Date: Fri, 15 Oct 1999 09:28:39 CDT From: Tyler Fox Subject: Tyler and Scott This story is intended only for readers over 18 years old who are legally allowed to and who enjoy reading material that includes graphic descriptions of sex between two males. If you are not included in this audience, please leave now. For the rest of you, this story is a prequel to "Tyler's Prom," but is written with the assumption that you have not read that story. If you have read TP I apologize for any redundant material. I welcome any questions, comments or suggestions. E-mail me at tyfox84@hotmail.com. **** When someone dies young it's only natural to wonder what might have been. What would they have done with their lives, who might they have married, would their dreams have come true? I still feel guilty sometimes because when I remember Ricky Cain, these aren't the questions I ask. I wonder how my own life would have been different. I liked Ricky and I took his death hard, but I feel guilty most of all because I know that if I were given the option of taking back that awful night of his accident at the cost of giving back everything that might never have happened otherwise, I would probably let him rest in peace. God, that sounds cold, doesn't it? It scares me to think I could be that selfish. I guess there is probably something in all of us that we're afraid of, though, and I've finally learned that it's better to be honest about my feelings, at least with myself. I didn't like Ricky when I first met him. I was going through a very hard time in my life and he didn't do anything to make it better. My parents, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that the onset of my puberty would also be the perfect time for them to end their always-fragile marriage. Mom took my older sister, Carrie, younger brother, Kevin, and me and moved from Sycamore to Mountain Pine. It wasn't really that far, in the same county even, but when you're twelve years old, can't drive a car, and have to have permission to use a telephone, changing schools is like moving to another planet. I was a tall, skinny, awkward kid with straight A's and a love for sports that was definitely not matched by talent. I didn't fit in with the jocks or the brains. I wouldn't fight back so I got picked on constantly. I'm not sure what I was afraid of - it wasn't getting hurt, I got hurt all the time and I could take it. I wasn't really afraid of hurting someone else, either; I wasn't very strong and if I had gotten in a lucky punch I'm sure my tormentor du jour would have deserved what he got. I think I was most afraid that if I got in a fight and lost, I would know that I was helpless to defend myself. Somehow being unwilling to put a stop to the harassment was not as bad as being unable to do so, and so the abuse continued until the anger outweighed the fear and hurt and I finally learned along with everyone else that if I wasn't the toughest kid in school, I wasn't the weakest either. Ricky Cain had always been the worst offender and he was the one that finally made me mad. Not at him, but at me for taking so much crap off this little guy with the Napoleon complex. As skinny as I was, he wasn't much bigger around and I stood at least eight inches taller than him, but here I was listening to him call me "dickhead," and "pussy," and "faggot," letting him punch me in the shoulder or leg, or sometimes right in the nuts, and pretending I didn't care. He always smiled when he did it and acted like we were just a couple of buddies giving each other a good-natured ribbing. He still had that smile on his face right up to the moment my fist met his lips. When Mr. Fowler pulled us apart Ricky said I had sucker-punched him. Mr. Fowler said that was bullshit because he should have seen it coming for two years. School policy said that throwing a punch should have gotten me suspended but Mr. Fowler told the principal that all he saw was some pushing and shoving. Ricky kept his mouth shut and the principle didn't bother to ask why it was bleeding, so we both got off with a week's detention - the only detention I ever got in 13 years of school. Things changed after that. I don't mean the abuse stopped outright, but for the most part the bullies decided there were easier targets. Ricky and I didn't become friends overnight either, but there was a grudging respect. We both played basketball despite a lack of physical gifts - he was too short, I was too skinny and clumsy - and the respect became less grudging as we each grew to realize that the other was working his butt off to overcome those limitations. Late in our Sophomore year he got a car and would sometimes give me a ride home after practice, saving me a two-mile walk. About six months before he died he invited me and a couple of other guys over to his house one night when his folks were gone and showed us his dad's porno movies. I was the ultimate clean-cut All-American kid who had barely even seen a Playboy at the time, but I talked a good game with the guys that night. I was almost as amazed to realize they really were my friends as I was by what I was seeing on the television. By that point I suppose I should have been happy with my life. I was growing popular at school, I still had the good grades, and I was doing reasonably well on the basketball team. I had won first place in debate at the state Speech and Drama competition and as soon as school was out I would be starting my first job - and what a cool job it was for a teenager. I would be the weekend morning DJ at KMTP, Mountain Pine's largest (and only) radio station. Mrs. Swearingen, the Speech and Drama teacher, was the sister-in- law of the station manager and she had helped me get the job. I also had two of the best friends in the world, though they were as different as night and day. Jackie was a cheerleader and fit most of the stereotypes. She was perky and ditzy, if not dumb, and a tease if not a tramp. If the world were coming to an end she would have been worried about her make-up. In fact we had little in common, but one night in eighth grade she had come and sat by me on the bus ride home after a ball game. We talked for a whole hour about nothing at all and at the end of the ride she told me that if I ever needed someone to talk to she was there. I don't know if she knew how much I needed to hear that, but at the time it seemed the whole world was against me, and she had been my second closest friend ever since. My best friend was Scott Knight. I had known Scott since the last month of first grade when he had move to Sycamore from North Carolina and he was the one friend I stayed in close touch with after the divorce and move. In fact we had grown closer. I'm not sure how I would have gotten through those first couple of years without him. Scott was everything I wanted to be. He was good-looking, popular, and confident. His grades and test scores were excellent, if not as freakishly so as mine. He was an outstanding athlete, star of