Date: Sun, 15 May 2005 01:38:33 -0700 (PDT) From: Robin Eagleson Subject: Oversleeping Part Five I might have known my day was going to be less than stellar when I woke up the following Friday and realized I'd overslept again. Nothing beats that first panicked sensation that courses through your body when you wake up and instantly know something doesn't feel right. I knew I was late. The house was deathly silent, and I would never have woken up voluntarily if it were the time it should have been. All the same, as pointless as it may have been, the first thing I did upon waking was roll frantically out of bed and turn my alarm clock towards me. It was ten minutes until eight. I got up at seven on good days. Taking advantage of having the house to myself by swearing loudly, I snatched up the pair of jeans I had just taken off last night and left crumpled in a ball beside my bed, hastily zipped them up as I ransacked my closet looking for a shirt. Mornings like these were not my favorite. I would have gladly sacrificed ten years off the end of my life just to have the option of blowing it all off and throwing myself back into bed for the rest of the day. Sadly, such a bargain had not presented itself. I had my clothes on and my keys in hand when I remembered what happened the last time. With a sigh, I quickly flipped on the switch in the bathroom to make sure no notes were pinned to the mirror. I was greeted only by my disheveled appearance. Since I was in the bathroom anyway I quickly brushed my teeth and decided it might be a good idea to run my deodorant quickly over my arm pits, too. The week had gone by in something of a jumbled up haze. I'd blown off Jessica on Saturday, and it was awkward having to face her when the week started. She seemed to have forgiven me completely after a few days, though, and we were just as inseparable during school hours. Kenny hadn't been in school all week, but rumor had it there was going to be an even bigger party at his place tonight. A lot of people that didn't typically wind up there on the weekends were making plans to be in attendance. Must have been an almost summer celebration or something. I was getting text messages from Jessica on a daily basis now, too. She never bothered to actually call my phone, but she'd send me at least a few messages a day, mostly during classes. What was amazing to me was how much she could go on about herself. It wasn't like she was selfish or conceited or anything; she just really liked to tell me about her life. Half of the messages I got from her were about how bored she was, and how she wished I was in the class with her. Then we'd have history together at the end of the day and she'd talk the entire time. I wasn't the most diligent student anyway, but thanks to her I had absolutely no idea what had been going on in that class for months. I just copied notes from a friend and got C's on the tests. We did so many stupid group projects for easy points, though, that my grade was just fine anyway. Very little had transpired between me and Evan. He'd gotten in a habit of jacking off in his boxers and then leaving them for me every morning. One night during the middle of the week he'd crept into my room well after midnight, woken me up, and settled himself between my legs for the long overdue blow job he had owed me. I shot load after load, and he wasn't able to swallow it all. He had pulled back, almost choking, and promptly been blasted squarely in the face with another two or three shots. Wordlessly, he had gotten up and left, wiping his face as he went, which was kind of cute. But although we hadn't spent a great deal of time together in any way, I was just as desperate for him as ever. I jacked off over him at least twice a day, and I was going through every dirty article of clothing of his I could find in the hamper. I even slept with a shirt of his one night that just had an indescribably boyish Evan scent to it. His birthday was in less than a week. He would finally be turning thirteen, whereas pretty much everyone else in his grade had already turned fourteen a while back. My effort to get to school on time was admirable, but there was just no way I could navigate through early morning traffic and make it to my class by eight. A lot was at stake, so I had sprinted to the building and through the halls, but still hadn't quite made it inside the room when the bell sounded. My teacher, Mrs. Raynell, was more than alert when it came to lateness, and I could sense the sharpness of her stare as I trudged through the doorway and slid into my seat at the front of the room. By the time the class was over I had the paperwork for my fifth tardy in front of me, and all that was left to seal yet another Friday detention was my signature on the dotted line, which I had no choice but provide. I decided to put off the inevitable and postpone my detention for