This is a story of friendship, commitment, love and trust. It is not a sex story. However, this story deals with love between male teenagers. If you are offended by stories involving love between two teenage boys, please do not read this story. There may be some sex scenes in this story; however, sex is not the main theme. If you are under age 18 or 21 or it is illegal to read this story where you live, don't read it. Reproducing this story for distribution without the owner's permission is a violation of that copyright.

Author's Message: Boo! Happy Halloween!.


Sam (sam_lakes@hotmail.com)

Chapter 11


This is a day I will have to force myself to enjoy. Why so sad? Why so depressed? Because my life sucks - it has for the last two, almost three, years. Tomorrow would have been our anniversary...would have been...Michael's and mine. But now he's gone - fate or whatever you fucking want to believe in took him from me - killed by a drunk driver.

I first met Michael when I was seventeen. I was an exchange student going to a US high school and I stayed with Michael and his dad. I loved him from the instant I met him and it was the same for him. We kept our love a secret, but his father caught us sleeping together naked and kicked us out. He had tried sex with a woman and, as he said, it was okay except that it lacked two things: love and me. After that we remained true to our love, ever faithful, ever true. I think we were an unusual couple because all of the other gay guys we knew hopped from bed to bed or, to put it more crudely, from butt to butt. Thank god we never did.

The only thing that ever got in our way was his occasional moodiness over leaving his dad. They had had a vicious argument before we left and he walked out never to return. Well, after twelve years the canker sore called `Dad' had never healed.

Then one day Albert Daniels and his wife came into our life. They had lost their gay son due to under similar circumstances. I think they woke Michael up to the fact that he had actually caused his dad a lot of pain.

I will never forget the look on his face when Mr. Daniels put the phone in Michael's hand and Michael spoke to Sam for the first time in twelve years to. The tears flowed like the Hoover Dam had released its waters through his eyes. He had a son. A couple of weeks later he received a letter. The letter was beautifully written and was a fantastic healer of the sore that had troubled him for all those years. In the letter was a photo was of a boy of eleven in full fencing gear sans mask; an absolutely beautiful boy who looked like Michael -in fact I thought it was a picture of Michael.

"Oh my god! Claude! It's my son!" I think for Michael that was the happiest moment in his entire life. It was visible proof that he had a son.

Michael was a different man altogether. Then followed the last letter he received from his dad. Sam said that his son had asked to see him and to spend the summer with him and, if things worked out, then maybe stay longer. Sam knew that his days were numbered, which was sad.

His descriptions of the boy were unbelievable to say the least, as I said to Michael.

"The old man must be delusional," he laughed and I agreed.

We agreed to meet Sam and the boy in Paris. Then a week later Michael was killed and the meeting with Sam and Jason never took place. Sam was at the funeral but he left Jason with friends.

The boy, not having known his father, didn't see any point in attending the funeral. I sometimes wondered what life would have been like had Michael lived. Would we have a son? I guessed I would never know. I never heard from Sam after that and a year later I received an email saying Sam had died. I wondered how the boy was doing. I guessed he must be about fifteen now.

Well, I managed to get through yesterday; today Michael's and my anniversary shall be my last. I can't endure this life any longer. There is no fairness in life and I don't care to continue it. All my affairs are in order and so I shall spend my last day alone going to Michael's favorite places.

"Bonjour, Mr. Lamartine, your table is ready for you. It is a very pleasant day I must say," said the waiter.

"Thank you, Tomas."

"You sound so sad today, sir. I shall make you a breakfast to remember!"

"Thank you, Tomas. I just miss Mr. Phillips, my companion."

"Yes sir, we all miss him. But I think today you will have a nice day. It's just a feeling sir, and I don't wish to boast sir, but I trust my feelings!"

I had finished my meal, which I'll have to admit was excellent, when I felt someone starring at me. I turned and nearly died right at that moment. I saw this young boy who looked so much like Michael that I almost screamed out Michael. When he smiled at me my heart melted because I'd never seen a smile more like Michael's. His eyes were different from Michael's, almost sad, but not deeply so. I wondered if by some quirk of fate this was Michael's son.

"Tomas, that boy - is he American?"

"No sir, I believe he is French, his accent is definitely Parisian and that's where he told me he was from. He has been drawing a picture of you, which is incredible! Would you like to speak to him?"

I hesitated a moment and Tomas decided for me.

As soon as I heard him speak I knew he was from Paris and he confirmed that by saying he was. I thought it was a mean trick because here was a beautiful boy who looked like Michael but Michael's son's name was Jason and this boy is French. He is polite for a teen in this day and age, and a fantastic artist. I could sense the pain he had had to endure when his grandfather died, and he is such a kind boy wanting to know about Michael, a complete stranger. I have no idea why I accepted his offer to walk along the beach; perhaps it was because he was so much like Michael...maybe this is Michael's way watching me and his way of being with me today.

If I were to walk along the beach I needed to change my shoes so I suggested we could go to my hotel first. I hope he didn't think I was some kind of pedophile. I mean he sort of made a joke out of coming to my hotel.

When we got to the hotel room I heard him say in English "Oh Wow! What a view!"

