So, the next day the high school had a half day. I rode my bike out to Mortensen Funeral Home and spoke with the manager, the founder's grandson. He was sympathetic to the reason for my visit, but there was a problem. The only thing they had a copy of was the program handout for the service, which had no picture. The relatives had taken away all the pictures that had been on display.
Mr. Mortensen said that they were all just those regular posed school pictures, anyway. So maybe I could contact the school photographer and order Chuckie a print. But he also suggested that I contact the church, because they had a big youth program and they might have some candids.
I ended up doing both. The school photographers were the same ones that did our school. Their place was in a strip mall within biking distance and they printed me a 5 by 7 for free when I explained. Seth: a sweet blond 12 year old in a blue blazer, white shirt and tie. He looked bright eyed and freshly barbered for the occasion. But still, it was a school picture. Maybe I could do better.
Father O'Connor made time for me immediately, when I mentioned Seth and Chuckie. He was a kindly older man with a gentle face. I explained my mission and he seemed certain he'd have something. He said they'd been inseparable. We looked through several of those bound photo albums and he came up with exactly what I was hoping for. A picture of two boys in shorts and tee shirts, standing on a porch of some kind, with their arms over each other's shoulders. It was shot from below, and it showed their faces perfectly. It made us both tear up.
"Father, this will be the boy's emotional salvation."
"Well, young man, we can hope for more than that, but it's certainly a start."
"How do I get a copy?"
"Well, I don't have the negative. Let's take it down the street."
The guy at the photo place greeted the old priest like a returning hero. Turns out he had been through the youth program himself, in a younger year, and that Father O'Connor had been running the program since he was a young man, himself. The guy essentially photographed the print and printed the image. Side by side, I thought the copy was better than the original. I said as much. Turns out he had adjusted the colors during processing, to make them more vivid. He refused payment for the print, but I paid cash for one of those folding, two-photo frames. We put in the two pictures: the school picture on the left, and the two boys on the right. I almost started blubbering and had to dry my eyes when I saw the result. Exactly, EXACTLY what I had hoped for.
The old priest smiled when I thanked him and left to ride home to wrap it.
We met up at the pool that afternoon. Honestly, I was a little wrung out, but I couldn't wait. Back at the apartment, I sat Chuckie down on the sofa and stood back.
"What's wrong? You're being... different."
"I have something for you."
"Here," I said, handing him the package. He weighed it in his hand. It was heavy and his eyebrows shot up.
"Well, aren't you going to open it?"
"This isn't some... chastity thing. This is something for you. For now."
He tore off the wrapping and saw the photo frame folded shut. He must have known. Or hoped. He sat there, contemplating, then slowly folded open the frame.
"Seth!" he breathed, "Oh, Seth." Such longing. He was speaking to his lost Seth with such deep longing and affection. I was hardly able to see the look on his face, my eyes were so full of tears. He sat there agape for easily half a minute. Then his face smoothed out, somehow. When he looked up, there was a light in them. A calmness. A steadfast affection and relief. And no darkness.
"Thank you," is all he said, and held my eyes forever.
"I feel like sucking your cock, now."
He put his heart into it. To this day, it remains one of the most emotional orgasms I've ever had and I think I passed out for a moment. Afterwards, he held the side of my dick in his mouth, with his lips soft against it, as I kissed his bag, pulled his skin forward and sucked him 'till he squealed and jetted and sighed.
He was asleep in my arms in seconds.