The Keats of Our Lives (earl2blue) wrote,
The Keats of Our Lives

Side Story 1 -Fabian Rios

Sorry for the unimaginative story title. As usual, comments are good XD 
This is probably beyond PG13. 

It helps to read Ep 172 for the background.


Get out, Fabian…get out Fabian…getttt out Fabian…
I don’t need you. Get out.

Wait! She hasn’t said that, hasn’t she? It is his imagination, that’s all. Fabian licks his dry lips as his mind combs the scene again. He sees the room clearly in his mind; the half-done bed, the window with its shade halfway-up, her bra stewed over her chair which was piled high with books; Spanish books which she has been struggling with since the day they met - she had walked in – he tried to make love to her – she rejected him by saying ‘Get out, Fabian.’ And yes oh yes… Fabian assures himself as he walks absent-mindedly back to his dorm, she didn’t say ‘I don’t need you. Get out.’

Why has he felt as if she did? He could almost hear it. It seems so frigging real. Her crisp voice saying with clarity, ‘I don’t need you….’ But it is all mere imagination and no more. A trick of the mind, perhaps? Maybe he is just feeling insecure.

Frustrated, Fabian slaps himself on the cheek once. Hard. The ringing in his ears distracts him momentarily. What’s the matter with you, Fabian? Are you mad? Why are you mulling over stupid details like some cranky old hag?

But he knows he has no answers for his questions. I have changed, haven’t I? Changed since I met her…He whispers to himself weakly as he fumbles for his room key in his jeans’ pockets as he stands in front of his locked room. I am no longer myself. Who are you, Fabian Rios? Who are you?

You have driven me crazy.


He wakes the next morning, feeling better about himself and Ceras.

Maybe she is just annoyed yesterday…you know how all women are…come on…you have been sleeping with scones of them since you was a baby.

But it isn’t true and he knows it. He doesn’t understand Ceras at all. Not a single bit. As he stands, staring at his reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror – an unshaven man with a 5 o’clock shadow, bulging eye bags underneath his tired looking eyes, a small but visible scar on the right side of his face as a result of a childhood fight with the school bully but nevertheless still a handsome man with the most charming eyes and a boyish smile ready for any girl or woman he fancies. Women love him. They all do. He could see it in their eyes when his blue eyes gaze upon their lovely powdered faces, feel it on their breath when they return his nonchalant kisses eagerly, sense it from their warm lusty bodies when they make love, hear their moans of pleasure as they move in rhythm with him. But nope, he couldn’t detect any of these from Ceras. She is the oddball amongst all women and yet the odder she is, the more he yearns to possess her. It is like reaching for that cookie jar on the top shelf when you were a 5 years old kid. The more you can’t reach it, the more you desperately desire it. Ceras is his jar of cookies and he is determined to have it and gobble it all up, every single last crumb of it.

As he reaches for his toothbrush, he glimpses upon hers leaning against his. Her toothbrush is pink in color and looks perfectly new next to his green toothbrush. Of course, you stupid Fabian. She hasn’t been over at all lately since her last Spanish test. And that was when? Last October. Yes, damn last sweet October.  3 months to be bloody exact.

He needs her.  But since when has that need surfaced?


It was last May. His second year in this damn college, studying meaningless philosophy. It has been a chance encounter or rather she has sought him out for a purpose. Fabian remembered that call vividly.

“Hi. Are you Fabian Rios?”

“Why, yes. Who’s this?”

“Ceras Keats. Errr…I got your name from the registry. I am a Spanish language student and since you are one of the few native speakers here, I wonder if you could …”

And so it has started from there. They met twice a week at a campus canteen and she paid him $50 per month for the 3 hours Spanish conversations that they have. The conversations started dull and slow with him correcting her grammar patiently at almost every word she spoke. But as the weeks grew into months, he began to see her as someone beyond his schoolmate.

It was not difficult to get her into bed. She has caved in easily. It has been a surprise to him. She hasn’t seemed that sort of girl. The eagerness with which she has taken him has been disconcerting. But Fabian didn’t mind then. To him, women are a dime too plenty and it was to be a short relationship anyway.

That were his thoughts till he made love to her for the first time.

Often, the first few minutes after sex, Fabian would know how long the relationship would last. At times, it is once, frequently it is a couple of weeks, occasionally a couple of months. He has never guessed incorrectly. But with her, it has not been a clinical analysis. With her, for the first time in his life, he wishesthat she would be the last woman he would ever make love to. And that was …yes…when his need for her desperately begin to grow.

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