This story includes explicit depictions of sexual acts between consenting adult males. If you are underage or it is illegal to view this for any reason, consider yourself warned. If you find this material offensive, I have to wonder why you came here in the first place.

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.

As author, I retain all rights to this story, and it cannot be reproduced or published without explicit consent from me. This work is copyright Fitz, 2011.

This is my first attempt at writing a story, so I would love to hear any feedback, be it positive or negative. Send me an email with any comments or questions at movingonstory@gmail.com. I'll try to respond promptly to all emails, but any flames will be ignored.

I would like to thank Jay Gordon at www.jaygordanstories.com, for much of the inspiration to write this, in addition to the many amazing stories that I've read by a wide number of authors. Jay's stories may have given me the inspiration, but all the excellent writers have created a desire in me to write. Thank you all.

My story is also hosted at fitz.thestorycloset.org, which will likely be updated more frequently than nifty.  Later chapters may require you to register with the site, which is free.

 

Ultimately, this is a love story. It will take a while to develop, but the journey is essential. I hope you enjoy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

CHAPTER THREE:

COPING

 

 

As Ethan's car pulled up in front of mine and Steve's house, I immediately noticed a change. The large windows had been covered by ugly, black security bars. A new security door had been installed, as well. I then noticed the small form of Sarah waiting on the front steps. She stood up as everyone got out of the cars.

 

"What the hell, Sarah?" I asked as we approached the porch. "What did you do?"

 

There were three reasons that Steve had fallen in love with this house. The first was the large porch that wrapped itself around the side of the house. The second was the many large windows. The third was the hardwood floors that ran through the entire house. The third reason had been ruined on that fateful day and the second had now been marred. I was definitely not pleased to have a confrontation on the other thing that Steve loved most about our house.

 

"I know you're mad at me. I knew you would be," Sarah explained. "But Chris and I had a friend install the security bars and door while everyone was at the funeral. You would have refused."

 

"Of course I would have! I don't want to feel like a prisoner in my own house! Besides," my voice dropped as I spoke to almost a mumble as I finished, "he wouldn't want me to live in fear."

 

"But that's just it, Scott. You have been living in fear! Any noise or sign of movement in or around the house and you freak out. Please, just promise me that you'll leave them on. I'll bring the subject up again in a few weeks, and if you still aren't happy I will take them down personally.

 

"I also want you to get a security system installed. We would have had it done while you were out, but we needed your permission. Just think about it. Chris and I just want you to have a chance to relax."

 

I understood exactly what she was saying. I may not have been happy with it, but maybe the extra visible security would help. I looked over my shoulder at Ethan.

 

"Couldn't hurt, bro. I say go for it. Besides, Dustin and I will be in the house when they come. You can just stay in the bedroom or something. You won't even notice them."

 

I just nodded to Amy. She smiled.

 

"Good, I'll tell Chris as soon as I get home. Oh, here are the keys to the new door, by the way."

 

I just passed them on to Ethan, who opened the door and everyone started to walk in. Sarah grabbed my arm before I got inside.

 

"One more thing. I really think that you should tell them the truth. Friends and family can help, but only if they know everything."

 

"I can't tell anyone. It would destroy them. I'm just so ashamed of what I did."

 

"Trust me, they won't care. In fact, I'm sure they'd understand."

 

Emma, who was still in the doorway, overheard the conversation. She came back onto the porch. Ethan, Dustin, and Michelle quickly followed.

 

Realizing that our conversation had been overheard, I went pale.

 

"Wait. Were you two having an affair?" Emma asked, bluntly.

 

That was close. I really thought I was going to be busted, but Emma's guess was too far off the mark.

 

"What? NO! Ugh. Are you kidding me? Do you really think that I would cheat on him with HER?"

 

I didn't even need to look to see Sarah's face. As soon as I had said those words, I knew immediately how they came across.

 

"Sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean it that way, it's just that, well, you're not my type. Obviously."

