Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2005 08:01:18 -0800 (PST) From: Stone Cold Heart Subject: Wanting Brother 1 WARNING: This story involves homosexual, and homoerotic, situations. If you are offended by this material, or it is illegal to view such material in your area, do not continue. Thank you. ALL material is Copyright Damion Michaels. Comments, suggestions, and concerns may be emailed to: stonexcoldxheart@yahoo.com WANTING BROTHER - CHAPTER 1 I never looked forward to high school, really. If I ever did, I stopped my first day, my freshman year. All the appeal and charm went away as soon as I stepped on campus. Just like all the other freshman, I was dazed and confused. Engle High, my town's `rich' high school, was remodeled last year. They did so much reconstruction, it's a wonder that they didn't tear down the whole school and start from scratch. There is one main office, a two story library, both a large and small gym - a weight room, too - and a large square of pavement known as the Quad. On top of that, there is a separate building for each type of class. All of the buildings are connected by glass-walled hallways; the state granted a TON of money for the remodeling. So, on my first day of school, I found myself horribly lost. I got stuck in the Art Complex looking for my first period English class. When it was time for American Studies, I somehow ended up in the Science building. You get my drift. My brother didn't help any, either. His name is Ian, and he's the standard jock: cheerleader for a girlfriend, letterman jacket, and a gaggle of steroid-pumped friends with no necks. Ian and I used to be close, but then he started high school himself - he was a freshman when I was in seventh grade - and all of that changed. Our relationship was strictly home-based. Now I'm a junior. Ian graduated and is following the fad known as `The Gap,' or, a yearlong break between high school and college. Slacker. I don't need him anymore, though. I've been here long enough to learn the ropes, if you will. "Time's up. Pencils down. Pass your tests forward, please," said Mrs. Blanc, my History teacher. People around me groan. Who really cares about the Spanish Inquisition, anyways? I pass my test forward to Jenny, one of my friends since grade nine. She smiles at me, and gives me the `Think you did good?' look. I shrug just as the bell rings, and my day gets a little brighter; lunch. "I'll see you all Wednesday. And don't forget to read Chapter 4! I might quiz you." More groans follow her words. Lunch time is practically the only thing I look forward to at school. Ninety full minutes of nothing but food, friends, gossip, and yet more food. What could be better? At our school, we have both on and off campus lunches, where, if you can drive or have a friend who can, you're allowed to go somewhere to eat, like Taco Bell, or Wendy's. I usually stay at school. They ASB students blare music in the Quad, my current location. "Don't look now, but Ethan has been eyeing you for, like, the past ten minutes," Jenny said, sliding onto the bench next to me. She begins unwrapping her `hip friendly' turkey sub, as she puts it. I roll my eyes. "Brent, I'm serious! He's been glued to you ever since Get Low started playing." Her sandwich shuts her up. "I'm SURE he was eyeing me. Let's see...one: we're not certain he's gay; two: he's a senior; three: I'm TOTALLY out of his league; three: why would he even be attracted to me? "I know you want me to find some nice little boyfriend, Jen, but I'm just not comfortable...putting that side of me out at school yet. You know?" "Whatever. One day...one day!" she says, laughing maniacally. "You're oh-so menacing with that head of lettuce between your teeth," I reply. We both smile and begin laughing. God, I loved our friendship. Jennifer Ortega - Jenny, or Jen, as her friends called her - and I met our freshman year. We were in the same group at Freshman Orientation. Bashfully, as well as the others in our group, we had to share some of our likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams. It turned out that her and I had a lot in common. Jenny was the first one I ever came out to. We were sitting at a bench pretty close to the one we're sitting on now, and this jock named Michael walked by. `God^Å he's so hot,` she said. I chimed in, `Brad Pitt's got NOTHING on him.` She turned to me, smiled, and hugged me till I turned blue in the face. We've been best friends ever since. I got home from school at around 4:00 P.M., like I usually do. I live about four blocks away from Engle High, so it never takes me that long to walk home. My mom usually gives me rides home on her days off, but she hardly has any. She's some sort of lawyer, helping families win child support from other family members, or, something. Well, she's always busy. I get home, and the driveway is empty. When we moved to Engle, New York, my mom couldn't part with anything, so our garage is never used for the cars, since it's full of boxes and `keep-sakes,' a.k.a. junk. "Damn," I say out loud. The front door is locked, and being myself, I've lost my house key. I use the side gate; we live in a nice neighborhood, so we hardly ever lock the door in