This is a story of friendship, commitment, love, and trust. It is not a sex story. However, this story deals with love between two 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.
When we arrived home I invited Tom in. The kitchen door had been unlocked, which was unusual, but I guessed Mom had forgotten to lock the door. We went up to my bedroom and I reached for the phone while Tom sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me with such sad eyes.
I dialed Charlie's cell phone.
"Pronto!" said the voice at the other end.
"Oh, I guess I got the wrong number, sorry." I hung up and dialed the number again.
"Pronto!" said the same voice. "Are you calling for Charles Harrington-Ford?" he asked in a heavily accented voice.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Marco. Marco Buchetti. My boyfriend, Charlie, is not available right now. And who are you?"
"Yes, we are lovers. Who are you?" I hung up and let the phone fall from my hand. I felt so crushed. I think if I'd had a gun I would have taken my life right then. It felt like I had lost everything! Then I realized; I had lost everything. I'd lost Charlie! I collapsed on the floor into a soggy, crying heap.
"Paul! What's the matter? What happened?" asked Tom as he lifted me up onto the bed and held me in his arms while I sobbed.
"Kill me, please! Just kill me! I want to die!" I sobbed uncontrollably in his arms and he held me tight and started kissing me.
"Please don't cry. You're too good for that slut! I love you, Paul!"
After a while I stopped crying. I just lay there numb and exhausted from crying. Tom was holding me, his body pressed against mine. I could feel his hardness. He started kissing me and I let him. I didn't care. Slowly he undressed me. Before I knew it we were in a sixty-nine position and I almost had his dick in my mouth. But I knew this was wrong...I didn't love him...I loved Charlie. I stopped.
"Stop! This is not right! I don't love you! Get off me!" He got off.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It's...it's just not right..."
We talked for a while and luckily he didn't seem upset.
"Can you drive me back to school so I can get my car?"
I took him back to school and then went back home. I felt so bad. I could have sworn I locked the back door when I left, but I guess in my state of mind I forgot.
I must have left Paul a five-minute phone message on my way to the airport. I was really having second thoughts about going on this trip. I know it was only for the weekend and I really wanted to see Gregory again, but it was the first weekend since I'd met Paul that we weren't together. I couldn't believe how nice John had been the last couple of days. I guess he has just resigned himself to the fact that Paul and I are an item. My cell phone battery was low. There must have been something wrong with it because I never let it go discharged.
"John, my phone is low, could you charge it, please, and could I use yours, please? I have another message for my love."
"Sure, Master Charlie, not a problem. You really love him, don't you?"
"Yes. I do."
"I hope it lasts, sir. I just worry too much about you. Here's my phone."
I called Paul to leave another message "Hey, angel! I love you. Look, I just remembered there was some guy who said he heard about the kiss in the bike shop. I told him you were my best friend and that you sometimes get a bit effusive, but you are definitely not gay. It really bothered me and I felt that he had some evil plot, just be careful. I wish you were going with me. If you need me and my cell phone doesn't work, call me at Gregory Bachello, in Milano, you can get the number from Alice at H-F Industries. Love you. Bye."
I'm glad now that I left him that message because I forgot to ask John for my phone back and he forgot to give it back to me.
I really love Italy. The language, the people, the food, the scenery! It's all bellissimo! I like the fact that nobody cares if you hug and kiss a guy in public when you greet or say goodbye. It was midnight and I hadn't heard from Paul. I was noticeably upset.
"Charlie, what's up, you seem nervous?" asked Gregory.
"Paul hasn't called. I am so worried. I should have never left!"
"You want to check the net to see if he sent you an e-mail?"
"Do you mind?"
"I would not have asked if I minded! Besides, your mom and I have a lot of business to discuss and I'm sure that must be boring."
I nodded and went to his study and got on his computer, logged into hotmail and sure enough there was an e-mail. When I opened it I got the shock of my life. A photo of Paul kissing some guy in his car and a picture of Paul in a sixty-nine with the same dude, both time stamped. The message said, "When the rich cat is away the poor mouse does play!"
I must have screamed out because the next thing I knew Gregory and Mom were standing next to me. I was crushed, I was crying and carrying on because my world had ceased to exist. I was totally hysterical to say the least!
Gregory was holding me in his arms, trying his best to console me. I didn't help! I felt so devastated!
"Something is not right here, Charlie," Mom said in a hushed tone. She knew how to grab my attention.
"Huh?" I cried.
"He's got an abrasion on his side and he looks like his eye is swollen and bruised. Have a look."
I looked and she was right.
"Charlie, something is not right here. I know it looks bad at first. But I am a good judge of character and this is not the Paul I know. His expression is not right..." she smiled, "I can't imagine him having such a distant look."
She was right! Then the floodgates really opened as I thought of all the horrible things that could have happened. I knew I should never have left him. I had to go back now!
I guess luck was on my side again. I found a flight to Paris leaving in an hour and from Paris via Concorde to Kennedy and a flight from Kennedy home. I could be home in six hours. It seemed like a lifetime and it seemed the closer I got, the slower things became. It was Saturday evening when I arrived at Paul's house. His car was in the drive, but all the lights were out. I had a bad feeling as I paid the taxi driver and then raced to the front door. I rang the doorbell. There was no answer. I tried the door, it opened.
"Paul! It's me! Are you here?" I called.
Fear struck my heart when I heard a crash coming from upstairs.
I bounded up the stairs, the bathroom light glowed in the darkness. As I entered I saw Paul on the floor. In his fall he'd pulled down the shower curtain. An empty bottle of sleeping pills lay inches from his hand. I stuck my fingers down his throat, causing him to vomit. I quickly checked the medicine cabinet and found what I needed - Syrup of Ipecac. He was conscious and looking at me. I made him drink the syrup. It worked and he emptied his stomach on himself, the bathroom floor and me. After the vomiting he looked at me as if in disbelief. I cleaned us up.
He began to cry.
"You should have let me die," he sobbed.
I took him in my arms. "I'd sooner let myself die than to live without you. I don't know what happened, but I know something bad happened that wasn't your fault. I know you love me and I love you. Come on, I'll clean this up later. You and I are what is important, nothing else."
I led him to the bedroom and we sat down on his bed. For the next two hours we talked and cried and talked some more. He told me of the attempted rape and of Tom saving him, of the lies Alister had told him, and about Marco. I told him of my messages and of the photos and e-mail. Late that afternoon he'd received an answer from me. He thought he'd lost me forever and because of that he didn't want to live. Just the fact that we'd both come so close to losing each other released another wave of tears in both of us. We cried ourselves to sleep in each other's arms.
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