 

"Relax. I knew what you meant. Besides, Emma, Steve had his claws so deep into Scott that if I ever managed to get to him, his entire back would be covered in scratch marks. Well, more than usual."

 

I couldn't help myself. The mental image was too perfectly Steve for me. It was painful, but I felt the corners of my mouth moved. I actually smiled. A real smile. I don't know if Ethan was the first to notice it, but he was definitely the first to comment.

 

"That's the first time I've seen that since we got here. Awesome!"

 

My smile faded quickly, but Dustin was sure that he could bring it back. Starting with him, they began telling the most ridiculously lame jokes and stories that they could come up with. Unfortunately for them, they couldn't repeat the performance. I was too busy thinking about what they had almost uncovered.

 

Once all of my friends realized that they weren't going to be able to get me to smile again, Sarah walked up the street to go back to her home. The rest of us went inside the house.

 

Upon entering, I pushed past everyone and lay down on a large discolored spot on the floor. If the four houseguests hadn't already seen this over the past couple of days, I'm not sure how I would have been able to explain my actions. This was my spot. His spot. Where he died. It was the one place in the world where I felt closest to him. At that point, I would never leave The Spot if I didn't need to.

 

The Spot looked more faded than it had before I left it to go to the funeral. The blood stains were mostly gone, but traces could still be seen between the boards, but it had been scrubbed so much that it looked nothing like the rest of the floor. I was pretty sure that Sarah had spent much of the time that I was gone trying to clean it. Since no one could get me to leave The Spot, they could only clean it when I had to go to the bathroom, or they convinced me to take a shower.

 

The tears didn't return as I lay there, clutching myself in the fetal position, as close to Steve as I could get. The gut-wrenching sobs did, however. Emma and Michelle tried to comfort me, but I just kept shrugging them off.

 

After about 15 minutes, I felt someone grab my arm firmly. I looked and saw Ethan.

 

"C'mon bro. You really should sleep in your bed tonight. The floor is not comfortable. I'm sure that your entire body is aching, even if you can't feel it."

 

I think I tried to nod my head. I was sore. I still didn't want to leave The Spot, however. Ethan really didn't give me a choice, as he firmly pulled me up to my feet. Dustin grabbed my other arm, and they led me to my bedroom. Actually, I think they mostly carried me, but I'm not sure. The events of the day had taken their toll, and I was too exhausted to put up much of a struggle.

 

Dustin and Ethan helped me strip down to my boxers, and then tucked me into my side of the bed that Steve and I had shared since we first moved in together seven years ago. It felt so big. So empty.

 

"Do you want Michelle or me to sleep in here with you? You know you're not alone, right? All of us are here for you. For anything you need," Dustin asked.

 

"No. It's his bed! I can't have anyone else it in it. Just me and him," I said. I was suddenly aware just how tired I was, and sleep was coming quickly.

 

"That's fine. Just remember that we love all love you."

 

I was barely conscious as Dustin said that. I was almost asleep by the time they left the room, and I only vaguely remember hearing them close the door. The last thing I remember before sleep overtook me was rolling over to Steve's side of the bed. I fell asleep clutching his side of the bed, realizing that I had found a second place where I could still feel his presence.

 

That was the first night that I slept without nightmares since he died.

 

* * *

 

I wish I could say that the nightmares never came back. In truth, they were only gone a few days before they returned. At least they weren't happening every night, just most of them.

 

Michelle and Dustin stayed a few more days, before they had to return home to Baltimore. Emma and Ethan stayed a little longer before they, too, went home in early August. Almost before I realized it, I found myself alone in our house again.

 

Sarah was constantly at the house. I don't know what I would have done without her. I spent all of my time either curled up on The Spot or clutching Steve's side of the bed. If it hadn't been for her insistence, I'm sure that I would not have every bothered showering or even changing my clothes.

 

She had followed through on her promise, and Chris had a high-end security system installed shortly after the funeral. She did ask if I wanted the security windows and doors removed, but I just shrugged her off. Even if I refused to admit it, they did make me feel safer. I knew that Steve would understand why I had allowed his beautiful windows to be marred.

