Date: Tue, 8 Dec 2009 19:11:01 -0800 (PST) From: John Gerald Subject: Peter's Story 4 Trying to get into the celebratory mood of homecoming week, Peter joined Jeff and a few other friends headed for one of the places on `fraternity row' near the edge of campus. The big old house was shared by a group of mostly gay guys who were well-known throughout the campus community for the bacchic revelry of their blow-out parties. And as usual, the crowd was loud, boisterous and for the most part, very drunk. "Petey! Petey! Look at that one there!" Jeff shouted in his good ear, nodding toward a particularly jockish looking blond guy standing in a crowd near the living room fireplace mantel. "He's been eyeing you all night. Go and pounce! Go! Go!" he ordered, trying to push Peter over but meeting the usual stiff resistance. "He's OK, but I'm not really into him, I guess." Peter said, literally digging his heals into the beer stained carpet. "Actually I think he's in my Organic Chem class, and seems like a nice enough guy and all, but..." So what's the "BUT...part, Kovar." Jeff demanded, affecting a look of stern rebuke. "You ALWAYS say that...that's he's a nice guy, or he's a jerk... or he's this or that...What the problem with you is. Jeez, if I had your looks, I'd be fucking my way through every gay guy in this school." Jeff said with resignation." "Well, you don't have my so-called `looks' but you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. I actually think you've sucked off at least half of the guys here since we arrived here, no?" "Fuck you!" Jeff shot back, reaching over and squeezing Peter's nose, which triggered an immediate kick of Peter's knee almost into his unprotected groin. "I'm going to have fun, but you're going to die a virgin, Kovar. And it won't be my fault," he declared, brushing Peter's knee aside as he made his way over to the blond guy. Peter just sighed as Jeff moved away. It was one of their typical party exchanges, usually done while Jeff was getting himself drunk enough to approach whatever hotties were around. Maybe he would end up like Jeff said he would, he sometimes thought. Maybe he'd be a gay virgin the rest of his life. He'd necked with guys and fooled around some, but he'd never gotten even close to `all the way' with anybody. `Just not the right guy,' he would say to himself, but sometimes with the feeling that he would, in fact, never meet that guy. The one virtue of his sleeping problem was that it made it easy to stay up late for these social things. At least there were people to talk to. But after hanging out for an hour or so and chatting with a few guys he decided he'd had enough of this scene for the night. Not wanting to perhaps intrude on an intimate moment, he gave a half-hearted search for Jeff before making his way through the hot, crowded halls to one of the bedrooms that had been turned into a giant coat closet. As he was working his way through the crowded hallway he felt a sting as a big football-player type reached over and pinched his ass. Even though the guy outweighed him by probably 100 pounds, Peter immediately got right in his face to tell him off, until he realized the guy was so drunk he hardly knew what was happening and could barely stand up. After blowing off the pincher and then making the rounds to say goodbye to the hosts and the other people he knew there, and then glancing around one more time for signs of Jeff, he was finally able to get out of the house. But then he still had to worm his way through another crowd of people on the porch before finally making it down onto the front yard and on his way home. The refreshing blast of cold air was a relief from the furnace-like conditions inside the house, giving him a boost of late-night energy for the long walk home. After zipping up his jacket he was about to start down the sidewalk when he heard someone coming down the stairs behind him. "You taking off, Peter? Don't forget your roomie!" Jeff called out, putting on his own jacket as approached. It was clear from the slurs in his voice that he hadn't denied himself any of the spirits available inside. Peter turned around, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as he looked at Jeff. "I searched around for you, but you know Jeff, maybe I was looking too high," he said, "maybe I mistakenly assumed you'd be on your feet rather than your knees." "Like I told you earlier," Jeff retorted, trying to spit back with as much sarcasm as possible in his voice, "At least someone's getting something around here." "Well, now that you have `gotten something,' as you say, wipe the cum off your eyebrow and let's go," Peter said as he grabbed Jeff's shoulder to pull him along home. Though it