[Note: This story is not light, "one-handed entertainment".  If that is
what you seek, please consider selecting another story.  This is a very
well-crafted, complicated story that may be disturbing and painful to some
readers who will be uncomfortable with a stark study of relationships. -- NA]


This story depicts same sex relationships that may be offensive to some readers. Please stop right now if it 
offends you. Please do the same if are not 18 yet.

The story is total fiction. None of the characters are real. Any resemblance with people dead or alive is 
purely coincidental. 

The story or any part of it can be stored, archived and reproduced freely without any limitations, unless it's 
done for commercial purposes. Neither the story nor any part of it can be used for commercial purposes.

I would like to thank everyone who helped me tremendously by providing their feedback. My special thanks to Mathis B. Rogers whose invaluable comments helped to shape the story into what it is now.

Comments, suggestions, criticism: oki_toshi@hotmail.com. 
Enjoy!


"Nun zum Peneios frisch hinab!
Herr Vetter ist nicht zu verachten.
Am Ende haengen wir doch ab 
Von Kreaturen, die wir machten".
Goethe.

Chapter One.
Rainy days.

There were very few people on the train to Seattle when Tom boarded it on that grim fall 
day. Tiny streams of rain were rolling across the train windows, almost horizontally from 
one end to the other. Tom kept staring out of the window. Woods of different shades of 
green, stretched as far as the eye could see. They looked a bit sinister in the rain. But they 
also looked comforting in a strange way. 

A girl - probably seventeen or eighteen years old passed him by. His eyes were fixed on 
her without seeing, as she walked down the passage. She turned around and smiled at 
him. He smiled back, but he was not really looking. The rain kept falling and except for a 
sea of different shades of green, he could make out nothing in the landscape outside the 
window.

Did his wife guess the real purpose of this trip? There was nothing unusual about it, 
except that he was taking the train. Otherwise he often went to Seattle to meet with his 
main publisher. There seemed to have been a shade of suspicion in the look she gave him 
before he left. But it might be his imagination again. After all, he was a writer, wasn't he? 
Tom smiled to himself. He wasn't much of a writer before Sixteen came out. That novel 
made him. Did he manage to write anything after it? Books that followed were 
successful, but what would he be remembered for at the end? Probably Sixteen.

This time he was not going to Seattle to visit his publisher. If Helen did guess, she 
guessed right. He wanted to see Bill Snyder again. How long ago was it since they had 
first met? His daughter's twentieth birthday was just two weeks ago. Yes. That's it. 
Twenty years, almost exactly. 

The train stopped with a jolt. Seattle already? Tom stretched and let other people walk 
past him to the exit. He just didn't want to get up. The feeling of the warm train seemed 
to permeate his entire being, he hated the idea of having to get up and moving outside 
into this awful rainy day. But the goal of his visit suddenly surfaced in his brain, and Tom 
forced himself up. Outside he got a cab and asked the driver to take him to his usual hotel 
in the centre of the city. At least there he thought he would relax.

It was already quite dark, and Tom just wanted to shower and go to bed. He couldn't 
think of anything he would rather do at this moment. Just relax in the shower, plop down 
on the bed and go to sleep. But Tom never slept well at hotels. He knew that. He turned 
on the bedside light and started to read. Pages were flying by quickly, but he wasn't 
following the book. His eyes saw the written words, but his mind was wandering 
somewhere...

He rolled over in bed and looked at the red digits of the clock radio on his night stand. It 
was only nine thirty. That early? He couldn't be seriously going to go to sleep at this 
hour. Maybe he should just gather up his courage, get up and make that phone call?! It 
has been hanging over him like fate itself. Just get it over with. What is the worst thing 
that could happen? He could always go back to the way things were. "The way things 
were". For twenty years now he wasn't sure what was that "way".  Nah. He'd wait till 
next day.

Tom stared at the white ceiling above his bed. In the darkness of his room he couldn't 
really tell what colour it was. But ceilings were usually white, weren't they.

Tom pushed back the covers, turned on the light, and got out of bed. He started pacing 
the room. Back and forth, back and forth. It was still early, he should just pick up the 
phone and call. He opened the closet and felt the pockets of his raincoat. There it was. He 
took the magazine out and stared at the cover again. There was a photo of a man in his 
thirties on the cover, and the title under it read: "Bill Snyder: The Man and His Art". 

He touched his forehead. It felt cold and moist. He was perspiring. Tom couldn't help but 
smile. After all these years and still the same effect. Even perspiration. No, he wouldn't 
call today. Too tired to deal with it right now...

Tom was waiting at his dentist's office when his eyes caught the cover of the magazine. 
There was no need for the title. He would recognise Bill anywhere. The same elongated 
face, deep blue eyes, like two lakes - wild and beautiful. So sad and seductive. Even on 
that picture. Of course, now it was a man rather than a boy staring at him from the 
magazine cover. But the effect he had on Tom was the same as it had been twenty years 
ago. Tom made sure he was alone and stuck the magazine in a pocket of his raincoat. 
There was no need for that, his doctor would have gladly given it to him, but he was 
afraid of questions.

That night he got home before his wife and daughter. He quickly went to the bedroom, 
took the magazine out, and lay down on the bed. The article spoke about the exhibition of 
Bill's work that just ended in London. There was an interview and another picture. Tom 
felt a blob forming in his chest. His entire body was shaking and his head started to spin. 
Twenty years! For God's sake, he thought he had already forgotten the whole damn 
thing. And here it was, fresh as ever, after all those years!

In the semidarkness of his hotel room, Tom's memory was serving him the all to familiar 
pictures of twenty years ago again...

How did it start back then? He would never forget it. He was twenty five then, and a few 
months into a great marriage. He was coming back to Seattle with his wife. Having just 
graduated, he got a job with one of the local magazines. It was great to come back after 
what seemed like almost an eternity. He would see all his old friends again. His family... 
All through that trip across the country, in their new car (so tiny, but new!), he kept 
chatting and giggling and making stupid jokes and laughing at them... Helen laughed 
with him. 

"Wow, that trip has sure put you in a good mood. We should do it more often", she 
would observe sometimes, "I love you being silly like this."

They reached Seattle at the end of August. The events of the first week or two, seemed 
crushed together into one blurry mass of parties, drinking, talking till wee hours of the 
morning, and then more parties, more drinking and more talking, so that by the end he 
and Helen lost track of time. Everyone seemed happy to see Tom, and Helen, thanks to 
her great looks, and irresistible charm, didn't have any trouble becoming part of what 
used to be Tom's circle.

But September came and it was time for Tom to go to work. After a couple of months the 
routine settled in. A new life back home.

It happened on a rainy day in September. The day so similar to this one.  He was driving 
home late one afternoon and stopped for gas. He never usually stopped for gas at that 
place, but it had a car wash and he decided to treat his car today. He was almost done 
filling up the gas tank, when he heard his name being called. He turned around. There in 
front of him stood a middle aged man. He had neatly cut short grey hair, appeared slim 
under a large baggy raincoat and had a cheerful smile on his face.

"Well, Tom, old buddy. Forgetting your old friends?" he asked in mock indignation.

Tom suddenly felt ill at ease. God, how could he do it! In so many months here, he didn't 
even call Mr Mitchell once! And yet, they were so close when he was in high school. 
He had the man to thank for his career, forget career, this man made him for God's sake!

"I am so sorry Mr Mitchell", he started mumbling.

"Oh! Cut it out!" interrupted the older man. "In so many years of teaching, you get used 
to that sort of thing. And by the way, time has come for you to just call me Rob".