Sycamore's baseball and basketball teams. He was also good looking and well built, the object of lust for many girls our age and always seemed a bit embarrassed by it. On top of all this he was a parent's dream. He was polite, respectful, and responsible. No alcohol, drug, or tobacco ever touched his body, but he wasn't self-righteous about it. He was active in his church and would probably become a minister some day. His only vice was driving fast, but despite being stopped three times in the first six months after getting his license, he had avoided getting any tickets. The truth was, he was my idol. I wanted to be like him in every way. I developed a love for basketball because he loved it. He was polite and clean-cut so I was, too. I dressed like him and talked like him. I probably would even have let my grades slip a bit to relieve the pressure, but Scott always bragged on how smart I was and I wanted to make him proud. I tried not to be too obvious about this hero-worship, and if anyone noticed they never said anything. I'm sure my mom saw it, but I guess she figured that if I was going to be influenced by peer pressure, Scott was the peer she wanted influencing me. She referred to me and Scott and my little brother Kevin as "her good boys." So things got better, but they were far from perfect. I was becoming more popular at school. Partly because of Jackie and partly because of basketball I began to be accepted into the "in" crowd. There aren't as many cliques in small schools, but you're still pretty much defined by who you hang out with and I was constantly afraid of being told that I didn't belong. As late as two years after the fight with Ricky I expected things to go back to the way they had been. I felt a lot of pressure because of my grades, too. Being voted Most Likely To Succeed in the high school from the time you're a sophomore will do that to you in more ways than one. On the one hand there was pressure from my family and teachers to continue to excel. It wasn't enough to have the best scores in the school; I had to be the one to represent our school, so my scores had to be right up there with the best in the state. It wasn't enough to get a college scholarship; I had to get a full scholarship to a good school. On the other hand, I felt like my friends thought I was a freak. Most of my friends made decent grades but I never hung out with the real brains and I always felt or imagined some resentment from both groups. My Dad was the worst of both worlds. On day he'd give me a hard time for making an A-minus on a test I hadn't even studied for, the next he'd make some smart remark about how I thought I was so smart. And the one thing I was missing most at this point - and I mean missing badly - was someone to love. Almost all my friends, including Jackie, had a boyfriend or girlfriend by now. Even Scott had had a fling. He and I had both gone to a special month-long school for gifted kids after our Sophomore year and he had immediately hit it off with this babe from the other side of the state. She had curly hair and emerald green eyes and I watched them with increasing envy as the month wore on. I wanted something like that so bad it hurt. They broke up at the end of the session - Scott said a long-distance relationship would have been too hard - and he went into a deep depression for a while, but at least he had been in love. Even though I was growing more popular and gregarious on the outside, internally my confidence was still weak, especially in the romantic department. It seemed like I could talk to any girl in the world as long as I wasn't interested in going out with her. I fantasized about girls I saw on TV, or in the movies, but if I ever let a fantasy about a girl I actually knew enter my head she became off-limits. I couldn't bring myself to look at such a girl, let alone ask her out. I occasionally fantasized about guys, too. This worried me at first, but I read somewhere that almost all teenagers have homosexual thoughts sometimes, and I knew I was still attracted to girls, so I tried not to let it bother me. The one guy I never let myself fantasize about was Scott. I told myself that it was because he was too good a friend - like Jackie, I never thought about her that way either. The truth though, the truth I knew but could never face, was that it was because I was afraid that if I ever indulged such thoughts I might not be able to resist trying to make those fantasies come true. He and I often slept over at each other's houses and it would be so easy some night to just reach over and touch him.but I couldn't let myself think like that. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Scott's friendship. Meanwhile things improved gradually on the girl front. Jackie set me up with a couple of her friends during our Junior year and even though I was a nervous wreck, at least I had been out on a date or two. About a month before Ricky died Scott suggested I ask out his friend, Dianne Forrester. Dianne and Scott were the perfect mirror of Jackie and I, except that Dianne was an athlete instead of a cheerleader and not as ditzy as Jackie. Best of all, we had been friends in grade school and I had kept more or less in touch with her through Scott, so it seemed more like going out with an old friend than a real date, which meant a lot less pressure. We went out three weekends out of the next four (the other was my weekend at Dad's) and on the third date I finally got up the nerve to kiss her good night, very briefly and chastely, of course. I still really thought of her as more of an old buddy than a girlfriend, but I decided that if I couldn't have true love this at least made life a little better. Everything started to change after the accident. Mountain Pine's Senior class always graduated a week before the rest of us got out for the summer. Ricky had a cousin who graduated and they were on their way from one grad night party to another when they crossed the yellow line and hit an oncoming car. The driver of the other car was killed instantly. Ricky hit his head and was knocked into a coma. The doctors said that if he survived he would have severe brain damage. His cousin, the drunk driver, suffered a hairline fracture of his left arm. Every day several of us would get together, mostly to avoid being alone. We would drive the fifty miles or so to the hospital in Fayetteville where Ricky was in intensive care, or we would gather at the home of his best friend, Marty Reyes. There would always be a few tears, some praying, and a lot of just sitting and waiting to see if there was any change in Ricky's condition. The tension was almost unbearable. I remember thinking that as much as I wanted him to live, if he were going to die I wished it would be quick and this would all be over. He finally did die on Wednesday after five days in the hospital. Final exams on Thursday and Friday were surreal. No one really cared anymore, not even the teachers. Saturday was my first day at