The following is fiction. It contains some scenes involving gay sex. If reading such material is against the law, please do not read this story.
I have been enormously gratified by my readers’ response to my first two stories, 8th Grade and Prom. Your comments to me have been exceedingly generous and deeply appreciated.
I have had several requests asking for the location of my two previous stories. They can be found as follows:
8th Grade: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, Young Friends, April 1, 2005
Prom: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, High School, May 15, 2005
What explicit sex is included in this story is intended to further the story; I do not write gratuitous sex scenes. The story is not principally about sex, and if your objective is to read about sexual activity, you will find this story disappointing and uninteresting in the extreme.
Those of you that have read my first two stories know that I like writing romantic tales of young teens learning who they are. This story has a somewhat darker and more troubling theme, and may have a message that is objectionable to some. I think the majority of you will enjoy it, but I’ve been known to be wrong in the past. Please be forewarned.
This story is copyrighted by the author. All rights are reserved.
I love hearing from readers. It’s the reward I get for writing these stories. Any comments will reach me at email@example.com
T I M
Morning meant Saturday morning. It had only been a week since that Monday in the locker room when Terry’d approached me, but somehow it seemed much, much longer. I’d been through a lot, most of it too emotional.
I lay in bed thinking about it. On Monday, I didn’t have any friends, I was keeping away from other kids because I didn’t want anyone to learn I was gay, and to guarantee that, I was specifically staying away from anyone I might be attracted to.
Well, obviously I hadn’t done a very good job of sticking to that. Still, I’d met and become friends with Terry, and, on the whole, that had worked well. I felt I could count on Terry. He being in my life was a positive thing. Very positive.
I’d also started making friends with John. I had to admit to myself, I was attracted to John. I had no idea if he were gay or not, but I had let myself hope he was. The idea of getting together with him that way excited the hell out of me. I think I’d felt that the first time I looked into his eyes, his deep, deep blue eyes. They weren’t just pretty eyes, or just sexy eyes, they were also smart and just pulsed with this intelligent, playful, questioning, fascinating life. Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t help but be attracted to the whole of him. I couldn’t help wanting to get to know him, really get to know him, all about him, to do even more if I could. His eyes were magic.
I had especially wanted to stay away from anyone that I found attractive, and then, when I met John, I had seen just how impossible that was. I simply couldn’t do it. He was too much for me. He’d defeated my well-conceived and, up to that point, well-executed plan. And he’d done it just by looking into my eyes.
Terry had known instinctively that my plan was nonsense. As soon as he heard my plan, he’d said I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t deny myself to myself. And he was right. I didn’t tell him so, I didn’t admit it to him, but he was right. I liked being with John, I liked thinking about him, thinking about us being together, mostly as friends but I also liked the idea of us being more than that. I didn’t know if I was falling in love with him, that seemed a little premature. I’d only known him for a week. But I already had the idea that as we got to know each other better, he was a guy I could fall in love with. He had the type of personality that really appealed to me, and everything I’d learned about him I liked. I just needed to get to know him better. So getting to know him better was the first thing on the agenda, and the thought of doing so excited me. I liked everything I knew about him. And I wanted to know more.
But I’d certainly messed up the first few times I’d been alone with him. Even though the thing I most wanted in the world right now was for him to like me, how had I gone about making that happen? How did I go about that? What did I, the great romantic that I am, do about that? All I did was, both times I was alone with him, I ran away as fast as I could. Tim, the boy genius!
There was another glitch in this entire scenario, too, of course. That was, I had no idea if he was gay. I had no reason to think he was. He’d never done or said anything to make me think he was. It was possible he’d given me the faintest suggestion that he might not hate gays. Yes, I could hope he felt that way, from our time in the park together. But that was all. It wasn’t very much.
I needed to find out. I didn’t have a foggiest idea how, but that’s where I needed to concentrate my efforts. Into learning if he were gay.
Terry, when he was leaving last night, had said he’d call John and tell him he didn’t do anything wrong, it wasn’t anything he’d done that caused me to run away again. Terry wasn’t explicit when he said this to me, but the idea he’d tell John the reason I ran, that I was gay and protecting my secret because of all the past problems it had caused, wasn’t anything that worried me. I trusted Terry not to do that. I knew he wouldn’t.
I supposed I could ask Terry about John. He knew him a lot better than I did. He’d known him longer, and they were best friends, or at least very close friends. Terry might know if he were gay. But then, knowing Terry, if I asked him, he’d simply tell me to ask John. I had no question about that at all. He wouldn’t tell me that, even if he knew.
So I guessed I’d just have to figure it out for myself. My previous plan hadn’t worked well. I’d have to do better.