"Ok... Rob... But still, I think I should make it up to you. Come on, ask me something. 
Anything. After all, I owe you so much of what I am now..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Where would you be today without the ol'man Mitchell?" said Rob 
interrupting Tom and giving him a slight pat on the shoulder. "But seriously now. You 
would be glad to know that I could really use your help."

"Oh, oh! What am I getting myself into?!"

"Well, if it's not too much to ask, I would like you to come to school one of these days 
and speak to the kids in my English class. I mean an aspiring writer, like yourself... The 
kids will enjoy it", the teacher smiled at Tom.

Nothing seemed to have changed in Mr Mitchell's classroom from the time when he had 
been a student. The same portraits of  Mr Mitchell's favourite writers: Joyce, Beckett, 
Faulkner, Hemmingway... It was a classroom like any other and at the same time quite a 
unique one. Mr Mitchell's classroom.

His speech was short, kids seemed to enjoy it. They even asked a few questions. The bell 
rang. It was the last period and the kids started to gather their stuff quickly anxious to get 
out. Mr Mitchell was yelling at the top of his lungs reminding everyone about the test 
tomorrow. A small group of kids crowded around Mr Mitchell's table. They didn't seem 
to be in a hurry to get home after their last period. Just like the old times. Those 
spontaneous talks at Mr Mitchell's table were what Tom loved most when he was a 
student in Mr Mitchell's class. You could talk about anything anyway you wanted. The 
teacher seemed to intervene very rarely. But this time it was someone else's turn to have 
fun. Tom sat down at one of the desks and waited for the group to dissipate. In a few 
minutes all of them were gone. All of them but one, that is.

"Tom", Mr Mitchell called him, "Meet Bill Snyder. Here, Bill, when Tom had been my 
student he used to be a pain in all the same places you are now!"

Tom got up from his chair and stepped forward towards Bill. They shook hands and Bill 
smiled at him revealing two perfect rows of pearls. After they broke their handshake, the 
world as Tom knew it ceased to exist. In its place, filling up all the void was this boy in 
front of him. This sixteen year old boy. Tom felt slowly drowning in those deep blue 
eyes... From somewhere that must have been in a different universe, Tom heard a voice:

"So, Tom, can I bother you to give Mr Snyder here a ride home. You are going in the 
same direction anyway. I am afraid he missed his carpool now, so you'll be doing him 
and me a favour. Are you all right? Tom?"

Tom turned his head in the direction of the voice and his eyes met those of Mr Mitchell's. 
He caught a strange glimmer in the old teacher's eyes, but it only lasted a second. Calling 
all his remaining will power to the task, Tom regained his composure. Or whatever was 
left of it.

"Yeah, I'd be glad to", he answered quietly, trying as hard as he could to suppress his 
emotion. He just wanted to jump of joy. "Come on, Bill".

A warm feeling seemed to envelop Tom's entire bodies. These were indeed the sweetest 
memories of his life. Tom looked at the magazine cover once again. He just couldn't 
keep his eyes off of it. He rubbed his left shoulder. Bill used to love massaging his 
shoulders. He would always initiate love making with that massage. Tom would usually 
be sitting - helpless, unable to move, or even say anything. Just moan. Bill would slowly 
unbutton his shirt and Tom would think he would die every time the kid's fingers touched 
his bare skin. Then Bill would start kneading his shoulders like dough, gently at first, 
then getting stronger and stronger. It always started like that...

Tom felt a stirring in his loins. If he kept his memories going, he could climax almost 
without touching himself. He laughed at that. Bill used to joke about Tom's manhood 
growing out of his shoulders, and that they should have a bet about him being able to 
climax just by rubbing himself there. Tonight it seemed almost possible. He laughed 
again.

At some point into the massage, it would become just too much for Tom. He would 
spring up and face Bill. The kid would be undressed by that time. They would jump at 
each other like a couple of wild animals, locking each other in a bear hug, falling down 
on the carpet, just rolling there wrestling and growling. And yet their sex wasn't rough. It 
was loving and tender, in spite of all this wrestling. They climaxed together almost 
always. Sometimes wrestling alone would be too much for them, and after a short and 
very passionate "match", at the moment when their bodies seemed to be on the verge of 
breaking the boundaries separating them from each other, they would cum all over each 
other, and then just lay there breathing hard, unable to move.

"You know what separates me from you", Bill once asked as he caught his breath, and a 
mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"No, what?"

"A crowbar!"

One thing that especially struck Tom, was that he tremendously enjoyed the afterglow. 
He remembered his first time. It was in high school. A warm night in the beginning of the 
summer. They all just had a party at this girl's house, and made a horrible mess. He and a 
couple of other kids stayed to help clean up. When it was all done, he was sitting on the 
back porch, looking at the dark moonless sky covered with a multitude of stars. The air 
was fresh but not cold. Then the girl joined him. She sat down on the stairs next to him 
and he could feel her body's warmth without touching her. He didn't know what came 
over him, but pulled her to himself and planted an awkward but firm kiss on her lips. She 
pulled him up and led him to her bedroom. They undressed quickly, with pieces of their 
clothing flying all over the room. He was on top of her and the tight warm sensation 
around his organ was not to be compared with anything in this world. The climax came 
fast. All too fast. Nothing could describe that feeling, and he was totally exhausted and a 
little disappointed. And there was another feeling too. At first he couldn't understand 
what it was and then he suddenly realised. He wanted the girl to disappear. It wasn't right 
for her to be there with him, just didn't feel right. Her job was done, she had to go. When 
he opened his eyes the next morning, she was gone. He got dressed slowly and sneaked 
out of the house without saying good-bye. When he grew older, that feeling stopped 
coming back, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he still remembered the sensation.

It was different with Bill. Anything they did together was just way too much fun for any 
gloom, no matter how small, to creep in.

"Hey baby! I did ok, didn't I?" Bill asked with pride in his voice. He was calling Tom a 
"baby". Jeez, he was talking to a twenty five year old man! Tom was shaking with mirth. 
He was rolling all over the carpet. Then he rolled on top of Bill and started covering his 
naked body with kisses. Bill was well built. He was very slim and good to the touch. The 
tender, silky skin was like that of a child. He didn't have much definition anywhere, but 
not an ounce of fat either.

"You are the best and always will be", Tom finally said and hopped up to go to the 
bathroom to clean himself up.

"Yeah, right", Bill answered faking disbelief. "Look, you've got Helen, you are just 
playing around. What are you doing to me, though, ruining my life?" And he laughed that 
infectious irresistible adolescent laugh of his.

"He's joking all right, but how much truth is in there?", Tom couldn't help wondering. 
Was he really ruining the kid's life? If so, it had to stop right now, but he knew only too 
well that he could never stop it on his own. He came back from the bathroom. Bill was 
still lying on the carpet. Tom propped himself on the elbow next to him.

"Bill", he said covering the kid's mouth with his hand. "Why don't you just shut the fuck 
up!"

"Make me!"

"Fine, you asked for it!" and he planted a big wet kiss on Bill's mouth. Bill responded 
and they explored each other mouths for what seemed like an eternity.

"Any more of your nasty comments?"

"Nah. Like they say. If rape is unavoidable, just relax and enjoy yourself".

"I take it as an invitation, then".

"Whatever".

"Oh, please, don't sound so indifferent. Something tells me you can't wait" 

They started spending more and more time together. Bill became a fixture in Tom's 
household. Helen seemed to like him, and he would very often tag along when they 
would go on short weekend trips, exploring their spectacular surroundings. When Rachel 
was born, Helen seemed absorbed by her entirely, and put fewer demands on Tom being 
around. Or so it seemed to him. He started spending more of his free time with Bill. Quite 
consciously, Tom was trying very hard to inject Bill with his views, values, thoughts. He 
wanted the kid to see things a little bit his way. How selfish and immature, he now 
thought... Bill, on the other hand, seemed to care more about just plain having fun. He 
liked games, sports, and was always adventurous in everything he did. Both of them were 
giving equally to the relationship, in different ways,  and that was why they were never 
bored with one another's company.