another week instead of getting it over with today. After all, putting unpleasant matters off was always the best plan of action. Just like the last morning I overslept, this day couldn't have possibly been more unpleasant for me. Right after my first class was Biology, and I had completely neglected to do any studying for the test that had been scheduled. Granted, I normally didn't study, but somehow I felt unusually unprepared, and a sense of gloomy failure had ballooned inside of me by the time I was finished with it. It was one of those tests where you'd just as soon not find out how you did, because you know there's no chance it could have possibly been good. I stumbled through the rest of the day on autopilot, erasing Jessica's text messages before I even read them, and then being intentionally distant when History came around. Several times she reached over and pinched my arm when she was talking and I wasn't listening. She asked me if I was going to Kenny's, and I was tempted to tell her the chances of my presence would be significantly lower if she would be there. Some time between discovering Evan's sexual allure and now, Jessica had grown more a social obligation than anything else, and now that she really liked me, I was quickly tiring of her immensely. That trend had existed in the past with me, but usually I only got sick of a girl when it became clear having sex with her was going to be an incredibly slow process. In Jessica's case, I was pretty sure the idea of having sex with her was the main reason I wanted to avoid her. I hadn't jacked off over her in weeks, or anyone that wasn't my brother. The thought was depressing. Once the day had come to a merciful end, I drove home listening to Doug Martsch, rolling down my windows to let the wind hit me in the face. The weather was beautiful, and I found myself wishing it would rain instead. On days like these, dark skies and thunderstorms were appropriate. I pulled up alongside the curb and rolled myself out of the seat, fully prepared to improve my mood with a few hours of entertainment courtesy of my PS2. After that I would shower and show up at Kenny's, if he was still alive. No one had heard anything from him over the week, so anything was possible. Kicking off my shoes in the entryway, I set my stuff down on the bathroom counter and went to my room. Remembering Evan still had the playstation, I doubled back and pulled his door open, figuring him to be gone since there was no noise coming from his room and he always kept his door shut even if he wasn't home. I was wrong, though, and upon opening the door I was greeted by Evan lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in what was clearly a sulky manner. "Did Sonny die or something?" I asked dryly, curious about the gloomy look on his face. Honestly, based on his expression, his day might have even been worse than mine, which would be saying something, unlike Evan, who said nothing and just continued to stare at the ceiling. "I'm going to take my playstation back," I said when he maintained his silence. Awkwardly, I stepped inside his room and walked towards his TV. "You can have it back when I leave tonight," I offered, trying to be friendly. It was about once a year he had this little to say, although lately his moods had been eerily inconsistent by his usual standards of constant obnoxiousness. He still said nothing, so I just shrugged and reached behind his TV, looking for the correct chords. As soon as my hands made contact with them, there was a great sigh and Evan bounced off his bed. "You'll mess the connections up," he said wearily. "Just let me do it." I backed away and watched him as he approached me and started fumbling with the hook-ups. He had a nice DVD player. That had been his big Christmas present. I was content with just using the PS2, but after he'd gotten his state of the art DVD player, I was pretty jealous. "What the hell happened to your eye?" I asked when I got a good look at his profile standing above him. "Someone hit me. What the fuck do you think happened?" "I thought maybe you rolled off your bed and bumped into your nightstand," I shot back. He'd done that a few years ago and woken everyone up with his howling screams of agony. It actually was a pretty big deal. His head had come down directly on a corner, and he'd cut himself pretty badly, not to mention breaking the lamp that had been sitting on it. He didn't respond to my comeback. "Why did someone hit you?" I asked, getting back to the topic at hand. "Because it was a fight. People hit people in fights," he answered shortly, obviously not interested in giving me too many details. "You moron," I said. "You probably started it, too. Did you get suspended again?" "Three days," he muttered. "And I didn't start it. I got provoked." "It doesn't take a lot to provoke you," I answered. It didn't take much to provoke anyone