was well into the night, there were people everywhere on the street, which was typical for weekend evenings but especially for Homecoming. Drunken couples or groups of guys or girls routinely bumped into Peter and Jeff as they strolled down the sidewalk, oblivious to anything they hit. As the two of them were finally past one particularly drunk group of fraternity types, Peter could make out the figure of someone familiar coming out of one of the houses. Because of the yellowish color of the streetlamps it was difficult to see much at all. But, in contrast to most of the people they had passed, the guy's posture suggested that he was very sober as he came down the front stairs. He had his hands in his pockets, probably because of the chill outside, he guessed. Suddenly, Peter's eyes lit up. It was Marty. "Hey!" Peter called out to him, just as his teammate was about to reach the front sidewalk. Marty was looking ahead impassively, then suddenly couldn't help himself as he surrendered a smile. "Hey, Peter, How are you? What are you doing here?" "Oh, I was at a party down the street, but decided to call it a night," he said, then nodded at the tipsy figure next to him, "by the way, you remember Jeff, my roommate, right?" Jeff gave a short `Hiya, guy!" and then, as he did when he first met him, looked Marty up and down. Peter could see the drunken tongue starting to peek out of the edge of his mouth when he gave him a sharp elbow. "Ouch!" Jeff cried, as he quietly cursed under his breath, "you bitch!" "Hi Jeff, good to see you again," Marty said as he briefly smiled and nodded toward him, not acknowledging any of the exchange. "You feeling OK tonight?" he asked Peter, alluding to his fatigue a few days earlier. "Oh yea, no problem. That was just temporary, I was even fine later that night." He answered in his typical way of deflecting attention when his health was the issue. But he was less concerned with Marty pursuing that line of questioning as he was with the destructive potential of a drunken, loose-cannon Jeff. Marty looked a lot different than he had seen him before, mostly because of the sleeveless t-shirt he was wearing, along with loose fitting jeans. The tough-guy look of the t-shirt didn't quite seem to go with the serious demeanor that he associated with him. He could hear Jeff's quiet but unmistakable rutting growl next to him and was about to give him another elbow when a slim blond sorority-type girl sidled up beside him. In contrast to Marty's sobriety, she had obviously put a few drinks down tonight, and was literally crawling all over him, mostly ignoring Jeff and Peter until Marty introduced them. "Hey guys, this is one of my pals from my apartment house, Tiffany. Tiffany, this is Jeff and Peter." She turned and looked at the guys, still keeping her hands on Marty, and then just said a quick "hi." Peter noticed that she was really feeling him up, especially wrapping her hands around his biceps, though his own hands were still in his pockets. It didn't look like he was encouraging her, but he didn't pull away either. "Boy, that house was so hot he had to shuck his jacket and shirt! But doesn't he look hot? He says he likes baggy, loose stuff, but those clothes don't show off his nice bod at all," she continued in a tone of playful disgust betrayed by a near continuous giggle. "Well, this t-shirt could be tighter, but at least some dumb sleeves aren't messing up the view." Peter noticed that he still didn't seem to acknowledge her flirtatiousness, but he did lean into her sometimes when it looked like she was going to topple over. "Aren't you a little cold in that shirt?" Peter asked him. "Yea, a bit," he answered, "I usually only wear this sleeveless thing at the gym, except that it was my last clean t-shirt. But inside that party house it was like an inferno, so it didn't work out so badly. Actually, it kind of feels good to get cooled down." "Yea, he's just FINE!" she interjected, putting her other arm around him with a proprietary hug that also happened to be about the only way she could remain standing. "He's not cold at all, in fact I think he's pretty hot," she said, then giggled almost uncontrollably at what she had said. Peter only believed half of what Marty had said and none of her, noticing how his arms were still pulled tight to his body. "Well, it looks like my buddy Peter and I have to get going," Jeff said, pulling on Peter's arm. "He doesn't sleep so well, so we have to tuck him in early to get his beauty rest. You all enjoy yourselves," he said as he practically dragged Peter around Marty and the girl and on down the street. "Later Jeff, see you, Peter," Marty said. "Oh, by the way, are we all still on for the library