The blow came, as always, quite unexpectedly. Helen found out. She was too perceptive 
and knew her husband only too well. She had noticed the look in his eyes when he was 
watching Bill a while ago and sure enough there were enough clues dropped here and 
there for her to suspect what was going on. But Helen tried to keep it to herself. Maybe it 
was her imagination? After all, they were good friends. Until she found the greeting card 
Bill sent Tom on his birthday. There was no need to send a card like that, and of course 
Tom had to be careful about it. The best thing was to destroy it, but just like all that came 
from Bill, he couldn't help it. It meant the world to him and he had to keep it.

He was in the house just finishing dinner when she found it. When he walked into the 
room he saw her sitting at the table staring at it. She seemed calm at first.

"So, you probably want me to leave now, don't you?", she asked.

"Honey, what are you talking about?", he mumbled helplessly.

"Oh, you know darn well what I am talking about!", she screamed. "He stole you from 
me a long time ago, that fucking bastard"

"Don't you dare call him that!", Tom yelled back in a sudden flash of anger. He regretted 
it in the next moment, but the words were out. Helen stared at him for a second, and then 
on the top of her lungs yelled:

"I will call him what I fucking please!!!", tears were rolling down her cheeks, she fell on 
the floor. Tom had never seen her like that. He rushed towards her, tried to pick her up. 
Hold her. She started hitting him and scratching his face. Tom just tried to hold her as 
tight as he could, whispering "It's ok, it's ok" in her ear and kissing her gently on the 
back of her head. She was just shaking in his embrace one tight ball of nerves. Then she 
saw blood on his face, and that seemed to calm her down.

>From then on, every night when he would come home from work, she would meet him 
with a meek, almost apologetic smile.

"I shouldn't be alive", she once said.
"Helen!"
"Oh, be quiet. You are stuck with me now. And the baby. At least if it weren't for the 
baby you could go live with him".
"Darling", he answered, "I love you. Nothing has changed!"
"Nothing has changed", she repeated thoughtfully. "Except that now I am like a thorn in 
your eye". She got up and went to the kitchen to fix his supper. Something had to be done 
to end all this. Tom had a good job opportunity in Vancouver, but he never thought of it 
seriously because of Bill. Now it was precisely the reason to think seriously about it. 
Games fate plays with us...

Exhausted Tom finally fell asleep. When he awoke, it was already afternoon. He stared at 
the hotel room ceiling above him for a second not understanding where he was and what 
he was doing there. Then he saw the magazine lying on the desk near the phone, and his 
memory came back. He got up, took a long shower, stalling on purpose, avoiding the 
unavoidable. The phone, the regular hotel phone - a white ugly device with solid buttons 
and instructions printed all over the dial. No, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to make 
that call. Maybe Bill won't even be home. Maybe the number he got from the 
information would turn out to be the wrong one. He dialled with the shaking hand.

"Hello", said the voice on the other end.
For a split second Tom couldn't talk. No sound would come out of his throat.
"Hi", he finally mastered, he heard himself say it, or it had to be him since there was no 
one else in the room. His heart was ready to jump out of his mouth with the sounds of this 
simple word.
"Yes? What can I do for you?"
"Bill? Is that you?" Tom was slowly regaining his composure.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"It's me, Tom. Remember?"
There was a pause.
"It has been a long time, hasn't it? How are you doing, Tom?", he sounded calm.
"I am ok. How are you? Looks like you are quite a celebrity now".
"Not compared to you, I am not".
Now it was Tom's turn to be quiet.
"Listen", he finally said, "Why don't we meet for dinner tonight, unless you've made 
other plans already?"
"No, I haven't".
"Well great, you got any preferences?"
"How about I pick you up at the hotel at about eight?"
"Fine. See you then".
"Cool. Bye, Tom".

The line went dead. Tom hung up the phone and looked at his watch. It was only twenty 
after six. He sighed. An hour and forty minutes. He sat down in front of the TV set and 
tried to channel surf. He couldn't concentrate on anything and turned it off after about 
half an hour. He tried reading, but his thoughts drifted away from the book. Finally, he 
just got dressed and decided to go downstairs into the lobby. It was only a quarter to 
eight.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tom was standing right by it, so he just turned 
the handle and opened it. The lights from the hallway were very dim, but even though, 
they didn't hide the beauty of his visitor. Tom moved aside and the young man stepped 
in. He was no more than eighteen, Tom thought. His beauty now shined in the bright light 
of the room in all its sensual glory. He wasn't very tall - about Tom's height and looked 
young and fragile. Thoughtful brown eyes and long eyelashes, almost like those of a girl, 
added to the impression he gave of fragility. He wore blue jeans, a polo shirt and a pair of 
running shoes. Nothing stunning, but he made it seem like the best thing in the world to 
wear. A model's quality, Tom thought.

"Hello, Mr Webber. Chris Labreau", he said smiling and stretching his hand out for a 
handshake.

"It's Tom. And nice meeting you, Chris". He kept staring at the boy. He found it hard to 
keep his eyes away from the kid. It wasn't really his beauty so much, as Tom was starting 
to realise, but a certain inexplicable charm that just seemed to fill up the entire space 
around the young man. He didn't know what to say. The right thing would have been just 
to ask his visitor to what he owed the pleasure and the honour. Before he regained his 
composure, Chris broke the awkward pause:

"Bill sends his apologies, but he isn't feeling well tonight. So, he asked me to pick you up 
and bring you to our place. We can all have dinner there."
Tom was baffled. Too many puzzles for one short speech. Who was this kid? And then 
"our" place?.. He wanted to ask Chris, but the boy seemed to be reading his mind.

"Oh", he said, "I am in Bill's class at the Art Institute. Bill rents out part of his house to 
me. I don't pay the rent, but have to kind of look after the house, you know, help Bill 
around the studio, things like that. It's not a lot of work and I like it. Besides, being so 
close to a master like Bill... I am pretty lucky".

"I agree!", said Tom and smiled. "Let's get going".
The ride to Bill's house didn't take them that long, since it wasn't a rush hour. Bill owned 
a beautiful house, almost a mansion on the East Side. The table was set on the patio. It 
wasn't raining and the evening was brisk but very pleasant. 

"Hello, Tom!", Bill greeted him. "Thanks for bringing him, Chris. We are about ready 
here".
 
They all sat down at the small table. What was the meaning of this, Tom couldn't help 
thinking. Obviously Bill was afraid to stay alone with him. He could certainly understand 
it, but he was hoping they could be alone for the evening. There was so much to catch up 
on. After dinner they just sat on the porch looking into the night and listening to the 
silence broken only by the occasional sound of the wind shuffling the tree tops. The tree 
line started just a few yards away from the porch. Old, tall pine trees. Their dark 
silhouettes were barely visible in the night.

"So, I see you are doing quite well. All that publicity", Tom said to fill a pause in the 
conversation.

"Oh, it won't be the first time", Bill answered and laughed a little.
Tom blushed at this comment. It was fortunate that Bill couldn't see it in the dark. The 
only light they had came from inside the house and the candles on the table. Tom could 
only see Bill's face in the faint red glimmer of the candle flame. Chris pushed his chair 
back, towards the house, and no light fell onto his face.

"I am sorry, old man", Tom finally said. His desire to hug Bill and squeeze him tight 
against his chest was almost unbearable. But there was a student here. He had to control 
himself.

