Date: Sun, 20 Feb 2000 19:01:52 -0500 (EST)
From: David Lemmaire <lemmaire@email.com>
Subject: "Darien's Tears" (1/6) (t/t, inc, mast)

DARIEN'S TEARS (t/t, inc, mast)
by Lemmaire

(Part 1 of 6)

Darien came to live with us in the summer of his 14th year.  It was an
awkward time in both of our lives.  We were trapped between two worlds --
one full of things we knew we should be, and one full of puzzling feelings
and things we knew we wanted to experience.  And somehow, in the middle of
all that limbo, we found each other.

I was 14, too, when all of this happened...painfully shy...a harmless
little bookworm, more interested in Romeo and Juliet than the trials and
tribulations of my own freshman year.  I felt like the last of the true,
romantic dreamers.  Only I found my dreams more easily in the pages of
sad, tragic books than in the complicated hearts of the real world.

"Jared," my mom had warned me a few days before Darien's arrival, "I can't
tell you how long this will last.  Your Uncle Glenn has caused some really
big problems, and Aunt Chelsea needs to work things out with him in
private before Darrie comes back home."

Glenn was my mother's brother, and he'd just had an affair with one of
Aunt Chelsea's best friends...throwing their 15-year marriage into a
tailspin. Darien was their only son. My cousin.

He was coming to stay with my family for a while -- all the way from
Massachusetts -- a cross country trip -- to be our official houseguest,
just until the smoke died down, I guess.  Nobody seemed to be able to
pinpoint the departure date for me.

I'd be sharing a room with him...that much I knew.  As for Darien himself,
I wasn't really sure.  We'd met before, as kids, at a family reunion.  But
that was years and years ago. Back then, he was shy like me -- quiet,
reserved -- but for all I knew now, he could be some wild, punked-out
freak I'd be stuck with.  Time has a way of changing people.

But raised in a home full of charity and understanding, I sighed, made the
best of it and helped Mom drag out my sisters old, single bed from the
basement and we set it up in my room, on the opposite wall from my own.
The room looked smaller, just having it in there.

I was a solo guy.  I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of a new,
dual-occupancy bedroom.

My sister was seven years younger than me, so in a way, I was an only
child, with my own space, my own separate world, far apart from any
sibling intrusion.  My bedroom was a private world for my books and my
secrets and belongings -- a place where I escaped and enjoyed my own,
familiar solitude.  I wasn't overjoyed at the thought of sharing it with
someone I barely knew.  Resigned to the fact it was going to happen, but
not exactly eager.

"Family is family," my mom sighed gently, as we set up the bed.  "We do
what we can to help each other.  It won't last forever.  I hope it won't
be too hard on you, honey."

So I steeled myself, waiting for "Darrie's" arrival.

He showed up on Monday, bags in hand, fresh from the airport in my dad's
Toyota.  He got out of the car in a daze.  Jet lag.  Nervousness.
Wondering how the hell he'd been going about his normal business back
home, and suddenly he was here, in Orange County, California...a million
miles from the world he was familiar with.

"Hi," he said shyly, looking around, taking in his new surroundings.
"Guess I'm the long-awaited houseguest, huh?"

He looked sad.  Too sad.  Like a person whose aspect of normality had been
taken away. My heart went out to him right from the start.  He might of
been a mild setback in my life of cherished privacy, but his lost, sad
eyes told me the last thing he needed was a cold welcome from the only
normal home he might see for a while.

"Hi," I said, offering my hand.  "Let me help you take your bags
upstairs."

"Thanks," he answered shyly, handing me a suitcase.  "Sorry to be butting
into your room like this."

He looked embarrassed.  Pained.  Lost in the momentum of things he had
nothing to do with.  Again, it made me eager to put him at ease.

"Ack, no problem," I answered cheerfully.  "I could use the company."

His shoulders relaxed the minute I smiled.  I nodded toward my sister,
staring dumbly from the kitchen doorway.

"Besides," I added with a nod in her direction, "after seven years with
the womenfolk, I'm ready for some brotherly bonding."

He laughed.  I was glad I'd eased his mind a little.

We headed upstairs.
___________________________________________________

"So, Darien," my mother chirped loudly, bouncing back and forth from the
microwave to the dinner table, "do you play any sports...?  Do anything
exciting back in Cambridge...?"

Darien swallowed his milk nervously and set the glass down in front of
him.

"Um...no..." he stammered.  "Not really.  Just keep to myself, mostly."

I breathed a sigh of relief.  Thank God.  No football tackles in the back
yard.  I'd been worried about that one.