 

A few weeks after Emma and Ethan left, Sarah began to push for me to see a therapist. At first, it was hints and passing comments. By the beginning of September, she began to push harder.

 

"Scott, you really haven't been getting any better. You should see someone. Talking will make you feel a little better, and it may give you more perspective."

 

"I really don't need a shrink. I know what my problem is. He died. I don't want to feel better. I don't want to move on. I can't do that. I can't forget him."

 

"No one wants you to forget Steve. Hell, no one who ever met Steve will ever forget him. You know he had that effect on people. What we want is for you to be able to smile again. To be able to walk out of that door and come have dinner with Chris and I.

 

"If you don't want to see a therapist, I can't and won't push it. I just really need you to be able to talk to someone. Anyone, it doesn't matter who it is. Talk to me. Talk to Chris."

 

Chris always seemed like a nice enough guy but I didn't really know him. Even Sarah and I hadn't really been that close before his death. We were good neighbors, but little more than passing friends.

 

"I can't do that, Sarah. You guys have already done so much for me. If I start unloading my problems on you, I'll just burden you further."

 

"Is there anyone you feel like you can talk to or anyone that you've opened up to a little already?"

 

"Well there was that one guy, Will," I said hesitantly.

 

"Oh, he's the guy you talked to on the day of the funeral, right?" Sarah was not at the cemetery when we had returned, but Emma and Michelle had gotten her up to speed with the events that she had missed.

 

"Yeah, he is. I'm not sure I can talk to him, though. I thought I might be able to, but I'm just not sure. I know he finds me attractive, and I don't know if I'm able to handle that right now."

 

"Darling, one day, you will realize that everyone who looks at you finds you attractive. There's nothing you can do about it. Just embrace it, and enjoy the attention." Sarah enjoyed using random pet names for me, knowing that it made me slightly uncomfortable. At least she stayed away from any terms of endearment that Steve had used.

 

"Besides," she continued, "everyone told me that talking to him made you feel a little better. Promise me you'll at least think about it."

 

"Okay, fine. I'll think about it. But that's the best I can do."

 

"Good enough for me. Now go take a shower. You stink!"

 

I didn't notice as she snuck into the bathroom to take my phone out of my pants.

 

* * *

 

"Hello? William Drake speaking."

 

"Hi, my name is Sarah. You don't know me, but I'm a friend of Scott's. Are you that Will?"

 

"What? Scott? I haven't heard from him since the day of Steve's funeral. Is everything alright? Scott's not hurt, is he?"

 

"No, it's nothing like that. He's fine. Well, no he's not. He's not really much of anything. He won't talk to anyone, and he will only take care of himself when someone is making him. I know he opened up to you the day of Steve's funeral, and I'm hoping that you would be willing to try to talk to him again."

 

"Have you tried to get him to see a psychologist? They're usually pretty good at getting people to open up."

 

"Scott won't do it. He's too hard headed and thinks he's fine on his own. I'm hoping you can come and talk to him, though."

 

"I guess we just can't tell him what I do for a living then," Will told Sarah with a chuckle. "I'm actually a clinical psychologist."

 

"Are you sure? You sound awfully young to be a shrink. Wait, sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

 

"Trust me, you aren't the first person to act incredulously. I just finished graduate school a few months ago and am working in a small co-op. I don't have any more appointments for the day. Even if I did, none of them are as important. My patients are all pretty tame. Scott's trauma is much fresher and he needs the attention more. Why don't I come right over, and I'll try to talk to Scott. Does that work for you?"

 

"That would be perfect. Thank you so much, Will. I really hope you can help Scott."

 

"I do, too."

 

Sarah gave him Scott's address. Before they hung up, Will told her that he'd be there in a few minutes.

 

* * *

 

When I finished my shower, I toweled off. I wrapped the towel around me and walked out to the bedroom. I was startled when I saw Sarah talking to someone while sitting on my bed. After a moment I recognized the other person as Will. The two were so involved in their conversation that they had yet to notice me.