on Monday, you and Jer and me?" he yelled out to them as they moved away. "Yup!" Peter yelled back. "Great, see you then!" he said before he quickly turned to catch a collapsing Tiffany. "Bye Bye!" Jeff called back, tightening his grip around a reluctant Peter and leading him away at a quickening pace. When they had gotten out of earshot Peter pushed him away, almost violently. "What the heck was that about!? Why did we have to get going?!" Jeff grabbed his arm again, dragging him further down the street and even farther away from the couple. As they approached a darkened sidestreet, he pulled Peter behind some bushes but then twisted him around to face out from where they came. "Wait here while I do my business, Petey," he heard Jeff say from behind him, just before he heard the sound of a belt unbuckling, a zipper being pulled and then the tinkle of pee into the side of a tree. "Ahhhh..." "Are you done yet?" Peter asked, his patience thinning. "Oh, Jeez, that feels better!" Jeff sighed, the huge relief evident in his voice. He zipped back up and let out a loud belch before reaching over and turning Peer around. "All right Kovar! I'm going to tell you two things here and you need to remember both of them. Number One, you are well on your way to getting the hots for that guy and you had better stop now. He's straight and you know what happens when gay guys get attracted to straight guys. Broken hearts and all-around bad news," he said, wagging his finger in Peter's face. "Number Two, You have already made an enemy out of his girlfriend or whatever the hell she is, which is going to make things worse. You didn't see here bare her fangs at you? Why he's with that airhead I don't know, but it's his business and not yours. So drop it right now." Peter was gritting his teeth as he impatiently listened. There were so many things wrong with what Jeff said he didn't know where to start. "That's not his girlfriend!" Peter blasted back, almost yelling. "How could you say it was? He barely acknowledged her! The only time he touched her was when she was going to fall over! " His face was turning red. "And besides, if she was his girlfriend she would have noticed that he was cold and tried to do something about it," he continued as he drew a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "I realize that he's probably not...um... not gay. I mean, he's a great guy, and pretty good looking and all, and I think we're good friends. But that's it. We're just friends." There was silence. Jeff had opened his mouth, on the cusp of some sarcastic comment, but then held back. He looked up at Peter and shook his head. "What?" Peter asked, prepared for another of Jeff's barbed attacks. But he just continued to look at Peter, not speaking a word, which was very unusual for the typically loquacious Jeff. He just gave a mysterious half-smile and shook his head again. "You know, Kovar," Jeff replied, his own voice surprisingly calm. "When I first pulled you away, it was actually kind of a joke, you know, razzing you about him. I knew you and him were pals and all. As far as she goes, she was just drunk and making a fool of herself and frankly I had to pee like a racehorse and wanted to go home anyway. Maybe, just maybe I thought there could be a little more between you guys, but I actually didn't consider it that seriously." He just shook his head again and said, "Until now." "What do you mean?" he asked, perplexed as to where Jeff was going with this conversation. "You certainly get worked up over someone you're not attracted to, Peter. Far more than someone your just friends with," he continued in the unusual calm tone. "Then, as you were talking, or should I say ranting, I realized that...you know what, you actually are in love with this guy. Even if you don't know it yourself. Or you just won't admit it. Jeez, you say `if she was his girlfriend should would have noticed he was cold?' Well, look who did notice." "He's just your type." Jeff continued, looking down as remembered to buckle his belt back up. "He's not at all my fun flirtatious sort, guys who want to have a good time. No, no, that's not for Peter Kovar. He seems to like the boring, serious ones. Jeez, this guy hardly ever smiles. For me, that's no fun, but for Mr. Kovar, that means he has `depth, soul." He looked back up at Peter. "His face is kind of plain looking, you have to admit. But you don't seem to care about a guy's face or his looks. Why not, I don't know, I guess you're just weird or crazy," "He does have a fantastic bod, though, I'll give you that. Not one of those big oversized gorillas, just nice smooth muscles. Jeez, the guy hardly has a waist. I could lick him up-and-down all day. And so could