Date: Wed, 28 May 2014 09:55:02 +0000 From: Nice Guy Subject: My Little Brigade Boy 13 Niceguy98 Chapter 13 - Don't Leave --------------------------------------------------------- I very nearly lost it in front of everyone just then, and gently had to bid my farewells before slowly walking back to Matthews room, going into the en-suite, and letting myself collapse. What followed was the worst moments of my life, before or since. The amount of raw emotion that poured through my body was far too much for one human to bear. I had thought I was stable, thought that I could be stable, if not for me, but for everyone around me. After all, wasn't I the rock? The anchor that firmly held while everyone else fell to pieces all around me? Nah. Of course I wasn't. The façade had cracked to reveal me for what I really was. A scared little child, reeling at his loss, screaming at the injustice of it all. Pouring his soul out to someone who might not actually be there anymore, life barely hanging on. I laughed mirthlessly. Life never seemed this stupid before. This random, this...cruel. I had it all. A mother, a sister and two wonderful brothers whom I loved more than life. Now, cruel Lady Fate had thrown me a screwball. Set that drunk driver on that path that struck my little Adonis down. Taken my young love away from me, just as soon as I had realised the extent of my feelings for him. That thought fizzled out and my reason countered it. "He's not gone. Not even close to it. He's just lost. Inside his own mind." If only it was something physical. Something I could stop. Something I could hurt. Then I might have a chance. But when it was his own body that imprisoned him, then I was out of my depth completely. My voice of reason kicked in again. "You aren't completely powerless. Far from it." "You just need to keep talking." "Keep strong in the face of adversity." "After all, it is what you do best." I smiled a little, disbelieving the fact that I had just been able to give myself a pep talk. I got myself out of the foetal position I had put myself in on the floor and stood up, ready for anything. I stood at the sink and splashed water over my face, washing off the sweat and tears, done with my moment of vulnerability. I opened the door to the en-suite and walked right up to Matthews bed. His face was still, but my minds eye showed me the first smile he had ever given me. A primal not-so-comforting comfort response. "Matthew." I whispered, placing my hand on his chest. "I know you're lost. I need you to follow the sound of my voice. Come back to me." I gripped his hand. "Don't leave us. We are here, you can't go. Not while we're still here." The door behind me opened. It seemed like I wasn't done with my moment of vulnerability after all. "Hey, buddy." Cameron said, walking into the room. Nothing more had to be said. I looked him right in the eye, crossed the room and embraced him. He gently rocked me, as I inhaled his wonderful scent. It was so much stronger than the boys subtle notes, and it was strangely comforting. "I am so sorry." he whispered. "If there was anything I could do..." "You would have done it already." I whispered, "It's what I love about you." Cameron's grip tightened around me. I pulled my head out of his shoulder and looked him in the eye. I suppose this was as good a time as any. To tell him what I had been putting off for so long. I sat down on a chair and Cameron sat next to me. "Cameron." I began, "There's something I want to tell you, that may completely change your opinion of me and destroy our friendship, but I feel you deserve to know." He looked straight at me, confusion written all over his face, but he remained silent. I took a deep breath. "I... I'm a boy-lover." I said, at no more than a strangled whisper. Silence reigned for a heartbeat, then Cameron exhaled, the confusion falling off his face. "Is that all?" he said incredulously, "I thought you were going to tell me you'd killed my dog or something!" My eyes widened. I embraced my best and oldest friend right there and then in relief. "Did you really think that I didn't know how much you love little boys?" he said, bringing his face closer to mine. "It's been obvious to me since our first little encounter." "Oh really?" I said jokingly, "And it has been obvious to me that you fancy the shit out of Ben Dickinson since you first laid eyes on him." Cameron giggled, his face turning beet red. I stood up, turned to Matthew, and gestured to Cameron. "See what I have to deal with?" I said, "This little bugger has been too scared to ask a guy he fancies the crap out of!" Cameron walked over. "So this is the famous Matthew then?" he said, gently shaking his hand, letting the 'fancying' issue slide. "It's a pleasure." He looked up at me. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" he said, "Like why you both have matching necklaces?" I exhaled a little. "It's just a thing I got them, to symbolise the fact that we're blood brothers now." Cameron's lips curled into a wry smile. "The last time you did something like that was with me. Back when we didn't have enough money for matching necklaces." My mind cast me straight back to that moment, as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. I was seriously surprised it hadn't left a scar. Cameron and I were 7 years old, playing in the woods behind our houses, when he suddenly brought out his dad's Swiss Army knife. He had told me that there was a way we could cement our friendship beyond words that his dad had told him about. He took out the knife and poked a cut into the palm of his hand, just enough to draw blood. He had grimaced slightly, sticking his tongue out a little as he made the incision. He handed me the knife and I proceeded to do the same on my hand. Blood drawn, he clasped my hand in his, bringing me close to him. "We'll always be blood brothers." he whispered into my ear. "Now and forever." "Now and forever." I whispered, looking back to Cameron. "I remember." He smiled and raised his hand. That self same hand. I took it and squeezed for all my worth. "If you feel as strong a bond with him as you do with me, then he must be a very special kid." he said. "Yeah..." I said, "They really are." His confused face returned. "They?" "Him and his best friend, Alex. I 'adopted' them both." He gave me his trademark lopsided grin, then turned to Matthew. "You, little buddy, are very lucky." he whispered, gently tousling his hair, "To have such a wonderful big brother." He turned back to me, the doting smile gone to be replaced with a steely look of determination. "You need to fight for him, bud." he said, "Don't ever stop fighting." He put his hand on my shoulder and his expression softened. "I know you love me, Grant. But Matthew needs you more right now." A single tear began to creep out the corner of my eye. "People have been asking where you are. I fobbed them all off with the old 'feeling sick' shit. That should hold for a while." I exhaled, thankful for the fact that I wouldn't have to deal with any awkwardness when I eventually got back. I put my hand on his cheek and thanked him, sincerely and deeply. He brought me into his arms again, kissing my cheek. "Stay strong." he whispered as he pulled away. As the door closed behind him, I watched him go, happy to be relieved of my burdens, for now at least. I looked up at the clock. Almost time for the nurses rounds. I sat down, made myself comfortable and in a fit of happiness, nodded off, facing Matthews bed, the steady beeps and hisses somehow lulling me. Matthew visited me in my fitful dream. My beautiful, smiling, laughing Matthew of old. His strong touch. His soft red lips. His transcendent electric blue eyes. His lean athletic body. His unbroken sing-song voice. His strawberry musk. His beautiful dinky pre-pubescent cock. "Grant?" His voice suddenly became hoarse, grating, almost disconnected. "Grant? Where are you?" An insistent beeping suddenly became the overriding sound. The beeps were familiar. They sounded almost like... "Where are you?" A heart monitor? Adrenaline shot through me and had me awake in an instant. I wasn't dreaming this. The beeping of Matthews heart monitor had become much more insistent, way above the normal background rate I had grown to tune out. ----------------------------------------------------------- End Of Chapter 13 Any comments/constructive critisism to niceguy0398@gmail.com Check out my stories at: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#niceguy Nifty needs your help to stay alive and continue delivering wonderful stories, so donate what you can. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Any comments/constructive criticism to niceguy0398@gmail.com