"Ah, it's ok. Don't think about it. Besides, I've got Chris here, and he is a great help. 
He's flipped out of course, but you know what, at times I envy his passion. I wish I could 
carry something like that into my paintings".

"Bill!!!", Chris was trying to protest, but Bill stopped him with one gesture.
"I have no idea how he does it, but whenever you see his painting, it's forever in your 
mind. It may seem like it faded or went away. But one day you will suddenly find 
yourself thinking about it".

They were just sitting there sipping their drinks, listening to the silence of the night.

The next morning Tom was going to return to Vancouver. Chris volunteered to see him 
off. They were walking together towards Tom's train, Chris carrying Tom's suitcase.

"All right, Chris. Thanks for seeing me off", said Tom taking the suitcase from Chris's 
hand.

"Oh, please don't mention it, Tom. How many opportunities does a guy like me have to 
be so close to his favourite author. Oh, I didn't even ask you for an autograph. Damn! 
The guys are never going to believe I met Tom Webber and had dinner with him".
Tom grinned slightly, wrapped his arm around Chris's shoulders and pulled him close.

"That can be easily fixed, I am sure. Look. Those paintings Bill spoke about..."
"Oh, yeah... It wasn't terribly nice of him, was it?" Chris said and frowned a little. Like a 
cloud suddenly passing through his beautiful face.
"Au contraire. I would love to see some of those one day".
Chris's face lighted up again.
"That's not a problem at all! I could bring them over to Vancouver and show you!"
"Yeah, why not. Well, time for me to go. Good bye, kid. Thanks for everything!"


Chapter 2.
The Mountain.

Again Tom was looking through the train window. There was not too much sun that day, 
but at least it wasn't raining. The green outside of the train window was so abundant and 
luscious Tom could almost feel it envelop him. "I am essentially green", he thought. That 
thought pleased him for some strange reason.

With his mind's eye Tom tried to go over the events of the visit. Bill was afraid to stay 
alone with him. He couldn't blame him. He moved to Vancouver so abruptly, without 
even saying good bye, without telling Bill he was moving. He had Helen and his baby to 
think about, of course, but did the move have to be that abrupt? In his mind, he kept 
coming back to what Bill said to him once laughingly about playing with his life. Cutting 
him off like this was brutal.

During the first year of his separation from Bill, Rob Mitchell called him a few times in 
Vancouver. He said he feared for Bill's life. The kid stopped eating, couldn't sleep. 
Whatever little he ate, his tortured organism would reject immediately. His behaviour 
became psychotic, he had to go to the hospital. Mr Mitchell said that all that was 
happening exceeded a nervous break down in his opinion, and he begged Tom to come 
back. At least call Bill and talk to him. But Tom didn't do it. He cut a piece of himself off 
and left it in Seattle. That was it. He belonged to his family now. To his baby. There was 
no coming back.

A few years later, he started working on Sixteen. He worked days and nights on it, 
pouring all of himself into the manuscript. The whole house smelled of coffee. All those 
years of passion were materialising on paper. Helen kept silent all that time. Only once 
she observed quietly: 
"He was stealing you away from me then, he is doing it again now. I know you need to 
do it. Don't worry".

At last the manuscript was ready. Usually Helen edited all his manuscripts before he sent 
them to the publisher. That was part of their relationship. They were working on it as a 
team.
"You don't have to edit this one, honey", he said trying to put all the tenderness he was 
capable of into his voice.
"It's ok. A book is a book is a book", his wife answered. "I will just look at it as a 
soulless corrector".

And she did it. On the day when she was finally done, he could barely recognise her 
beautiful face when she lifted her eyes from the last page. He came up to her, knelt beside 
the table and put her head on his shoulder. She almost collapsed into his arms, her body 
shook violently and she vomited a yellow liquid substance on his shoulder. 

"I am ok", her voice was barely audible. "Just tired".

Tom shelved the manuscript. Too much pain had already gone into it, how much more 
did people around him have to suffer? But after that episode, Helen seemed rejuvenated. 
It was as if she purged herself of all the pain that the events of the past had left. Her 
yearning for her husband became insatiable. In due course, Kevin was born.

"Why don't you publish Sixteen?", Helen asked him once.
"Because I don't want you to get hurt again, darling", he replied softly.
"Oh, come on! You barely even mentioned me in the novel. I could never figure out why. 
There could have been an entire episode in itself!"
"Honey", he said with a note of surprise in his voice, "this was supposed to be a pure love 
story, whatever I would say about you, it would just hurt you".
"Well, couldn't you write about me being jealous? See, now everyone who reads it would 
love Bill and sympathise with him. I am totally out of the picture, don't you see it?"
"Oh, come on honey. You know the character in the story isn't real. It's a Bill of my 
imagination, a perfect Bill. I created him".
"I know you did. But without so much love for the real one, you couldn't have done it".
"Are you implying I wasn't in love with you? Look I left him for you! What can be more 
of a proof than that? It's just that there couldn't be a place for you in the novel, except as 
a jealous, suffering wife".
 "Then this is the way I should have appeared. Ugly and hateful".

Tom often wondered about that conversation. The female psychology appeared so 
incomprehensible. At first the novel hurt Helen almost physically, but then she wanted to 
be in it, no matter how painful it could be. He gave up trying to understand it.

Nevertheless, he followed his wife's advice. After such a long time he almost lost interest 
in the novel, but no matter how little he thought of the work now, he wanted to see it in 
print.

The novel was very well accepted both by the media and the public. Just like Helen 
predicted, everyone loved the character of Bill Snyder. Then one diligent reporter 
discovered the real Bill. His picture appeared on the cover of one of the tabloids without 
his consent. To avoid any further publicity, Bill didn't sue the tabloid. The reporters 
besieged him. His perspective marriage was off, his good friends became aloof, and even 
his family seemed somehow to be pushing him away. With time the raucous just died 
down by itself, but like a hurricane, it passed and took most of Bill's life with it.

Only a few weeks passed since Tom's visit to Seattle and his meeting with Bill. One day, 
when he came back home from a visit with his publisher, Helen was sitting in the living 
room, reading. He bent down and kissed her.
"Oh, honey", she said returning his kiss, "While you were out, a young man stopped by. 
He said he was bringing something he promised you in Seattle. It's a painting".
"Really? Where is he?"
"He had to catch a train back and Kevin volunteered to take him to the station."
"When was that?"
"Oh, about an hour ago".
"That's strange. The station is not that far away, he should have been home by now!"
"You sound worried. What do you think could have happened?", Helen asked, now 
worried herself.
"Well, I don't know. It's probably nothing. Where is the painting?"
"It's in your study. On the desk".

Tom went into the study and turned on the lights. There it was. In a roll on his desk It was 
called "The Mountain", and it was not a realistic painting. Close to post-impressionism, 
Tom thought. What caught the eye right away was a spot painted with many shades of 
blue. Around it green was thrown in abundance. Bright, passionate, even violent. The 
mountain was all white, with some shades of pink and grey in it. It was towering over the 
blue spot - apparently the lake. Tom couldn't move his eyes away from it. Bill was right 
about the kid's passion. That lake and the mountain. Almost exactly the way he 
remembered it. His first time with Bill...