 

"Sarah, what is Will doing here?"

 

They both jumped a little as they quickly swiveled their heads to face me.

 

"Scott, just hear me out," Sarah started. "You need someone to talk to. You were able to talk to Will before, why not try it again? If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. At least you tried."

 

I glanced over to Will and noticed that his eyes were no longer directed at my face. Suddenly, I became all too aware that I was standing in front of them wearing nothing other than a loosely tied towel. For a moment, I watched his eyes travel down my smooth chest and flat stomach, and beginning the trek towards the prominent bulge in my towel.

 

"What the hell, Will? I thought you said that you would never show your feelings for me. Get out!"

 

"I...um...I..." Will stammered before he quickly bolted out of the bedroom.

 

"Will! Don't leave yet! I wasn't done talking to you," Sarah called after him, before turning back to me.

 

"Remember, you are an amazing looking guy. You're standing there in just a towel. Even I can't stop checking you out, and I know that I'm not your type. Please don't hold it against him. He's only human."

 

I just nodded and pointed towards the door. I needed clothes and quickly. I quickly dressed as soon as Sarah was out of the room.

 

Sarah caught up to Will just as he was stepping off of the porch.

 

"Will, please don't go. He really does need you, even if he doesn't know it"

 

"No, I just fucked it all up again. I know that he's not emotionally capable of handling anything approaching a relationship at this point. Not that I'm interested in pursuing a relationship with him or anyone else," he added quickly.

 

"I want to help him so badly. He such a lost soul right now and needs all the help he can get. I just can't fight the physical attraction to him."

 

"I get the physical attraction, but you're smart enough to not try to make any unwanted moves or anything. Hell, you would have checked him out if in there if he was just remotely average looking. Both of us know that he's not. It's human nature. You of all people should know that."

 

Will just sighed.

 

"Look, just go back in. We'll all sit on the couch and just start talking. If he won't try to open up or anything, you can leave. No harm, no foul."

 

"You're right. I'm already here. The worst that can happen is that he'll just tell me to leave again."

 

Will walked back up onto the porch and the two walked back into the house.

 

When they walked in, I was curled up on The Spot again. After what had transpired, I was feeling a little more numb than usual, if that was even possible.

 

"C'mon Scott, you need to get up," Sarah started, as she grabbed my arm to try and pull me up.

 

Any other time, I would have found it hilarious that this little pixie, 8 inches shorter and I'd guess close to 65 pounds less than me was trying to throw her weight around. At that moment I just found it annoying.

 

"Will, can you help me? We are all going to sit on the couch like adults. And then we are going to talk. Like adults. Do you understand Scott?"

 

I was beginning to feel a wave of adolescent rebellion forming, but I knew that arguing wasn't going to make this end any quicker. Even as I sat on the couch, I just wanted to make my way back to The Spot. Sarah sat down next to me while Will sat on the adjacent couch.

 

"Scott, why don't you tell Will about that specific spot and why it is so important to you?" Sarah prodded, trying to be helpful.

 

"Ok, fine." I said.

 

I knew that I had told Will a lot of the story six weeks ago, and I knew that he was smart enough to have probably figured out the significance to me already. But I figured that I'd just placate Sarah, and maybe both of them would leave.

 

I started from the beginning again, telling Will about the fight and the grocery trip. That I had come home and found Steve lying in a pool of blood after having been shot twice.

 

I pointed to The Spot. "That's where it happened. That's where I lost him."

 

"That's where Steve died," Will said in a whisper.

 

I looked over to Sarah to see if she was satisfied and that we were done. To my surprise she was gone.

 

"Oh, she left as soon as you started talking. I'm actually surprised that you didn't notice it. You know that she just wanted you to have a chance to get some of this off your chest. We can stop if you want."

 

I just shook my head.

