The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males teenagers. If this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.
See Foto in the High School Section of Nifty. If you haven't read Foto then you should read it first.
Okay please note I changed my email address cuz yahoo sucks at catching spam and I'm tired of getting emails about hot girls and pussy and my dick is long enough and I don't need viagra cuz I don't do drugs of any kind. Eat right and exercise that's what I do.
This chapter is a bit short. The next chapyer will be longer
SamLakes dot writer at Gmail dot com
by Sam Lakes
Copyright © 2008 All Rights Reserved
I didn’t scream or cry when Dad said, “Sandy was on his bike coming to school and was in an accident.” Yeah, it hit me hard and it hurt but something told me this was not the time to cry. Maybe it was the fact looked like any second he was going to break down and do the crying for me.
He’s always been there for me.
As we walked out the school entrance I asked, “How bad an accident?”
Dad’s eyes were glistening as he forced his tears back, “Pretty bad, but – but Dr. Chalmers will be his surgeon.”
“She’ll take good care of him I’m sure,” I said. She’d been a friend of the family since before it was born.
“I’m dropping you off at home,” said Dad.
“But – “
“Bastian, Noah needs you. Michael called me and said that Noah lock himself in his room and won’t open the door. I don’t know but he and Sandy are – I can’t explain it but I think he knows something isn’t right. He really needs his daddy.”
Dad was right. If I went to the hospital I’d turn into a wet mop. My son needed me and I needed him. When we arrived home Michael opened the door. I could tell he’d been crying really hard cuz his eyes were all red and puffy.
Dad drove off without saying anything to him. I guess it was because he was in a hurry to get Robert to the hospital.
Sure enough Noah had locked himself in his room.
“Sweetheart, it’s Daddy. Open the door.” The doors in this house were made with locks that couldn’t be opened except from the inside.
I heard the lock turn, the door opened and a sad little boy flew into my arms. He was holding me as tight as he could.
“Beech is hurt,” he cried softly.
“I know sweetheart. We have to be strong for him,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks, “We have to be strong and think of how much fun we will have when he comes to live with us. Would you like that?”
“Uh-huh, I love Beech, Daddy,” said Noah. I could feel the wetness of his tears falling on my neck.
“I do too, sweetheart. Just think of the days to come when he will teach you to play basketball, soccer, and baseball and all the sports he loves to play. You would like that, right?”
Noah and I took a nap. I really didn’t plan on it. I woke up when someone with really sticky fingers was prying my eyes open.
“Hi,” said Noah with a chocolate covered smile.
“I love Grandpa Mike now. He maked me a chocolate muffin. You want some?”
I looked at his hands they have bits of chocolate frosting smeared on them and my eyelids felt all sticky.
“Yeah, let me wash my sticky chocolate covered face.”
“Oops, sorry. I forgot to wash my hands.”
“You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to get chocolate allover my mouth and then – I’m gonna kiss you allover your face and you’ll be all sticky.”
“NO! Save me Grandpa Mike!” he yelled as he ran out of the room. Of course he paused briefly to make sure that I was following and then went screaming into the kitchen
I followed him into the kitchen as Noah darted behind Michael. I grabbed a chocolate muffin off a plate and proceeded to cover my mouth with frosting.
“Your dad just called. He said not to wake you up but I figured you’d be pissed if I didn’t so I sent my little helper in to wake you.”
I froze in place and my heart felt like it was in my throat.
“Dr. Chalmers says Sandy’s condition has stabilized and is no longer critical.”
I relaxed a bit. “I don’t understand why he didn’t let me know he was biking over here. We would have waited,” I said to Michael as Noah peeked out from behind him.
“He did. I just didn’t say anything,” admitted Michael.
“You knew he was coming over this morning,” I yelled, “You knew he wanted to ride with us!”
Michael nodded sadly and Noah looked scared, because he’d never seen me or heard me yell in anger. So, I reined in my anger as best I could and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Daddy!” cried Noah as he ran after me.
I stopped and turned around. Noah was crying. I picked him up and carried him to my room and closed the door before I spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart. I was angry at Michael. He did something very naughty and it hurt Beech,”
“I know. Grandpa Mike said he’s sorry. Beech said he’s better now.”
“You talked to Beech?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. In my sleep I saw Beech and he said he better now.”
I had forgotten my mouth was covered with chocolate until Noah licked my face and made a yummy sound. I started kissing him allover his face and he started squealing and giggling.
“Stop! <giggle> Stop!”
We ended up in the shower to clean off all the sticky chocolate.
Dad was home because we heard him arguing with Michael because Michael was saying he was going to leave.
