Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2019 02:36:55 +0000 (UTC) From: jagfantsw Subject: A Kid Named Ryan Chapter 7 A Kid Named Ryan Chapter 7 Remember to support Nifty with your donations. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html [Author's Note: To those of you who have been reading this, thank you. Please keep in mind that this is a totally fictional story. Your comments have been appreciated, but some seemed to have thought that this is a true story. It isn't; completely fictional.] Thankfully nothing happened during the night. I did find his arm draped across me at one point. I decided to just let it be. As I glanced Ryan's way, he was totally out - fully asleep as if his body now needed to recover from all it - and he - had been through. I drifted back to sleep as well, hoping that I could be strong enough to not let things get away from us. I woke up hearing my cell phone ringing from where I left it in the kitchen. I missed the call which was from my dad. After going to relieve my bladder, I saw he left a message: "Hey, son. It's dad. Just wanted to touch base with you and see where things are at. Call me. Love ya." Now my dad's "love ya" was his constant kind of code that he had my back - and I so appreciated who he was in my life, maybe even more now. "Hey, dad." "Mornin', son. What's up?" "Well, I'm sorry for this. I should have called you and mom last night to tell you. Late yesterday that family law attorney Mr. Lee told you about, well, he was able to get a judge to grant me temporary custody of Ryan for two months." "Are you okay with that," sounding as if he was still unsure if I was ready for all that was ahead of me. "Yeh. And maybe more importantly, Ryan's okay with it. It's what he wanted." "I know, son. But please be careful." "I will. I promise." "Listen," he continued. "Your mom and I were thinking about driving over to try and give you a hand or just be there for support, but with the 4th of July there's no hotel rooms anywhere near you." "Yeh and my guest room is occupied for the foreseeable future." I know, I kinda lied. "Um, look. You know we're here for you, just a phone call away. Let us know how we can help." "I will, dad. Right now, until we get some idea of when his parents' bodies will be available so we can plan a funeral or whatever, there's just a lot of sitting around. Ryan and I are going to get together with his soccer team later today or tomorrow, so that's about it." "Well, again. You know mom and I are here for you. Love ya!" "Love you, too, dad." When I hung up, I looked for the charger and hooked my phone up to it. I turned and saw Ryan standing there. In a kind of scared, unsure tone he said, "We have to plan a funeral." "Yeh, we do," I answered. "I'm sorry, dude. You're having to grow up way too fast." He walked over to me, put his arms around me and started crying on my shoulder. "Not the way I wanted to get this Saturday started," I thought to myself. I just let him cry it out. It was really the first time he had gotten this emotional since he first heard the news of his parents' death. As he tried to pull himself together, I suggested we go out for breakfast, but he didn't want to. "I'll just have a bowl of cereal here," he said. "Alright, but pickin's are slim around here right now. I gotta get to the store soon." When he realized the milk was out-of-date and sour, he said, "I guess we gotta go for breakfast. Let's just go somewhere that there's a drive-thru." Later in the morning I received a call from a case manager with Children and Family Services. "Because of the holiday, it may be after the Fourth before we can schedule an appointment with you," she said. "Ok," I responded. "You have my number. Call me when you're ready to try and schedule something." Ryan inquired as to what that call was, so I told him what was going on with CFS. I think he was relieved that things were slowing down a bit on that front. Not long after that call came one from an Officer Williamson who indicated we could set up a time to get into Ryan's home. I suggested around 11:00; we agreed on 11:30 and he would call if something came up. While driving over, Ryan was uneasy. Having to go into the only place you have known as home in these circumstances was going to be difficult. Before he got out of the car, I said, "Take a few deep breaths. If anything is wrong just let me know, okay?" He nodded and we headed to the front door. The police man was very polite and extended his condolences to Ryan. After Ryan opened the door with his key, he hesitated a bit before walking in - almost as if expecting to hear a welcome from one of his parents. But it was eerily silent. I followed him up the stairs to his room where he immediately went into his closet and pulled out another duffle bag and started going through different drawers and back into his closet to get clothes, socks, shoes and the like. I suggested he take a nice pair of pants, dress shirt and shoes. He sighed but got them. He looked at me and asked if he could take his computer - a laptop that was sitting on his desk. "Officer Williamson," I spoke loudly down the staircase. "Is Ryan allowed to take his computer?" "As far as I know he can. There were no restrictions given me on what he could get from his room." "Thanks," I responded. I turned to Ryan