you!" Peter stared back at him before answering, breathing slower now but not saying anything at first. He was thinking about some of the stuff that Jeff had said. Not so much about Jeff's physical descriptions, but of the qualities he described in Marty without Jeff's negative spin. Quiet. Thoughtful. Calm. But just when he thought about that, another image came to his head. The terror in Marty's eyes during the pile-up at that first soccer match. All he could reply to Jeff was, "...but he really looked kind of cold out there. She should have made sure he was warm and..." Jeff cut him off. "That, Mr. Kovar," he said as he grabbed Peter's jacket with both hands, "is exactly what I mean." *** Sitting around the large, circular wooden table deep in the bowels of the old main library, Marty and Jeremy had spend the evening going over lecture notes, library and internet research and whatever else they could get their hands on to prep for their midterm. Included in these resources was Peter, who had taken the class last year and had offered what little help he thought he could provide. Though his A- was the third highest grade in his section of 40 or so people, he didn't feel nearly as confident of his knowledge as his friends did. It didn't hurt in their minds that Peter was going to minor in science, where they were only taking the class because it was part of the school's required core curriculum. "Hey Peter, I think I understand this stuff now," Jeremy said, "but let me recite it to you one more time and you can tell me if I'm going to survive or if doom is coming." "Well, go ahead; I'll do what I can. But like I said, my understanding was like a big house of cards. I got through the final pretty well, but I think that I probably forgot half of it the moment that I walked out the door. Besides, Kathy probably remembers as much as I do." "Well, yes, she is a girlfriend with benefits, intellectual in this case" he said with a laugh. "Between the two of you I think I might survive. Your explanations helped a lot." "No warranties expressed or implied," Peter replied, "But I think you both know it now about as well as I ever did. So good luck tomorrow." Hearing the announcement for the closing of the library, each of them threw together their bags and books and surreptitious snacks and joined the throngs of other mid-terms studying refugees migrating toward the exits. Jeremy used the time to do a final review of the material with Peter as they made their way out of the building into the cool fall air. As he waited for Marty and Jeremy to unlock their bikes, Peter suddenly realized that he had missed the last campus bus, which meant that he had a half-hour walk back home ahead of him and it was nearly midnight. It was the kind of absent-minded thing that he sometimes did when he was distracted or daydreaming. "I can walk back with you," Jeremy said. "I'm heading to Kathy's and you're not too far from her place, especially when I'm on a bike. "That's OK, Jer, I can go by myself, no worries. But thanks anyway." "No, someone should go with you, it's really late out," Marty said. "Jeremy, she's expecting you, so I don't mind. My ride back isn't much longer than yours. Besides, I think I need more help and Peter can work with me some more on the way." In spite of Peter's protests, Marty and Jeremy negotiated amongst themselves as to who would be best to see Peter back home. Jeremy finally deferred to what he sensed was a rather strong desire on Marty's to play the chaperone, so waved goodbye to the guys as he rode off to his girlfriend's house. Peter thought that he was probably imagining it, but it also seemed to him like Marty was determined to be the one to escort him. Or maybe not. Though he enjoyed their time together more than ever, he was also becoming more self-conscious about it at same time, especially since Jeff's presumptuous comments. As he usually did, Marty positioned himself at Peter's good hearing side as they walked, pushing his bike along with his left hand. It was a quiet night, so the only sound they heard was the clicking of the old bike's gears as it rolled along beside them. "You don't need to do this, Marty, but thanks anyway. I wish I could tell you more stuff for the exam, but I really don't have anything else in my noggin'. You guys have squeezed it all out." "Well, as I think about it, I might have some last minute questions, so it's just a little bit of a selfish gesture on my part, too" Marty replied. Even though Marty's suggested some on-the-go cramming for the test, they didn't talk much about it at all as they strolled out of the library area and onto Main Street, which took them past the scenic campus church and the President's