with our family name. "Mom had to take off work and come pick you up, then?" "Yes," he said, and further elaboration wasn't necessary. Dad was always too busy at his work to take off for anything, and Mom didn't exactly like to, so it went without saying he was in several weeks' worth of trouble just for the inconvenience alone. "Here," he said, handing me the unhooked Playstation. "Now go away." I went away; there was no use trying to get anything else out of him. It turned out that Evan's fight was an omen, just as oversleeping had been. And as bad as my day had been, it was about to get a lot worse. There was indeed the usual Friday night gathering at Kenny's. The odd part about it was that no one had actually seen Kenny. The small group of people that were Kenny's closest friends said he had been in his room for a long while now, and voiced suspicions I shared regarding his usage of some pretty hardcore drugs including but not limited to acid. At any rate, since his friends practically lived at the house on the weekends anyway, the party went on just the same. Just as advertised, there were swarms of people running amok. Jessica had of course come, and although I had tried several times to lose her in crowds, she always found me, and I was forced to spend nearly every second beside her and her trio of ditsy friends, all of which were really giggly when they drank. I slipped away from them for a quick trip to the bathroom, and was interrupted by a tall figure in the hallway. The night was still pretty young, but my blood content was already polluted with several beers and a couple of shots, so my thought process was jumbled considerably. I tried to politely squeeze past the figure, but was not allowed to pass. I finally took the effort to look up into the eyes of the person in my way, and recognized him as some hard-ass senior named Jason who had a reputation for being a drug dealer. Everyone at school knew him for his motorcycle, which he had likely financed with his drug money, and could always be found parked illegally in the staff lot. I had never spoken with Jason before, but his reputation preceded him, and I gave him a nod, which he didn't return. "Fucked her yet?" he asked me, his breath reeking of beer and cigarettes. He even had a lit one in his hand as he spoke. "What?" I asked, blinking in unimaginative surprise. "Jessica, asshole," he sneered. "Have you fucked her yet? I heard you guys went at it on the couch last weekend." "Oh," I responded, noting just how much bigger he was than me. He was a towering presence, and with a beefy build, too. If I had to guess his height, I would have pegged him for 6'3", but standing in front of me like he was now, it really seemed more like an even ten feet. "No," I finally answered. Then I grinned a drunken grin. "I have a feeling I'll get lucky tonight, though." It's amazing how much alcohol can do for your boldness. "Why?" "Just wondering," he said, and his face broke into something of a sickening grin to mirror mine. "She's a slut, man. I used to screw her during assemblies last year." With that little nugget of information, he brushed past me and left me standing there in the hallway. I took my time emptying my bladder and then swaggered back to the party, stopping to have a few shots with Anthony in the kitchen. Anthony was shorter than I was, but a little thicker, and he had amazing tolerance. He could take down a fifth by himself if he spaced out the drinking over a full night. "Is tonight the night?" he asked me, a twinkle in his eye. "You know what I'm talking about." He leaned over and nudged me. "Kenny has condoms in his room if you need one. If you can get in, that is. He went back there around four and hasn't been out since. He looks like shit. I don't think he ate this week." "I'm not bothering him," I answered, intentionally avoiding a direct response to his initial question. He gave me a look. "Whatever, dude. Just be careful. You might get herpes or something." "You think she's been with a lot of guys?" I asked, now more sure than ever that I would never have sex with her unless I drank to the point of unconsciousness and she raped me. "That's the word," he admitted, taking another shot. "That wouldn't stop me, though," he grinned, clapping me on the back and leaving me in the midst of a table full of people I didn't recognize playing a drinking game. I ambled out of the kitchen, headed towards the living room, and was intercepted by Jessica on the way. "Come on," she said, smoothly taking hold of my hand and guiding me through a hallway full of people. I don't know how she timed it that well; as soon as I had left the kitchen she had been walking straight towards me and practically bumped into me. "Where are we going?" I asked innocently, although I knew. My heart sped up in anticipation, but for the wrong reasons. I was merely nervous because I wasn't