 

Maybe it was the fact that Will was still virtually a stranger. Maybe it was the fact that I know he's attracted to me. Maybe I just needed to talk. All I know is that I felt like I could talk to him. And I wanted to talk to him. As I looked into his eyes, I saw the concern he had for me. I decided to go for broke.

 

"He was still mad at me when he died. The last thing he ever said to me was 'don't'. I just can't forgive myself for getting angry with him, or never getting the chance to say that I was sorry."

 

"I don't believe that for a second, and I think deep down, you know that it's not true."

 

"How many definitions of 'don't' do you know, Will? This isn't exactly a situation where 'no' can really mean 'yes'!"

 

"Ok, let me try it a different way. How mad were you when you left?"

 

"I don't know. Not really. More annoyed than anything. I mean, I did snap at him, but it what I said wasn't anything out of the ordinary for us. It might have been mean, but it wasn't out of the ordinary."

 

"Well, if you weren't really that mad, and your words weren't that unusual, and the argument was over something menial, don't you think there's a chance that he may not have been angry at you?

 

I thought about what he was saying. I didn't really want to believe it, but it did make some sense.

 

"Another thing, 'don't' by itself doesn't mean much of anything. If I had to guess he was starting to tell you something, but his body gave out before he could finish. You can kick yourself all you want for the rest of your life, but you'll never know exactly what Steve meant when he told you that. Don't just assume that it means he was still mad.

 

"If I was in his shoes, I would have been terrified. I wouldn't want the love of my life to see me in that position, nor would I want them to leave my side, despite any recent troubles that we may have faced."

 

"I didn't" I barely whispered. I then dropped my head to stare at the ground. I'm not sure how I could have been that stupid. I'd just led him straight to the most embarrassing part of the entire ordeal.

 

"You didn't what? Leave him?" Will asked. I could tell he was trying to gently prod.

 

I didn't know if he could handle what I had done. I couldn't lift my head to look at him, because I could feel his judgment without having even saying a word.

 

"Scott, look at me."

 

I couldn't.

 

"Please Scott. In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not going to judge you. Whatever is bothering you, it is eating you alive right now. I know you want to tell me. I want you to tell me. No judgments. I promise. Now, please, look at me."

 

I slowly looked up. At least for now, he was telling the truth. The only emotion that his eyes were conveying was deep concern. I decided to go for it.

 

"I never left him. I didn't do anything. I didn't call anyone. I just held him. I just...fuck."

 

Will had started crying. I knew he was judging me. I stood up and went towards The Spot. I had to be closer to him. Will's gently grabbed my arm, stopping me.

 

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. You have nothing to be upset about."

 

The tears that had been slowly leaking from my eyes changed to heart-wrenching sobs. Will stood and directed me back to the couch. This time he sat next to me. I pressed my head against his chest and just let it all out. He just gently rubbed my back the entire time. After what seemed like forever, the sobs faded.

 

"How can you say that? I failed him."

 

"You didn't fail him anymore than he failed you."

 

"How could he have failed me? He was killed. And I didn't do anything about it."

 

"By your logic he failed you simply by dying. In a way, he left you. And yes, you did do something. You were there for him. You held him. You never let him go. Sure, it may have been better to call 911, but if he was already dead, like you said he was, then there was nothing that anyone could."

 

We were silent for a long time after he said that. I was simply just trying to process his words. I knew he was wrong, but I just couldn't find a single fault in his logic. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I thought that Will was probably right.

 

"I guess you're right," I finally said.

 

I sat back up, pulling away from Will. Will noticed and scooted over a little to create a little distance from us.

 

"Sarah was the one who called the police. She was out jogging the next morning and saw the groceries strewn on the front steps. As she got closer, she noticed the front door was still open. That's when she called the police. When she didn't see any movement inside, that's when she came in and found us.

 

"I was still holding him. I heard someone come in, but didn't know who it was. She later told me that she had been calling our names, but I didn't hear anything at the time. I just started yelling for whoever it was to leave. She kept her distance, and only stayed in the room long enough to make sure that I was ok before she went back to the porch to wait for the police to show up.