My mom grinned.

"Well, then you'll fit right in with Mr. Extra-Cirricular over there," she
smiled, nodding at me.  "If Jared ever picked up a football instead of a
book, I think I'd fall over and faint."

I blushed.  Darien smiled.

"You like books?" he asked eagerly.

"Everything," I answered.  "Mom's just jealous because she can't read
yet."

"You," my mom grimaced, giving me that fake pissed-off look of hers, "will
pay for that little remark by doing the dishes tonight."

I stuck out my tongue and considered flipping her off.  She's a cool old
broad.  I would have done it, if it weren't for the new company in the
house.  First impressions and all that.

"Come on," I said, clearing my dishes.  "You can watch me do my time at
the Sink of Torture."

He smiled.  "I'll help," he offered.

"Nah, you don't have to," I replied.

"Brotherly bonding," he grinned.  "It's always easier when it's torture
for two."

He washed.  I dried.
___________________________________________________

We spent the night watching movies, playing videos up in my room.  My
parents had already gone to bed.  My sister, The Beast, was in her room
down the hall, doing whatever beasts do at night.  I wasn't the least bit
curious.  My door was locked against any of her attempted, and frequent,
intrusions.

"I'm sorry about your mom and dad," I offered shyly, while we were
rewinding the last tape.  "It must suck having to come all the way out
here with strangers."

He shrugged sadly.  There was nothing he could do about it.

"At least you're family," he tried to say bravely.

"Family," I repeated, "but still, strangers."

"I think I'm ready for bed," he said softly.  I could hear the exhaustion
in his voice.  What a shitty week he'd probably had.  He probably just
wanted to go to sleep and escape the whole thing.

"I'll turn out the lights and stuff," I told him.

"That's okay," he answered quickly.  "You can stay up and watch more TV if
you want.  It won't bother me."

"Nah," I answered, "I'm a little tired, too.  Might as well get some
sleep.  We can run down to the mall tomorrow -- I can show you around."

"That'd be cool," he smiled weakly.  "I guess I should see the sights
while I'm here, right?"

He sighed a little and looked forlorn.  "While he was here" could mean
just about anything.  A few days...a week...a month.  He didn't know, and
neither did we.  My mom left it open.  Told Glenn & Chelsea to take their
time, work it through...we'd all look after Darrie until their mess at
home was straightened out, one way or the other.

He unzipped his suitcase and pulled out pajamas.  He looked at me
hesitantly.

"I don't know what you sleep in," he began nervously...

I laughed.  "Just my underwear," I answered with a slight blush.

He breathed a sigh of relief.  "Whew.  Me too."  He put the pajamas back
in the suitcase.  "I brought a pair just in case you were weirded out by
it or something."

"Nothing weird with underwear," I said bravely.  "No big deal, right?"

"Right," he answered.  "No big deal."

Still, we were shy undressing in front of each other.  Even by the dim
television light, most of the room subdued in blue shadows, it was still a
little awkward taking our clothes off in front of each other, letting our
jeans and shirts fall on the floor.  We kept our eyes mostly on the
ground, although I caught myself sneaking looks in his direction.  Our
eyes met a few times and we quickly looked away.

As soon as he was undressed, he hopped into his bed and under the covers.

"Goodnight," he said quietly.  "Thanks for making me feel okay about being
here."

"No problem," I answered back sincerely.  "It's good to have the company."

I jumped into my own bed, reached for the remote on my bedside table, and
flicked off the TV.  Pitch black turned to moonlight shadows as my eyes
adjusted, and soon I could see his outline across the room, lying on his
side, facing away from me.

Puzzling thoughts were running through my mind.

Why had I been so interested, wondering what he looked like when he was
taking off his clothes.  His skin was smooth and lighter than
mine....Massachusetts winters, compared to Southern California sunshine.
His back was thin and toned.  Not muscular, but not skinny either.  Just
right.  I laid there in my bed, rerunning the thought of him in my mind.
I was surprised to find that I was starting to get hard.  If I'd been
alone, I would have done something about it.  But since there was someone
new in my room, I didn't dare touch myself, for fear the bed springs would
make a telltale squeak.  Maybe I could wait until he was asleep...until I
heard his breathing deepen...then I could...

My thoughts were interrupted by quiet sobbing from across the room.

I lay there frozen.  Darien was crying.

It went on like that for five minutes before I finally found the nerve to
say something.

"Are you okay," I asked.  "Can I get you anything."

I heard him sniffle.  Try to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," he said...the congested sound of tears clouding his voice.
"You must think I'm an idiot now...laying here bawling."