sure how I could get out of it unscathed. She pulled me along, leading the way down the hall and dragging me behind her as if I were a dog on a leash. I spotted some familiar faces on the way, all of which gave me stupid smiles. She kept tugging on me, and now we were ascending the stairs, down a darkened hallway that was unoccupied, and into a bedroom. She shut the door behind us and stood straight across from me in the dark. I was instantly reminded of the night Evan had taken my hand and brought me to his room, in much the same manner as Jessica had done just now, and how we'd stood looking at each right by the door afterwards as our eyes adjusted to the darkness. "I'm really drunk," she giggled, reaching out and playing with my hair. She was so close to me. Against my will, I found myself growing aroused; it was completely out of my control. I felt her hand against my cheek, her body pressing closer against mine, and then her lips on me. I didn't respond to her kiss, and she pulled back. "I'm not a whore, you know," she reminded me, although by now I wasn't so sure. How I had conveniently overlooked her past history before was beyond me. Not that I had anything to go by aside from rumors I'd been hit with in the last ten minutes. Without waiting for me to respond, she kissed me again, and my hormones forced me to return this one. In fact, I blame everything that happened afterwards on my hormones. Almost savagely, she pushed me backwards on the bed and settled on top of me. My heart was hammering away at full force as she tore at the zipper of my jeans and untangled my cock from my boxers faster than Evan ever could. I thought she was going to blow me at first, but then she realigned herself to where we were face to face again. "Do you want me on top?" she asked, giving me a hard kiss that I again couldn't help but return. I told her I didn't care, but it was just as well since she was already on me. "Tell me when you're going to do it," she whispered into my ear as we grinded against each other. My hips moved instinctively underneath her. I had started to wonder if it would be possible for to get off with a girl, but now I had no doubt. I probably wasn't even going to last two minutes, in fact, which was sort of embarrassing. I kept my heads at my side all the while, not sure what to do with them. She hadn't even taken her shirt off, so it didn't appear she was all that interested in me touching her breasts, although I could have been wrong about that. "You're pretty big," she panted into my face as we continued to thrust into each other. I muffled a smirk. "Thanks, I guess," I responded, knowing damn well my cock was extraordinarily average. If she thought mine was big, maybe she really hadn't been with too many other guys. Or maybe she was just lying; girls tended to do that. The sex was extremely methodical. She wasn't writhing or moaning or anything, and to be honest I wasn't even sure the penetration was doing much for her. My limbs remained frozen, and our pace was merely steady. All the same, I was nearing the end of the line, and I finally grunted a warning to her when I knew I was close. She instantly jumped off of me at my word, and almost immediately I splattered all over myself. She didn't seem too interested in my semen. Evan would be lapping it off me right about now, but she was avoiding it altogether, resting her head on my chest from her position to my right. I was still unsure how to go about touching her, so I didn't. We simply laid there in silence for a few minutes. It was pretty weird that I had experienced my first encounter with intercourse with most of my clothes still on. I had definitely pictured it a different way. "I can probably go again in a few minutes," I offered, my drunkenness and hormones again getting the best of me. After all, it hadn't been bad. If anything I thought I underperformed, and I was kind of hoping for a quick shot of redemption just to feel better about myself. She gave me the lightest of kisses on my lips, and sat up. "Not here," she said. "There's already probably a crowd outside. Let's go back downstairs." She left without even waiting for me, telling me she'd be in the living room, so I took my time and stayed put on the bed for a few minutes, contemplating my semi loss of virginity. I had always imagined it would be a little more of a mutual thing, rather than just having my dick penetrate a girl for a few minutes and then shooting all over myself afterwards. I awkwardly cleaned the remaining semen off my crotch, wondering if anyone ever slept in the bed I had soiled. I knew it was their guest bedroom simply because Kenny's room was shut and his parents' room was farther down the hall. I zipped up my pants and buckled my belt, swinging my feet over the side of the bed and jumping to my feet. I had forgotten to account for the drunk effect, though, and I nearly