“Stay right here. I’ll be right back,” I said to Noah. I stepped out into the hall, “Hey!” I shouted to get their attention, “Please take your arguing elsewhere where we don’t have to hear it. Okay?”
“Sorry,” they both said looking like two guilty little boys.
“And for the record, Michael, moving out in my opinion would not solve anything. Yes, I am pissed off with you and I have a right to be pissed off with you. You moving out would simply make things worse. Michael you’re my dad as much as Dad is my dad. Don’t take that way from me too.” I turned and walked back into Noah’s room and shut the door.
After I had put Noah to bed for the night (he chose to sleep with me). I think I made the mistake of reading about TBI on the net. Sandy could have amnesia, loss of nearly everything from motor skills to speak, to being able to think clearly.
I worried most of the night about what ifs. And the worst what if was what if he didn’t remember me. Maybe he wouldn’t fall in love with me. What if he didn’t remember Noah? It would hurt Noah. I only got about an hour’s sleep because a scenario of going to see him in the hospital kept running through my mind.
As I stood by the door to his room he would look up and smile. I’d of course smile back and then he’d say, “Do I know you?”
“Yeah, I’m Bastian, Bastian McCormick,” I’d say.
He’d shake his head and then say, “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. How do I know you?”
“I’m your boyfriend,” I’d say.
“Dude, don’t fuck with me. I’m not gay. Now really did I meet you at school?”
Scenes like this kept running through my mind and I say to myself no our love is too strong and I just about fall asleep then I’d think but what if it isn’t. What if it’s my love that is strong and his isn’t. I’d negate that and be nearly asleep again then the thought you’ve known each other for less than a week how can your love be that strong?
Dad came in to wake me for school at six – I started to get up but fell back asleep. Michael woke me at 11:00.
“I take it you were up all night?” he asked.
“What if he doesn’t remember me?”
Michael smiled, “Honey, that’s not going to happen. I came in here to tell you to get dressed because your Dad is on his way home to pick us up and take us to see your boyfriend. They are moving Sandy to a private room.”
I was up and out of the bed and dressed by the time Dad got home.
Noah was a chatter box all the way to the hospital. He was so excited to see his Beech. I was excited and still a little worried. When we got to the hospital and just inside the door Noah yells. “Beech! Where are you?”
“Noah, we’re in a hospital and you’re not suppose to yell because there some people here that are very, very sick and it upsets them if people yell,” I told him.
“Oh, I sorry, Daddy,” he said then in a hushed voice he said, “Beech, where are you?”
Dad found out which room number he was at. They only allowed two people at a time to see him and said Noah couldn’t see him which made Noah all teary and he said, “But he’s my daddy.”
“He’s your daddy?” questioned the nurse.
“Un-huh,” said a very sad looking boy.
“Well, in that case I guess you can see him but you have to be real good and be very quiet. Okay?”
He dutifully nodded his head and she led us to Noah’s room.
I was a bit worried that Noah would be frightened to see Sandy with tubes and stuff attached to him but he didn’t seem phased by it at all.
Sandy looked at us as we entered. His eyes barely rested on me for longer than a second.
“Noah,” he said hoarsely.
“Beech, I love you,” said Noah softly.
“I love you too,” he said to Noah and then turned his turn to me, “Thanks for bringing Noah to see me, ugh, sorry I didn’t get you name.”
Doctor Chalmers said there could be temporary amnesia. “Bastian, Bastian McCormick.”
“Daddy,” Noah said to me, “I gotta go pee-pee.”
I looked around and spotted the bathroom. The door was open. “Can he use the bathroom?” I asked Sandy.
“Yeah. Why did he call you Daddy?” asked Sandy.
I put Noah down, “The toilet is in there. Make sure you flush and wash your hands.”
“Okay, Daddy, I will,” replied Noah and he rush off to the bathroom.
I looked at Sandy, “He calls me Daddy because he’s my son.”
“I thought he was my son.”
“He wants that someday.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look maybe we should talk about this later,” I said.
“No you come in here with my son and he calls you Daddy. I have no idea who you are. Who are you?”
“I’m your boyfriend.”
“What! I ain’t no fag! And leave my son here, you fucking pervert,” Sandy shouted.
I heard the toilet flush and Noah ran out of the bathroom.
“Don’t yell at my daddy. I don’t like you anymore Beech,” shouted Noah as he grabbed my hand pulling towards the door.
“What have you done to my son you fucking faggot,” shouted Sandy.
“What is going on here?” asked a nurse as she entered the room.
“I hate him,” shouted Noah.
“Noah, come back!” yelled Sandy.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for him to get upset. It was a mistake coming here,” I said loudly as I picked up Noah and left, “and I’m never coming back!”
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