work and I went straight from the radio station to the funeral. On Sunday afternoon there was a separate memorial service just for the 63 remaining members of the new Mountain Pine High School Senior class. I kept telling myself that this wasn't my tragedy. It was sad to lose any friend, of course, but it wasn't like Ricky was my oldest and dearest. I was just hurting for Ricky's family and for Marty, I thought. Marty had always been decent to me, even back when Ricky was such a jerk. From time to time throughout the week some sympathetic soul would ask how I was holding up and I would say "fine." Sunday night, though, Scott called and when he asked the question I didn't feel like lying anymore. "You want the truth?" I asked. "Always," he said. "I think I've had all I can stand for a while. I'm too depressed for words and everyone else I see every day is in the same mood. I think I may just spend the next several days alone in my room listening to music or something," I told him. "You know, Tyler, I don't want to tell you what to do or anything, but I really don't think that's going to help. I think you need to get away from there for a while. Why don't you come and spend a couple of days over here. We can go to a movie tomorrow night, maybe play some ball or go fishing Tuesday. I think the change of scenery would be good for you." It was just like Scott to be looking out for me like that. "Let me ask Mom and see what she thinks," I said. I didn't really feel like being cheered up just yet, but anything different would be an improvement. Mom agreed so enthusiastically I figured she must have been thinking the same way as Scott, so the next morning I headed over to his house. That night we chose between the two pictures showing at Sycamore's only movie theater. Unfortunately we chose a horror flick and after the third dead teenager I had to leave before my stomach unloaded itself. "Sorry about that, Ty," Scott said as we walked out the front door. "I should have realized that wasn't such a good idea." He sounded so worried about me I actually felt sorry for him. "No, it's not your fault, I just don't have a very strong stomach right now." Normally I could laugh my way through a slasher film, eating popcorn and gummy bears the whole time but nothing seemed normal right now. We stayed up late talking about old times and what we were going to do over the summer, and anything but death. When we finally went to bed I was exhausted but as had become usual for me I couldn't sleep. Scott's house was halfway up a mountain and I could see the town of Sycamore through his bedroom window. There were a lot of lights for such a small town, it seemed, and each represented some family. Before I could help myself I began to wonder if all the members of all those families would wake up the next morning, and then I finally found myself facing the one thought that had been the most upsetting of this whole ordeal - if Ricky could die, so could I. All my hopes, all my goals, everything I wanted to do might never happen. It was self-centered, but I guess that's part of what being sixteen is all about. And as I thought about it I did something I had not done since the day my folks had called it quits. I cried. Quietly at first, but then I couldn't hold it in any longer. I was afraid my muffled sobs would wake Scott and he would be embarrassed or ashamed of me, but instead he rolled over in the bed so that he was facing my back and quietly put his arms around me. "Shh, it's all right, Ty," he whispered softly. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be all right." And as simply as that, I was. I felt safe for the first time in over a week, like a child held by a loving parent. Or something else. There in the darkness I was almost able to admit to myself that this was my real dream come true: being held in the arms of someone I cared for more than I did for my own self. I knew it could never be anything more than this, but I was satisfied anyway. Maybe I wouldn't wake up in the morning, but if not, my last waking moments would be happy ones. Within minutes I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up it was in the midst of a particularly exciting dream that I couldn't quite remember. I could still feel my erection growing under the briefs and shorts I had worn to bed, though, so it must have been good. Only gradually did my groggy mind become aware of the fact that that erection was being helped along. There was a hand --- Scott's hand? Surely not--- inside my shorts, massaging my dick from outside my briefs. The body that had been in casual contact with my back was now plastered tightly against me, and a pair of soft lips was kissing the back of my neck. I decided I must still be dreaming so I determined to make the most of it. I pushed my body back into Scott's and put my hand on top of his, guiding his caresses of my body. With this encouragement he reached inside my briefs and for the first time another human being touched my fully erect cock. I gasped at the sensation and realized this was no dream. I turned in the bed to face him and reached for his own hard penis. Quickly he had both his and my underwear off our bodies, and was removing his T-shirt. I took my own off as well and reached again for his dick. Instead he took my hand and guided it around his body to his firm, muscular butt and, reaching for mine in the same instant, pulled our bodies tightly together. As he ground his crotch into mine I buried my face in his neck, inhaling deeply and kissing him to get the feel, smell, and taste of his body all at the same time. He continued thrusting himself into my groin and I responded the same way. I could feel the shaft of his cock against mine and as the head of my dick dug a furrow in his pubes, I swear I could feel every coarse hair individually. I could feel the alternating flexing and relaxing of the muscles of his butt and I could feel his hand exploring my own butt as well. Best of all, I could feel - actually feel - how good this was all making him feel, too. I had spent most of my life wanting to be like him, wanting to make him proud to be my friend, but I could never have imagined that the feel of my body could do anything like this for him. As we reached our climax simultaneously, I buried my face even further into the soft skin of his neck, wanting desperately to crawl right through that skin and become one with him, body and soul. I must have gone to sleep almost instantly afterward because as hard as I try I can't remember another thing until morning. The sun was shining in the window and I would have thought once again that the whole thing was a dream except that I could see my underwear lying on the floor beside the bed. Scott wasn't there, which wasn't unusual since he was an early riser, but I would love to have awakened in his arms. I decided to wait and see if he came back and after about ten minutes he finally did. He was already dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a "Sycamore Lions" T-shirt and he wore a sickly expression, like he had eaten something that didn't agree with him. "I set some towels out in the bathroom in case you wanted to take a shower," he said, without quite looking at me. "I already had breakfast, but Mom's making some more pancakes right now if you're hungry." And with that he turned and walked back out the door. I was totally confused and tried to tell myself not to read too much into Scott's expression and actions. After all, it must be a very confusing time for him, just as it was for me. I showered quickly and went up the stairs. Scott barely spoke while I ate a quick breakfast, and for the rest of the morning for that matter. We decided it was too hot for fishing and instead headed down to the air-conditioned youth center to play basketball. There was hardly anyone there so we wound up playing one-on-one for a couple of hours. Scott usually played very aggressively, backing his opponent in on offense and playing `in-your-shorts' defense, but today he was content to stand outside and shoot three-pointers while daring me to do the same by sagging off defensively. After a while I realized that he was avoiding physical contact as much as possible. The realization did much worse than just take the fun out of the game. Finally I couldn't take any more and told him that maybe it was time for me to be heading home. When we were in the car he put the key in the ignition but didn't start the engine. He took a deep breath and again avoided my eyes as he spoke. "Tyler, I'm really sorry about last night. You were very vulnerable and needed a friend and I totally took advantage of you. Can you ever forgive me?" His voice was trembling and I noticed that his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Scotty, there's nothing to forgive. What happened last night happened because you and I both wanted it," I said, unable to believe what I was hearing. "It's nice of you to say that, Tyler, but I know it's my fault. You probably think I'm some sort of sleazy queer who can't keep his hands or anything else to himself. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me and never wanted to see me again." By now Scott had tears in his eyes. I hadn't seen him cry since we were eight. "Scott, I'm serious. I could never possibly hate you. You've been my best friend for nine years and one night is not going to change that. If you don't want to do it again that's fine, but I couldn't stand it if I lost your friendship. Like I said, I wanted it as much as you did." What I really wanted to say was that I couldn't hate him because I was in love with him, but given his reaction to the previous night I was afraid that such a statement might drive him away for good. "Well I still feel like I took advantage of you and I'm sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," he said again. With that we drove back to his house without another word. I realized that today was the first time in my life that I had ever been uncomfortable in Scott's presence. Dianne called that afternoon but I didn't feel much like talking. I told her I was still too depressed about Ricky to go out but that I would call her back later in the week. Of course I had an awful lot on my mind besides just what had happened to Ricky and by the weekend I still hadn't called her back. Scott hadn't called me either and I had been too afraid to call him. By the end of my shift on Sunday it occurred to me that he might actually think I was mad at him. Nothing could have been further from the truth but considering the state he had been in when I left I realized that he could have spent the entire week thinking he had lost me as a friend. I decided I would give him a call as soon as I got home from work. To my surprise, though, Scott pulled up just as I was walking out of the building. He rolled down his window and yelled, "Hey, Tyler, you wanna go get some lunch?" "Sure!" I yelled back, probably more enthusiastically than I should have. We went to Burger King and got some Whoppers and fries and found a table in the back. We talked about my job and Ricky and baseball (Scott was playing on an American Legion team this summer) and basically avoided what had happened last Monday night. When we had choked down the last of the food Scott asked me if I would like to come and see him play. "Yeah," I said. "When's your next game." "We've got a game Tuesday night but it's over in Highland," he said. "You could ride over with my parents, though, and spend the night at my house." I hesitated just for a second and noticed a worried look on his face. "I promise to behave myself," he said softly. ---Damn it, Tyler, why do you have to be such an idiot--- I said to myself. "Oh, Scott, I wasn't worried about that, I just had to stop and think whether Kevin had a Little League game that night. Anyway, I'm pretty sure his game isn't until Wednesday and if not it won't hurt for me to miss one of his games. What time are your Mom and Dad leaving?" "Around five-thirty," he said. "I'll have to ride the team bus over to the game, but I can ride back with you guys." Scott had a good game Tuesday night, three hits including a homer, and he was in a great mood afterward. We stayed up playing video games until after one o'clock in the morning and when we finally went to bed I laid awake for another hour or more wondering if anything was going to happen, wishing it would, but still not having the guts to start anything myself. I woke up to the sound of Scott's alarm clock at six-thirty. "Come on, sleepy-head, get up. Dad said we could take his boat out on the lake and I want to spend a couple of hours out there before it gets too hot," Scott said with a cheerful smile. Then he hit me with the pillow. I'm usually a late sleeper in the summer and even the necessity of rising early on the weekends hadn't improved my discipline much, but the smile on Scott's face gave me enough energy to throw the pillow back at him and crawl out of bed. We spent several hours on the lake and even though the fish weren't biting we had a pretty good time. We finally decided to take the boat back to the shore and hit the swimming beach for a while. We splashed around like little kids and then ate the sandwiches and chips that Scott's mom had packed for us. All that water made me thirsty and I drank at least three cokes and then let out an enormous burp that made Scott collapse in laughter. All in all it was an excellent day. Maybe all my dreams weren't coming true, but at least I had my best friend back. I could live with it. "Why don't you call your mom and tell her you're going to stay another night," Scott said when we got back to his house. "No, I've stayed here the last three times. Why don't you come and spend the night with me," I suggested. "Sounds good," he said. "I've got ball practice at noon tomorrow, though, so I'll have to leave kind of early." I knew Mom wouldn't mind Scott staying over. She practically considered