fell over. There was always a rude reminder that you weren't sober when you stood up too fast after being in a sitting position for a while. Jessica was wrong; there was no crowd outside the room. I was able to get all the way downstairs before seeing anyone at all, and even then, it didn't look like anyone had noticed I was gone. It was only a little after midnight, but after glancing around quickly, I decided it was about time for me to make my exit. I ran into the kitchen to have another shot, and was then pressured into having two more with some guy I'd never even met before. By the time I headed for the door I was feeling it in a big way. My cheeks were flushed, and my vision was starting to blur. It had been a few weeks since I'd had this much hard alcohol; beer was a whole different story. I had hoped to slip out the front door without having to bump into Jessica, and for all I know I might have been successful, but it turned out someone else that I would have wanted to avoid just as much did spot me. I had forgotten all about the encounter in the hallway with Jason from earlier, but I immediately recognized his husky voice when someone called out to me, asking where I was off to. I didn't like the guy at all by this point, or his condescending tone, and despite my best interests, I turned blindly to where I figured he was and raised my middle finger to a whole crowd of people that I assumed he was mixed in amongst. I made it out the front door and onto the porch before he caught up to me, apparently having torn through the congestion in the living room to get to me. "Did I strike a nerve?" he asked teasingly to my backside. Not exactly interested in confronting him, I kept walking, trying to remember where I parked. "Don't you want to stick around and tell us all about how it was getting it on with a skank?" he called out loudly, even though I was still just a few feet in front of him. I made the mistake of turning around and looking at him. He was standing in the doorway, holding the front door open, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. "You did have sex with her, right? Or are you as much of a fag as you look?" I froze on the bottom step, admittedly rattled he'd had to go and use that word now of all times, when I was experiencing my first bouts of sexual confusion ever. "That's it, isn't it?" he asked, recognizing my hesitation and sensing he was succeeding in pissing me off. "You're a fucking queer, aren't you? How was your first taste of pussy, queer? Did it go alright? Could you get it up for it?" Even drunk, I like to believe I was pretty quick. As soon as his last question had left his mouth, I had wheeled around, leapt up the steps on the porch, cocked my arm, and hit him squarely in the jaw with my right hand, which instantly felt as if it had collided with a brick wall. Just hitting him once had helped clear my vision, but I knew I wouldn't be able to walk away at this point, so I hit him three more times in successive blows to his face, hoping to somehow save myself from death by knocking him out. Needless to say, my plan didn't work, and as soon as he caught his balance he threw me off the porch altogether and was standing over me, that disturbing grin back on his face. He had been looking for a fight all along, so I knew there wasn't going to be any truce, and I could either stay there and get beaten into the ground or get up and try to make him work for it, so I awkwardly stumbled to my feet, just in time for him to swing and catch a glancing blow to the side of my head, which was still effective enough to send me directly back to the ground, my ears ringing and my head spinning. I tried to get up again but felt his weight on top of mine, and his fist drew back and planted itself firmly into the middle of my face, which was an interesting experience to say the least; it felt as if my entire head had exploded, and I could feel my nose instantly start to bleed. He had pulled his hand back to hit me again when the front door snapped open and someone came out onto the porch. We both looked towards it, and I realized for the first time that there was a small gathering of onlookers on both sides of us. But standing on the porch, having parted through the crowd to get to the front of it, was Kenny, looking wild-eyed and truly crazy. He looked at the two of us, wrestling on the ground with Jason clearly ready to kill me, and started to approach us to pull Jason off. Someone, a friend of Jason's, stepped in his path, and Kenny wasted no time in hitting him squarely in the face. Now a full-out rumble was on, and Jason gave me one last blow to the face before jumping off me and getting in the middle of the skirmish that broken out in the middle of the front yard. I stayed right where I was, wiping the blood off my face and watching the darkened figures fight it out. There were over a dozen