and said, "Take what you want." From there, the only thing he really wanted was his video game player. A teenager without a one is like a fish out of water these days. I helped Ryan down stairs with his belongings. As we went down the stairs, he said he wanted to get a charger for his phone from the kitchen. I followed him in and he just froze. He dropped the duffle bag he was carrying and, after crossing his arms attempting to hold his emotions in, he started crying once more. "C'mon," I said taking him into my arms. After several moments, he said, "Okay," picked up a charger and said, "Let's go." After putting his things in my car, Ryan went back and asked the policeman how long it would be before he could come back. "I'm not sure, son," the officer replied. "Probably later in the week, would be my best guess." And so, we thanked him; Ryan locked the door and off we went back to my place. As I glanced toward him, you could see he had started tearing up once more. Coach Tim called about an hour after we got back to my place. He said the Farmer's had volunteered to host the team at their place tonight. Now this family always had their doors open for the soccer team. Their son, Lance, would be a senior this year and the team had already voted him as a captain. All the guys respected him and his family was genuinely nice. Once Ryan and I arrived, there was, as might be expected, a lot of early uneasiness from the team and their parents about what to say and how to treat Ryan. Lance's dad, Justin, finally said, "Let's everyone be quiet for a moment." And in that silence, he offered a prayer for Ryan's parents as well as for Ryan - for him to have peace and strength. "Now, guys, go and give Ryan and Mr. Morrison a hug and say what you need to. It's alright. We're here for them tonight, but especially for you, Ryan." With that there was a lot less tension in the room. The team eventually ended up in or around the pool. The Farmer's ordered a bunch or pizzas and a boatload of wings. During the feeding frenzy, Tim pulled me aside into another room. "So, I hear you have custody of Ryan for the time being." "Yeh. I hope I can get him through this. There's so much to think about and do." "Do you have a lawyer?" "My dad's attorney back in home is going to be primary for Ryan for the time being. We also met with a local family law attorney, Jim Braselton, who was the one who got a judge to grant me temporary custody." "Oh, I know him," Tim said. "He used to have kids at our school." "He never mentioned it," I said, "but he has certainly been good to work with thus far." "You're pretty young to have this thrown at you, Mark." "I know. But you know, too, that Ryan has sorta been my 'project' this past year. I'm not sure, but if you had been there on Thursday night once we got back to my place, how passionate he was in telling the CFS official he didn't want to be in foster care, you'd know why I'm in this for him." "I can't imagine. If something happened to me and Julie (Tim's wife), I certainly wouldn't want that for my boys. You know Headmaster Stevens needs to know what's going on?" "Hell, I never thought about that. I'll call him tomorrow." "Look, Mark. I'm not telling you what to do, and I know that Ryan is an only child, but you don't have to be the hero here." "Tim, that's not what this is about," I replied. "Right now, I'm the only adult he seems to want to confide in and trust. I just can't let him flounder. The world is nutty enough. Try being 15-years- old, your parents have just died and you have to figure out life from here. I just want to guide him, mentor him and give him a safe place to be." "You're good, Mark. Thanks for what you're doing. If I can be of any help, just let me know." "I will." And with that we got back to the rest of the crowd. After thanking the Farmer's, Ryan and I left just after 8:30. We went to the grocery store and picked up some essentials - particularly milk! Ryan put a few things in the cart he wanted and we walked down the cereal aisle for him to pick out what he would eat in the mornings. When we arrived back at the condo and I had parked the car, he didn't make a move to get out. "What's up, dude? You okay?" "How do you plan a funeral?" It seemed we were back to where we had started earlier in the day, but now, I thought, just a few steps farther. "Do you have any idea if your mom and dad had any plans or if they ever said anything about what they wanted?" He just shook his head indicating he didn't know. "Then we'll figure it out." "Will I be able to see them, you know, see them before ... whatever? I don't know," and he looked away as he started tearing up again. "Ryan, I wish I could answer that for you. Once their remains are released we'll know a little more. Is there a funeral home your family might have used?" Again, he had no idea. "Come on, let's get this stuff upstairs and we can talk more up there." As he got out of the car, he turned from melancholy to perturbed. The change in moods certainly came on him quickly. After putting the groceries on the kitchen counter I reached out to him, pulled him close and, as gently as I could, said, "What's wrong, dude? What going on?" He tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let him go. He began to struggle, trying to get free. I repeated what I had just asked, but all