him a third son, but when we got home she had a bad headache and asked if we would mind taking Kevin to his Little League game for her. Kevin and I had a close relationship considering the five years between us. He was every bit the athlete that Scott was, the little stud of sixth grade, nearly as good as me academically, and still he looked up to me. Go figure. After the game Scott and I rented a couple of movies and the three of us watched them until Kevin finally fell asleep on the couch. I woke him up and sent him to bed and Scott said he had probably better be getting to bed, too. I was pretty tired myself so we headed for my room. Just as I was about to fall asleep Scott spoke. "Tyler, are you still awake?" he asked. "Yeah, Scott." "I was wondering, did you really mean it when you said you didn't blame me for what happened the other night?" I couldn't read his voice. Was that slight huskiness caused by fear, hope, anger, desire, or just weariness? "I never lie to you, Scott. You know that." I said. He remained silent for nearly a full minute. "Well, then," he said at last, "do you think I could do something for you that would really make you feel good?" I don't believe I have ever gotten a complete erection so quickly in my entire life. "Only if I can do the same thing for you," I said hoarsely. "You don't have to do that," Scott said, and this time I could hear the happiness. "I know I don't, but I want to," I assured him. Without another word Scott disappeared under the covers, pulled down my underwear and took my engorged cock into his mouth in one gulp. I gasped with pleasure and had to cover my face with a pillow for a minute to keep from screaming with delight as he worked my cock over with his mouth. I could not have believed that one human being could make another feel so incredibly good. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire with passion and it took me a few minutes to recover my senses enough to realize that I could be doing the same for Scott. I adjusted my position in the bed until my head was against Scott's thigh. He quickly got the idea and raised up a little and shifted to straddle my face. The room was so dark I couldn't see him, but I was able to find that big dick of his easily enough. Not really knowing what I was supposed to be doing or how to do it, I tried to take my lead from Scott, licking and sucking up and down the length of his cock. He began to slowly move his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of my mouth. His quiet moans told me that I was indeed returning the pleasure he was giving me. As he continued fucking my mouth, I lifted my legs and did the best I could to wrap them around Scott's head. This gave him easy access to my butt and he was not a shy explorer. His hands caressed every part of my ass and eventually his fingers found their way to my hole, first caressing, then massaging, before one of them finally found its way inside. This sensation, on top of what he was doing to my dick with his mouth, was more pleasurable than I could take. I grabbed his butt and pulled his cock deeper into my mouth to muffle my screams as I began unloading a volley of semen into his face. He gulped most of it down and then pulled back, allowing the last couple of shots to splash onto his face and neck. As I finished he started to pull away from me but I rolled to my left, pinning him to the bed beneath me. I had never thought of sucking a dick before tonight but now, after what Scott had done for me, I not only wanted to do it, I wanted to do it well. I strained to get every inch of him into my mouth and was rewarded by the feel of his pubes against my nose. I then pulled back slowly, swirling my tongue across his shaft, and then his head before quickly plunging my mouth once again toward his groin. His quiet moans took on a deeper pitch and I began bobbing faster on his dick, wanting nothing more than to make him happy. His hips were alternately thrusting forward and withdrawing in perfect rhythm to my own actions and it wasn't long before my mouth began to be filled by a warm, thick fluid. I had tasted the precum on his cock earlier but I was totally unprepared for the sensation of having his seed spurt into my mouth with such force. I nearly gagged but was determined to continue and finally managed to swallow enough of it to keep from choking. It tasted salty and slightly sweet, not at all bitter as I had expected, and I found myself wanting to get every last drop. Even when he ceased his movements and began to soften I licked gently at his dick. Finally I released it, almost hesitantly and turned back around in the bed to lay my head on Scott's shoulder. He sighed contentedly and held me close as he drifted off to sleep. ---At last I can have my best friend and my lover. --- I thought before falling asleep to a dream almost as sweet as the reality I had just experienced. I should have known it wouldn't be as easy as that. Scott wasn't as visibly upset the next morning as he had been after that first night, but he wasn't his old self anymore, either. He stayed in bed until I woke up, though I'm sure he must have been awake for at least a couple of hours by that time. By then it was only an hour or so before he would have to leave for baseball practice. He didn't say much at breakfast and afterwards suggested that we go for a walk. There were lots of woods and hills near Scott's house, a great place for hiking, but where I lived there wasn't much of anything to see or anything within walking distance except maybe the school, which was two miles away. But if Scott wanted to walk, I would walk. He still didn't say anything until we had gone nearly a mile and then he stopped and looked at me. "I need to tell you some things and I don't want you to say anything until I'm finished," he said. Scott obviously knew me well by now and he knew how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut. "Last night was the most incredible night of my life, I want you to know that. But I also want you to know that I still feel guilty. Even if you wanted it, too, I know it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't started it, just like it wouldn't have happened last week at my house. I feel like I've gotten you into something that you would have been better off without. You've always been more than just a friend to me and I appreciate that, but I've always been told that this kind of thing is wrong. I could live with it if it was just me but I can't live with the knowledge that I've brought this on you, too." I didn't quite know how to respond. I was disappointed, hurt, and even a little angry. "Scott I'm a big boy. I can make my own decisions. If I didn't want to do it, I didn't have to," I said, trying to hold back my emotions. "I know I didn't force you or anything, I just can't help feeling the way I do. And most of all, I don't want to lose you as a friend. You're too important to me to risk having sex come between us. I hope