house. "So what are you up to tomorrow while, we're on trial?" Marty asked as they passed more of the historic old buildings that made up the campus core. "I'm kind of light for work tomorrow, just one class just before lunch. So I can sleep in while you guys are kicking ass on that test." Marty smiled as he threw his pack back over his shoulder to get it more secure. "Yea, that would be nice. Actually, it is a pretty big test for me. I have a scholarship that requires a minimum GPA, so I guess they all matter." "I think you'll do pretty well" Peter said, as he looked over at him. "Just get some sleep tonight and you'll do well." As he spoke he noticed some slight sprinkles of rain on the sidewalk.. "You sure you want to continue? It might be starting to rain and..." Peter asked. "Yup, absolutely. As long as it doesn't rain too hard I'll be OK, and this doesn't look too bad. Besides, there isn't a real long ways to go anyway. As he was speaking, Peter stopped for a moment and coughed. "Are you OK?" Marty asked as offered his hand to steady him, just in case. Peter continued coughing with his hand over his mouth. "Oh yeah, I'm OK...It's just the cold air, sometimes it makes me do this. I'm kind of tired, too, so a guess the weather is taking advantage of me." With his most serious face returning, Marty just watched Peter as he continued to cover his mouth and cough. He reached out and touched his shoulder, which got another shiver from Peter. That seemed to always happen when Marty touched him. "Hey Peter, you sure you're OK? I...I don't want to pry or anything, but even in our games this kind of thing has happened before..." He paused, giving Peter a sense that maybe he thought that he had gone too far. "Oh sorry, I don't mean to pry...umm...you don't need to..." "No, no that's OK," Peter interjected. He didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about how he should tell Marty about himself. "Well, to be honest, there are some things that I, well, I can't do too well. I don't like to say much about why that is, but I think I should probably tell you, since we do so much and at least you'll maybe,...understand a little better. Maybe help out if I need you." "Peter, I'd do whatever I could to help, but there's no need if you don't feel comfortable. I shouldn't be so nosy, it's just that when I see this happen several times, I get concerned, that's all." "No, no like I said, you should know." Peter replied. Then he motioned Marty that they could keep walking as he shoved both hands into his pockets and began to talk. "My breathing problems, hearing and, I think, even sleeping, and I guess a couple of other conditions, all have to do with one thing," he said, repositioning his backpack even though it was on securely. "And it kind of goes way back." "All of us boys had the same surrogate mother. She really liked bringing babies into the world, but didn't want to raise any herself, so it was a good match with my Dads. Anyway, Bik and Robert's births went really smooth, no problems at all. But there were problems with mine." Peter repositioned his backpack again. "About the start of the 3rd trimester she began to get ill and her blood pressure started bouncing around all over the place. They weren't sure of the exact cause, but it appeared that, for some reason, I had caused some toxic condition in her blood. She wanted to continue as long as possible for me to get bigger, but the doctor said she need to deliver or neither of us might make it. "Anyway, they had to deliver me after a little less than seven months. Not as bad as some kids have it, but still not full term. I'm told that intellectually I'm just fine, but my brothers claimed significant mental damage, "he said with a chuckle. ""Anyway, I guess I'm lucky to be OK in most ways. But it did affect my hearing and somewhat my lungs, since in my case they didn't seem to get quite enough time to develop." "Do you have to do special therapy or anything to help yourself?" "For the lungs, not anything special, besides just trying to stay in shape and not let them get lazy," he replied. "For the hearing I had a couple surgeries and lots of therapy when I was little, but that's pretty much over now, too. There not a lot to be done anymore, until there's some magic potion or invention that will restore what's missing. I just try to be careful, like not playing music too loud, going to rock concerts, things like that." "Doing all that stuff must have been hard on you as a kid, I mean the surgeries and things like that." Marty said. "Yea, it was kind of a pain, but it's kind of all I knew, too, so I didn't think much of it. You're a kid, so I guess that you just accept it." He answered. "But one of the good things to come out of it was that I learned sign language. My parents wanted me to learn it just in case I really did lose my hearing. It's never gotten that bad, of course, but I still know what they call American Sign Language pretty well. Both my parents learned it too, just in case." "They learned it too?!" Marty remarked, and then paused for a moment. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. I mean, they'd want to communicate with you and would need to know it themselves. They'd really have to know it." "That's right, at least for my parents. But I think it was lot harder for them to learn, like any foreign language as an adult. But they stuck with it." "Besides just taking care of yourself, do you still need surgeries or anything serious like that anymore? Is the `heavy lifting' done?" Peter smiled back at the effort to lighten the mood. "Yes, I think that's all pretty much over. I just let things take their course now. They closest I get to `heavy lifting' these days is to find the best deals on hearing aid batteries." They continued to chat about his health, but as glad as Peter was to be able to talk to Marty about it, his natural reluctance to talk about himself started to assert itself. Besides, there were lots of things that he wanted to find out about Marty, too, as he eventually found an opportunity to change the subject. "By the way, I really enjoyed meeting your sister, she was a lot of fun, I think everyone had a great time," he said. "You guys seem really close." The answer was immediate and enthusiastic. "Oh yea, we really are. It's just us, so we sort of stick together." He didn't say anything for a moment, pausing, probably like Peter himself did, to figure out how to explain things. "I think I mentioned to you earlier that it was just her and me and my Mom. You've met Angela, and know how great she is. But my mom isn't quite so lucky. She has...problems." "What do you...? Oh, jeez, sorry, I mean, if you don't feel like you want to talk, that's OK, Marty." "No, like you said earlier. You should know, since we're friends." Marty got momentarily distracted, something about his bike handlebars getting slippery, but Peter had tuned out for just a second as he suddenly felt very warm. "Anyway," Marty continued, "My Mom is really a great person, but since my Dad died, she's really struggled to cope." He told Peter about how close and happy his parents and family were, until his father died when he was 13. It was tough on all of them, but especially on his Mom. Though she cared about her kids, the she never got over the shock of losing the partner that she was so in love with. According to Marty, she spent the next few years of her life trying to replace someone who was irreplaceable. Raising Angela and Marty became secondary to trying to find another guy, with a succession of boyfriends and marriages and divorces, with a desperation evident even to a young man like him. His Dad's family, who always thought he had married `down,' had none of the warmth of his Dad, who was a real oddity in the family. But duty bound, they did provide a place to stay when his Mom was unable to cope, which often meant during a period of drying out after an alcoholic binge. "I know she sounds bad, Peter," Marty said with a sympathetic voice. "But she really is a good person. It was all just too much for here. I guess like anyone, she just did the best she could." To lose someone you love...it's the worst thing that can happen to you and make you...not do the right thing." Marty said, with an unmistakable sadness in his voice. Peter was sure that there was a lot more that Marty could probably tell, but it really wasn't necessary, at least right then. What affected him the most was not so much about what Marty went through, but how he came through it. He didn't dwell on his own problems or issues, yet he couldn't help thinking about someone else's. As they approached the house, it suddenly started to pour rain. "Run for it!" Peter yelled out as they dashed for the front door. Marty put his hand over Peter's head in a futile attempt to provide some shelter as Peter fumbled for the door key. "You can park you bike in the foyer," Peter said as he finally got the door open, "and don't even think about trying to go home. You can stay here tonight." "Hey, I don't want to impose on you guys, I can wait it out." "You have a major test tomorrow and you need to get to sleep right away. You can sleep in my bed," he suddenly realized what he had said, and then rushed to correct himself, "I mean, I'll sleep on the couch. My bed is better and since you need..." If Marty had caught his inference, he didn't show it. "No friggin' way you're giving up your