I got was a "Please let me go." "Not until you tell me what's really wrong." He looked me square in the eyes and, then, planted his lips on mine. I let him go and as he backed away, he almost was shouting, "Now do you know?" Pulling the milk and eggs I had bought from their bags, I put them in the refrigerator and then said, "Let's go and talk," as I quickly walked past him and toward the living room. He followed me. We sat on the sofa. I purposely did not turn a light on. I knew where this was going and was scared as hell. I didn't need him to see the fear in my face. All I got out of my mouth was, "Ryan," before he was on top of me, kissing me and trying to get my shirt unbuttoned. While I was fighting his advances at first, I finally just let him go. "If I could get him to stop at this point, maybe he'd be satisfied," I thought. After he removed my shirt, he gently kissed my left pec. It seemed he wanted to keep going lower on my chest, but he didn't. My dick was getting hard and I could feel his was stiff already. I then let my body go limp. He stopped and looked at me. He shouted as he hit me with both fists square on my chest, "Prove it, dammit! Prove it!" "Prove what, Ryan?" "Prove to me you're like I am; prove it to me!" "Wait! That's what this is about?" "You say you're gay, but you've never done anything that really proves it to me." "Why do I have to prove it? I told you months ago I was gay. That's not enough?" "No," he shouted. "Prove it now. Prove to me what you say, dammit!" "You want me to prove it to you. Is you kissing me and partially undressing me the proof that you're gay?" Ryan didn't answer. There was a heavy silence hanging over us. I could hear him sniffling as well as his breathing. I propped myself up one one end of the sofa and said, "Come here." Allowing him to lean on my chest, I put an arm around his shoulder and said, "You don't want this to happen tonight. Trust me, you don't want this now." "But I do. I love you so much. I've loved you since that first day in class back at the beginning of school. I loved coming to your classroom every day after school. I loved it when you said you'd get me for Saturday practices. That day we went to breakfast and I told you I was gay. All of it means nothing to you. All I've wanted all school year was to be with you like this." "Ryan, trust me. I had no idea. I'm excited that you want me that way, but I also know, right now, it just can't be. In three years, five years, ten years - sometime out in the future - you'll look back on this and totally regret it happened this way." "How the hell do you know?" "I was there once. Not at your age, and not like this, but I was there." I told him about my first crush. His name was Sean. He was a senior at my high school . I had no idea whether he was gay or not, but every time I saw him at school, I just wanted to be with him. He had no idea I existed. He was my fantasy; he was my nightmare. One day during my junior year, he caught me staring at him in gym class and he came up to me. "You wanna suck my dick, don't you?" I didn't know how to respond. He smacked me hard on the side of the head and told me to go fuck myself. Then he walked away. "Ryan, I ran to the locker room, grabbed my stuff and left school for the day. No one knew I was gone. I ran because I had been turned away. I haven't turned you away at all. But I didn't know how strong your feelings have been for me." He turned and started to kiss me, again, and I let it go on for a few moments. When he let up, I let out a sigh and said, "Please, slow down." Now I have to be honest; having this teen on me was a definite turn-on. He was tone, muscular and damn cute. His blond, somewhat styled hair was everything I needed to get me going. My dick was hard and I knew that pre-cum had already leaked out of it. But I knew where things were at this point in time and if we went all the way, it would scar him forever. "What do I have to do tonight?" I asked him. "I don't know," he said with a sense of resignation that nothing was going to happen. And for the next several, very quiet minutes, he just laid his head on my chest with one hand on my stomach. Probably surprising him, I shifted enough to lie down on the sofa, then turned onto my left side which flipped him to the back of the sofa. Lying now side-by-side, facing him, with my right hand I slid it up, first under his tee shirt and caressed his chest and his left nipple. Then, I slowly moved my hand to his abs, then to the waistband of his shorts and very, very slowly began to move my hand under them. He closed his eyes and let out a slight moan. I then reached down and touched the tip of his rock hard penis with the index finger of my right hand. His whole body twitched. He had enough pre-cum to lube him for a few nights. I gently stroked his cock a few times, then brought my hand out and placed the tip of my finger on his lower lip. Ryan opened his mouth ever so slightly and began to suck on my finger. When he finished, I kissed him briefly, said, "I love you," and then stopped everything. In the moments that passed, in the darkness, we stared at each other. Finally, he smiled and said, "That was nice." "Are we good?" "Yeh, we're good," and he touched my cheek ever so slightly with his hand. And on the sofa we stayed and slept that Saturday night.