"No way," I said, trying not to make a big deal out of it.  "You've got
some crazy shit going on lately.  I'd cry too."

He laughed.  Half laughed, half cried.

"Really?" he asked.

"I swear," I said.  "You're doing fine.  This must be really, really hard
on you."

"It's just..." he paused, looking for the words.  "This whole thing has
everybody so messed up.  You should hear my mom and dad scream at each
other since this whole thing happened.  It's awful.  I just want to die
and get it over with."

His words chilled me.  I wasn't used to pain.  I didn't know how to
respond to it.

"It'll be okay," I promised him.  "It's just weird at first.  It'll get
better, Darrie."

It was the first time I'd called him by his family nickname.  It seemed
the right time to use it.  I think I was right.

"Would you come here for a minute?" he asked me shyly.

"You mean over to your bed?" I answered.

"Just for a second," he whispered through tears.  "Just sit here and talk
to me?"

I pulled back my covers and walked to his bed.  I sat down on the floor
and looked into his eyes.  His face was wet with tears.

"I just wish it could go back to normal," he cried.

"I know," I said...not knowing how else to comfort him.  "I wish there was
something I could do."

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he asked me simply.  "Just so I can feel
close to somebody?"

I didn't know what to say to him.  We'd just barely met again.  We were
both boys.  We were...

"I'm sorry," he said, reading my thoughts.  "That was really dumb.  Now
you're going to think I'm a queer, too."

"No," I said quickly, wishing I'd reacted sooner.  "I don't think that at
all.  I think that's it's perfectly understandable for you to--"

My words trailed off.  I didn't know what I was trying to say, or what I
was trying to accomplish, being Mr. Therapist or something.

"Never mind," he said quietly.  "I'll be okay."

I sat there for a moment, in the darkness, by his bed.

Then without any further hesitation, I stood up, opened his covers, and
crawled inside.

I put my arm across his chest and pulled him close to me.

That was all it took.  He buried his face in my neck and started crying
and sobbing.

His soft hands clutched my sides -- grabbing, clinging -- searching
desperately for the comfort and support he needed.

"Shhh," I whispered, stroking his hair.  "It'll be all right, Darrie.
It'll be all right."

I kissed his forehead.  I don't know what made me do it.  I kissed his
forehead, then his cheeks, tasting the sweet salt of his tears.

He continued to cry -- continued to hold on to me -- then suddenly he was
kissing me back -- my face -- my eyes -- my lips.

Our lips met and we were both surprised.  They touched gently at first,
almost accidentally -- and then suddenly, we were kissing each other with
desperate passion, our tongues sliding into each others' mouths -- our
arms pulling each other closer -- I don't know where it came from, but
suddenly we were locked into a tight, impossible, passionate embrace,
kissing wildly, melting into each other with a fever I can't explain.

Instinctively, we reached for each others' groins.

I felt his hardness and he felt mine.  My cock was straining against my
underwear.  Wild. Uncontrolled.  His was, too.  We lay there, clenched
together, not knowing what to do with each other.

Underwear came off.  Quickly.  Fumbling.  A mad rush to touch each other.
To feel more.

I heard him groan as my hand touched his bare dick.  He grasped mine and
began to pump.

Our hands came up to our mouths, covering them with warm spit.

Still kissing, we began pumping each other furiously -- grinding into each
other with our hips -- stroking each others' thin, long cocks -- kissing
each other everywhere -- necks, cheeks, eyes, faces -- we were out of
control -- we couldn't stop.

I felt him shudder and push forward into my closed hand.  His sperm shot
out and covered my stomach.  I groaned.  My body jerk.  I did the same.  I
blasted my hot load of semen all over his hand and his belly.

It was over so fast -- so urgently reached -- we barely realized we'd done
it.

"I'm so sorry..." he cried, his heart beating wildly.  "I should never
have done that... I should never have asked you..."

I pulled him tighter to my chest and told him, "shhhh...don't think about
it, okay?  Just get some sleep now."

He relaxed slightly, and wrapped his naked legs around mine.

And that's how we slept that night, Darrie and I.

The first night we'd seen each other in seven years -- and already we'd
melted into the sweet, passionate comfort of each others' arms.

We slept all night and didn't move -- his naked warmth pressed tightly
against my skin.  A soft sheen of sweat sliding gently between us.

In the morning, there would be questions.

But tonight, the warmth of our bodies, pressed so innocently together, was
the only thing in the world that we needed.

We slept, and dreamed, and held each other fiercely.

___________________________________________________

END OF PART 1.
TO BE CONTINUED