different people battling now, and I spotted several friends of mine taking up sides with Kenny, while Jason and his friends made up the other half. The last thing I noted before passing out was some guy who had brought a video camera with him to the party running outside to film the action. It was a few hours later before I woke up again. I was inside, lying on a couch in the living room, only a small group of people remaining, and all of them were sitting in front of the TV playing Halo. Kenny was the first one I spotted when my vision cleared. Anthony was still here, and so were Alex and Keith, a couple other guys I would call close friends of mine. Aside from them, the house seemed eerily silent. For a wide variety of reasons, my head felt groggy as hell, and I groaned loudly when I sat up and pulled myself to my feet. They all turned towards me at once. "I told you he was alive," Anthony said, and his eyes quickly darted back to the screen. "Got you, Alex." "Fuck you!" Alex protested. "I wasn't looking!" "Doesn't matter. I had a head shot anyway. You were dead even if you had been looking." "Fuck you both," Kenny said, tearing around a corner and quickly taking down one of the players with an astoundingly precise shot. "Wanna play, Austin?" he asked, extending me his controller. "No," I responded. "Why is everyone gone?" "I fucking made them leave," he said. "A lot of them took off when the cops came, anyway." "The cops came?" I asked, disappointed that we'd finally got a police visit and I hadn't even been awake for it. "Yeah, one of the neighbors must have called the police when they saw the fight," he shrugged, taking the joint they were passing around, hitting it, and then throwing it over his shoulder in disgust. "You can't roll for shit, Alex," he said as he took down someone else's character in the game. "Let Anthony do the next one." He turned back to me. "Well, if you're not going to play Halo, you can at least smoke with us." "How did I get inside?" I asked, ignoring his question. The smoke from the weed was making me nauseous; I felt worse than I had in a long time, with my head pounding and spinning slightly. "A couple people chipped in," Anthony said, and then grinned. "Not that it was necessary. You're a fucking stick. I can't believe you tried to fight Jason Ellingsworth." "Fucking prick," Kenny snapped. "I don't know what made him think he was welcome here. Pause the game and roll a new one, Anthony," he ordered. "You can have the first hit, Austin." Standing there, my face caked in dried blood, a night's worth of liquor in my system, the last thing I wanted to do was get high before I left. I watched my friends as they stared mindlessly at the TV, and suddenly I wondered why I hung out here every weekend. It was the same story every time. A lot of drinking, occasional drug usage, and a lot of Halo. The parties had variable sizes, but the main theme was always the same. It never had any substance, and it had never seemed as empty as it did right now. "No thanks," I muttered, wanting to leave badly. "Fuck you," Kenny said. "I saved your ass, and all I ask in return is that you smoke with us. It'll make your head feel better," he grinned. "You're supposed to call Jessica," Anthony said to me. "She nagged at me a hundred times to remind you to call her as soon as you were awake. I think she was pretty freaked out when she saw you passed out on the couch." I had no intention of calling Jessica, or of ever hanging out with her again. I was going to tell her off flatly on Monday. Whether it was fair or not, I blamed her for the crazy direction my night had taken. "I'm leaving," I said quietly, stumbling towards the door, my head throbbing all the while. "Where the hell is he going?" Keith asked, as if I had already left the room. I stopped at the door, turned back and looked at my friends, almost seeing them for the first time. "I'll see you guys later," I said, shutting the door behind me and wondering inwardly if that was even true. I had left my cell phone in the jeep, and after fumbling around in my pockets for an eternity to find my keys, the first thing I did was turn it off. I had several missed calls just from the last several hours alone, and I was certain many, if not all of them were from Jessica, but I didn't even bother looking. The way I felt right now, I might never turn my phone on again. As I turned off Kenny's street, I looked back at it and wondered when I'd be back again. Maybe never. In one night it had all become incredibly old, but in reality it had been growing old for months, and I had just been too blind to see it. I was thoroughly disgusted at myself for having spent countless weekends in a row drinking to excess and wasting every second at Kenny's just because his parents weren't there. I tired of the hangovers and missing my curfew and having to worry every time I got home that