 The summer day was almost over, they were sweaty and a quiet little lake opened to 
their tired gaze. It was luring them in. They both knew they couldn't resist it. Bill 
stripped first. He was just tearing apart all his clothes, the sweaty tank top almost burst as 
he was trying to peel it off running towards the lake, kicking away his sandals one far 
away from the other. He dived with a splash. Tom laughed and followed him. They both 
emerged from the water facing each other, laughing and shaking the water off from their 
eyes and splashing each other at the same time. Then, on an impulse they moved closer 
and with a groan locked each other in a bear hug. And then it was clear that neither was 
going to break it. Tom looked Bill in the face. The boy's face was suddenly very serious. 
Tom closed his eyes and his lips touched the soft surface of Bill's mouth. He pushed 
further holding his breath, waiting for the body that was so tense in his embrace to start 
kicking him, waiting for Bill to run away and the world to come to an end. He knew the 
line was crossed, and he was amazed, happy and scared that he crossed it. But nothing 
happened. He felt Bill relax in his arms, and all of a sudden his tongue was touching 
Bill's teeth. It seemed to last forever...

He looked at the painting again. Did Chris know? Bill had been discussing this with his 
student? He couldn't believe Bill would reveal anything this sacred to a mere student. 
Deep in his thoughts, he did not hear his wife approach him from behind.
"It's beautiful!", she said.
"Yeah", he agreed absentmindedly. "It is beautiful".
"So much passion", she paused. "Burn it".
He rolled the painting up and stared at her with wild fear and astonishment in his eyes.
"What did you say?! Are you out of your mind?!"
"I said, burn it! It's HIS painting, I don't want it in our house. Is that too hard for you 
understand?!"
"Helen, it's art, you can't destroy it. Besides he didn't paint it. It was Chris, the young 
man who brought it".
"Nevertheless. HE is everywhere in this painting. I can feel it. He still loves you, and 
that's what it's all about. I don't want it hanging from our walls reminding me of that 
love".
"Hmm... I am not sure. It's Chris's picture. Perhaps you are right. But maybe love here is 
that of Chris's".
"Are you saying they are having a relationship?"
"I don't know. It's possible..."
"Well, whatever it is, I want it out of my site", said Helen closing the door on her way 
out.

Tom lighted up the fireplace. He made himself comfortable in his recliner, stretched the 
painting in front of himself and looked at it for a long, long time. 

Kevin still had not come home.


Chapter 3.
The Night of the New Year.
Bill decided to stay home for the New Year's night. It was damp and chilly, but he stayed 
outside on the porch, looking at the old pine trees surrounding the house with the candle 
light coming from the little table, set for two. Bill was sitting facing the trees. Chris came 
out of the house carrying a bottle of Champagne in his right hand. They both had thick 
turtlenecks on, trying to keep away the chill. Chris put the wine on the table, then went 
around Bill's chair and put his arms around Bill's neck. He bent down and whispered in 
his ear:
"We are ready, Bill. Happy New Year!"
"Yeah", Bill sighed. "The New Year's night. New hopes every time. Groundless, of 
course. Never materialising".
"Hey, you are awfully optimistic tonight", said Chris trying to sound cheerful.
"Right", replied Bill shaking his head, as if trying to shake something off. "I shouldn't be 
talking like this. You are so young, and, after all your whole life is in front of you". 
"Oh, come on! You aren't so old yourself! But you are right. All my life is in front of 
me". Chris tried pulling Bill closer to himself. "You are my life".
"No. I am destroying your life. Do you want to end up like me? Come on, there are so 
many women around who would die for a chance to be with you".
"I hate women". 
"That is a problem. It won't do at all. I am sorry. It's my fault".
"You are doing it again! You know very well how much I owe you. For taking me in and 
trying to make an artist out of me, even though I don't have much talent".
"You've got to be kidding. You are my most talented student. Now let's cut this 
nonsense. I am starving. Oh and what time is it?"
"Actually, it's five to twelve.", Bill answered holding his wristwatch against the 
candlelight. "I better open this Champagne".
They toasted the New Year. For a while only the sounds of the night interrupted their 
meal.

"Hey Chris", said Bill pouring another glass for each of them. "Tom called last night, I 
forgot to tell you. He sent his regards. And..."
"And?"
"Well, he thanked you for the painting". Bill put the bottle down. "What have you been 
doing in Vancouver anyway?", he asked and his voice sounded rather stern. "You went 
without even telling me!"
"I just wanted to see the family of a man who kept destroying your life over the years", 
Chris replied, suddenly very quiet.
"And took your best painting with you?"
"And so? I needed an excuse, didn't I? He asked to see a painting of mine when he was 
here in October. I promised I'd bring him one, and I did". He started sipping his 
Champagne slowly. The light from the candles was leaving faint traces of red on his face 
and reflected in his blonde hair. Bill couldn't take his eyes away from the kid. He was 
irresistible.
"You went to visit Tom... Without telling me. I am just trying to understand. Don't get 
upset with me now, Chris", Bill was doing his best to be as calm as he could.
"I am not upset!", Chris put his glass down and got up. "I just want revenge."
"What?! What did you say?! Why on earth?!" Bill couldn't conceal his amazement even 
if he wanted to.
"Because it's fair. Look first he comes and destroys you, then he gets away with it and 
becomes famous reaping the fruit of your suffering. As if that's not enough, he makes 
you suffer more. And you are letting him get away with this?" He was now screaming.
"Chris, Chris, cool it, will you?", Bill's voice was becoming hoarse. He got up and 
moved closely in front of Chris. "What the hell are you planning to do?"
"Oh, nothing", replied the young man and giggled. A cold, sinister laugh. "First he 
destroys you, now I will destroy him".
"What is on your mind? Come on, tell me!"
"Well, at first I thought I'd seduce him. If Helen found out this time, I don't think he 
would be able to get away with it. But now I have an even better idea". He was smiling 
again. "You know, his daughter is engaged. That could be a scream! That's not my idea, 
though. It would take time and effort. I am too lazy, I guess". He returned to his chair. 
"You know, as luck would have it, there is such an easy target in that family. Delectable 
too!" He winked at Bill and licked his lips in one long, sensual motion of his tongue. 
Then he looked at his bewildered teacher and laughed loudly, the sound of his laughter 
piercing the serenity of the night.
"You are really awful! What's with you?! Are you possessed? God I never knew what 
I...", Bill stopped in the middle of the sentence. "Listen, Chris, I know you are doing it 
for me, but I don't need it. Stop it, please"
"Stop it?! Stop it?! Oh, no. I ain't gonna stop it. No way, man. This guy is gonna get 
what's coming to him, whether you want it or not!" He pushed himself violently away 
from the table, almost spilling both glasses over. Then he bent down and hid his face in 
his knees.
"Chris? What's wrong with you tonight?" 
Bill knelt beside his student and put his hand on the kid's back. Chris's body was 
shaking. He was sobbing. Then he straightened himself up again.
"Sorry", he said. "You still love him, don't you? After all these years, you still love 
him?"
"Come on, kid. Let's go to bed. I can't stand this cold anymore anyway."
 
Chapter 4.
The Ocean.

Tom was sitting in his recliner, his legs stretched towards the fireplace. The fire was 
gleaming cheerfully, warming up his feet. He was done working and was thinking of 
getting out of the house for a short ride. Tom loved doing that. Driving took his mind off 
work. The thoughts seemed to appear and disappear in his head, constantly changing,-  
just like the view from his windshield. This time, however, it seemed that the recliner was 
winning. "Damn", thought Tom, "I must be getting really old".

The doorbell rang and he got up to answer it. Standing on the threshold with a rolled 
canvas under his arm, was Chris.
"Aha!", exclaimed Tom surprised but pleased to see the kid, "What a way to start spring! 
Winter is over and you are here. A sure sign that things are warming up!"
Chris stepped into the house.
"I brought you another one of my paintings, Tom", he said cheerfully.
"Yeah, I noticed. Come on, let's go to my study we'll take a look".
Tom unrolled the canvass and held the painting stretching his arms to see it better. The 
painting was called A Village in Winter and was done differently from Chris's previous 
painting. A few houses were just barely recognisable as a few black spots, there were 
naked, gloomy looking trees here and there, but there was a lot of air around, the 
landscape consisted of many hills around the village itself, and there were people 
everywhere. Climbing those hills, kids playing in the snow, just groups standing around, 
some were skating, some skiing.