bed. I can sleep on the couch. And that's if I sleep here at all, this storm could break up real soon." "Well, maybe you can be on the couch," Pete replied, not wanted to visit that subject anymore, "but I'll be damned if you are going to leave tonight. It's pouring!" "It's not that bad, I mean..." Peter cut him off. "Well, like you said to me once. ` If you don't get on that couch and go to sleep, I'm going to sit on you until you do!' "But I'm bigger than you." Marty replied, in a tone that said he was not exactly sure if it made any difference to Peter. "Don't make me prove that I can do it!" Peter retorted. After Marty's surrender the rain continued to pour down outside as Peter began to assemble everything that he would need, including blankets, pillows and a glass of water. All of the roommates were hospitable toward each other's friends, so finding a stranger on the couch in the morning wouldn't be such a big surprise. Peter tried to speak in a whisper in order to not awaken anyone, but because of his hearing impairment it wasn't the exactly the quietest of whispers, which alerted Jeff in his room upstairs. Sticking his head out and hearing Marty's voice and the general commotion, and acutely sensitive to any opportunity of embarrass Peter, he sneaked quietly down the stairs. Looking directly at Peter, he made a silent but clearly lascivious gesture of his tongue toward Marty as he went into the bathroom. Without making a sound himself, Peter flipped his middle finger in return, raised his fist, and then pointed at the upstairs as Jeff quickly retreated to his den. "Thanks for the toothbrush, Peter. You sure it was a fresh one?" Marty asked as he came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Recovering quickly from Jeff's taunt, he replied, "I told you that no one here had used it, at least in their mouth. As to any other place, well, I can't guarantee a completely sanitary history, especially if Jeff got a hold of it." He looked upstairs and smiled, in this one case hoping that Jeff was indeed eavesdropping. Marty laughed, then started to remove his clothes, beginning with his jeans. Peter had seen him before with shorts on, but never with so little covering his legs. As soon as Marty's muscular thigh was exposed Peter immediately felt a stiffness in his pants. Panicking, he forced himself to look away as he mindlessly adjusted the glass of water on the table, almost spilling it on the floor. "Is that for me? Marty asked. "Yea, um..." Peter replied, trying to unscramble his brain. "I usually keep one on my bed stand before I go to sleep, in case I wake up thirsty. I thought you might want one, too. "Oh...huh, I never thought of that, I usually just go and get one. Good idea, though. Thanks," he replied. "I hope this is all OK, Peter. Are you sure you have blankets and pillows for yourself, right? "Of course. We all share here anyway, so no problem. Just don't worry, get some sleep and ace that test, OK?" "OK, if you say so," Marty answered as finally got onto the couch and pulled the covers over himself. "By the way, thanks a lot Peter. I know it's kind of a hassle, so I really appreciate it." "No problem at all, absolutely none", he replied, with a quickness and urgency that surprised even him. "By the way I'll set my alarm just in case your phone alarm doesn't go off. Just to make sure it's all OK. So don't worry, there's no way you won't wake up." "That would be great. Thanks again, Peter. The only other thing you could do better is to take the test for me." Peter just smiled. He would have liked to continue bantering like this the whole night, but knew that he had to get Marty to sleep quickly. "We'll talk about that for the next test. For now, good night, and see you tomorrow," he said before he turned off the light and went off to his room. After he was finally able to shut the door behind him he just stood there, motionless, as a huge rush of feelings seemed to overwhelm him. Unable to move ahead, he leaned back against the door. Something had happened tonight. Something with Marty. He hadn't learned anything new about him that changed his opinions or thoughts. The evening just reinforced what he already thought and felt. About what a really special guy he was. He was so tough, but at the same time so sensitive to people around him and to the world. It felt great just to be around him, and now he was just on the other side of the door. But Peter kept staring straight ahead, not moving, just breathing. Then he felt odd, almost sick. What if he wasn't gay? What if he couldn't return his feelings...What if...? It really didn't matter however, he admitted to himself. It was too late. He was in love. And he had been for a long time.