Cory, Bo, and Doc
by Ashley Hardric ©2005
ahardric@gmail.com

Disclaimers: 
    This is a work of fiction.  That means it is not true.  Didn’t happen.  It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed.  The author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it.  Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to do so legally.

    **This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive)  without his permission.**

     If you enjoy this story, a great way to demonstrate that would be to send a donation to the Nifty Archive to help keep the free service available. 
    And, feedback on the story is always appreciated!

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Chapter Six

    We drove home, still mostly quiet.  Bo’s tears had nearly stopped, but not completely.  An occasional ragged breath revealed the latent sobs.  He sat on Cory’s lap, his head resting on the older boy’s shoulder.  He looked so young and vulnerable, like a much younger child.  Cory stroked his back and his head, and just held him during the half hour trip.  Once home, he carried him inside.  We headed for the bedroom, figuring that he needed to sleep, but he said “No! I don’t wanna go to bed.  Let’s sit in the living room.”

    So we sat in the living room, on the big floor cushions,  Bo across both laps.  He wasn’t ready to talk, and he was clearly wiped out from the ordeal of the morning.  But every time he began to relax enough to nod off to sleep, he would jerk himself awake, and cling to us tightly.  After about the third or fourth such episode, I was worried enough to get to the root of the problem.

    “Bo, talk  to us,” I said quietly, stroking his head and holding him close to me.  “Tell us what’s happening in your head.”

    “Trust us, Bo,” Cory said, adding his hand to mine.

    Tears welled up again and flowed down his cheeks, and silent sobs shook his trembling body.  “I’m just” he tried to talk but was crying too hard.

    “It’s OK,” I repeated over and over.  “It’s OK.  You cry as much as you need to.”

    Again the sobs receded and the trembling eased, and I decided to try again.  I grabbed the Kleenex from the end table, and held one against his nose.  “Blow,” I said.  “It will help you feel better.  I don’t know why, but it always does when you’ve been crying.”  Bo blew.  I turned the Kleenex and said “again.”  He blew again, and I wiped his nose dry.  “Now take a deep breath.  Good.  Now another.  Good.”  Bo was calming down now, beginning to breathe smoothly again.  “Think you can talk to us now?” I asked gently.

    “I think so,” he said in a tiny voice.  “It’s just... I mean I’m just...” He broke off and a few tears started again, and a couple of spasmodic sobs passed through him.  He tried a deep breath, and said “Kleenex.”  I held another one and he blew his nose again, and then took another deep breath.  He started again, and again the tears appeared.  He talked through them this time.  “It’s just that I- I- I- I’m afraid you’ll die too and I’ll be alone again a- a- a- and I can’t take that and what if I go to sleep a- a- nd when I wake up you’re gone or dead too?”  And then a veritable flood of tears started, and redoubled wailing from his grief-stricken heart.  He was nearly hysterical, nearly out of control, and I briefly considered a sharp slap to bring him out of it.  I rejected that thought, and instead turned him, so that by twisting his upper body, he could face us squarely.

    “Bo!”  I said sharply, taking his glistening cheeks in both hands while Cory supported him tightly by both arms.  “Look at me!  Look at Cory!  Look at us!!”  My tone cut through his crying, and startled him for a moment.  He looked.  “What do you see?” I asked, operating on pure intuition now.

    “I see you and Cory,” he sobbed, puzzled.

    “Who’s been with you every moment today?”

    “You and Cory,” the little voice replied.

    “Who loves you more than anything in the world?”

    “You and Cory.”

    “And who is going to be here for you, no matter what?”

    His eyes widened as heart and mind integrated realities with fears.

    “You and Cory?” he whispered, afraid to believe it.

    “Yes,” I said.  “Me and Cory.”

    “Yes,” said Cory.  “Me and Doc.”

    The look of fear left his wet face and he smiled a little.  New tears appeared, but these were the kind he’d shed after our very first encounter, tears of joy.  He leaned forward again and wrapped his arms around both our necks, squeezing us with his surprisingly strong arms.  When he relaxed, I could see signs of the normal Bo returning.

    “Hand me a Kleenex, please” he said, and blew his own nose.  He moved a little and relaxed against both Cory and me.   His breathing had calmed and he’d wiped the tears away.  He took an arm from each of us and wrapped us around him.  His head dropped back against my shoulder and his eyes closed.  “I think I’ll take a nap,” he announced.  “Don’t go anywhere, OK?”