you can accept that and we can still be friends, but for now, at least, I don't think we should sleep over anymore," he said. "You're my best friend in the world, Scott. Sometimes I think you're my only friend." I was looking down at the ground because I knew I couldn't look into those dark brown eyes and say the words. "But you're not just my friend anymore. I guess you never really were. Scott, I love you." There. I had said it. I hadn't even been able to say it to myself until now. "Tyler I love you, too. That's why I can't do this to you.to us" he said. "It's just too much to risk. Right now I can't be alone with you and keep my hands off you, especially in bed." "You did it night before last," I said. "Yes and I stayed awake the whole night," he said. "I watched you sleep and thought about what I wanted to do with you. I had to go into the bathroom three different times and take care of myself just to be able to resist waking you up again. I'll be leaving in a little over a week for The Gifted School anyway. Maybe that will help me get control of myself again, but until I do, I think this is the way it has to be." "If that's what it takes to keep you in my life, then I guess that's the way it will be," I said reluctantly. "But I can't change the way I feel." "I'm sorry, Ty, I really am. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you," he said. During the next week and a half Scott and I spoke on the phone several times, but didn't see each other until the day before he left and then only briefly. I had written a few letters for some of the friends I had made the summer before and he stopped by the radio station to pick them up. I was a little disappointed that my job was keeping me from going, but I guess it had worked out for the best. In the meantime, Dianne had called a couple of times but I had asked Mom to tell her I wasn't home and would call her back later. I was just too confused about Scott to know what to do about her for a while. I suppose I should have either asked her out again, just to be polite, or told her that whatever we had started was over, but I just didn't know quite what to say to her. I never really broke up with her, I just never called her back. After a while she quit trying to call me. The next month passed lazily. It was one of the hottest summers in years and I did as little as I could get away with. I was lonely and yet I avoided most of my friends. Jackie tried to get me to take her cruising a couple of times - she didn't drive - but I really wasn't in the mood. I was lonely and yet a part of me had decided it was better just to stay that way. I went over to Marty's house once or twice and I played a little basketball with Kevin once in a while. It was frightening what a competitive game he could give me when he was five years younger and still six inches shorter than I was. Mostly I stayed in my room, listened to music, and missed Scott. His birthday was July 11 and I tried to call him at the dorm, but they said he had gone out with some friends to celebrate and would have to call me back. He never did, and I decided that he had either gotten over me completely or else had decided not to have anything else to do with me at all. I can't begin to describe the turmoil I felt during this time. I had lost my best chance, what seemed at the time my only chance, for love. I might very well have lost my best friend. I had lost the closet thing I had ever had to a girlfriend. And now, of course, I was questioning my own sexual identity. During that dark time of my life when I felt so mistreated, the one name that hurt more than anything was `faggot.' It was dirty and disgusting, and abnormal and I knew it didn't apply to me. But what about now? Did my feelings for and actions with Scott mean that I was gay? How could I go out with another girl when I was in love with a guy? At the same time I knew I could never possibly have a relationship with any other guy the way I wanted to have with Scott. And for that matter maybe Scott was right. Maybe it was wrong to have such a relationship at all, or even to have such thoughts. I really never came up with any answers to those questions, but the one thing I knew was that I couldn't go through this without Scott. Had he not been there when my parents divorced and supported me through all the crap I took my first couple of years at Mountain Pine I would probably have killed myself. I mean that literally. That didn't seem to be an option now because such an act would only have added to Scott's guilt, and no matter what I wasn't going to do that. If there was a chance we could remain friends without being lovers, then I was determined to make it happen. The day after Scott's birthday I woke up with my first migraine. The pain started behind my eyes and filled my head with such agony I thought that my skull would crack from the inside. The world was spinning in about three directions and once I started to vomit I thought I'd never stop. My mother, who had been having migraines for years, recognized the symptoms immediately. She turned the air conditioning up full blast, gave me one of her prescription pain pills, and put me in bed in a dark room. She blamed it on built up stress from Ricky and Dianne and Dad and, of course, everybody but Scott. I was in no condition to argue with her even if I had wanted to. I hoped it would be the last time I ever had to deal with that particular form of torture but it turned out to be the first of many. Scott was scheduled to be back home the first day of August. Based on last year's schedule, I knew he should be getting home around noon. I decided that I would wait two hours to keep from looking desperate and then give him a call about two o'clock in the afternoon, but around 12:30 the phone rang. "Tyler, man, how've you been?" Scott asked. "I've been great," I lied. "How was the school?" "Boring without you," he said. "Everybody who was there last year said to tell you `hi.' Christy was there and she said you should write to her. I have to admit, though, I spent most of the month avoiding her, it was just too weird. I really wish I had just stayed home." "Oh, man, I'm sorry you had such a bad time. It was so good last year I just figured you were having the time of your life," I said. I did feel bad for him, but I was excited to hear him say that it would have been better if I had been there. "Well, anyway, the reason I called is that my parents asked me what I wanted for my birthday," he said. "Oh, yeah," I interrupted, "you turned seventeen while you were away didn't you." I tried to make it sound casual, as though I had completely forgotten. "Uh-huh, now you have to respect me, because I'm your elder," he joked. "Only for another month," I reminded him. With my birthday being the first of September I was always the youngest one in my class. "Besides, one of these days you're going to be an old man of 50 and I'll still only be 49." We had some version of this conversation every