Mom or Dad would hear me coming in and catch me in an obviously not sober state. They were not calm about that kind of thing, and it was unfathomable how much I'd pay for it if I was caught in the act. Fortunately for me, I was once again lucky when entering the house. It was after two in the morning, and I was over an hour late, but I was quiet enough to sneak in without tipping them off. I quickly snuck in the bathroom and shut the door softly, flicking on the switch and shielding my eyes from the bright light for a minute before I could look at my reflection. It was worse than I thought. My right eye was red and puffy, and it looked like my lips were misplaced, having been smashed into my mouth by those two hard shots from Jason. I ran cold water across my face to remove the dried blood, and then brushed my teeth in my typical thorough manner. I peeled off my dirty shirt and stuck it in the hamper underneath the clothes at the top, hoping Mom wouldn't notice the dirt and blood on it when she did the laundry. I turned off the light and slowly undid my belt as I crept stealthily into my room. Evan was in it. He was playing NBA Live on my Playstation, apparently not wanting to take the trouble to move it back to his room. He didn't hear me come in, so I watched him silently for a second. It looked like he'd been asleep for a while based on his hair and outfit, woken up and come in here to play some PS2 basketball. I turned on the light to get his attention after I grew tired of staring at him. "You're late again," he said softly without turning back to me. "Mom came down to check on you, but I had your door shut and I was inside playing NBA Live, and she must have thought it was you, so I think you're safe. You might want to be on time next weekend, though, because I heard Dad talking about you earlier. He thinks you're sneaking in late a lot, and they're going to crack down." "Noted," I responded. "I don't think it'll be a problem for a while," I sighed. "I probably won't be at Kenny's much anymore." He turned and looked at me, likely from surprise, and then did a double take when he saw my face. "Jesus," was all he said, before turning reluctantly back to his game. "You're going to be in a lot of shit with Mom and Dad." "Nah," I said. "I'll just tell them I fell down some stairs." I saw his lips curl into a tiny smile at my Fight Club reference. I slid out of my pants and threw myself into bed, pulling the covers over me and watching him finish his game in silence. He was in the process of blowing out the Cavaliers in his Hawks' season, which he played obsessively. He had been nearly done with it by the time I had come in the room, and now he was checking out the game stats, having added another victory to the Hawks' tally. I watched as he saved his progress and flipped off the game, turned off the TV, stood up and stretched. Then he turned and looked at me. Our eyes held for several seconds, and then he grinned. "Scoot over," he said, approaching the bed and squeezing himself into it beside me and under the covers. I didn't protest, but I didn't exactly welcome him either. He was lying on his side facing me, and I could feel his stare burning into me. "Tell me about your fight, and I'll tell you about mine," he breathed out softly, his whisper tickling my neck. "You first," I stalled, not really looking forward to recounting my adventure, but still curious what happened with him. "Well," he said carefully. "It was in the lunch room. I was just standing in line waiting to get my food, and the kid I was standing next to was being a jerk. He always messes with me, and we don't ever get along, so it wasn't really a surprise. He just went too far. So I hit him with my tray. Then he punched me in the eye. That's pretty much it. We got pulled apart fast, or else I would have started throwing food at him." He giggled at the thought. "You got three days for that?" I asked, surprised. "Well, I hit him pretty hard, I guess," he responded, sounding kind of proud. "The tray broke in half and cut him a little." "It's cheap piece of plastic," I remarked, still not sure three days was fair. "He only got two," he added. "Even though he's the one who started it, and he actually used his fists. I'm a non-violent sort. I just used my tray." I smiled. "So now you have to tell me what happened to you. You look terrible." I sighed. "I got drunk and fought someone two years older and a lot bigger," I answered. "That's about the gist of it." "Did you hit him at all?" Evan asked, sounding embarrassed for me. "Of course I did," I said, with a trace of pride in my own fighting abilities. We were a messed up set of siblings. "I jacked him in the face three times before he touched me. But once he did, it was all over," I snickered. "Cool," he responded, suitably impressed. I left out the part about having to be rescued by Kenny and passing out