our backyard that leads into our house. Yep, just like I thought. It swings right open. "Mom? Dad?" I call out. No one answers. "Ian?" Silence. I shrug and plop my backpack onto the kitchen floor. I'm used to being home alone. There's no real reason to be afraid. It's not like Engle has gangs running wild everywhere you look. Our house is two stories. The kitchen, living room, office, and my parent's bedroom are downstairs; my room, Ian's room, and a computer room - that we both share - are on the upper story. I lug my backpack up the stairs. On the way to my room, I noticed that Ian's door is cracked. Okay, who the heck notices these things? I do. (Our heating and air work better when doors aren't left open, so it's noticeable, okay?) I set my backpack down on the hallway quietly. I hear a grunt and my heart beat quickens. Even though there aren't gangs, there could be burglars. Peering through the crack in the door, I see my brother, Ian. He's not wearing a shirt; only some gym shorts and underwear (I think). His feet are tucked under his bed, and he's doing some sort of power-workout crunches. His room smells like a locker room, sweaty, but I can still smell a trace of his cologne. Something inside me stirs. I begin to notice the way the muscles of his back tense every time he lays down. His crunch-workout obviously works, because his six-pack (enough said?) is rock hard. He's even working out his arms, for his biceps are bulging. His body is covered in glistening sweat, and the smell of the locker room somehow sweetens in my nose. What the hell? I think to myself. I'm checking out my brother! No, no I'm not. I'm just a normal guy... checking out my brother?! God...what's wrong with me? I clear my throat, tap on the door with my knuckle, and walk in. "Ian?" "Huh? Oh, hey," he says, turning around to face me. I don't know if I should look at his face, or the ground, because his muscle-laden chest seems to be drawing my eyes. "Didn`t hear you come home." "Oh. The front door was locked, so I came in through the back. Why are you home?" He'd usually be out running around with his buddies by now. "Car's in the shop. It needs a new carburetor." "Oh." He nods a little. Then he goes back to doing crunches. I guess I'm invisible now, so I just slink out. I close his door behind me. Once inside the seclusion of my bedroom, I take a couple of deep breaths. That's when I notice the bulge in my pants. Oh my god. My brother gave me a hard-on. What the hell? I quickly run to bathroom my brother and I share. I still look like myself in the mirror. Nothing about me has changed, apart from the incest-induced bulge between. I splash some cold water on my face, and dry off with a towel. I readjust myself, and as soon as I'm done solving That Problem, Ian walks into the bathroom. He's got a shirt on this time, yet I find myself to be both relieved and disappointed. "I need to take a shower," he said. I manage a caveman-like grunt, and he seems to understand. Go figure. I slink out of the bathroom and into the computer room. I find comfort in the padded chair my dad bought for the room. I log onto the internet. I check my email, surf the web for a while, and then visit some forums that I am a member of. Quite honestly, I've forgotten about Ian, until I visit one of my forums. I create a new topic on QT2 (Queer Teens Today), a message board where young gay teens chat and hang out. SUBJECT: Help? POSTED BY: Anonymous MESSAGE: I was just curious. Have any of you been attracted to someone that you know you shouldn't be attracted to? Like your best friend, or someone in your family? Please help. I need advice. I hit the submit button before I give it a second though. A feature that I like about QT2 is that you can make your posts anonymous, so no one knows who's posting it. I thought it might be helpful in this situation. I didn't hear Ian walk into the office. I didn't even notice the shower turning off. But I sure as hell noticed his half-naked body standing in the doorway. He was wrapped in a white towel, and I found myself liking the way the blankness stood out against his tanned skin. "Knock, knock," he says. "Hey." I'm just so good with words. "Mind if I get on the computer in a few minutes? I need to check on the prices of a few parts for my car." "Uh, sure. Just give me a second." "Kay," he says with a nod, leaving. I sigh, logging off of my email, QT2, and the other windows I had open. Out of habit, I clear the Web History, so no one can see what site`s I have visited. I don't think my family would like seeing that I've visited all of these sites for struggling gay teens. I knock on Ian's door once as I pass it. "Ian! I'm done," I yell, already heading into my bedroom. "Kay!" he yells back. Apparently, we're both good with words. Not. By dinner, my thoughts have settled, and my hormones are no longer raging for my brother, albeit they're still raging. I'm a teenage boy, after all. So, full of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and fresh salad (my dad's the cook in the family, and he loves to prepare big meals), we all stumble off to our separate destinations. Mom and Dad go out to see a movie. I elect to stay home. Coincidently, Ian does, too.