First off, I had to decide not to run away the next time I was talking to John. He was smart and perceptive. I knew that now. So I guess there was the possibility that, being smart and perceptive, he might figure out I was gay. And maybe, at that point, he would tell me to get lost. Instinctively, however, I doubted that. Seeing how he reacted to the gay guys in the park, I didn’t think he’d do that.
Well, then, what did I have to lose? If he figured out I was gay, and was still willing to be my friend, I was home free. I’d still be able to hang with him. His discovery of my secret was a separate matter from me discovering if he had a secret, too. Which is what I wanted to do.
So, it seemed to me the thing to do was spend more time with him. That way, I might be able to figure him out. If in doing this he figured me out, it didn’t seem that would necessarily be so terribly bad, not as bad as I’d first imagined it might be.
And with that realization, came a great feeling of relief. I’d been so worried, I’d been hiding and running and denying and, and everything, since we’d moved, and now, at least with John, it seemed I didn’t need to do any of these things. Man, that feeling was just great!
So I needed to spend some time with John. Maybe a lot of time. Could I just call him up and invite him over? Or to the park? Or would he tell me to get lost, he was tired of dealing with wack jobs who ran off for no reason after being together alone for five minutes every time they got together?
Nah, he wouldn’t do that. He might think I was nuts, but he was still a nice guy, he’d told me he was lonely, and I had the idea that maybe he liked me as much as I like him. I just didn’t know if he liked me liked me.
The way to find out was to call him. Except I didn’t know his number, or his father’s name. In Lakeshore, there would be maybe two Bauers in the phone book. Here there’d be dozens. It was a common name. Maybe hundreds.
Then I thought of Terry. I did know his number. He’d given it to me. I could get John’s number from him.
I got up, got showered and dressed, then checked out the breakfast scene. Dad wasn’t up yet. He usually slept later than I did on Saturdays. I wasn’t a normal teenager. I was usually up by 9. Back in Lakeshore, all my friends moaned if I called them before noon. Dad liked to sleep in, too. He said he had to be up early every weekday, why not make up for it on the weekends?
I made myself a quick breakfast, ate it and then put the dishes in the dishwasher and called Terry.
He wasn’t up, but I guess it was his father who answered and he good-naturedly said he’d get him up, that the day was wasting away. He said it with a chuckle. When Terry came on, he didn’t even sound pissed. Unlike my previous friends.
“Hey, Tim, how’re you feeling today? You looked kind of beat up when I left. Feeling better today?”
“Yeah, the night’s sleep helped and I also figured some things out. I think what I need to do is talk to John, apologize for running off with no explanation. Do you have his phone number?”
He said he did and gave it to me. I wrote it down. Then he said, “I wouldn’t call him now, though.”
Uh oh, I thought. Had Terry talked to him after leaving me, like he’d said he would? And had John been pissed? Had he told Terry he didn’t want anything more to do with me? I could see that. John was an independent, strong-willed, no-nonsense guy, and I could understand he wouldn’t want to spend any time with wimps that ran away crying all the time, and couldn’t even explain what their problem was.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, huh? I can understand. But damn, Terry! I’d like to explain myself to him, and apologize, you know? What did he say, did he tell you to tell me to fuck off or something?”
Terry didn’t answer my question, but instead asked one of his own, sounding surprised. “Tim, if you’re going to explain yourself to him, how are you going to do that? Have you thought that through? If you do that, you’re going to have to tell him things you don’t want him to know.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. You were right about a lot of what you said, and I’ve been thinking. I need to be more honest with him. If he figures out I’m gay, then we’ll deal with that when it happens. If he hates me, well, what was I hiding for then? He won’t be the person I thought he was, we never would have been able to have the relationship I want, and all the hiding wasn’t doing any good anyway.”
“Darn, Tim, you sound like you did do some thinking.”
but maybe too late if he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said not to call him now. He isn’t at home. His mother was taking him to the mall this morning, then she’s going to drop him off over here when they’re finished. If you want to, you could come over too. He’s going to eat lunch here, and so could you. What’d ya think?”
“I’d love it, Terry. You know, not to sound mushy or anything, but, well, I can’t say ‘thanks’ to you with enough emotion for it to sound like I mean it to. You’ve turned my life around in one week. You’re amazing.”
“Yeah, it sounds mushy. Forget it. It’s what I do. I like to do it, help people, you know? Especially people that I have strong feelings about. People thanking me for something I do that makes me feel good always embarrasses me. Forget it. That’s what you can do back for me. So, why don’t you plan on getting here around 11 or 11:30? He should be here around noon. We can talk a little first. OK?”
I agreed, and he gave me directions. It was about a half hour bike ride, and I was thinking how great it would be to take my motorcycle, but decided against it.
It was too risky, as I had other things on my mind for today, other things than spending time talking to the cops.