afterwards. "So why aren't you going over there anymore?" he asked, sounding more curious than nosy. "I'm tired of it," I said truthfully. "It's a waste of time, and I just feel bad about myself every time I leave now." He fell silent for a few minutes afterwards, but didn't move an inch. He was so close to me I could feel his hair brushing up against my cheek. I found myself reaching out and petting it briefly, and then, even more surprisingly, leaning over and kissing him on the head. It was the first time I could remember initiating any kind of action with him since our very first experience in the shower. He lifted his head up to look at me, smiling, almost as if amused. I leaned in again, this time to bump my lips into his, and his response was so slight the kiss was almost dainty. I took hold of his mane of hair in the back of his head and kissed him harder, trying to get a response out of him, and finally, on the third try, it worked as he allowed my tongue to part his lips and enter his mouth. I kissed him hungrily as I tugged at his t-shirt, unsuccessfully trying to rip it off until he obliged me by lifting his arms up. I kissed his chest and each of his nipples and then licked his throat as he settled himself on top of me and returned all of my kisses. His lips worked all over my face, softly kissing my swollen lips and eyes, moving sweetly across the bruises and tender spots, kissing me with a gentle loving softness I didn't think he was capable of. I squeezed him harder, wanting him more than ever, and he nestled his face fully into my arm pit, drinking in the aroma and licking the flesh excitedly. He pushed his teeth against the flesh and gnawed on the sparse strands of hair, pulling gently on them with his mouth and giggling as they tickled his nose. His kisses were so soft tonight, and as they danced around my stomach and down past the waistband of my boxers, I was desperate for my first real orgasm of the night. The one with Jessica had been entirely too phony. Just as he started to engulf my cock with his hungry mouth, he flipped his position, jabbing me in the face with his rigid cock, and then taking mine in. He was so much better at giving a blow job than I was. I was glad to stuff his in my mouth, but I couldn't work it around nearly as well as he could. Some day I would have to find out just why he was so good at this, but right now I didn't care. We had never done anything in this position before, and it was undeniably hot. I instinctively took a hold of his perfectly round ass and kept my hands on it as I blew him, bobbing up and down on his shaft while he humped my face. He was working his tongue across the head of mine with an almost magical swiftness, and I was already starting to tense up. I opened up wider and forced his balls into my mouth with his cock so I could taste all of him at once, and he groaned in pleasure. His sweet, musky, boyish scent filled my nostrils and helped send me off, his tongue darting up and down my cock until I shot, when he clamped his mouth around it and tried to suck down every last drop. I pumped one load after the other down his throat, and the only thing in the world I was aware of while doing it was how delicious his taste was to me. He was fucking my face with newfound vigor now, and just as my orgasm finally died away he had his, which sent a shiver down his entire body but resulted in much less of a mess than it had in my case. He continued to slowly hump my face from above me while he pressed his face into my crotch and diligently licked up all the cum he could find on me. Some of it had escaped down his lips, and he was now scooping that off his face and sucking on his fingers. He finally pulled his cock out of my mouth and sat up, relaxing where he was, straddling my chest with his back facing me. His ass was right in front of my face in this position, and I couldn't help but give it a kiss at seeing it so near. He giggled, surprised, and jumped. He reversed his position, hovered over me with his arms holding himself up on his each side of me, and then sat back at the foot of my bed and searched for his clothes. He found them, gathered them up, and started to pull himself off my bed, when I reached out gently and took his hand, clasping it for a second and then abruptly pulling him towards me. Surprised, he came tumbling towards me and landed hard on my chest. I put my arms around his back and threw the covers on top of him to where we were under them together, and then squeezed him to me tightly. At first, he appeared confused by my actions, but he merely smiled and rested his head on my chest afterwards, closing his eyes after a few minutes of resting there. There was complete silence, followed by the quiet sounds of his slow, steady breathing filling the room, and for the first time all day, a sense of undeniable happiness swept over me and washed me away.