie. And it was lovely of you to walk with me.

Charlie felt himself blush again as the man’s grateful smile indicated that Charlie had just accompanied him on a major quest. Then the stranger drew a little closer and said, You’re such a lovely boy.

Charlie felt an odd sensation, like a rush of heat coursing through his body. He went slightly dizzy, his mind trying to avoid the deeper meaning of this. Instead he thought what an odd thing to say to a total stranger. You don’t tell people you don’t know that they are lovely. And besides, Charlie wasn’t a boy. He’d be eighteen in a couple of months! Still his body wasn’t fooled for one second. The words made him feel good.

The stranger looked at Charlie for a while, an earnest expression on his face, then he put his arms around him and hugged him gently while pressing a kiss on his cheek. Charlie heard his own breath go Hh-hh-hh, feeling totally mixed up by the caress.

When the kiss ended, Charlie put his hand on the stranger’s arm without realising. It was as if his hand had to touch that ginger man to make sure that he was real. The feeling of the heavy, soft fabric of his right sleeve beneath Charlie’s fingers reassured him that he was really there and Charlie felt the stranger watch this with a smile.

Then without a word of goodbye, the strange man turned away to walk back towards the square. Charlie turned the other way to continue on down the street, but he couldn’t help but cast a glance over his shoulder. He just had to see that strangely appealing figure one more time, but in the split second Charlie had looked away, the stranger had vanished. Charlie could see all the way to the square and even to the baker’s and the main road behind it, but he was gone. It seemed as if he had disappeared into thin air.

Charlie felt his pulse race with a sharp thadump-thadump-thadump, as he turned around and continued walking down the street towards the YMCA, his thoughts a mess. Where had he gone? Where was he? What was he? Was he a man? Or a ghost? An angel? A demon? A figment of his imagination? The whole experience had been so weird that it was difficult to tell if it had been real. But it had, hadn’t it? Charlie could still feel the stranger’s kiss on his cheek, the fabric of his sleeve beneath his fingers, his heart pounding from his words. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud in the middle of the street from a wonderful elated feeling, a bubbling, happy sensation in his stomach, which he knew was there because the stranger had said he was lovely. Whoa! his mind objected. What was this? Why did it feel so good? Was it because:

1. In reality he wasn’t lovely, just a scraggy-arsed kid from Wolverhampton who lived in a YMCA as he hadn’t been able to find a place of his own when he moved here a month ago to study English Literature at a London university?

2. He was going mental?

3. Or he was gay?

GAY. No, his mind objected, Charlie wasn’t gay and he had experiences in his past to prove it. On the other hand he was no homophobe, just more or less indifferent to homosexuality. He’d seen two guys kiss when he was a kid and he’d found it gross, but for all he cared, people could do as they pleased, as long as he didn’t have to watch it.

Charlie reached the YMCA and went to his tiny room with the bunk bed and the desk. There was a sink in the corner with a cracked mirror above. Charlie dropped his bag and coat and went to have a look.

His head was still spinning slightly from the odd encounter, when he glanced into the mirror, seeking traces of being lovely. What looked back at him was the face of an insecure teenager, thin, pale, with ruffled black hair and troubled blue eyes. Nothing lovely about that, but still Charlie had this sensation in his stomach and again he laughed out loud, feeling light-headed as if drunk. He was singing to himself when he changed his clothes and got ready to go to work.

Although Charlie hadn’t managed to get a place to live, he had managed to get a part time job as a cleaner in a kindergarten during the evenings. It was hard work, boring work, but at least he earned some money, which he could well use, as books weren’t cheap for an English Lit fresher. Besides, he worked with Netty.

Netty was a beautiful black girl, some years older than Charlie and always fun to be around, although she would often tease him. Cleaning was all that she did and she couldn’t help getting at Charlie because he was an academic. Still it was good-natured like Netty herself. She was a bit of a party-girl, who liked to go out on the weekends and Charlie sometimes went with her to her favourite dance spot.

Tonight they wouldn’t be dancing, though, only cleaning, Charlie singing as he put up the tiny chairs on the tiny tables so that Netty could wash the floor.

Why are you so happy tonight? she asked, getting out her mop.

Today somebody told me that I’m lovely, Charlie smiled.

Uhh, who is she? Netty asked, but Charlie didn’t answer. Netty frowned. Oh, it’s a fella, then?

He still didn’t answer. Then slowly the words came out of him, I don’t know what it was. Probably just a figment of my imagination.

You know, Charles Sweetecok, you’re a strange guy, Netty said. And what’s with that name? Sweetecok? It’s weird!

It’s old!! Charlie defended himself. It’s a late sixteenth century name, Ms Ntabola!!

They both burst out laughing, then Netty started mopping the floor, Charlie emptying the wastepaper baskets and cleaning the toilets.

Two hours later they had their tea break, Netty unpacking huge amounts of fruit cut up into little pieces ready to be devoured. Charlie had brought a ham and cheese sandwich and they sat eating on either side of the kitchen sink in order not to litter the newly-mopped floor.

Now, tell me about that figment of your imagination, luv, Netty said and Charlie told her everything exactly as it had happened. Netty rolled her eyes with laughter. You’re gay!

No! No, I’m not! I like girls!

That was not entirely true. Charlie had had a few girlfriends, but come to think of it, he had never really liked any of them. It was more…having girlfriends was what you did when you became a teenager, wasn’t it? It was somehow expected. None of Charlie’s relationships had lasted very long though, as he soon found the girls boring, but it didn’t have anything to do with them being girls, did it? It was because they were drab girls, no brains in their heads and no pizzazz. Not at all like Netty for instance. You didn’t get bored with her.

Well, if you aren’t gay, luv, why is it so important to you that that guy said you were lovely? she asked.

That’s exactly it, Charlie shrugged. "I don’t know. But it felt like…I really don’t know…like it was some sort of distinction that he liked me."

You’re strange, Netty sniggered, then she went, But he was good-looking?

I suppose so.

Netty sighed, then popped the last piece of fruit into her mouth. "It’s so typical. You have the handsome guys tell you that you are lovely and you aren’t even gay, whereas I…nobody ever tells me that