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It started as a normal day, sure enough. I got up at 5 in the morning and dressed groggily for school to the beats of Pink's newest (and coolest!) CD, Funhouse, before going down to the kitchen and grabbing one of my mother's Pecan and Carrot muffins for breakfast. Keeping with my never changing routine I hopped onto that scary piece of scrap metal disguised as a School Bus and ten minutes later met up with Kevin in the cafeteria.
`Good morning sunshine!' I grinned. Kevin looked up at me bleary-eyed and half asleep.
`Yeah, what you said.' This was pretty much our standard greeting since we were like nine. You see, I'm THE morning person (sue me) while Kevin... Well, let's just say that he does well in Math's because he usually has that last period. Of course, I am exaggerating a bit. Kevin usually wakes up a bit earlier than that (probably around second last period).
I just grinned at him again and went to the counter to get us each a cup of coffee. We take turns doing this and that day was my day. Since we started High School we have always had our coffee together at school, and no matter how late one is, the other would rather go without than drinking alone. Just one of the few weird quirks about our friendship.
The rest of the day went by in a flash and before I knew it Kevin and I were on our way to his house. We always stopped by there for a while to work on some homework before continuing on to my place where my mother would provide us with a late lunch, usually consisting of an A Grade Ham and Cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. Boys will be boys, I suppose.
When we got to Kevin's house he went to the bathroom to take a leak while I went up to his room to stash my school bag there. His mom was super obsessive about keeping things neat and if she ever caught one of us leaving our bags lying around there would be hell to pay. So far, everything was a typical day for both of us.
That is, until I saw his black leather-bound journal lying open on his bed. I don't know why I did it, but I picked it up. I was only able to get a quick glance at the last couple of words he wrote before he walked into the room, but that was enough to leave me stunned out of my mind. Kevin took one look at my face, and then the diary.
`Oh. Shit.' He said.
`Shane... I can explain.' I didn't respond. I was still too shocked to even move. Eventually, I managed to form a semi- coherent sentence.
`Uhm... I need to... I think I need to... need to think.' I slowly whispered. With that I slowly picked up my bag and walked to my house .
For the first time in about eight years he wasn't with me. When I got back home, I found my mom in her usual position at that time of day – behind the kitchen counter making sandwiches. She immediately saw the state I was in and dropped everything she was doing at once. She grabbed me by the arm and sat me down at the kitchen table.
`All right, spill it.' It might seem weird, but my mom and I have an amazing relationship. We have always been very open and we talked a lot for a mother and son. She was actually more of a friend than a mother, and she treated me as her friend too. Never has she spoken down to me and never has she had to punish me for anything.
For those reasons I decided to just spill the beans and get it over with. I told her all about my day, finally ending with: `... and he wrote... He wrote that he was in love with me.'
`I see,' Was her reply. Short and with a punch, just like mom. There were a couple of minutes of silence before my mother got up and switched the kettle on. We were both tea freaks, so she fixed us each a cup and, before returning to the kitchen table, grabbed us each one of the uneaten sandwiches. It was a while more before she spoke again.
`What about this situation bothers you?'
`What do you mean?' To me it seemed quite obvious what was bothering me!
`Are you angry about the fact that he's gay or about the fact that he has a crush on you?' She asked with a little smile playing around her lips.
`I'm not exactly... angry. Just shocked, you know? As in slightly taken aback. I have never suspected him of being... er...'
`Gay?' She finished for me.
`You still haven't answered my question.'
`Yes I have. I told you I was not angry at him.'
`Yes you did, but you skipped the important part.'
`That's because I don't know how to answer it.' Well, I didn't! How did I feel about having a gay best friend? I could honestly say that I didn't know.
`Is there a chance of you feeling the same?' I almost spit out the last of my sandwich . I have never, EVER imagined that my mother would ask me if I was gay.
`Er... I... Uh... Why... why would you ask that?' I sputtered.
`Oh please Shane. I know you better than you know yourself. Have you ever seen the way you two look at each other? Sometimes I go out shopping when he is over just because I can't stand all of that horrible sexual tension. Let me show you something.'
Leaving me on the couch, totally flabbergasted, she walked over to the TV cabinet and got out a huge leather photo album from the cupboard built into it. She was forever taking and collecting photographs on a variety of subjects that ranged from motorbikes to her own son.
She flipped through the album, opening pages seemingly at random. At last she seemed to have found the page she was after. She crossed the room and sat back down next to me.
`This one was taken after your birthday party two weeks ago,' she said and showed me a photo of Kevin and myself sitting at the kitchen table. He was busy eating some leftover cake while I was just staring off into space. Or, more accurately, I was staring at him. The expression on my face could only have been adoration. But... how?
Seeing the confused look on my face, my mother showed me another photo. This one was not stuck into the album like the rest. Instead she had to flip to the back of the album and remove some of the leather cover to expose it. I soon saw why.
`This one was taken after you guys went to bed.' She quietly said. We were both asleep on my queen our arms wrapped around each other and our foreheads touching. Of course I could remember nothing of it.
`But... mom...' I managed, before bursting out into tears. Don't get me wrong, I don't cry for any old thing. But this was just too much. How could I have been in love with Kevin without realizing it? How could I have needed my mother to point it out to me?
My mother just held me. She knew that just by calling her mom I was asking for comfort. Usually we are on a first name basis. Kevin also calls her by her name, Sally. Kevin... What should I do about him? Looking back, I tried to find signs of me being attracted to him. I mean, he usually featured in my frequent jack-off sessions, but usually there was a girl involved as well. Like a threesome. Or was there? Thinking about it, I could not recall one single detail of what I would sketch the `girl' to look like in my fantasies.
Picturing Kevin, on the other hand, was all too easy. I could see his lips trembling, his eyes fluttering. I could picture his smooth stomach and his strong arousal. I could see him throwing his head back in ecstasy as his he erupted. I moved away slightly from my mother as my own arousal grew, so as not to let her see it.
She, however, wasn't fooled. She threw her head back and laughed before saying, `I'll look away for a moment so you can get that under control, and then you are going to go to him and sort this out. Deal?'
That was the first chapter. Let me just make a couple things clear from the start. The one thing that put me off continuing my previous story, Boy in the Rain, was the multitude of people wanting to know, and I quote: `...how long Jesse's cock is...' or, `Does Toby have a foreskin?' People!
Sex is a natural part of the story, and it will come when it wants to (no pun intended). I don't know if I will include details like that, but just for the record, Toby does have a foreskin :-P.
Like we say in Afrikaans: "Gee my net `n bietjie kans om die storie aan die gang te kry!"
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