"Umm", said Tom. "Been looking a lot at Bruegel lately? He will always remain my 
favourite. You know why? Of all the artists he managed to bring you  the Universe as 
seen from the outside. I don't know how he did it. You look at his art and you start seeing 
life differently. The mystery of life itself is frozen forever in his paintings. From the 
minute you see them, you are captivated. Just swept off your feet. Then you start realising 
that he managed to capture the beauty, the abundance, the essence of life itself. The key 
to understanding it is simplicity. We tend to overlook it just by running around, doing 
something that goes against everything we really want, preoccupied with our petty goals. 
We are the ones that make it complicated. And then comes Bruegel. With his huge 
crowds of people chaotic and harmonious at the same time. He gives you a chance to 
look at life from the outside, as it were. Freeze in your tracks, relax and just watch. You 
see all those people - everyone so small, but at the same time so important, captured in 
stillness forever but also moving in his imaginary world, you take any one of them away 
and the whole picture will fall apart, then you can't help thinking that maybe you fit in 
somewhere in this amazing web called "life", and it's all just the matter of looking at it 
from the outside, once".
"That's beautiful, Tom", Chris said. "But what do you think of this?"
He took the painting away from Tom to let him step away and take another look.
"Oh, I love this one. Again, like in the other one you gave me, there is so much youthful 
vigour in this one as well. Only... Well, one thing. I can't help but feel sadness, perhaps 
even depression coming out of it. I am not sure what it is..." He stood there silent for a 
moment. "Oh, yes. It's the houses and the trees. I don't know. They don't seem in 
harmony with the rest, but their theme makes the painting look mysterious. But also a bit 
scary. It's like something is about to happen that will shatter all this happiness forever. 
Am I right?"
Chris smiled.
"I am glad I showed it to you. You can keep it. I want you to hang it up in your study. By 
the way, where is my other painting?"
"The Mountain? Oh, it's in my son's room. He begged me to give it to him, so I did".
"Kevin? Where is he?"
"Oh, he went to study with a friend of his. My wife went to see a play, and my daughter 
moved in with her boyfriend a couple of months ago. I am all alone here".
"Home alone. Must be fun."
Chris rolled up the paining and put it on the table. 
"It's definitely an opportunity", he smiled and stepped closer to Tom. "You know, Tom, I 
see why they all loved you. Bill still does. It doesn't surprise me. Anyone would love 
you".
Is he being sincere or did he come to seduce me? Tom wasn't sure.
"Anyway, too bad Kev isn't here. Last time I visited, we went to see the Ocean sunset. It 
was great!"
That's what took Kevin so long on that day, Tom thought. His son had never told him. 
They went to see the sunset. Whose idea was it, he couldn't help wondering?
"Well, that sounds like a good idea", Tom said. "I usually like to take a drive or a walk 
after I am finished working. We could do that if you like. Go to the Ocean".
Tom made another step forward. He was standing very close to Chris now. The footrest 
of his recliner got in the way and Tom lost his balance for a moment. To regain it he had 
to grab hold of Chris. He was almost holding the boy in his arms now. He could feel the 
kid's warm breath on his cheek. One slightest move and he would be kissing the boy. But 
he didn't move. Neither did Chris.
"Come on. Let's get the car", said Tom breaking the embrace.

The sun had almost set as they arrived at the beach. The Ocean was boasting all 
imaginable shades of pink and green. The setting sum seemed to have set it aflame. Tom 
and Chris walked along the docks, watching the boats. Chris really seemed to enjoy 
himself, and as the raindrops started to moisten his hair, he would just try shaking the rain 
off cheerfully and insist on walking more. But fairly soon it had become obvious that it 
was not a matter of choice.
"I wonder sometimes what it would be like if we could live in the Ocean", Chris said 
when they were in the car. "I heard dolphins were friendly creatures... I could be friends 
with one. Maybe have a pet dolphin or two..."
"You like dolphins, don't you?", Tom asked.
"Yes. My dad used to take me see dolphin shows when I was a kid. Then I used to feed 
them fish. It was fun."
"I'll bet. You know how they used to catch them? They would lure them to the shore and 
then tickle them. When you tickle it under its fins it becomes helpless. Just like a little 
boy".
"That's disgusting!", Chris shivered slightly.
"You know, Chris, we don't have to go home now. I know a small motel nearby, we 
could go there and wait for it to blow over".
"Blow over... Why not", Chris smiled.

At the hotel, Tom went to the shower, undressed and turned on the hot water. It felt good 
to be immersed in heat after the chilly air outside. He stepped out of the shower, towelled 
himself off, and started filling the bath tub. Then he returned to the room with the towel 
wrapped around his hips. Chris was standing at the window looking at the rain.
"Ok. I am done. I am filling the bath tub up for you", Tom said.
Chris turned around: "What for?"
"We are going to play dolphin".
Chris burst out laughing. Tom loved the sound of this laugh. It brought back memories...
"Nah, I am not in the mood for that", said the boy.
"Really? We shall see about that! Go take a shower anyway, the bathtub is going to 
overflow any minute now".
Chris disappeared into the bathroom. Tom heard him lock the door. When he reappeared, 
he was naked except for the towel around his hips. He looked at Tom carefully studying 
him.
"You know, Tom", he said, "I don't know how anyone could resist you. I am not sure 
what it is. A devilish charm. I understand why Bill still loves you".
"Well, charm itself is no good, unless you put it to work!", Tom replied laughingly and 
moved up to Chris. He made the towel around Chris's hips drop, then dropped his own. 
He started exploring the kid's body with his mouth. Every inch of it, going slowly down, 
licking his way towards the fully erect manhood. Then he quickly took Chris's erection 
into his mouth. Chris seemed to be in heaven, lost, he gave himself totally to the man in 
front of him and Tom could only hear him moan.
"Oh yeah! Yeah! More! Incredible! OH! OH! BILL!"
Tom quickly moved back and looked up at Chris. He was still holding Chris's hips. The 
boy pushed him away and disappeared into the bathroom.