He was American. My heart, I'm sure, skipped a beat. I would ask him more questions but I had to go to the bathroom - too much coffee. When I came out I heard someone crying in the bedroom. The sight that I saw I will never forget - Dawson was crying. He was Michael's son! I couldn't believe it, but it was true. I could no longer hold back my own tears for my own loss of Michael. I took him in my arms, and he held on to me as we both cried out our sorrows. As he calmed down I lay him down on the bed and cuddled up behind him. After a while he fell asleep in my arms and I found I could not let go of him. He was Michael's son; he needed someone, Right now that is me, and I needed him. "Thank you Michael. Thank you for bringing your son to me. I promise you I will love him and take care of him," I said silently to Michael.

Today has turned out to be the very best day of my life in such a long time. I lay here with my son...yes, my son, in the next room sleeping.

I thought of the descriptions Sam had given Michael and I two years ago. I laughed to myself because I thought the man was getting old and living in a fantasy world. How wrong we were. Dawson is a fantasy that is real. He has a look and air about him that simply oozes love and care for others. I remember Sam's statement, "When Dawson walks into your life you will feel like you have always lived in the darkest cavern and now that Dawson is there life is a bright sunny spring day full of love and care."

I could not express it any better myself.

To watch Dawson talk of his friends is such a sight. His joy and his caring for his friends is palpable. I knew I had to do something special for him and his friends, and for me, too; for now I find that my greatest pleasure in life is doing things for him. It's hard to really express what I am experiencing because I have never experienced anything like this before!

While I sent Dawson to wash up for dinner I spoke with Dieter.

"Dieter, I know that you will probably think me a crazy old man but this boy has totally changed my life from almost the moment he walked into it. I cannot believe what is happening or what happened, but to cut it very short Dawson's father and I were life partners and mates for life - Michael died two years ago. Then today by accident I met Dawson and we decided that had Michael lived I would have also been his papa. So somehow I now find I have a new lease on life and new responsibility as his papa. Does this sound totally crazy to you?"

"If it were anyone other than Dawson I would definitely say you were a prime candidate for the asylum, but I think Dawson is - well he's very special and I am totally in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him," Dieter laughed. "If I am to catch the train I need to leave soon."

I then told Dieter of my plan to surprise Dawson. Dieter was to miss the train, I was going to pay for his flight from Paris to Nice, and also for the rest of the `gang' and they would stay here at my expense for a celebration. When he asked what we were celebrating I told him I had no idea but we'd find something.


Finally, when I got to talk, Dawson was very excited. He tried to explain about meeting this man Claude who was now his papa. That sort of worried me because there are a lot of people who would take advantage of Dawson - he is sometimes very naïve- but when I spoke to Claude I realized Claude had been Dawson-ized when he proceeded to tell me his plan to fly all of us down there for the rest of the week and he would pick us up at the airport. He gave me his credit card number and all the data we needed to order the tickets over the web.

We arrived in Nice the next morning around 10:30 and Claude met us. Claude had left Dawson at the store. I laughed!

"Oh! So you've been shopping with Dawson before!" he laughed.


The next morning after a light breakfast Claude wanted to take me shopping. I told him he didn't have to pay. I could pay for myself. We got into a bit of an argument, nothing serious but after the first shop wouldn't accept my debit card because I was too young he paid anyway. So, I guess he won.

He is so much like my g-dad. He gets impatient whereas I like trying on everything to make sure that it fits, feels right and most of all looks right.

"OH! I give up! You are so much like Michael! So picky! I am going for a walk. I will be back in an hour!"

I was like my dad he said. It made me feel good - I don't know why, it just did. I hugged him. "I love you papa."

An hour later he returned and I was in the dressing room. "Papa, I think I have the right combination. I hope Dieter will like me in this. Open the door and tell me what you think - Tell me if you think Dieter will love it!"

The door opened and I was busy checking myself out in the mirror when I heard, "I definitely love what I see."

"Dieter!" I exclaimed! I turned around. He looked so beautiful and he was smiling at me.

"Did you miss me, my love?" he asked and I threw my arms around him and hugged him.

"It was like waiting a million years!" I looked into his face, and then we kissed.

"Dawson, I love you." And we kissed again, much more passionately.

"Okay, okay Dieter, he may be your boyfriend, but he's still my brother. Hey! Bro how `bout a hug?"

"Sven!" I broke off my hug with Dieter and hugged Sven giving him a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

"The other two ARE PROBABLY ENGAGED IN ANOTHER LIPLOCK!" Sven said in a loud voice.

"Blimey! Sven just announced it to the whole world!" laughed Ian.

I darted out the dressing room door, ran over to Alex and Ian, and hugged and kissed them both and by this time tears of joy were running down my cheeks I was so excited. I looked over at Claude. "You knew!" I said.

"He planned it," laughed Alex.

I ran over to Papa Claude and hugged him, "Papa, what life has taken away from me you have given me back twenty million fold!"

"Everyone! This is my papa Claude Lamartine, I will tell you all the most fantastic story of how we met yesterday. Papa this is my Bro - brother, my absolute best friend Sven Petersen, he's a sculptor and this guy with red hair is my British cousin Ian Roberts, the world's greatest writer, then engulfed in his arms is my guardian angel, Alex Rhineheart, an awesome photographer and finally the one person that makes my best painting look ugly, Dieter Rosenberg, gorgeous fashion model."

We all left the store and returned to the hotel.