 

"They tried to pull me off of him. I just started flailing. I was grabbing, kicking, or punching anything in my reach. Sarah was trying to get the officers to stop while trying to get me to calm down. I wouldn't stop. They were trying to take me away from him.

 

"Finally, one officer shouted for everyone to stop. He was a big guy, and his tone made it clear that no one, not even the other officers, would mess with him. He grabbed me by the arm and guided me to the couch. He told me that if he would handcuff me there if I didn't let the other officers, techs, and coroners do to their jobs.

 

"He told me that his name was Officer Vincenzo. The last thing I remember distinctly was him warning me that technically I had just assaulted several officers, and that they may end up arresting me. I don't know if that was a real possibility or just a ploy to get me to talk.

 

"Officer Vincenzo started asking me questions. I couldn't really answer them. Hell, I couldn't really understand them. Sarah was right there, helping to repeat the questions and try to answer questions that I couldn't form the words to yet. I know I grunted and just moved my head for a lot of the questions.

 

"If he hadn't already realized that I was not the killer, he did after some CSI-type guy swabbed my hands and performed a gunshot residue test. Neither of us had ever owned a gun and obviously none were found in the house. Officer Vincenzo talked the other officers out of arresting me for assault. It didn't take much. I think one of them even said that they would have reacted the same way if they had been in my position.

 

"Sarah stayed with me after the police left. As soon as I was out the door, I went straight back to The Spot. Until the funeral, I was there unless I was in the bathroom. Since the funeral, the only change is that I now sleep on his side of our bed. This is actually the longest I haven't been on The Spot other than when I was at the funeral itself."

 

Suddenly, I was very ashamed about that. Will put his hand on my shoulder. The gentle tears that I had been crying since I started telling him the unabridged events of the day quickly became sobs again with that gesture of support. He was right. It did feel pretty good to get everything off of my chest.

 

When I had calmed back down, Will asked if I was hungry. I looked out the window and realized that the sun was already beginning to set. I couldn't believe that we had been talking for hours. I also realized that I was starving.

 

After Will checked the fridge, only to find that it was virtually empty, he asked what I wanted to have delivered. If he had any preferences towards anything, he didn't let on. Since he didn't know me very well, I think he was trying to make sure he didn't cross any boundaries by suggesting something that Steve would have wanted. Steve's passion for food made it so that if I wanted to avoid those things, I would have had to starve myself. I may have been in more pain than I would have thought possible, but even I had limits to my crazy.

 

After eating in a peaceful silence, we sat back down on the couch, and kept talking.

 

"After hearing all the personal things you went through, I still don't know much of the basics. Why don't you tell me more about Steve?" Will started

 

"Um...like what?" I was nervous about the question. Even after telling him so much, I still wasn't sure that I was ready to start delving too deeply into the past.

 

"Nothing major. Tell me how you met."

 

That was easy enough for me.

 

"I came out just before college, and I let the freedoms of college go to my head. That whole year, I was a major slut, sleeping with any remotely attractive guy I could. Honestly, I'm not sure I even went on a single date. Just fucked every chance I got. When sophomore year began, I was planning on just doing more of the same. By the second week of school, I'd found my new challenge.

 

"In my biology class, there was a guy that sat a few rows in front of me. He was easily the most gorgeous guy that I had ever met. I mean, just looking at him made me nervous. A couple weeks later, I worked up the nerve to sit down next to him. We both just grunted our hellos before the lecture began. As usual, I took copious notes, while the guy didn't bother to write anything down. In fact, he looked like he was asleep through most of the class.

 

"After the professor dismissed the class, the guy stopped me. He told me that his name was Steve, and that he was struggling to get the material, but it looked like I had it down pat. He wondered if I could tutor him. We agreed to start getting coffee after class each day and I would go over the notes and help him understand it. After three of these sessions, I realized that I had been had.