Chapter 5.
The Flame.
"We should probably get the fire going here, but this may just be the last night we use the 
fireplace this season", said Bill putting some wood into the fireplace.
"Yeah. But I could never tire of watching the flame".
"You know, like they say. You never get tired watching three things: fire, water and 
someone else working".
"You are making a joke out of everything, Bill", Chris sounded a little offended.
"Oh! Baby did I hurt you?" Bill came up to the kid, and tried to hug him, but Chris 
avoided his grip.
"Hey what's with you lately?", Bill sounded worried and a little angry. "I know. Been to 
Vancouver again. And again took your best painting with you. All right. What happened. 
Lay it on the table now!"
"Nothing happened".
"Could you be more specific, maybe?", Bill asked. Chris wondered if he detected a hint 
of jealousy under the façade of mockery Bill was putting up.
"No, really. We went to a motel, and then I cried out your name. It put him right off. You 
should have seen the look he gave me", Chris snickered. "He is still in love with you. 
And you with him. Oh well then..." He cut himself off.
"Well what? What did you want to say?"
"No, it's nothing important. I just thought that I didn't want to hurt you by all this. Still, 
he is going to get what he deserves. Too bad you feel the way you do"
"Chris, you are simply evil. I forbid you to go to Vancouver again without telling me in 
advance, at least. God, I don't even want to get into your evil schemes. I hope no one gets 
hurt!"
"And what if one does? If there is anything I hate in this world, it's treachery. That man 
betrayed you when he left you, he betrayed you when he published the novel. You don't 
think that was cruel? The man is just the biggest egotistic bastard I know!"
Bill came up to the chair on which Chris was sitting, picked him by his shirt and brought 
the scared kid's face close to his own. Chris could see his teacher's eyes sparkling wild 
with rage. "Don't you ever call him anything like that again. Ever! Did you hear me?", he 
yelled.
"Loud and clear. Now let me down", Chris said quietly, almost whispering.
"All right, listen, Chris. I am sorry, I shouldn't have done that", Bill said clearing his 
throat. He looked confused, but kept his gaze steady, directed at Chris. "It's just that we 
shared so much twenty years ago..."
"Life has stopped for you twenty years ago, when he left you, hasn't it? Think about it, 
all this suffering and he never even called you. You ceased to exist. He forgot all about 
you. Well, now is time to remind him. Things have to be set right and I will be the one 
who does it. The judge and the executioner". Chris was calm. There were metallic notes 
in his voice.
"Chris, listen to yourself. What's with you?", was all Bill could master.
"What's with me?.. Oh, it's nothing. Truth is I am tired. Really, really tired".
"Ok. Let's turn in, then".
"I don't want to go to sleep yet".
"Then what?!"
"Let's go play dolphin".
"What the hell are you talking about?! Oh, Chris! I am worried about you".
"No, you are not. You are worried about him and what I may do to him. I can tell you one 
thing. You aren't worried enough". Chris got up from his chair and walked towards the 
door. At the door, he turned around, cast another glance at Bill and said: "If ever you 
could be worried about me, I would probably not have to go through all this. But no. You 
just make me mad about yourself and then go keep dreaming about Tom. Fine!.. 
Whatever!.. But there is no need to lie to me. 'Worried about you!', ha! I read you like a 
book Bill, because I love you too much. You can't hide from me". And he was gone.

Bill sank into the chair that Chris had left empty. He felt tired and alone all of a sudden.
 
Over the course of the next few months, Chris had visited Tom in Vancouver a few more 
times. From what Tom could tell, he became very good friends with Kevin. There was 
little doubt in Tom's mind that there was more than just friendship there. The boys 
seemed inseparable. They looked like they belonged together, as if they knew each other 
for years and years... Chris, who was two years older than Kevin seemed to be a natural 
leader. 
Sometimes Tom would notice that there was some kind of a game going on between the 
two kids. It was as if they were playing brothers, and each one played his role with a 
passion. He mentioned that to Kevin once.

"I wish he were my brother, dad", Kevin answered dreamily. 

Tom didn't push Kevin for an explanation. He wanted matters to take their course and 
was hoping that the kid would come to him on his own. He realized that there was little 
chance of that happening without any encouragement on his part. But for now he decided 
to leave things as they were and wait. After all, the kids didn't see each other as often as 
they probably wanted, since Chris lived so far away. 

The summer came and it was vacation time for Kevin and Chris. Chris would come and 
spend a few days at a time at Tom's house. The kids would go swimming together very 
often. Most of the times they would be on their own, since Helen was at work and Tom 
tried to sneak out and leave the house to them. Besides, he didn't want to be the third 
with Chris around.

"Ugh! I am beat", Kevin announced dropping on his bed. "All this swimming and diving 
makes you tired." The boys just came back from the lake and still had their swimsuits on.
"I bet it does. Makes you tired, but not all of you. I think some of you is still happy and 
lively!" He plopped himself next to Kevin and put his arm on Kevin's thigh. Kevin 
giggled.
"You know, Chris", he said suddenly serious, "Why don't you paint a picture of me one 
of those days".
"Kevin, you've got to be kidding. I can't do it realistically and anything else will be a 
mockery of your beauty!"
"Nope. When there's a will there's a way. Besides, don't they teach you anything at 
school?"
"Well, yeah, sure, but it's always naked models that we have to paint".
"Bingo! That's exactly what we are going to do. You will paint me naked". Kevin put his 
right arm on Chris's shoulder.
"You are crazy, Kev. That's what I love you for".
"Is that a yes?"
"Well..."
"Chri-is!" Kevin stared at Chris pleading with his eyes.
Chris couldn't hold it any longer. He laughed and turned on his back.
"Ok, ok, puppy. Nude it is!"
"Thanks. You always make me happy".
"It doesn't take much, you are easily pleased".
"Well, that's because I love you, silly. No, that's not it. You are part of me now. Cut you 
off and I'll be gone just like that", and he snapped his fingers to illustrate.
"You mean the world to me too, kid", said Chris all of a sudden turning very serious, 
almost somber. "I'd hate to loose you".
"Loose me?! Who's talking about loosing? Come on, let me show you my love".
"For the third time now? Fuck off, I've got a headache and I am hungry".
"Asshole!"
"Hmm, now that you mention it, perhaps I'll take one! Mind you, that's not quite what I 
had in mind when I said I was hungry."
Kevin started to giggle and turned over on top of Chris. All the swimming 
notwithstanding, there was still more than enough energy in both of them.

During that summer vacation, Kevin developed quite noticeably. Not only physically. He 
started reading a lot. He often talked to his parents about going to Europe. He became 
interested in history and wanted to see the imprints of millennia passed on the stones, the 
people, their every day lives. He told Tom that they were saving for a big trip next year 
and they were already planning their time in the greatest art museums of the Continent. 
Tom was surprised and happy to see his son develop this way. There was little doubt in 
his mind who he owed it to.

"You see!" he would often tell Helen, "Finally our kid is turning into something both of 
us aren't going to be ashamed of!"
But his wife didn't seem to share eagerly his optimism. She never said anything and 
always made Chris feel at home, but Tom had a feeling, that deep inside she was very 
cautious, perhaps even afraid of the boy.
"What's bugging you, honey?" Tom asked her once.
"I am not sure", she answered. "You know, maybe we shouldn't encourage Kevin to see 
Chris so much. I can't get rid of this feeling that I have of him".
"Really? And what would that be?" Tom asked. He thought that maybe Helen was afraid 
Chris was trying to get to him through Kevin. After all, he came to visit him that very 
first time. Or maybe she guessed about the boys...
"Well, he is a nice kid and all that", she answered hesitantly, "but you know what? It's 
his beauty. Look, how strikingly handsome he is. When he and Kevin walk next to each 
other on the street everyone turns and stares at them".
"Don't you think it's a compliment to Kevin just as much as it is to Chris?"
"Yes, sure. Kevin is a handsome kid. But nothing out of the ordinary. Chris on the other 
hand... I don't know how to say it, but a human being just shouldn't be this beautiful. It's 
not normal. There is something dark hidden there, dormant for now, but waiting for a 
chance to wake up and show itself. Besides, did you notice the way he sometimes looks 
at Kevin?"
"No", Tom answered suddenly feeling that he was contracting Helen's anxiety.
"It's this long, thoughtful stare. Hard to describe. It reminds me of the time when I was in 
the hospital and they discovered that the other woman in my room had an incurable 
cancer. I remember her husband visited her on the day they told them. He sat by her bed 
for a long, long time staring at her. Just holding her hand. They were both silent. I will 
remember it forever. That's what Chris reminds me of. It scares me quite a bit, you 
know!"
Tom forced a laugh; "Oh sweetheart. You are worrying yourself sick for nothing. Chris is 
a normal, healthy kid, like any other. Passionate, yes, but what's wrong with it? You 
can't ignore the fact that he is a very good influence on Kevin. Let's not interfere because 
of some vague premonition. Besides, even if we did it wouldn't help. Kevin is old enough 
to choose his own friends by himself now. He wouldn't stand for us butting in,  I am 
afraid. Come now, darling". He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. 