year. "Anyway, like I was saying Mom and Dad asked what I wanted and I told them that after eating college cafeteria food for a month all I really wanted was a big steak dinner. They figured they were getting off cheap so they said I could invite you, too, if you want to come," he said. "Have you ever known me to turn down food?" I asked. Actually right then I could have cared less if I starved. I was just happy that Scott seemed to be back to normal and that we were apparently still friends. "Great. Dad made reservations for 7:30, but why don't you come on over now and we can hang out?" he said. "Sure, give me half an hour and I'm there," I said. The relief was almost overwhelming. It looked as though our friendship was intact after all. We spent a little time hiking up into the woods above Scott's house and then played basketball in his driveway for the rest of the afternoon. Scott's dad had put that goal up when we were ten or eleven years old and he had set it at just nine feet, so now we were able to sky above the rim and dunk on each other. I couldn't remember the last time I had had so much fun playing ball. Around 5:30 we went into the house to cool off. Scott's house was a second home to me and I sprawled out on the big comfortable couch in the living room, while he stretched out in the floor in front of it. His mom came to the living room doorway and said that she and Mr. Knight had an afternoon meeting of the Chamber of Commerce but that they would be back soon and we should be ready to leave then. "Scott, I certainly hope you're planning on taking a shower before we go," she added. "Yes, Mother dearest, I didn't really expect to walk into a nice restaurant smelling like a pig," he said with a smile. She just rolled her eyes and walked out of the house. "I suppose I should probably take a shower, too," I said. "You can if you want," he said, "but you really don't need it as bad as I do. You hardly sweat at all, especially considering it's almost a hundred degrees out there." He was right, I didn't sweat much. In fact I had often had problems with overheating because of it. "Although," he said and paused, as though weighing a difficult decision, "You're welcome to join me if you want." I wasn't sure I had heard him right. But then he raised up from the floor and flashed me the biggest, most beautiful smile I had ever seen. "Why don't you call your mom and see if you can just stay here tonight?" he said. I was still lying on the couch and he had now pulled up into a sitting position. That handsome face was less than six inches from my own. "Are you sure?" I asked. He leaned over and made his reply in the form of a long, deep, passionate kiss. His tongue swept across my teeth and the roof of my mouth. I responded eagerly, trying to wrap my own tongue around his the way our bodies had been intertwined before. Ultimately, even our teeth were touching. I was sweet sixteen and, barring the little peck I had given Dianne, never been kissed. Any last lingering doubts were eliminated and my entire life changed in this one moment. I was irrevocably, irretrievably in love. As Scott's mouth and mine merged, it was like our souls were also being united. You know how kids in those old TV shows would cut themselves and mix their blood to become `blood brothers'? It was as though the very essences of our beings were likewise mixing on a spiritual level. We would always be part of one another from this moment on. By the time we broke our lip-lock my heart was pounding and I was out of breath. I stared into his dark eyes while I tried to recover. "Do you mind if I ask what changed your mind?" I asked. "Not that I want you to change it back," I added quickly. "I guess I needed that time away to show me how much I loved you and needed you," he said. "I thought if I could make it for a month away from you without going crazy that I could make it the rest of my life." "Yeah, and you did make it," I said, still confused. He shook his head. "Not really. I thought about you the whole time. I couldn't concentrate in class, I didn't spend much time with friends, I just basically missed you until it hurt. Once I realized that I couldn't really make it without you I began to wonder why I even wanted to try. I came up with a lot of reasons but they were really just excuses that I had made up a long time ago to avoid telling you how I felt." "What do you mean by that?" I asked. "Ty I want to be completely straight with you." ---Bad choice of words--- my warped little mind said. "I've known I was gay since before I knew what the word meant. I realized I was in love with you years ago; I can't even remember when I first fell in love with you. I think I always did love you, even before I understood what I was feeling but I always knew - or thought I knew - that you'd never feel the same. I decided that I could either tell you how I felt and probably drive you away or I could settle for having you as a best friend. I don't want you to start questioning every single thing I've said or done the last few years, it's not like I spend all my time lusting after you or anything, but it has been tough sometimes not to grab you and kiss you like I just did and tell you how special you are and how special you make me feel. When we spend the night together I usually lay awake for an hour or more trying to forget how close you are, but that night, when I heard you crying, I swear to you I wasn't thinking about anything but the fact that you were hurting and I wanted to help you. I didn't plan the rest of it, but after a while I just couldn't hold back anymore. Right then I was willing to trade the rest of my life for a night with you. For as long as I can remember I've been afraid that I was going to let something slip or that someone would find out or sometimes that people could tell just by looking at me. I've worried that people would hate me, that they'd beat me up, or that they'd tell my family and that my whole life would be ruined. But nothing has ever scared me like that feeling of being out of control and needing you so badly. I'm sorry I didn't trust you enough to take your word for it that you could handle it, but right then I wasn't sure I could trust myself." "Scott, you can always trust me. Even if I didn't feel the same, I would have understood. You must have been hurting a lot." "Yeah, especially since last summer. That's when the last of my illusions was shattered. I had been telling myself that maybe it was something I would grow out of or that I could just fake my way through life, you know, find some girl that was at least a little attractive and settle down to a `normal' life. I don't know if I actually thought Christy would be that girl, but at least it seemed to be a step in that direction. The attraction wasn't physical. It took me a while to realize that I most of what I liked about her was that she reminded me of you. She was smart, cute, funny, and just a little vulnerable, but with a kind of defiance about her