 

"It turns out that Steve understood the material even better than I did. He didn't take notes because he didn't need to. He didn't bother to open his eyes, because he understood it just by listening to the professor. He made me promise to keep getting coffee with him. It wasn't hard, because by this point, all I could think about was Steve.

 

"As the semester went on, we started going to parties and hanging out with each others' groups of friends. Everywhere we went guys were all over him, but he always brushed them off. Shortly before finals, he officially asked me out. Even before he asked me out, I knew that I was in love with him."

 

"Wow," Will said, wiping his eyes, "that has to be one of the most romantic 'first-met' stories that I've ever heard."

 

I realized that at some point while we were talking, I had laid my head on his chest, and Will had wrapped one arm around mine. I really hoped that he wouldn't get the wrong impression, but it felt really nice to be held like that again.

 

"One thing I've never understood, though, is why he chose me. He constantly had guys throwing themselves at him, even before we started dating. And yet, he always gravitated towards me."

 

"That's actually pretty easy. You're smart, articulate, attractive, have a wonderful personality, and I'm sure a great sense of humor. Granted, I haven't had too many opportunities to see the last two, but I can tell that they are there."

 

I felt a little uncomfortable hearing Will sing my praises, and I started to sit back up. Will realized what he said and how I had interpreted it.

 

"Look, I know that you are well aware of my attraction to you, and I know that it makes you at least a little uncomfortable. I promise that I'll keep those feelings separate from the friendship that is developing between us. Until you send clear signals otherwise, I will always assume friends first. I won't do anything to undermine that. If you want to lie back down, you can."

 

Satisfied, I laid my head back down on his chest. Listening to his heart beat was soothing. I felt safe. We laid like that in silence for a few minutes.

 

"You know, if you ever decide to change career paths, you should really consider psychology. With your careful, guiding questions, gentle demeanor, and insight, you are better than any therapist I've ever been to."

 

Will chuckled at that. "Allow me to introduce myself."

 

I was confused, as we had been talking for many hours by this point. I knew exactly who he was.

 

Will stuck out his hand. "Dr. William Drake, clinical psychologist. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

 

I smiled, and actually thought that I might chuckle. It didn't quite make it all the way out, but it almost did.

 

Suddenly, he noticed the time.

 

"Man! I had no idea it was so late. I really should get out of your hair. Thanks for talking to me today and opening up. Do you feel any better?

 

I thought for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what my emotional state was.

 

"Yes, actually. And you don't have to leave if you don't want. I'm going to go to bed soon, but you can stay if you want."

 

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I was worried that Will would interpret them as a signal that I was interested in him.

 

"I mean, I haven't felt as safe as I did in your arms since..." My voice may have trailed off at the end, but both of us knew exactly what I meant.

 

"If you want me to stay, I will. And don't worry, no moves from me. Just one problem: I don't have anything to sleep in."

 

"No worries about that. I have a ton of sleep pants and t-shirts in one of my drawers. We're almost the same size, but they might be a little big on you. I really would like it. I just feel like being held again."

 

Maybe I was being a little selfish, but I know that Will was true to his word about putting his feelings aside for me in order to be my friend.

 

We went into the bedroom, and I grabbed a couple of pairs of clothes. I pointed him to the bathroom, while I changed quickly in the bedroom. While he was finishing getting changed, I grabbed a new toothbrush from the guest bathroom.

 

As we walked back into the bedroom, Will asked which side of the bed I wanted him on.

 

"No! Not this bed. It's Steve's bed. I can't share it with anyone!"

 

"Okay, not a problem. Don't worry, I understand. I just hadn't thought about that. You lead the way, and I'll follow."

 

We walked across the hall, and got into the bed. It felt so good with him spooning up against my back with his arms wrapped around my chest. I was asleep almost immediately.

 

It was easily the best night of sleep that I had gotten since he died.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

I really hope that you are enjoying the story so far. Do you think that Will will be able to help Scott? Are Will and Scott destined to be?

Don't worry, there's a lot more to come!

Don't forget to send me any questions or comments to movingonstory@gmail.com.