Chapter 6.
The Fall.
Labor Day weekend marked the break in the weather that year. It was amazing, how just 
before the weekend the sky was blue, it was warm and sunny, and just after the sun hid 
behind clouds and cool breezes turned into cold winds.

On one of those cold October nights, the doorbell rang at Tom's house. Helen opened the 
door.
"Chris! How are you!" Tom and Kevin heard her from the living room. "What a surprise, 
we haven't expected you till tomorrow. You don't have classes on Friday?"
"Helen! Don't try to be too hospitable", Tom yelled from the living room.
"Oh! I am sorry, Chris. I didn't mean it. You are always welcome here".
"It's ok Mrs. Webber, I understand. I haven't given you any advance notice. I just felt 
lonely and wanted to see my friend here", he said shaking his head in the direction of 
Kevin who had just joined them.
"This is awesome, Chris! You do get some darn good ideas sometimes, you know that!"
"Yeah, that's what Bill tells me all the time", Chris replied and winked at Kevin.
Kevin felt ground shrink from under his feet. He did it again! In front of his mother. One 
day that bastard was going to ruin him with his big mouth. It was surprising that mom 
hasn't caught on yet.
"...when I paint, that is", Chris continued and winked at Kevin once again.
"Well, in any case, your timing is perfect. We were just starting supper. Care to join us?", 
Helen invited.
"Family supper? Perfect. What could be better. No such thing at Bill's, that's for sure!"
And they all went into the living room.

The next morning Kevin woke up first. He still had school that day. To get out of be, he 
had to roll over Chris. It was impossible to do it without waking him up first. Chris 
opened his eyes, stretched and purred. Like a big kitten.
"Umm. Good morning, lover!" Chris said turning over to face Kevin. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah. Let me get out, I am gonna be late!"
"That's no way to greet you loved one in the morning!", Chris retorted in mock 
indignation. "Kiss me, then you can go".
"Oh, all right, I guess there is no other way..."
They both giggled, then kissed gently on the lips.
"Listen, I'll be back early, don't go anywhere, ok?"
"All right", Chris said. His gaze fell on his painting. The Mountain. "You know 
something, I am glad I gave you that painting. This and The Village are the best I have 
done. Probably will ever do".
"Nonsense!" Kevin replied. "You'll do many more beautiful paintings, better than those. 
You are going to paint me, remember? So, there you are!"
"You are so full of it, Kev", Chris laughed.

Kevin couldn't wait till his last class was over. He ran home, opened the door and rushed 
straight to his room. He had to just hold Chris in his arms, caress him, be with him. Chris 
was sitting on his bed staring straight at his painting.
"Hey baby, I am back!", Kevin cried out.
"Oh well", Chris answered. "You know, Kev, I'd like to know what you really think 
about this painting. You never told me, you know".
"All right. First make love to me, then, I'll tell you". He rushed towards the be and tried 
to pin Chris on it. But Chris managed to get out and stand up.
"No, I need to know. It's important".
"All right", Kevin replied from the bed, a little confused. "Well, I think it's beautiful. 
Passionate, a bit crazy. It's just like you. It is you. And I would never give or sell it to 
anyone for anything in the world. Satisfied? Now fuck me!"
Chris laughed all of sudden. Not the usual laugh Kevin knew so well: the infectious, 
loving, warm laugh. He detected chilly and sinister notes in this one. Kevin felt 
something gathering in his chest. Barely noticeable. A premonition.
"Buddy, what's wrong?" he asked. His voice trembled. He crossed the room and sat 
down next to Chris.
"Kevin", Chris sat and moved to the floor to face Kevin. Kevin noticed that Chris's bag 
was also there, on the floor, next to him. "Kevin, do you believe in justice?"
"Why do you ask?", a lump in his chest was growing.
"Oh, for God's sake, just answer. It's a simple question, isn't it? Or maybe you are like 
your dad, he would have trouble with this one".
"Chris! What the hell are you talking about?", he was fighting tears. Something was 
definitely very, very wrong.
"Oh, you don't know? Figures. Why would you. Such a perfectly happy, innocent, 
beautiful baby. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you were? I guess I did. Well, I am 
telling you again now. But that's what makes it so perfect. You see, your father has once 
destroyed a young, innocent, beautiful life very much like yours. He got away with it. Till 
now. But now it's over. Payback time".
"Chris, I am scared. Please stop it", Kevin whispered.
"Don't worry. It'll be over in a minute".
Chris unzipped his bag and took something out of it. Kevin couldn't see what it was, until 
it was pointing at his head. He froze.
"Oh, come on Kevin, what are you afraid of?" Chris got up and sat on the bed with 
Kevin. He moved his hand that wasn't holding the gun towards Kevin's head and started 
stroking the younger boy's hair. "Relax, kid", he said and there was genuine tenderness 
in his voice. "I could never hurt you, you know that. The paintings are yours to keep. 
Sorry. I guess I won't be painting you after all". He then quickly moved the gun and took 
it into his moth pointing straight up. Suddenly Kevin saw the walls and the ceiling break 
their structure and starting to come down on him. The entire room seemed to be dancing 
around and he could feel cold sweat covering all of his body. He thought he heard some 
kind of a click. Then it was all blank.

The phone rang. Tom let it ring once more before he picked it up.
"Yes?"
"Hi, Tom. It's Bill. How are you?" 
"Ok, under the circumstances, I guess. Thanks for calling".
"Well, it's your birthday... Happy birthday, pal!"
"Thanks baby, you remembered! After all those years".  He paused. "Listen. I am sorry. I 
was such an asshole".
"Forget it. What's the use lamenting about it now? Better tell me how Kev is doing?"
"Well, his eyesight has returned a few days after, you know... Good thing we took him to 
a psychiatrist. Nothing was wrong with his eyes, it's just seeing what he saw, or thought 
he saw blocked out his vision. Apparently happens to kids sometimes. Not as old as he, 
though..."
"That's definitely good news. Is he still with Helen?"
"Yes. She took him with her to her parents' house. The boy needs her now. Of course, 
now that he is gone I realize how I have always loved him. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Yes. It truly is. How is Helen?"
"She is fine, I hope. We rarely talk. I think she blames me for what happened. I can 
understand her point of view. I only hope Kevin recovers. At least he started taking short 
walks outside. A huge step forward, really. Before he would just sit for hours staring at 
the damn painting, without moving a muscle. It was scary as hell".
"Tell me", Tom continued after a pause. "Any news about Chris?"
"No. None at all. He disappeared like he was never even there. Not a trace. It's really 
bizarre. Looking back, though, what wasn't bizarre about this kid? Divine talent, angelic 
body, demonic passions..."
"How about his family?"
"They don't have a clue either. I don't know, Tom. It just doesn't make sense. He is an 
artist. He has to paint. He can't live without it. I hate to think about what could happen to 
him. And it's all my fault. I could have stopped him".
"No Bill. You can't stop a desire. Especially that powerful. Quite often I look at the 
painting he gave me. When was that? Oh yeah. Almost a year ago now. The more I look 
at it, the more I realize that we never really understood the storm raging within that boy. 
So much vigor, passion and light and at the same time despair, desperation, pain. All 
within this beautiful, fragile body. The fire. It burnt and consumed him and people 
around him..."
They were both silent for a minute.
"Ok Tom, I've got to go now. Good bye baby. Come visit me for a few days sometime".
"Yeah, Bill, I will. I promise. A few days. Definitely. Take care now, buddy!". The line 
died. Tom slowly hung up the receiver.

O.T.
oki_toshi@hotmail.com