that said whatever life threw at her, she was going to come back for more. Just like you. We held hands and kissed a little, but there was never any real deep emotional connection for me, let alone anything sexual. That last night of the school she wanted to go all the way. We got as far as having our shirts unbuttoned and I realized it wasn't going to happen. I just physically could do it, if you know what I mean," he said, with an embarrassed glance toward his crotch. "The only thing that got the slightest reaction out of me was picturing your face and I had to put that out of my head right away. I told her I really wanted to stay a virgin until I got married. I felt bad because I know I made her feel like a slut or something and I really didn't want to do that, but I couldn't face her again afterwards. That's why we broke up. After that I admitted to myself that I would always be in love with you and since I was so sure that you were straight I figured I'd spend the rest of my life alone. In fact having you go out with Dianne was sort of a way for me to date you vicariously. She always tells me every detail of her dates, even the parts I don't want to hear." I sat listening to him and trying to grasp all the implications. What would have happened if I had known the way Scott felt a long time ago? On the other hand, what might have happened if I had never broken down in tears that night and wound up in Scott's arms? "Can I ask you something?" Scott said. He didn't wait for a reply, "How long have you known you were gay?" "For certain?" I asked, "A little over six weeks now. I'd had thoughts for a long time, but until that first night with you, I never really knew for sure." I never lied to Scott, especially about anything important, but if I could go back and relive everything, this would be the one time I would make an exception to that rule. For just a minute I saw a look of panic in his eyes but as I continued talking he wiped his hand across his face as though he were physically removing any doubts. "To tell the truth though I've probably loved you as long as you've loved me, I just kept pushing the feeling down, trying to bury it." "Kind of like what I was doing, but it sounds like you might have been more successful," he said. "Maybe, but it's probably just because I've had more experience at lying to myself," I said. "I don't want you to change your mind or anything, but are you okay with it, now, morally I mean?" "Tyler, I don't know for sure what's right or wrong anymore. I only know that when I'm with you I'm happy and when I'm not I'm miserable. I know God doesn't want me to be miserable." "I'm glad, because I've never been so happy as I am right now." We talked for a while after that but we didn't actually get into the shower together that afternoon because we weren't sure exactly when his parents would be back. At the restaurant I could feel Scott's eyes on me the entire time. I'm surprised it didn't make me nervous or self-conscious but instead I felt flattered. I still have no idea why someone as gorgeous as Scott would want to waste time looking at me. On the way back to Scott's house I had to fight an almost overwhelming urge not to reach over and take hold of Scott's hand as we sat together in the back seat. After we got home from the restaurant Scott said he wanted to go hiking some more. Personally I thought it would be a good night to turn in early, but I was eager to please in any way possible. It was difficult climbing up the mountain after dark and it was all I could do to keep up with Scott as he made his way along a barely visible path. After nearly half an hour we reached a clearing where we used to play as kids. We had played Cowboys and Indians here in the summer and built `igloos' in the snow in winter. It looked different by moonlight, like a place out of an impressionist painting, its beauty still clear, even enhanced, by the lack of clarity. I followed Scott into the middle of the clearing and he turned suddenly back toward me, catching me in a strong embrace. I'm a little taller than Scott and as he turned his face up to kiss me tenderly, I was amazed at the number of stars I could see reflected in his dark eyes. He released the embrace, but continued to hold both my hands in his. "Tyler I love you," he said with so much feeling the words themselves were superficial. "I love you, too," I said. I was thrilled at how easily the words now came. "There are still a lot of questions I don't have answers, too," he said, "a lot of things I still don't understand. For someone who's always had such a strong sense of right and wrong I feel like I'm sort of floating along without any oars. But I know two things I still believe. First, I don't believe in sex without love. I want you to know that's never happened between us. I was never using you and I wouldn't have done what I did with anyone else." "I wouldn't have either," I assured him. "I knew that already," he said. "But I still owe you an apology - for all three times." ---Oh God, here we go again, --- I thought. ---He's going to tell me he can't go through with this. --- I really wasn't sure I could take it one more time. "The other thing I don't believe in is sex without commitment. That's what I owe you the apology for. We're too young to get married, and besides gay marriage is one of those things I don't have any answers for yet, and we don't know what the world is going to do to us. But I have some things I want to say to you." He stopped at this point. In a gesture I would grow to love, he put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss before continuing. "I love you, Tyler Fox, with my heart, my soul, and my body. I will love you always. My greatest joy will come from your happiness, my greatest hurt will be in your pain. Everything that I do, every decision that I make, I will make with your happiness and well-being first in my mind. When you need me most I will be there." Those tears that I had been so ashamed of not long ago were now flowing freely down my cheeks and I couldn't have cared less. Scott had obviously put a lot of thought into this and I wished I had the same time to choose just the right words, but I knew I had to let him know that he meant as much to me. "Scott Knight you are my best friend and my greatest love. Wherever you go my heart goes with you. Wherever you lead, I'll follow. I will trust you with my heart, my soul, and my life. My last desire in this life will be for you, my last thought will be of you, and when I take my last breath, I will still be in love with you." I could now see Scott's own tears reflected in the moonlight. An hour earlier I had been looking forward to a night of passion and pure animal lust, and I would still have it. But now I knew that nothing in this life would give me the combination of joy, peace, and love that I had just been given. There would be hard times ahead for both of us, but I knew that as long as Scott was with me, I would be all right.